The Unchipped

Chapter 19

Commander Beverly Falcon waited as the troops in the lead and trailing vans unloaded. Trouble wasn't her primary concern. The SPs were for show, though she wasn't sure if it was for the public or the oversight committee. Something was genuinely amiss, akin to a festering wound. It has been two days since the last sign of Sara Tyler. Out-of-country if Falcon was being told the truth. Sara was certainly intelligent enough to stay hidden, but leaving these shores took assistance, and Falcon hadn't supplied that kind of help.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Falcon looked around briefly. The few people on the sidewalks were altering their routes, switching sides of the street to avoid whatever problem was brewing. Smart, since getting sucked into such things was usually costly. A hand signal sent troops behind the building to cut off any exit.

The sign above the store was unlit, which was expected this early. The font was different than the one on the plastic-wrapped hat Falcon held. The Fantizza on the sign was more appealing, though she didn't take the time to figure out why. If the online information was correct, the restaurant would open in an hour - a perfect time to visit.

Falcon nodded to the Lieutenant and moved to the front door. She tapped her tablet a few times and initiated the governmental lock override. An audible click announced the success. It was always better to enter powerfully than to knock and wait politely. One of the SPs opened the door as the squad entered, announcing their presence. The process always made Falcon smile. A show of efficient control paved the way for conversations unhindered by useless stubbornness. It was also a drug - she loved the feeling of power.

"Is something wrong?" an aproned woman asked as she exited a backroom. She had red hair leaking from beneath a Fantizza baseball cap. Her stature was odd, eyes wide as if fearful, yet her movements were smooth as if the intrusion was expected. She moved forward as a man shuffled behind her to be at her side. His eyes were confident and eagle-like, but his movements were less sure. Perhaps together, they were a powerful pair.

Falcon looked down at her tablet, swiping to a screen that showed the faces before her. "You are Margaery and George Fantilla."

"Yes, Commander," George replied, announcing he was well aware of who was asking.

"Can you verify that this is from your business?" Falcon asked, handing over the plastic bag that contained the cap.

George examined it and nodded. "It looks like one of our old caps. We changed the logo about a year ago."

"We tossed the last of them in the dumpster a few days ago," Margaery added, pointing toward the rear of the store. Her eyes widened as Falcon signaled for her team to search the restaurant.

"That one was found near Queensland. Any idea how it got there?"

"No, Commander," George replied.

"I think we retrieved them all from our employees, but in truth, I didn't exactly keep perfect records once we switched uniforms," Margaery said.

"Possibly an employee," the Commander said, making it sound more like a question.

"Maybe," George said. "Though I don't think they want to wear their uniform outside of work. It's not quite the fashion statement most people want to make." He glanced at the SPs disappearing into the back room. "Why is this so important, Commander?"

"You threw the old uniforms away?" Falcon asked, ignoring George's question.

"Yes," Margaery said.

"You personally?"

"Well, no...," Margaery began to reply.

"I did." The answer came from a young boy, pizza-uniformed as well, being escorted into the room by an SP. "The boxes were getting in the way, so I asked if I could toss them."