Inferna Nuntius

Chapter 22

22

            Director Henne steadied himself on the edge of his desk, his worn hands clasped behind his back, his fingers intertwined with each other. His glanced moved between the two people sitting before him, thoroughly examining each person as his eyes moved back and forth. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or let himself collapse on the floor from his impending coronary. The woman sat straight up in the chair, her hands resting on her crossed legs, trying to give nothing away. She was trying to present herself as calm, collected and sure of herself, but Henne could clearly see the stressful situation was wearing on her. Every so often he would notice her brow furrow and she would press her lips together, breathing deeply. She did not sweat, but that did not mean that her body wasn’t acutely aware of the stress of the situation.

            The man, on the other hand, was doing nothing to try to disguise his discomfort and stress level. A light sheen fell across the man’s brow which he repeatedly wiped away, only to have it quickly form again. His hands nervously wrung themselves; his index finger absentmindedly smoothed the slight indentation on the ring finger. Henne smirked to himself and shook his head.

            “You’re bat shit crazy, Bellinson.” He finally spoke, addressing the man seated before him. He paused for a moment, giving the man a chance to speak, but he was silent. “Do you really want to be out of a job that badly?”

            “No, sir.” Bellinson replied timidly, keeping his gaze on the carpeted floor.

            “Then I’m going to ask you again-what the hell are you thinking?” His question was rhetorical; there was no right answer, there was no answer even close to the right answer. “You’ve pulled some stupid shit before, but I’ve got to say, this trumps them all. I honestly think this might trump every stupid thing I’ve ever seen an agent do.”

            “We’re desperate for some answers, Director. We need something, other than more bodies pilling up.” Bellinson said his tone careful and well planned.

            “What else is there to do, Bellinson? His face is everywhere. It’s not like he can just up and move to another state and resume his life. The entire nation knows what he looks like.”

            “I know.” Was all Bellinson could muster. He slumped in his chair, defeated and exhausted.

            “With all of the resources available to you, your gut instinct tells you to let an untrained visiting police officer from New York City interview our only living victim? All of the trained interviewers you have at your disposal and you choose her?” Henne didn’t even cast a glance at Cassidy, adding another insult to the growing list.

            “She talked, didn’t she?” Cassidy said softly, trying not to regret her words. Henne’s body stiffened and he glanced towards her, carefully eyeing her. “And I didn’t interview her. I just talked to her beforehand.”

            “I don’t give a flying fuck what you did.” He snapped at her. “You overstepped your boundaries and your welcome the minute you stepped foot inside that hospital room.” All she could muster was a nod in agreement. Henne shook his head in disbelief and slid back onto his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He spent a moment more glancing between them before he reached behind himself, grabbing a personnel folder from the stack of files. She immediately knew it was her simply by the thickness; someone who had been with the agency as long as Bellinson had would have had a much thicker folder, if not multiple folders. She watched as Henne perused through the file, occasionally stopping to read one of the many reports in her file. He shook his head yet once again as he read the last report and smile lightly. “Most officers go their entire career and never fire their service weapon. You have fired yours….six times in four years, Danmark. Impressive.”