[MAX]
"She has to be somewhere!"
Special Agent Ellis Winston had yelled so loudly that the whole block had likely heard him. In that moment he was more frazzled than professional, the FBI badge on his waist the best indicator that he held all the authority in the situation.
One of Winston's agents hesitantly offered a response, though all witnessing the exchange could tell it did more harm than good.
"I don't care what she has a history of doing! She is a human being! She cannot actually disappear into thin air!"
Just like that, all of Winston's people resumed their search; some ducked into buildings to talk to witnesses who had seen nothing of use, while others went off to scour alleys. Meanwhile Winston's irritable gaze swept the street as he buried a hand into his thick, already unkempt hair.
And then, an act of mercy. Winston's phone rang.
Winston stared at the UNKNOWN that glowed on the screen for one ... two ... three seconds before he answered.
—
"Who is this?"
"Still asking questions you already know the answer to," I said. I watched as he did a rapid three-sixty upon recognizing my voice. "You need to stop while you're ahead, Winston."
I watched as he scowled. It took him a few seconds to collect himself before he spoke. "Where are you?"
"Gone," I answered. I watched as he flagged down one of his people and waved frantically at the phone. Then I examined the knuckles on my left hand, absentmindedly making note of the harsh red that tinted the skin and would no doubt turn to a bruise. My gaze darted past my hand back to the monitor from which I surveyed him. "One of your guys didn't happen to grab Cormac, did they?" It was a rhetorical question, but it served its purpose.
Winston balked as the agent he'd waved at fumbled with a chunky laptop. There was silence on his end of the line as he scanned the street again, no doubt checking windows to see if I had lingered. "Cormac, as in Cormac Lauder? The leader of the Irish Mob?"
"I thought not," I didn't bother to suppress the amusement in my voice. "And he's not the leader of the entire Irish Mob," I corrected. "Just the part in Boston. Which is kind of relevant, given you're downtown right now. Anyway, you and he have something in common."
Winston's back was now turned to the camera I had access to. He and his crew gathered around the laptop, and his head was ducked down; clear indicators that he was already trying to trace the call. He gave a derisive snort. "I find that hard to believe, Destin. Where are you?"
"Like how you find it hard to believe I'm already gone?" I couldn't help but mock him; we'd been at this verbal back and forth for a long time now. It was something of a vicious cycle.
Winston chased me down, be it across the country, or across a city. Sometimes he'd be completely off mark, and other times he'd get close. As the cycle went, Winston never actually succeeded in catching me. It was similar to Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny. We had a system, of sorts — something like a formula. Only difference is, I was letting Winston get close to me because I didn't want to go through the hassle of a new person being assigned to my 'case'.
Winston remained clueless as to my intentions ... and my whereabouts.
"I'm only going to say this once," I continued before Winston could get huffy, making the choice to cut the banter since he'd already begun the trace, "Cormac Lauder has a meeting in—" I checked the clock on the monitor, "—forty-one minutes, on the north side. It involves those break-ins that the local police have been dealing with for the past few days. Do me a favor, would you? Tell him next time he'll lose more than his right hand man."
