CODE ELDRITCH

Chapter II

The Official

"Oh," I said. Don't know what else I'd been expecting. "It's you again."

Suit-and-Gun briefly looked up, assessing me. "Monroe. Have a seat."

"Nu-uh, I'm not sitting anywhere until I get me at least a few answers."

I feel the need to repeat that I'm really not a brave person. Cocky, maybe, but then I don't leave the house very often and don't exactly come across situations where I get the opportunity to be brave. Cocky, though? To people with guns?

Shrug. Don't know where that come from.

To his credit, The Official didn't roll his eyes or bite down ever more fiercely on chewing gum, or wave a pistol at me. He just slowly and neatly closed the gray paper folder in front of him and allowed me a nod. Strangely enough, that disinterest made him seem a little more tangible than his more outspoken companions in the circus convoy. He actually would have pulled that trigger. I re-filed him under Suit-and-Shoot which, in my opinion, also sounded better.

"That seems reasonable, now that you've been so... cooperative."

"Who are you?"

The fossilized remnant of a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth. "Really? You are forcibly withdrawn from your home at gunpoint, taken for an almost one-hundred kilometer trip to a secluded facility, and who I am is the first you think to ask?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "The agents call me TO. Short for—"

"The Official, yeah. Doesn't tell me anything."

Suit-and-Shoot leaned forward, elbows on table. "Surely you understand that is the entire point."

Scoff, sniff. "Yeah, figured as much." I said, "Very CIA."

"You would know about as much about what is CIA and isn't as I do."

"Oh," I mentally checked the list of shady government organizations. That shit is long, let me tell you. "NSA then." I probed for any kind of response. "Some DHS branch? DEA— actually, those weeds you got growing on the outside looked a little Mexic— no? Okay. Airforce, then? I've seen Stargate."

"Your joke is closer to the truth than your serious guesses." Suit-and-Shoot murmured. "But then that is usually the case when one has no idea where to find footing."

"So in fact...?"

"In fact, the organizational logo you no doubt spotted on the door is a non-starter. Google it and you'll end up in, pardon my language, Bumfuck, West Virginia. Small family business, defunct, trading in some hand-made rifles that weren't half bad. You could even find them on market if you tried. CCTEA is not the name of this agency so much as it is an umbrella term for a number of organizations with similar, usually intersecting purposes."

So then, going with the Stargate analogy, CCTEA had to be an unholy Russian-American hybrid. I wondered what they might squabble over that would merit office buildings out in Slo-Town. This place wasn't exactly Silicon Valley.

"Don't keep me in suspense, TO— that's what they call you, right?"

He gave a curt nod. "I must admit, you're more outspoken than our subjects tend to be."

"Your subjects," I repeated incredulously. Maybe we weren't in Stargate, but V. "Blondie Tightlips said it was 'the same for her', or some shit. What's that mean?"

"If you mean agent Royce, then yes, she was hired under similar circumstances and with similar braggadocio."

"Huh. Didn't take her for the type."