The Cartel

Chapter VII

When Yampa walked into work the next day, everything was strange. It was like orderly chaos. Nothing was right. Most of all, he was unprepared-and alone. He had not come with Carly that morning. Now he regretted, but there was no way he could turn back.

Guards stood at the entrance. They sent him into one of the many lines that filled the once spacious lobby. Yampa had walked through the entrance room many times, and he always thought it too big for some lobby, but now he thought it much too small and suffocating.

The line was like one in the airports. There was security staring you down at every angle imaginable. You had to empty your pockets, certain articles of clothing, and any bag of yours onto tables, which the guards then searched.

Andrew removed his jacket and shoes. His pockets contained nothing. So, he was forced to move onto the briefcase. He pulled out the papers, then, hesitantly, the gun.

Andrew waited for a second for the guard to process the fact that it was a real gun. The agent did not run. What use would it be? He was on a densely guarded island, plus they would find him guilty of whatever the reason for all this was. No doubt it was Bill's, Mr. Espinosa's, and Penelope's deaths. He flinched at the thought of Pen. For the rest of his life he would never fully understand her treachery.

It took the guards a few moments to surround him. If he had wanted, Drew could have escaped the building in that sort period of time. But he let the four guards walk up to him silently. A fifth one collected his things. Nothing needed to be said. Everyone knew what was happening, but next to no one knew what was going to happen. Andrew let the guards lead him away.

* * *

When Carly arrived at the headquarters building, she was stunned. Kayla had really taken the killings seriously, obviously determined to catch the killer. A guard pointed to one of the lines, and Carly obeyed. The lines were by sex.

Carly saw others emptying the bags and purses, talking off jewelry and jackets, and removing shoes and socks (though most of the women were in pantyhose-which they didn't remove). She frowned as she started to follow the bandwagon.

People waited at the opening of several corridors. Most of the hallways they waited at Carly had never been down. The corridor her line lead to was one she'd been down once since starting to work at The Cartel headquarters. The hallway led to various offices. But why did they have people going into them? Interrogations? Torture? No, there was no screaming; it had to be interrogations of some sort.

She's trying to find out who killed Penelope, Bill, and Mr. Espinosa, Carly realized and gulped. Who is going be the interrogators? Kayla?

* * *

"This is yours?" inquired Simon, motioning to the gun.

Andrew had ended up being shoved into a tiny bathroom and one of the guards had thrown some clothes at him. The pants and t-shirt were solid white, so thin they were almost flow-ey and were very loose. There was no way for someone to hide something. Anything large and/or dark would show through the white, attaching something to inside the clothing wouldn't be any less inconspicuous, and there were no pockets to place anything.

The guards gave him a few minutes to change, before dragging him into another room. This time an office. Simon sat at the desk, watching as the agent's belongings were placed onto the desk. One guard walked into the room with Andrew while the others remained outside and slammed the door shut.

"You of all people would know it is," Andrew growled. "You saw me at the shooting range."

"Why do you have it?" asked Simon. "Where'd you get it? No weapons are allowed on the flight here."