Henri Beck & the Hidden Library | 📖

10

"This is the FBI's headquarters?" Malik asked as he parked alongside a meter bordering the sidewalk wrapping around the J. Edgar Hoover Building. "Why does it look so...boring?"

"You want it to look like Disney World or something," Thea quipped.

"Isn't Disney World in Florida?"

"How should I know? I actively boycott anything Disney-related. It's just a capitalist monster feeding off—"

"I dunno," Henri interrupted while rubbing his hairless chin. "I'm with Malik on this one. They could've added a little more color, some pizazz, you know? Maybe some interesting shapes? I mean, this looks like one of my old Lego sets."

Thea snorted. "Those were horrible."

"I was like eight, Thea."

"And you swore you were the second coming of Archimedes. Or maybe Da Vinci. Remember that helicopter you thought would fly when you dropped it off the roof?"

Henri wasn't listening anymore.

Once Malik cut the engine to the Thunderbird, the trio stepped out of the slightly damaged car and onto the pavement. They'd lost Sergei and his lackeys a couple of blocks down. Even if the mercenaries followed them here, Henri doubted they'd try anything. Attacking the FBI's headquarters didn't seem like the smartest of ideas—even for someone as bold as the Serbian.

Henri shuddered as the image of the man's hand reaching out for him strobed through his brain. He'd been about five seconds away from capture. Had their getaway driver not shown up when he did, who knows what would've happened to him and Thea.

"Who're we looking for again?" Malik asked as they approached the J. Edgar Hoover Building. It was a concrete low-rise behemoth peppered with parallel rows of identical tinted windows. A separate level had been built above the west wing. From the street, one could see the massive HVAC units looking down on the pedestrians below.

The place looked like it hadn't been updated since the Cold War. Plenty of buildings like it existed throughout America and Great Britain. The two countries could've learned a thing or two from Europe—or any other country with a shred of culture. Henri was no architect, but he surely could've designed a better-looking headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Alas, he wasn't there to critique the layout of the building.

"We're looking for a Special Agent Derek Callahan," Henri said, answering Malik's earlier question. The trio walked through the building's revolving door and immediately caught a speculative glance from the woman sitting behind the front desk.

"How may I help you today?" she asked as they stopped in front of her.

Thea spoke first. "Derek Callahan. Where is he?"

The receptionist shifted in her seat. "Do you have a meeting scheduled? Let me check—"

"No meeting. It's an emergency, actually, so if you could just tell us where he is that would be great."

"Young lady, you look like you've just survived a bomb strike. You cannot just barge into a government facility asking for the whereabouts of one of our agents."

Thea narrowed her eyes at the woman. Her hands were folded tightly across her chest. "And why not?"

Henri resisted the urge to facepalm. The only thing that would come out of this was an argument, and he wasn't interested in seeing his sister verbally duke it out with some lady who seemed to be a week away from retirement. Flashing one of his brilliant smiles at the receptionist, he stepped in front of Thea, gently pushing her out of the way. Before she could protest, he held a finger to her face.