Wired (Buchanan-Renard #13)(10)

The gate suddenly opened.

“I guess they know we’re here,” Jordan said as she stepped on the accelerator and drove through. She pulled into an empty lot obviously meant for visitors and parked in the slot closest to the front door. “There must be a parking garage on the other side of the building or maybe it’s underground.”

“There’s a guard just inside the door watching us.”

Jordan nodded. “I count two cameras on top of the building, and the red eyes are definitely on us.”

“This is very weird,” Allison said. “But the fact that it’s such a highly protected site makes me all the more excited to see what’s inside. I wonder if they have a code room.”

“I’m sure they do.”

They started for the door. “Don’t let me forget to thank Agent Phillips. This is such a cool opportunity,” Allison said.

“About Phillips . . . ,” Jordan began.

“Yes?”

“You won’t like him much at first. He’s arrogant and wants things done his way, but he grows on you. He can be a real pain. . . .”

“And he’s your friend?”

Jordan nodded. “If you’re in the mood, I’d love it if you’d take him down a peg, maybe chip away some of his arrogance.”

“You want me to show off for an FBI agent?”

“I kinda do.”

“It’s not going to happen.” Allison began to laugh. “You’ve got a crazy amount of faith in me. I’m sure the head of the cyber task force won’t be interested in anything I have to say.”

The guard at the door escorted them to a reception desk where another guard sat behind a bank of computer screens. The young man, with a badge clipped to his blazer pocket identifying him as Tom Pritchard, picked up the phone to notify Phillips of their arrival. While they waited, the door guard leaned against the counter, obviously happy to have a break in the monotony of his job and ready to chat. “We hardly ever get visitors, and today we have three.”

“Three?” Jordan asked.

“That’s right. You two and an agent, but not with this division. I’m not real sure who he works for,” he admitted. “But I do know he’s got higher clearance than Agent Phillips. He could shut us down if he wanted to.”

“Why would he want to?” Allison wondered.

The guard grinned. “I’m not saying he would. I’m saying he could. He’s got the authority.”

The elevator doors opened and a man stepped out. He was putting his jacket on as he strode toward the desk. He appeared to be in his mid-forties. His hair was trimmed so close to his head he almost looked bald, and his stocky build and thick neck strained the buttons of his shirt.

“Phillips is younger than I expected,” Allison whispered to Jordan.

“That’s not Phillips,” she replied.

“No, that’s Curtis Bale. He was head of our Midwestern division in Detroit,” Tom said as he opened a drawer and took out two large envelopes. When Bale reached the counter, he handed them to him. Bale couldn’t seem to take his attention away from the women, so the guard quickly introduced him.

“Are you here to see anyone in particular?” Bale asked.

Since the question was directed at her, Allison answered. “Yes, we are.”

“Agent Phillips,” Jordan supplied.

It was apparent that Bale wanted to know why they wanted to see Phillips, because he waited several seconds for one of them to explain. Neither Jordan nor Allison did.

The guard filled the awkward silence. “I think they’re here for a tour or something.”

Bale’s eyebrow went up. “Phillips is giving tours?” He laughed as though the notion was ludicrous.

“Not exactly,” Jordan said. “Agent Phillips is a friend.”

“Then the rumor’s true. Phillips does have friends.” He shook his head, then said, “It was nice meeting you. Enjoy your tour.” He checked the time on his watch and hurried down the hall.

Tom noticed the two women were still holding their purses and said, “No cell phones or cameras beyond this point. You can leave your things here, and I’ll lock them in the desk.”

They were handing over their purses just as the elevator doors opened again and Agent Phillips stepped out. He managed a smile for Jordan. When she introduced him to Allison, he gave her a frown and a curt nod. Allison guessed Phillips was around fifty. His thick hair was streaked gray, and his weathered tan implied he was an outdoorsman. His piercing gaze told her he didn’t miss much.

Allison followed Jordan into the elevator. Leaning close, she whispered, “He’s a real charmer, isn’t he?”

The second floor was just as shiny and uncluttered as the first. There were several sleek desks scattered around the area, but there weren’t any employees working at the stations. Aside from the stack of Post-its and pens, there were no other papers or personal effects such as potted plants or photos of family. Maybe they weren’t allowed, Allison thought. The wall opposite the elevators was constructed of huge opaque glass panels.

A tall young man in a suit that looked a size too large for his thin frame stood waiting for them as they exited the elevator.

“Ladies, this is Agent Kimble,” Phillips said. He then turned to Kimble. “If you’ll take Mrs. Clayborne and show her around, I’d like to have a word with Miss Trent before her tour.”