Overview

Secret Service special agents Comer and Stevens sat in front of Director Neumann's huge polished desk, their hands folded in their laps, staring at the floor. Comers and Stevens could be clones of each other, twenty years apart. Wearing dark suits, solid-color ties, and polished black shoes, they were clean-shaven with short haircuts and dark hair. Though, Comer had grey mixed in with his. He had more leather in his skin, too. In front of each, on the desk, were their firearms and badges, as if they had made an ante in a game of poker. No one spoke while Director Neumann read the report with a scowl. They simply stared at the glare coming from his bald skull. Because of their angle and Neumann's glasses, they couldn't see his eyes. But his jacket was on the back of his chair and they could see the circles of moisture forming in the underarms of his white shirt.

"Who is going to explain to me how the kid got spooked and ran before you could pick him up? Whose bright idea was it to pick him up at work and let his supervisor get on the phone with him?"

Looking a little surprised that he was going to answer, Agent Stevens replied "Uh, it was my idea, sir. I thought ".

"I very much doubt that". Neumann turned his glare to Comer. "And you? You thought this was a good idea, too?"

Rising from his slouch to almost sitting at attention,...