Vaslik looked at him. ‘Who are they?’
‘One is FBI. Him I can deal with. The other says he’s with the Pentagon Force Protection Agency.’
‘What is that?’ Ruth asked.
‘They’re a civilian agency set up after nine-eleven by the Department of Defence, with responsible for security in and around the Pentagon.’ He looked between them. ‘Seems like our Mr Chadwick has attracted some heavy-duty hitters.’
He turned and beckoned his visitors. Footsteps echoed along the corridor and two men entered the office.
Both men wore dark suits, were clean-shaven and in their early forties. But that’s where any similarities ended. The first man brushed past Reiks without formality and stood looking at Ruth and Vaslik, feet apart as if ready for a fight. He was close to six feet tall, thin, with the look of a former military man and an unfriendly glint in his eye.
‘I’m Special Agent Lars Bergstrom,’ he announced shortly, ‘Pentagon Force Protection. This is Special Agent Tom Brasher, FBI.’ He gestured behind him at the other man, who was shorter and fleshier but looked a lot friendlier.
‘Ma’am… sir,’ Brasher said and nodded.
Reiks walked over to the desk and perched on the edge. He didn’t offer the newcomers seats, but said, ‘Maybe you could enlarge for Miss Gonzales and Mr Vaslik, here, on what it is you want from us – and why.’ He spoke politely enough but it was clear that, new as he was to the Cruxys organisation, he wasn’t about to give way to Bergstrom’s heavy-handed tactics.
‘It’s simple enough.’ Bergstrom ignored Ruth and fastened his grey eyes on Vaslik. ‘We’ve been informed that you have an interest in James Chadwick, who appears to have dropped out of sight for no accountable reason. Correct?’
Vaslik nodded. ‘That’s right. But how would you know that?’
‘We have our sources.’ Bergstrom’s eyes flickered sideways, inadvertently betraying the fact that his source was the FBI. ‘My question is, why are you looking for him? And what the hell is Cruxys, anyway?’
Ruth cleared her throat to establish her presence. She didn’t like Bergstrom or his manner, and suspected this was his usual method of approach; go in hard and tough and bully his way past objections to get quick answers. She also guessed that he knew precisely what Cruxys was because he would have researched it thoroughly before coming here. She didn’t doubt that, hard-nosed as he was, Bergstrom was also professional enough to have checked his facts.
‘We’re an insurance and security company,’ she said calmly, ‘as I’m sure you already know.’ She waited for him to interrupt, but he merely lifted his eyebrows and studied her with a blank expression. ‘We became aware a few days ago that James Chadwick had broken his normal routines and disappeared. He has a security contract with our company – a form of insurance, if you like – and part of our remit is to help and support his family while we find out what has happened to him. That’s what we’re doing here.’
‘Yes, I know all about Cruxys… and Greenville, Miss – Gonzales? Seems like a neat business model you have there. You’re British, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. Tell me, how did you ‘become aware’, as you put it, that he’d gone off the radar? You must monitor all your clients’ movements very closely.’
‘Only those who ask us to.’ She saw no reason to go into details unless he demanded it. ‘We’ve spoken to his wife and employers, who have no idea where he is, and we’re now trying to narrow down the search based on his last known movements and contacts. But it’s a big country.’
‘Any luck with that?’ Brasher chipped in. He seemed a lot less aware of himself and spoke with studied calm.
‘Not yet. But it’s early days.’
‘Indeed it is,’ Bergstrom muttered. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to show us what you do have.’ It wasn’t a polite request, more like an order, and Ruth wondered what his problem was.
‘Show us ours and you’ll show us yours, you mean?’ she said. When he didn’t reply she added, ‘Why don’t you go first.’
His eyes glinted and the muscles in his jaw tensed. He stared hard at Ruth as if suspecting that she was teasing him and shook his head. ‘We don’t work like that, Miss Gonzales. As a visitor to this country I’d like to remind you—’
‘That’s fine.’ Brasher stepped forward and raised a hand. This time he had a harder edge to his voice. He threw Bergstrom a look which told the other man to pull in his head and said, ‘I think we need to put our cards on the table. It’s obvious we have a lead on information here, so maybe we can cut to the chase.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure everybody here knows that what we discuss goes no further unless it has to.’
Somewhere in the background a door opened and closed. Reiks nodded. ‘Good idea. Before we do, how about coffee? I believe supplies have arrived.’ He winked at Ruth to show he was playing for time, then stood and walked out of the office and down the corridor. Moments later he was back carrying a vacuum container and a stack of cardboard mugs from a nearby coffee bar. He handed them out and dropped sachets of sugar and wooden stirrers on the desk and let everybody help themselves. Then he went out and dragged two chairs inside for the visitors and resumed his place against the edge of the desk.
‘Go ahead, Special Agent Brasher,’ he said. ‘It’s clear you know more than we do.’
Brasher stirred his coffee and took a sip, then sat down and waited pointedly for Bergstrom to do the same before saying, ‘We’d like to know the current whereabouts of James Chadwick. He filed a report recently suggesting he’d been threatened and followed by persons unknown. Recent analysis and review of the details lead us to believe that there’s a facet to his claim that was missed first time round. We think he might have become involved in something serious.’
‘What kind of serious?’
‘It’s possible he’s become engaged in a potential terrorist threat against the Pentagon and other federal government facilities.’