Free Get Back Jack by Diane Capri

the door. He was a large black man, dressed in a navy blue business suit, a white shirt, and red tie. The high polish of his boss’s digs extended to the blinding surfaces of the man’s shoes, and he carried himself like he’d been a member of the Secret Service in another life, which he probably had. Those guys were unmistakable.
    He nodded by way of greeting, perhaps acknowledging he remembered them.
    Once again, Kim was struck by the excessive quiet in the corridor. Neagley’s office must be hermetically sealed. Absolutely no audible sound escaped, which, in Kim’s experience, was an exceptional feat for any office. She refused to wonder why Neagley needed offices more fortified than Fort Knox.
    Gaspar turned the doorknob and pushed into the lobby. Kim followed and the door swung closed, perfecting a sound barrier between the lobby and the hallway. Four people were already seated within. Two men and two women. Aside from being present in Neagley’s office, which meant they were in some kind of trouble, they seemed unremarkable.
    Kim had lost the coin toss to decide who would ask for Neagley this time. Simply because they had to eat somewhere anyway, Kim accepted Gaspar’s steak dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse bet that she couldn’t manage it this time, either.
    She approached the sliding glass window partition separating the lobby from the receptionist’s desk. The glass was heavy enough to be bulletproof. Based on what Kim had read in Neagley’s file, she figured it probably was.
    The desk chair was empty. Kim glanced at her Seiko. Just after five o’clock. Perhaps the uncooperative woman had left for the day. Could Kim be that lucky? She pressed what looked like a doorbell button recessed in the wall to the left of the glass and heard nothing in response. She waited.
    Kim turned away from the frosted window when the door through which she and Gaspar had just entered opened behind them and Frances L. Neagley strode into the room.
    Neagley looked unchanged from her official Army personnel photo. Her hair was long and dark and shampoo-ad shiny. Her eyes were dark and more alive than her photo had made them seem. Her body reflected a serious gym routine, which had not been evident in the official photograph but was consistently reflected in her combat record.
    Neagley was older than Kim by maybe a decade, taller by several inches, equally slim and lithe. She wore a white T-shirt snugged up against her body under a tailored black suit jacket. Her slacks fell perfectly creased to skim the front of stylish oxfords that would serve equally well deployed as weapons or in a foot chase.
    A younger, taller man, resembling Neagley closely enough to be her twin, followed closely. He was dressed casually in jeans, leather jacket, and sneakers. He seemed hyper-focused on reaching his destination. Whatever it was. Neither slowed stride before they reached the interior entrance, next to which Kim and Gaspar stood. Neagley opened the door and stood aside to allow the young man to precede her.
    Kim sensed this was her one chance to accomplish something today. “Ms. Neagley?”
    Neagley glanced toward Kim just long enough to allow Kim and Gaspar’s approach. The three remained on the lobby side of the threshold while the young man stood a couple of feet inside the open doorway.
    Kim lowered her voice and pulled out her badge.
    “FBI Special Agents Otto and Gaspar,” she said.
    Gaspar displayed his badge wallet as well. Neagley stalled, perhaps by momentary indecision. No one offered to shake hands.
    The young man started to fidget. “Frances. Frances. Frances,” he said, uninflected, each repetition a smidge louder than the last. “Frances. Frances. Frances.”
    “Okay, Paul. Okay,” Neagley said, seeming to make up her mind about something. “Agents, this way, please.”
    She waved Kim and Gaspar through the doorway and closed it solidly behind them.
    Neagley led them along an interior passageway. Paul walked slightly