carrier."
"I'm not sure they'll be able to—"
"I'm just trying to underscore the importance of his safe delivery. Did they say whether the suspect was Arab?" Sharpe interrupted.
"Dark-skinned. That's all I got. I'll get more details," he said and stepped out of the room to make the call.
"Agent Olson, I want you to oversee this personally. Call Gregory Carlisle in Counterterror, and tell him to bring his special interrogation team with you to Boston. He'll know what I'm talking about. I want this guy talking."
"Yes sir," she said and pulled out her cell phone, sitting back down on the desk.
"All right, that's it, let's get the teams organized and out of here. Support, I want full links set up to each site. Mobile links for the teams. Data, voice, video…the works. I want to be able to process everything as quickly as possible," Sharpe yelled, as the room erupted into a chaos of multi-tasking FBI agents.
"You got it, boss," yelled a dark-haired, slender, male agent from the back of the room.
"Agent Weber," he yelled.
Weber barreled through the gaggle of agents breaking for the door. "Sir?"
"How long have you been up?" he asked.
"I never went home yesterday. I took the duty section's first shift last night. I was on my way home when I got recalled at about one forty."
"I wish I could tell you that sleep was in your near future, but it doesn't look that way. First thing I need you to do is prepare a media-withhold request for immediate distribution to local law enforcement. I need this in ten minutes. I want to shut down all publicly available information until we have a handle on what we're dealing with."
"I'll have it for you ASAP," he said and turned to leave.
"And, Keith, the coffee works better when you drink it," Sharpe said, touching the coffee stain on Agent Weber's shirt.
Special Agent Weber smirked and bolted out of the room.
Sharpe turned and approached Heather Olson, who had started to dial her phone to contact Counterterror's duty section-lead.
"Heather, I want you to lean on this guy. Tell Gregory to give me a call immediately. I don't want him to hold back on this one. The stakes are too high. We might have to push the envelope here. I hope that doesn't bother you."
"I'd hate to think I've developed a reputation for being squeamish," she replied with a grin.
"On the contrary. That's why I woke you up at one thirty in the morning instead of your boss. Keep me updated. Frequently. Good luck."
"Understood, sir. Thank you," she said and turned back to her phone again.
She was interrupted by Special Agent Justin Edwards.
"Agent Olson, may I take the lead on the Newport case? I have considerable experience leading high-profile case investigations."
"Justin, I'm familiar with your background. The Boston team is already top-heavy with Greg Carlisle in the mix. I need you at one of the other sites," she said and returned her focus to her phone.
"Yeah, but I have a solid interrogations background. I'd be more help in Boston than at any of the other sites."
"I don't need another interrogator in Boston. I need investigators. Do you want to go to Newport? I can let you take Newport, but you stay in Newport."
"Anything that mattered in Newport is already on its way up to Boston," he said and glanced to the side with a look of disgust.
"Pick your team for Maine. You'll get travel arrangements, a tech support package, and background information on your murder victim within the hour. Turn something up in Maine, and you can join us in Boston. I need to make a call," she said and turned away to dial Counterterrorism's duty desk.
"I don't want to go to Maine," he protested.
"Then stay here and work a phone," she said over her shoulder.
A few seconds passed while Justin stared contemptuously at her back. "I hope they have sushi," he said and turned to walk away.
Agent Olson glanced over her shoulder with high hopes that the arrogant prick had finally moved on. He was a talented FBI agent, but she
Yvette Hines, Monique Lamont