MARTIN WENT TO ANOTHER FLOOR, more precisely to a specific room, a sort of HR office, where the Bureau's agents' data was kept.
Martin entered the room. The technician in charge was Walton Carmichael, and only he could have access to that personnel data. To top it off, the phone line in his office was protected against wiretaps, which allowed Martin to use the strategy in his mind.
— Good afternoon, Walton — he said to the agent.
— How can I help you, Martin? — the man replied coldly.
Their relationship had never been very friendly. Ever since Martin joined the Bureau, Carmichael had been a thorn in his side.
— Things are crazy out there, you know?
— Yes, I know everything that's going on, but I don't think you came here just to tell me about it... — the man replied, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.
— I know you don't need this. Actually, I'm here for a big reason. This is one of the few secure lines we have in the Bureau and I need to make an urgent important call. Would you allow me to do so?
— You need prior permission to use other agents' private lines, Martin. Request it in advance and then bring the protocol to my desk.
Martin rested his hand on Carmichael's desk and looked at him seriously, saying:
— While we're here talking, President Kenan is somewhere at risk of further attacks. I can take the trouble to request this permission, but if something happens while I'm dealing with the bureaucracy, we'll both be responsible for it. Would you like that?
The man's dead fish eyes widened on his flabby face, the portrait of a man suffering from serious thyroid problems.
He thought for a few seconds and then replied:
— Okay, Martin, I'll allow it this time, but know that it won't happen again.
— Thank you, my friend.
— We're not friends...
— I know... — he said as he gave her a sly wink.
The two remained looking at each other until Martin raised his eyebrows and said, picking up the phone and putting it to his ear:
— If you'll excuse me...
Clearly irritated by the situation, Walton got up from his chair and left the room, giving him privacy to use the line.
WHEN HE SAW THE DOOR CLOSED, Martin put the phone down and began to look for where the documents he wanted could be.
He started with the computer. The system was already open, since Walton constantly researched agents, which would leave him somewhat free from great suspicion on the part of whoever was behind that whole conspiracy. To disguise himself, Martin searched for one or two random names and then went straight to the agents he wanted.
Bingo!
Both names were in FBI records, with their entries on dates much earlier than the current one. To Martin's greatest surprise, one of them was from that unit.
How come I don't know him?
Even though he had only been in the Bureau for a few years, Martin would certainly know Agent Joseph Hawkes, which had not happened. Agent Dwayne Cohan was from Washington. A few more random names and Martin abandoned the computer. The next step was to look for paper. Martin saw a large filing cabinet in the corner of the room and silently opened its drawers and began his search. There were countless files of hundreds of FBI agents.
The young man quickly went through the folders, looking at the names as fast as he could, looking for Hawkes.
Haley, Harris... Hawkes!
The folder would certainly contain interesting information! Martin, however, was disappointed when he opened the document. There was nothing there, not even basic information about the agent, his background and other things.
The few papers with text were covered with thick black bars almost entirely. Someone had cleaned up there! This is not a good thing...!
In a hurry, he put the folder away and closed the file, certain that there would be nothing about Agent Cohan in that Bureau unit either, besides the risk of being surprised by Agent Carmichael's return, who would soon come in to see what was going on.
WHEN HE OPENED THE DOOR, CARMICHAEL found Martin standing there, talking on the phone and ending the conversation:
— Oh yes! Thank you very much! I hope I was of some help!
After saying these words, he returned the phone to the hook and walked to the door, smiling at the adversarial agent.
— Thank you, Carmichael! Your trust in me has rendered an important service to the country.
— I believe it. — he replied, internally annoyed.
Martin left triumphant.