"A bird wouldn't have the strength to shift the grate with their wings or their claws, Agent Ryan. Now, will you just get out of my bedroom so I can go to sleep?"
"Only doing my job, Minister." She shoved the cover back, taking careful note of the existing scratches, then rose. "The agent assigned for day shift will be here at seven. Do you wish me to wake you at that time if you're not already up?"
"Yes. Now get out."
She did. But she stayed near the closed door, listening.
She wasn't entirely sure what she expected to hear, but there was something about Wetherton that scratched her instincts.
He was up to no good, she was sure of that. And it was something he didn't want her to know about.
But the soft sounds coming from the bedroom suggested he was doing nothing more than getting ready for bed. She gave up after a few minutes and walked over to the sofa where she'd left her com-unit. After sitting down, she pressed her thumb into the lock.
"Voice identification required," the unit stated.
"Sam Ryan, SIU officer, badge number 1934."
"Voice scan correct. Eye confirmation required."
She looked into the small scanner fitted into the left-hand side of the unit. A red beam swept over her eye.
"Eye scan correct." The unit clicked open.
Izzy's pink fluff form appeared onscreen. "It's a little early in the morning to be up and about, isn't it sweetie?"
"Tell me about it," she said dryly, and barely repressed a yawn. "Has Hopeworth replied to our request for ID information about the gray haired man?
Izzy's feather boa twirled. "Not a whisper, sweetie."
"Well, his name is General Blaine, and he apparently does work at Hopeworth." She paused, looking towards Wetherton's room. The soft sound of steps indicated he was still moving around. But when bedsprings squeaked, she relaxed and looked down at Izzy. "See what you can find out about him. Use all channels available."
"Oooo…freedom to search where I please. Thanks, sweetness."
She snorted softly as she retrieved her viaphone and plugged it in. "And do an identity check on this man," she said, as she transferred the image of Braggart. "His alias is Chip Braggart.
Dig me up any and all information about him."
Izzy's boa twirled faster. "Darlin', I can only do so many things at once."
"Izzy, you're a computer, not a human."
"That doesn't mean I'm without limits."
She grinned. They were definitely making these things too real. "You'll live Iz. Let me know when you find anything."
She closed the screen and set the com unit to one side, then lifted her feet onto the glass and chrome coffee table.
Without really meaning to, she dozed.
A soft sound woke her. She blinked, briefly noting that it was still night as she glanced sideways at the clock on the wall. Four o'clock. She'd been asleep just about an hour.
She frowned, listening to the silence, feeling guilty about sleeping on the job and wondering what the hell had woken her. Then she heard it again—a whisper-soft bump of something against metal. It came from the direction of Wetherton's room.
She rose, reaching for her weapon as she padded towards the door. After grasping the handle, she carefully inched the door open. Wetherton was a blanket covered, unmoving lump in the bed who made no noise.
She frowned and pushed the door open a little more, quickly peering around the corner. Nothing unusual here. No reason for the sound she'd heard.
Pressing her fingertips against the door, she pushed it all the way open. The room was still and dark, and Wetherton's after shave—a spicy, musky scent that was far too powerful for her liking—filled the air.