The man who'd been waiting on Daniel's bunk was "Davis". Like Henderson before him, he didn't give Daniel any other name. Or much other information. He loaded Daniel onto the first plane off the base, a cargo flight where Daniel sat between rows of unmarked crates. There was one other passenger.
Ellis sat across the row, as far from him as possible. Daniel was grateful that she knew exactly how he was feeling. It seemed to have communicated more of his anger than words could have. He tried to get some sleep lying across three seats. The two times he woke up on the flight, she was watching him. If she got any sleep, it was restless. Daniel could tell from the way she moved when they landed.
They'd both been shipped east to a military airport outside New York. Time zones meant the sun was already high in the sky by the time they stepped off. Daniel reset his watch while they waited.
Ellis, to his great dismay, hadn't set off on some other mission. They both had been beckoned over by a soldier in uniform who, (judging by both the uniform and general confusion) was not part of The Agency. Daniel didn't introduce himself, just checked all his documents and valuables were still where he'd packed them. Nothing you left on a cargo plane was ever going to be found again.
After what seemed like hours but was only seven minutes, Daniel got the best news of the day. It came in a black Lexus which drove across the tarmac towards them. The car drove right up to them and rolled a window down. Daniel grinned, despite everything.
"Hey Gunslinger," Bennet said in his light Texas accent, "you're riding with me". The soldier looked completely different in street clothes. He could have been anyone at a baseball game. The doors unlocked with a click and Bennet told them to "hop in".
"I guess you were right behind us?" Bennet asked "When did you find out you were joining us here?".
"You're based in New York?" Daniel asked instead of answering. He settled into the back seat, across from Bennet. Ellis sat next to him, studiously looking out the window.
Bennet glanced at both of them and put something together. "Yeah. We have a compound inside the city. You'll love it."
"You have our orders?" Daniel asked.
"You don't?" Bennet said.
"They like to keep us in the dark."
Daniel enjoyed how much that line of conversation alarmed Ellis. She didn't dare speak up, but he could see her shifting in her seat. Bennet could pick up an implication. He changed subjects.
"You guys, the—"
Ellis suddenly spoke up, "Tracers".
"This is Ellis" Daniel said. "She can read people's emotional state. Like a polygraph machine."
Bennet nodded picking up a third, even stronger implication, which Daniel regretted. He was being mean to Ellis, which wouldn't help anyone. Except him. The car drove silently for a while, crossing through some tunnels and into the city. Daniel had only ever been to west coast cities. New York had a different feeling. Darker and bigger. Older. It had been raining, lightly.
Bennet glanced over his shoulder as they waited in traffic and gestured between the two of them. "Is this going to be a problem for us?" Bennet asked.
Daniel looked at Ellis, who looked back at him, then quickly looked away. She hadn't met his eyes since the interrogation room. Even now, she could hide behind her bangs, a puff of brown hair wet from the rain on the tarmac.
"No" he said.
Bennet nodded.
"There's a suit waiting for you at the compound." Daniel nodded, absorbing the implications of 'suit'. The Agency's foot soldiers had their own relationship with the hierarchy he was part of, and it included warning each other about the presence of 'suits', it seemed.
"No one I've met before?" Daniel asked. He would have said if it was Henderson.
Bennet laughed. "No. She's high up."
A decision maker, Daniel realized. Interesting.
By the time they got to the compound, Ellis had fallen asleep. Served her right for refusing to sleep on the plane. Daniel went to wake her up, but Bennet shook him off with a raised hand.
"The meeting is for you. No point waking her up early, I think you've both had a long day."
Daniel nodded.
The decision maker was literally high up, it turned out. The compound was built into a Brooklyn skyscraper. A sign by the entrance said "The Vatler Center" in thin Sans Serif letters. It was the kind of place that had armed security waiting behind a revolving door. Daniel showed them the card Bennet had given him, and they waved him through without a second glance. He wondered if they were agency assets. He was clearly a kid, barely 18, holding a card that gave him access to one of the most secure buildings he'd ever seen. And Daniel had grown up on CIA black sites.
He had a moment of panic about getting the floor number right, he hadn't asked Bennet. But there were no buttons in the elevator, just a slot for the keycard. He swiped it and the carriage accelerated upwards. Judging by it's speed, he was going to the top.
The building was built around a hollow central column. An atrium that seemed to stretch dozens of floors up. He watched the ground floor shrink, white and silver walkways shoot past, through the elevator's glass walls. Finally, the open space vanished behind a wall of grey and steel. It let him off at floor 42, probably close to the top. Two armed guards in Agency blacks waited just inside a nondescript lobby area. A receptionist pointedly ignored him behind a forest green desk. Everything was beige or green, the sofas, the chairs, the coffee tables.
He placed his hands on the receptionist's desk and waited for her to look up. "Daniel Tracy?" she asked. Someone had a sense of humor. He nodded and handed her his keycard, but she didn't even look at it.
"Wait over there."
The lobby was better than the tarmac, Daniel decided. He sat in a too-soft armchair and watched people move around the street like ants far below. He couldn't see the black Lexus anymore. Daniel hoped that meant Ellis had been woken up, which was again, petty.
Thirteen minutes later, a 'suit' came to pick him up. This one was younger than Henderson or any of the Suits at Camp Deadrock. Maybe only a few years older than Daniel.
He led Daniel behind the lobby doors, past several meeting rooms with tinted doors, through a maze of cubicles and desks, and into an empty conference room. The glass walls overlooked the work area, and Daniel saw people staring at him openly.
The workers seemed to be some kind of analysts. He could see maps and pictures of phenomenon on their desks. One whiteboard had a picture of the monster he'd fought in Lautville last night (or maybe it was still this morning?) held onto it by a small corny fridge magnate shaped like the American flag.
He could feel the energy of the place surging into his tired brain. This was a nerve center. This was the exact kind of place Henderson had worked so hard to keep him out of. This was the kind of place where they'd have the information, he needed to track down the mystery shooter from San Francisco. He'd have to figure out how to do it without raising suspicion though. And for some reason, he was already the focus of attention.
The analysts kept stealing glances at him, one even nudged his co-worker and pointed. The glass meeting room he was in must have been soundproof because he couldn't hear a word they were saying. Then suddenly the commotion stopped.
The boss was on the floor, and he knew it before she'd come around the corner. Everyone was suddenly preoccupied with the nearest screen or paper or work related conversation. No one dared make eye contact with her.
Daniel resolved to play this carefully.
She was in her fifties and used a cane to compensate for her slight limp. A wound, he decided. Her left foot faced slightly too far to the right when she walked, implying a fracture that hadn't quite healed right. A fracture that couldn't be treated properly at the time it happened. The kind of thing that happened when you got shot at the bottom of a dark hole, weeks before you got treated.
She didn't look up from a folder of papers until she'd sat down opposite him.
"Ryan," she said, addressing the young suit first. "Out."
He left so quickly he had to double back to stop the door from slamming shut.
"Sorry for all the buzz. You're the first Tracer they've ever seen in person." The woman spoke casually, like she was about to bring up last weeks sports games. She spoke deep in her natural register in a clipped accent, all of which underscored his theory about her military history.
All the other Tracers were younger than him. Ellis was the only one he'd met within a year of him. It made sense that he was the first to step foot in an actual operational headquarters. It also meant there was an additional pressure on him that he didn't understand yet.
"I hope I can live up to their expectations." He said, which seemed safe until the woman laughed. She laughed humorlessly and quickly, a sensible chuckle that had somewhere to be after this.
"You're a celebrity around here, Daniel."
Of course. They had photos of his last mission. He waited for her to continue while she waited for him to say something else stupid. She seemed impressed when he didn't, which was nice.
"You're our favorite Operative, to be honest." She said instead. "Your reports are always detailed. You don't get people killed. Usually, you even keep a few alive."
Sam nodded, which wasn't the correct response. He didn't know what the correct response was to praise. Ms. Henderson had simply expected results. No one had ever told him he'd done "good work" before.
"Which is why you put us in a tough position about eight hours ago when you decided to wipe out two entire units in an afternoon." She meant the stunt he pulled in the interrogation room. Jefferson and Henderson had been completely disrupted when he chose to openly antagonize Henderson.
The pit in his stomach was back.
The woman snapped her papers shut and looked at him seriously for the first time. Her eyes were bright blue, disturbingly bright. A deep burn scar ran down the right side of her face.
"You're wrong about Henderson of course." She said with the same clipped efficiency. As though it was an inarguable fact. "She made you what you are. She did her job perfectly. But we made a mistake leaving you in the nest for too long." The woman sighed. "It's my fault. I didn't want to mess with a good thing. 'If it isn't broken, don't fix it.'"
She changed gears entirely and stuck out her hand. "Major Utley. Bureau chief here. You can call me Major, Chief, or Utley, provided the latter is precipitated by either of the former." Daniel shook, the first time he'd shaken anyone's hand. She squeezed firmly and held on a little longer than he expected. "You're going to be working for me directly Daniel. Out of this office."
Daniel swallowed hard and mentally ranked the ten most suprising things this meeting could have been about. Getting a promotion and working directly for someone in charge of the agency ranked somewhere behind the formation of an agency wide Ultimate Frisbee team. She frowned.
"I don't want you to think of this as a promotion, let me be clear. Henderson was trying to keep you in class, and you acted out." She paused, evaluating him. "Sometimes, kids act out because they're not being given enough responsibility. Sometimes it's because they can't be trusted to behave."
She had taken on a mean look. " I'm giving you the chance to prove Henderson wrong. You're in the big leagues now."
"I'm a 'suit' now?" Daniel asked.
"Sure. You have the same Operant rank as Henderson." She paused. "Do you know what happens to Henderson if she leaks secrets, or gets people killed?"
Daniel had a pretty good idea. The Major nodded. "Good. Your fire team will stay the same. They'll help you transition."
That was a relief, Daniel felt like he had a fair shot with Bennet on his side. Maybe, he could work the problem straight. Maybe The Agency was going to give him free reign to actually make a difference, instead of chasing individual phenomenon across the west coast.
"When do I start?" he asked.
"As soon as your operator wakes up." The Major said. "You really should have made sure she slept on the plane."
And just like that Daniel's heart was in his boots again. His big chance, the opportunity to answer all questions, the gamble that could change his life, rested on Ellis. He tried to keep the crushing dismay off his face, though Ellis would probably be able to feel it from a mile away. She'd be watching his every move, waiting for a chance to report something over his head. Which, of course, The Major knew. He was still being supervised, just from below.
He found himself saying "Thank you for the opportunity, Major Utley." and he meant it. The deck was still stacked, but he had a chance.The stakes were higher, which just meant one thing.
There was no room for error now.