I was nervous as I walked into the Federal Building the next morning. While Patrick, Mark and Sophie would be in more direct physical danger that evening, I was still sweating. After all, I was revealing a lot to a man that I wasn’t certain we could trust. He was still a Federal prosecutor, after all.
"Excuse me, is Mr. Benjamin Fernandez in?" I asked the receptionist at the front. "I'm Tabitha Williams of MJT Holdings."
"I can see if he’s available," the receptionist, who was wearing a security uniform and had a Glock on his hip, answered. It was a Federal building, and while I could dimly remember an era when government buildings weren't the target for terrorist attacks, it was a hazy memory at best. I waited nervously while the man made a phone call, speaking quietly into the handset. He took the phone away from his mouth for a moment. "Miss Williams, what's the nature of this? Mr. Fernandez doesn't have you on his schedule, and is supposed to be in a deposition in twenty minutes."
"I understand," I said. "Tell him it has to do with the roof problems he had a little while ago. I know of a contractor that can assist him."
The receptionist gave me a strange look, but repeated what I'd said. His expression grew even more confused as he listened to the answer. He set his handset down and blinked. "Mr. Fernandez is coming down right now," he said. "Would you mind waiting over there?"
I took a seat in one of the few chairs over by the window, people watching for a few minutes. It was pretty easy to peg people based off of their clothes and their walk, a skill Mark had been working with me casually on for most of the winter. The law enforcement agents all walked the same, their shoulders back and their heads on swivels. The FBI guys were the worst, putting off a visible air of arrogance. With the reputation they'd garnered recently with taking down Owen Lynch and the Confederation, many of them probably did feel like they were masters of the city, or at least that they were on top of things. How wrong they were.
In contrast to the law enforcement types, the hordes of regular workers, analysts, and other jobs were also easy to pick out, although their individual jobs were more difficult to detect unless they carried something in their hands that gave it away. They walked like anyone else, half unaware of their surroundings, complacent in the security systems in place and in the common decency of their fellow man not to have anarchy break out at a moment's notice. After living with Patrick and Mark, both of whom had lived a life where complacency was a very risky option, it was somewhat off putting. It's not that the safety and security of good people is a bad thing, but I could tell many of these people were missing the good details as well as the bad details of life. They lived in a world made up of muted sepia tones, when the all around them was dramatic full color if they would just open their eyes and look. I wondered if I had been one of those people once, then shook my head. Of course I had been. It had taken being kidnapped, my heart and head screwed with, and then being put back together by the most important people in my life to wake me from my slumber.
I picked out Bennie Fernandez as soon as he stepped off the elevator. It wasn't just that he'd been in the newspapers, it was his facial expression. He wasn't as arrogant as the FBI agents, but he was confident. Also, he was aware, his eyes were taking in details with every step and breath. I could see why Mark had continued to work with him after breaking the information on Owen Lynch.
"Miss Williams, it's a pleasure to meet you face to face," Bennie said as he came over, shaking my hand in a firm yet still somewhat soft grip. I'd spent too much time with people who earned their callouses the old fashioned way I guess, because as aware as Bennie was, I could tell from his grip he still trusted things that I didn't have faith in. Like the security measures of the building. He'd be the man who could pick out who the real killer was in a movie, or see details in documents that everyone would miss. On the street, he might be aware enough to spot trouble before it happened, but most likely wouldn't be able to do anything about it personally other than run away. "I know I came by your house months ago, but you were unavailable. I apologize I never followed up with you."
"That's perfectly all right, Mr. Fernandez," I replied, remembering the visit Mark and Sophie had told me about. "I understand that you have big fish to fry, and my issue was small potatoes at the time."
"Well, it did seem to rise up again," Bennie said. "I was a bit surprised when a friend in the civil court clerk's office called me, telling me about it. I was glad it got dropped, honestly."