M-A-T-T-H-E-W, she typed slowly on the keyboard. Good thing soldiers have photo documentation, otherwise, she would have been completely lost without a last name after so many searches. The light from the screen gently illuminated her face in the dark room, where the only sounds were the ticking of the clock and the regular clicking of the mouse. On the third page, she finally found the right Matthew – Barnett. In the photo, he looked a little younger, with less gray hair than she remembered from yesterday.

She continued reading his thick file: Born September 28, 1990, in Grand Forks, North Dakota. During an eco-activist protest, his parents lost their lives, which affected him deeply from a young age. He joined the military after leaving the orphanage. He started as a regular soldier, but his exceptional strategic thinking ability opened the door to special forces.
Aha, so he's not just an ordinary soldier, Samantha thought, but her face darkened when her gaze fell on the last line. Syria. One month ago. Samantha froze. If he served there, he must have more information about the incident that took place. Or worse—he could have been a part of it.Could there be a monster hiding behind that pleasant face, someone who wants power? she wondered. It seemed too suspicious that she had felt so comfortable with him and the others yesterday. She had to be more careful—this wasn't her first time in the field, she reminded herself. So, what's next?
N-A-T-H-A-N-I-E-L, through 3,000 soldiers. She rolled her eyes and hissed nervously. This is going to take me a week, she thought, lifting her head to the ceiling. Her mind desperately searched for shortcuts when it hit her: Let's do this the other way around. She opened Matthew's file again and found the name Nathaniel Blackwood. Voila.
Born February 4, 1995, in Denver, Colorado. Son of a prominent diplomat, who joined the military at the age of 17. Samantha paused. Was it his own choice, or had his family indirectly disowned him? His file was full of youthful offenses—broken windows, fights, minor conflicts—nothing particularly serious.
The last name. Samantha tiredly pulled her hands away from the keyboard and stretched her back. For a moment, she stared at the wall in front of her. Nothing special, just a bunch of papers on the corkboard, but it served as a good break for her eyes. Back to work, she thought. I need to finish this.
She started searching for the next person. C-Y-N-T-H-I-A S-U-L-L-I-V-A-N, she typed into the keyboard.
Thank goodness for my eagle eyes, she patted herself on the shoulder. She had read her last name from the ID badge she wore around her neck yesterday.Born July 16, 1995, in Portland, Oregon. Her record was simple. Looking at Cynthia's photo, Samantha couldn't help but smile. They were the same age, and although their lives were completely different, for a moment, it seemed like a small, effortless friendship had formed between them. There was practically nothing in her records. Cynthia was an ordinary, average girl with luck in her work. She had probably met Matt and Nathaniel during her job for politician Kingston.
None of these records made Samantha nervous, except Syria, which she found associated with both soldiers. So there are only two versions: either they knew about the attack, or they are innocent. And of course, she would verify it all. She closed the background tabs on her computer, stood up from her chair, and slowly walked past the desk where she had been sitting to the door leading out of the room.As soon as she opened the door, the noise of agents working, either talking to each other or communicating over the phone, hit her. It sounded like a beehive. Busy little bees doing their work.
The room was an open-space office with several aisles, each with open "cubicles" that served as mini offices for individuals.She scanned the room with her eyes and found the private office of the director of this workplace. Since this was just one of Enigma's many workplaces—a community of secret agents that the world only whispers about, with no one really knowing who belongs to it—Kingsley was not her direct superior.
She walked decisively, confidently toward the office. When she reached the door, she paused for a second and took a deep breath. The cold metal handle momentarily pulled her out of her thoughts, but she immediately grabbed it and, without knocking, entered the room.The office's interior was sparse but luxurious. A massive dark wood desk stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by leather chairs. Behind the desk, a large emblem of the institution hung on the wall, emphasizing the dignity of the space. The man sitting at the desk, Kingsley, looked up from the papers he had been studying, and his eyes locked onto Samantha's confident gaze."Hello," she greeted Kingsley."Good day... Samantha," he replied, but his voice clearly carried irony. He furrowed his brow as if offended by her behavior. "Do you not knock at home?" he asked sharply, and his tone turned stern.
Samantha shrugged gently and raised her hands in a gesture of apology. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry," she said with an air of urgency. Her gaze was fixed on Kingsley, but there was clear determination in her words. "I may have some interesting information for you. I'd like to summon soldiers Nathaniel Blackwood and Matthew Barnett tomorrow. Both served in Syria during THAT incident. They've probably already been interrogated by soldiers, but I'd like to do it again."
Kingsley was silent for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, his face as unreadable as a stone wall. It was as if he was mentally sorting through the information he had just heard. Slowly, he licked his dry lips, and his gaze briefly fell on the documents on the desk. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and folded his hands on the desk as though preparing to pass judgment."Alright, but you will lead the interrogation."
"That won't be possible, we know each other. We're staying at the same resort. My identity is classified, but the agent who will interrogate them can wear an earpiece, and I'll whisper to him."
"Fine, we'll send them. We'll inform both of them as soon as possible," Kingsley nodded.