Moments later, Elodie was being driven from her home in Aqualine Bay into the center of Bayview.

There was nothing suspicious in the back of the black, non-descript sedan—no papers nor tablets, nothing to explain what was happening, and Luke made no move to speak from his place in the driver seat.

Mayne she was too trusting and way in over her head, Elodie didn't know, couldn't even decide.

In all her twenty-five years on earth, nothing like this had happened to her.

Okay, maybe she'd been visited by officers on the night of her parents death, and Mace's accident, but it was nothing like this.

Being whisked away from her home at night without a warrant and the promise of returning her back home safely.

Worried she'd somehow fouled something up, getting involved in Boss's and Angelo's sick twisted game, she bit her nails and gazed out the window, watching the cyclists and dog walkers, and party-goers, the people heading home from work or picking dinners, as the late night began winding down.

When they finally pulled up to a non-descript building at Bayside on the Long Embankment and walked into reception, nobody met them on the way, so Luke led them to the lift where they rode the car to a office on the sixth floor.

"Please stay here," Luke said, directing her to the empty bank of steel chairs. "I'll be right back."

Then, he disappeared behind an unmarked door after making eye contact one more time.

The floor they were admitted on had constant activity in the corridor. The lifts disgorged important looking people, who hurried toward a large conference room— which boasted of large opaque glass walls— in a tense huddle of assistants and analysts.

At one point, she was offered a steaming cup of coffee, which she took with a grateful tilt of her head.

Sipping her coffee, Elodie watched government ministers she'd seen on TV at one point, judges, and people who were unfamiliar but equally important stride past.

Elodie was just beginning to realize that this wasn't the SBPD station. In fact, it looked like some undercover ring filled with people she'd never dreamed of seeing in her life.

Just as she was thinking of making a break for it, a man approached her.

The man wore round wired glasses, had floppy hair and a pinched face, and was so thin and insubstantial in his wrinkled suit and tie, and wore such a harried expression, that he looked like he was being escorted to the male toilets for a round of dunks in the bowl.

"Ms. Evans, I'm Ryan Brooks, one of the lead intelligence officers of the Beaureau Of Intelligence Agency—BIA for short." He held out his hand, palm open.

Elodie got to her feet, slipping her hand into his. "Elodie Evans."

"Please follow me," he instructed as he lead them to down the corridor towards the conference room she'd seen people entering all day. "All we need you to do is answer a few questions."

"I don't know what this is about," Elodie said, trying to keep up with his long strides. "And where's Luke?"

"Ms. Evans, Luke has fufiled his obligations, and I'll be taking it up from here," he told her. "Now, all you need to do is answer as succinctly as you can."

Elodie wrapped her fingers tighter around her plastic cup of half-drunk coffee. "Do I need a lawyer?"

He raised a brow at her over his shoulders. "That won't be necessary, Ms. Evans. All we need you to do is answer a few questions and you'll be back home in no time."

Brooks reached the conference room door and gripped the handle.

He looked her up and down, taking in her scruffy shirt, faded denim jeans and beat-up sneakers, and she got that feeling that he didn't like what he saw.

Elodie pushed her shoulders high, hoping her blazing eyes communicated that he could go and fuck himself.

"Do not offer any observations that aren't solicited, and don't refer to anyone on the room by name."

The door swung open and a man dressed in back from head to toe, earpiece pushed firmly in his ear with its wire disappearing into the collar of his shirt, pushed past them.

Elodie glimpsed a dark room full of people, heard vigorous discussions.

"What's happening?" She asked Brooks, desperate for answers.

"What's happening?" He replied tersely. "An enormous clusterfuck of unimaginable proportions, that's what's happening."

Elodie followed him into the room where a long conference table was lined with people, and the walls were illuminated by video screens.

Many of the man and women squeezed around the table were faces she didn't recognize but the few she did recognize were governments officials.

Backlit by the electronic light from the screens, ghoulish shadows dropped down their faces.

On the screen were people in suit and well-furnished offices, possibly because they couldn't make it to the meeting in person.

Brooks pointed to a chair inside the door and Elodie sat, listening to the urgent conversation.

A man with shaved hair at the far end of the table peered over the tops of his bifocals at a tablet as he spoke. "SIHQ has picked up ominous chatter suggesting that numerous agents from our counterparts are en route to London. We're trying to reach to the British Intelligence to warn them, and also to our friends to assure them that we have the situation under control, but it appears they are taking measures, nonetheless."

"Taking measures, that's a good way of putting it." A distinguished-looking man midway along the table snorted mirthlessly. "You're telling us London and Sunset Bay would be crawling with assassins and the Mafia."

The man who spoke first whipped off his glasses and tossed them on the files in front of him.

"And it's also safe to presume that a number of hostile parties would be, Beijing and Moscow among them, will try to take advantage of the situation and intercept Mr. Casieri and whisk him out of the country at the earliest opportunity."

Elodie tensed at the mention of the name.

"I don't need to remind you ladies andd gentlemen of the gravity of the situation should that happen."

On screen, a man with salt-and-pepper hair sat on a sunny verandah, a beach of glistening white sand behind him. "Washington does not have faith that we can handle the situation?"

A woman, beside the man with the bifocals, shook her head. "Can you blame them? The situation is unprecedented. It's been nearly forty-eight hours since Casieri got the information about the Tsar Bomba, and the fact that Medvedev is about to get his grubby hands on it, and we're still struggling to get the accurate information. The entire global intelligence community appears to be one step ahead of us. All our usual channels have let us down."

Brooks walked right over to the distinguished-looking man and whispered into his ear, and the man glanced over at Elodie.

He cleared his throat sharply, as if to say let's drop this conversation.

"I understand that Elodie Evans here is a hired sex worker who has spent the last four days with Mr. Casieri." He looked at her expectantly. "Can you tell us more about your time with Mr. Casieri, Ms. Evans?"

Elodie sat gaping, but when Brooks glared at her, she stood quickly, snapping her Jaws shut.

"I'm not a..." Everyone looked at her closely and her face grew hot. "I'm not a sex worker, I'm just a waitress."

The man asked, "we have been misinformed?"

She blinked at Brooks, who quickly stepped from the wall.

"I'm afraid Ms. Evans is the only person who has had personal contact with Casieri since he came to Sunset Bay," he said. "He's a man who's been very private and this is the first time in years that he's seeked out a female—worker—in an unfamiliar place. All his women had to be handpicked and selected, and be strictly Italian."

There was a tense silence in the room.

Elodie's mind reeled with the new information.

Angelo hadn't been joking when he said he'd wanted her specifically.

The lady who spoke earlier said,"Well you're here now. What can you tell us about Arcangelo Casieri?"

Elodie wracked her brains, not wanting to stammer or stumble in front of the packed room of very important people. "I, uh, work as an Escort during the night for an agency that—"

"We have information about the NAA, Ms. Evans, so don't hold anything back," the woman interrupted sharply.

"Okay." Elodie took a deep breath, wiping her sweating palms on her Jean clad thighs. "I am—was—a lower level worker until three days ago, when I was approached by my Boss with an offer to be a top ranking angel for four nights."

"Do you have any idea why the don of a powerful syndicate would contract an Escort for a clandestine affair in an unknown town?" On screen, a man sitting in a library of leather-bound books and dark woods glared into the camera. "Especially someone who's unpopular as yourself."

He tacked on a, "no offense intended, Ms. Evans." As if that would make it better.

"Ms. Evans isn't in charge of running her agency, Hemsworth," said another lady with an exasperated sigh. "I don't believe the question is within her purview. Please, Ms. Evans, skip to your time with Casieri. Did you witness any shady business dealings?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

The distinguished man frowned. "Can you expantiate on that?"

Elodie took another deep breath, then went into details about her ordeal with Angelo.

She told them about the two murders she witnessed, the discussions about the bomb he was hijacking right under the nose of a Russian whose name she couldn't recall.

Elodie left out the part about her rape, thinking that it wasn't necessary for them to know the extent of her humiliation.

It was still fresh in her mind.

Somehow, she did not foresee herself telling anyone of this ordeal.

When she finished, the room plunged into silence, except for the slight shuffle of papers.

A hole the size of the grand canyon opened wide in her stomach, body coiled tightly as she waited for more questions.

The man with the bifocals took his hands off his tablet and steppled his fingers under his chin. "What was he like as a person?"

Elodie was surprised by the question. "I haven't met that many powerful men before, but... He was guarded. Went on about betrayals, too. He's impatient, headstrong, and confident in himself. He is also curt and dismissive."

"Has he mentioned anything that has to do with..." The minister looked up from a file. "...the black-ops incursion code-named Down Under?"

From the way a number of people stiffened, Elodie guessed he'd said something that wasn't meant for her ears. "I don't—"

"I'm afraid Ms. Evans doesn't need to know about that," Brooks said quickly. "She's just here to tell us what she's picked up about Mr. Casieri."

"Then why is she here?" Behind the minister, a sea-gull flew across the surf. "She can't provide vital tactical information or psychological insights that would help nail the man."

"Well, what do you think his weakness is, Ms. Evans?"

Elodie squirmed trying to think of something to tell them.

Then, a light bulb went off in her head.

"Me!"

Once again, she stunned the room full of people into silence.

"You?" The minister asked, leaning closer to the camera as though he'd be able to see her clearly through it.

"You?" The distinguished man echoed.

"Yes." Elodie nodded, a bit sure of herself. "He specifically asked for me even though there are many available to give him what he needed. Plus, he told me that he'd come back to see me."

Elodie knew she was fibbing at the point.

Lying to such important people who had the law on their side was a bad idea, and was probably punishable by the said law.

But, something told her that he would return.

There had been a feverish behavior about the way he'd treated her.

Almost as though he intended to keep her.

The man in bifocals cocked his head. "And you're sure of this?"

"Yes, sir."

The distinguished man said quickly, "Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Ms. Evans. I'm sure you understand that everything you heard in this room must be kept strictly confidential."

It was clear that the meeting wouldn't continue until she left, but Elodie hesitated at the door, and turned to the unassembled faces. "If Angelo's in trouble, then I'd like to help anyway I can."

There was an embrassed silence, and then the distinguished man said, "I'm sure someone would organize a car for you to get home."

Brooks bundled her out of the door, hissing, "What did I tell you? Don't speak unless you're spoken to."

"Tell me what's going on?" Elodie said, trying to keep up as he led her toward the elevator.

He barked with bitter laughter. "It's way over your head, Ms. Evans."

"It's about the Bomb, isn't it?"

"Luke'll be waiting downstairs with a car for you."

"Listen here, Brooks. I spent the four days with Angelo in hell, wishing that I'd just die," she told him. "This guy is a menace to society as far as I'm concerned. So, if there's a way I can be of help...just let me know."

Brooks glanced back toward the conference room, where the assistants went in and out with regular updates, then pulled her into an office, closing the door.

"There are many people gunning after the Tsar Bomba, and with the many enemies Casieri has made over the years, some people have hired mecinaries to take him out of the equation, then frame it as the work of the Bratva—Russian Mafia, that is—which would in turn lead to a bloodbath." Brooks pushed his round glasses up his sharp nose."So, you see, we have to nail him and put him in jail before that happens."

"That's it?" Asked Elodie, bewildered.

Brooks mouth twisted as he contemplated on how much to tell her. "Casieri has a rap sheet as long as an overzealous academia certificates. He's committed many heinous crimes, and is looking to expand his drug rings to Sunset Bay and other parts of L.A. So, you see why this man has to stopped?"

Elodie knew Angelo was a bad motherfucker.

She just didn't expect it to run this deep.

It was no wonder why he looked so confident in his crimes.

Again, she wondered why these people had never managed to nab him all these years.

"Then, let me help you bring him in."

"Angelo is a target," he told her.

"Who wants to kill him?"

"Everyone."

"Why?" Elodie asked, shocking dropping from her voice.

"Why?" There was no humor in Brooks's laugh. "Because right now Arcangelo Casieri is the most dangerous person on earth."

A/N:

Whew!

Arcangelo seems to be the root of everyone's problem at this point.

Poor Elodie.

She never seems to catch a break, does she?

What do we think of this new development?

Have Elodie not truly seen last of Angelo as she claims?

Would be BIA take her up on her offer to help?

What do you think would happen next?

Don't forget to vote, comment and share❤️

Thank you for reading thus far.