Mahoganys Dream | Page 3

intercom. No phone. Nothing. Although people
passed by in the hall all the time, in nearly a year no one had stopped at
the door but Jos and Tsang.
Brian cautiously rose from his chair.
Sensing reticence, the stranger pulled a business card from his inside
pocket and held it at eye level against the glass.
Brian strode towards the bulletproof door wondering if he were in
trouble. Maybe someone caught him napping one day and decided to
report him. Maybe he was napping right now and this was a dream.
He noticed the stranger grasped a manila folder and decided that people
in dreams don't tote files around, so whatever brought the man there
was real. Even before he reached the door he noticed that the card had
the standard FBI layout. Close up, he read the full text:
Carl S. Dunleavy, Ph.D. Senior Special Agent, I.I.D. Federal Bureau of
Investigation
What the hell was I.I.D.? The card listed an address at FBI headquarters

in Washington.
Brian mouthed the letters "I" and "D". After a few repetitions, the
stranger understood and produced his official, laminated FBI
identification, which included a photo that was more than a few pounds
old.
Brian pointed at the wall behind the man and shouted, "Stand back!"
The shout was pointless as the room was soundproof.
Nonetheless, the redheaded stranger complied with this request, though
annoyance was beginning to show on his face. It was the unmistakable
expression of someone unaccustomed to taking orders.
Brian unholstered his weapon, opened the door, and stepped into the
hall with the man. He heard two soft clicks as the door locked behind
him.
"A gun," the stranger said, "is the least effective means of obtaining
information."
"Who are you and why are you here?" Brian responded. "Even if you're
with the Bureau, this is a classified facility." During station officer
training, he had heard rumors that the Bureau sometimes sent people
posing as agents to see if procedure would be followed.
The stranger huffed. "I know more about this facility than you ever will,
Agent Hassett. And I showed you my ID, so you already know who I
am."
Brian didn't lower his gun. "All I know is that you have a card and a
picture. I repeat: Why are you here?"
"I'm here to perform a CTO security op."
"Password?"
"Green Lantern 12-3-71."

"You have to get scanned," Brian told him.
The stranger approached the glass door without hesitation and placed
his face and palm in the appropriate places, even though they were
intentionally unmarked. Three seconds later a synthesized female voice
confirmed his identity and unlocked the door.
Brian relaxed. "What's I.I.D.? I've never heard of that."
Dunleavy ignored the question and opened the folder in his hand,
which contained a few sheets of paper and an 8 x 10 black and white
photo of Brian from the year he graduated from the FBI Academy.
Dunleavy glanced at Brian, then down at the photo.
"Yep, you're Hassett," he said, snapping the folder shut.
"What is this about?" Brian asked, less confrontationally.
"You ask a lot of questions, kid. I hate it when people ask too many
questions. It's a sign that you've haven't been paying attention."
Insulted, Brian said, "Excuse me? Who-"
"There you go again with another stupid question. From here on out, if
you ask me a stupid question, I'm just going to ignore it. At this point,
all you need to know is that as station officer it's your duty to close
down the Data Room and observe the interrogation."
Brian wanted to ask, "What interrogation?" But he found himself
wondering if that were a stupid question.
The two agents stood silently in the hall, sizing each other up.
Finally Dunleavy said, "If I were you, right now I would be on the horn
with Bruce verifying my identity and confirming those orders."
Then, with a sigh, he added, "No wonder they have you guarding
floppy disks in the desert."

Brian's supervisor in Santa Fe was named Bruce.
After Brian had spoken with Bruce and confirmed Dunleavy's
information, he collected all the checked out disks from the lab and
closed down the Data Room. Then he went to meet Dunleavy in the
lobby.
As soon as Dunleavy saw him emerge from the elevator, he began
walking at a brisk pace towards the main exit. Brian trotted to catch up,
his wingtips clacking loudly against the marble floor. That was about
noon.
___________
Dunleavy led them across the street to the main laboratory. Even
though Brian was sure he had never seen Dunleavy on the Base before,
the stranger navigated the maze-like neighborhood of cubicles in the
lab like he had personally designed the floor plan. The trip ended at Dr.
Tsang's workstation.
Tsang was scrutinizing a