She regarded him in silence for several minutes, watching the small beads of sweat form on his forehead and upper lip. She could see his hand twitch, wanting desperately to wipe his face, but he knew that would be improper and likely seen as a sign of weakness. Finally, she tapped the leftmost paper on her desk and slid it towards him.
He hesitated for a moment before he picked it up, wondering what level of privilege he needed to legitimately read it. Figuring that she knew best, he took the parchment and scanned the hastily scrawled script. As he read, his lips curled up in a tight, thin smile… a chill rolling down his back as he nearly whooped in delight.
“You may celebrate when we have what we seek but, for now at least, it appears that you were on the right track after all.”
“If I may, mistress,” he asked tentatively. “Who filed this report? The name is not one that I recognize.”
“You would not,” she said with a shake of her head and a sly smile. “Not all of our agents are widely known.”
“So now we can send in another team,” he cried out excitedly. He had gambled big on this case and was ecstatic that it had panned out.
The woman shook her head. “Not so fast. I said you were on the right track not that you were right. In any case, we are keeping this matter between the three of us.”
Peering quickly around the small office, the young man must have worn the look of utter confusion on his face. The older woman sighed and gestured to the report in the man’s hand. “Ah, yes, the agent makes three…” he said, feeling a bit foolish for not having initially done the mental math correctly.
“Publicly, of course, you will be chastised for your impertinence and failure to deliver on your promise. All other resources will be directed in other efforts, so as not to tip the hand that we may be closer than we think.”
She gestured for the report and the young man studied it for another brief moment before handing it over. She took it in her hands and then traced a symbol on it with her forefinger. If she spoke any words, the young man heard none of them though he did see her lips move ever so slightly. When she finished her tracing, the paper began to burn with a sickly green flame. She placed the burning document in the metal tray on her desk and within seconds, the entire page had turned to ash.
“Privately,” she said with a warm smile, “you did very well to see what no other could and you showed distinct courage to stand up for what you believed. We three are the only ones that can know of this development and so we have much work to do to uncover the truth of this matter. You are essential to that effort, make no mistake, but right now it will take a delicate hand to find what we want, much like unstacking a house of cards to find the one card you truly seek.
“Yes,” she continued, leaning back in her chair and seemingly ignoring him completely. “Yes, work such as this requires a delicate hand. It needs a soft touch. A woman’s touch.” She smiled and nodded once, as if confirming her own thoughts.
After he was dismissed, and even knowing that he would be publicly shamed for his failure, he felt that jubilation at the thought that he had been right. He sincerely wished he could tell someone, anyone, but he knew that doing so would be disastrous, both for him personally and for the task at hand. For now, he resolved to himself, he would suffer the humiliation and shame of everyone thinking of him as a failure, he would serve his penance with gritted teeth, and he would quietly look for any agents in the records that go by ‘Calla’.