Read Online Terror Rising: Book 0 – The Insurgence by Roger Hayden - Free Book Online
Authors: Roger Hayden
Tags: Terror, terror at home, terror bombing, terror story, terror novel, terror attack, terror cell, terror cells, terror plot, terror organization
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calls from Martinez yet, and it was
already ten after eight.
She felt lost without him, not even sure how
to start the day. Facing the chief first thing in the morning
wasn’t the most tantalizing idea. She left the breakroom with only
one destination in mind. It was time to check in with the
chief.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, knocking on
the side of his door.
Drake’s worn face shot up, but his body
remained slouched over his desk. The four FBI agents in the room
were slow to turn and acknowledge her.
“Agent Gannon. Good that you’re here,” Drake
said, straightening up. “Come in and close the door.”
Angela walked in and slowly shut the door.
All eyes were on her as Drake took a moment to introduce her to his
guests, all wearing white, button-down long-sleeved shirts, ties,
and slacks. He stood up and held an arm out toward the first FBI
agent.
“This is Special Agent MacLauchlan.”
A tall man with moussed black hair and a
thin beard nodded.
“Supervisory Special Agent Sutherland.”
A short blond-haired man with a square jaw
and clean face waved.
“Agent Lynch.”
A bulky man with wavy gray hair, pointy
nose, and glasses nodded.
“And Special Agent Hopper.”
A man with a crew cut, goatee, and wild eyes
smiled and nodded.
Angela introduced herself, feeling a bit
overwhelmed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” she
said.
Glancing at the
television, she could see that the news coverage hadn’t stopped.
The aerial view of the truck explosion had transitioned to
daylight. In the darkness, the vividness of the scene had been
lost, but in the bright daylight, everything was clear: the
widespread destruction, the mound of smoldering ash where the truck
used to be. The news banner read, No
Answer from Feds on Terror Bombing . It was
enough for everyone to know that things were serious.
“Please, have a seat,” Chief Drake said
warmly.
She smiled the best she could and sat in one
of the chairs in the front of his desk, prepared to be
questioned.
Drake looked among the FBI agents, each one
giving him knowing glances. Angela knew little about the ongoing
discussion they’d been having, but had a good guess. Drake rose,
moved to the front of his desk, facing Angela, and sat on the front
of it, legs swaying in the air, arms tucked at his sides, and
looked directly at Angela.
“The media are expecting a response to all
of this today, and from what we’ve gathered so far, this appears to
be an isolated incident.”
Angela disagreed, but she kept such
reservations to herself.
“When was the last time you heard from
Captain Martinez?” he asked, as the FBI agents studied her.
“Last night,” she answered. “He called me
very concerned about everything that had happened.”
Drake rose his head and studied her closely
through the thick lens of his glasses. “I don’t doubt it. Seems
he’s gone rogue on a fact-finding mission of his own.”
“Sir?” Angela said, feigning confusion.
“We have to get a handle on this thing,
Agent Gannon. I think you can appreciate that. But what bothers me
is when one of my agents, a damn fine agent, I might add, goes off
the radar.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Angela
said.
Drake hopped off his desk and began pacing
his office, hands at his side. “We received a call from Captain
Martinez’s wife, Gloria, about an hour ago. She’s worried sick.
Apparently, he hasn’t been home all night. His Jeep is gone. He
didn’t leave a note. And all attempts by his wife to contact him
have failed.”
Angela felt an intense worry building in her
gut. She didn’t like where the conversation was going. Now more
than ever, she needed Martinez at her side, not off on some rogue
fact-finding mission.
“I don’t know what to say, sir. He expressed
grief about Dawson and said that he had to do some investigating of
his own.”
Her comments piqued the interest of the FBI
agents, and she immediately regretted saying so
already ten after eight.
She felt lost without him, not even sure how
to start the day. Facing the chief first thing in the morning
wasn’t the most tantalizing idea. She left the breakroom with only
one destination in mind. It was time to check in with the
chief.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, knocking on
the side of his door.
Drake’s worn face shot up, but his body
remained slouched over his desk. The four FBI agents in the room
were slow to turn and acknowledge her.
“Agent Gannon. Good that you’re here,” Drake
said, straightening up. “Come in and close the door.”
Angela walked in and slowly shut the door.
All eyes were on her as Drake took a moment to introduce her to his
guests, all wearing white, button-down long-sleeved shirts, ties,
and slacks. He stood up and held an arm out toward the first FBI
agent.
“This is Special Agent MacLauchlan.”
A tall man with moussed black hair and a
thin beard nodded.
“Supervisory Special Agent Sutherland.”
A short blond-haired man with a square jaw
and clean face waved.
“Agent Lynch.”
A bulky man with wavy gray hair, pointy
nose, and glasses nodded.
“And Special Agent Hopper.”
A man with a crew cut, goatee, and wild eyes
smiled and nodded.
Angela introduced herself, feeling a bit
overwhelmed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” she
said.
Glancing at the
television, she could see that the news coverage hadn’t stopped.
The aerial view of the truck explosion had transitioned to
daylight. In the darkness, the vividness of the scene had been
lost, but in the bright daylight, everything was clear: the
widespread destruction, the mound of smoldering ash where the truck
used to be. The news banner read, No
Answer from Feds on Terror Bombing . It was
enough for everyone to know that things were serious.
“Please, have a seat,” Chief Drake said
warmly.
She smiled the best she could and sat in one
of the chairs in the front of his desk, prepared to be
questioned.
Drake looked among the FBI agents, each one
giving him knowing glances. Angela knew little about the ongoing
discussion they’d been having, but had a good guess. Drake rose,
moved to the front of his desk, facing Angela, and sat on the front
of it, legs swaying in the air, arms tucked at his sides, and
looked directly at Angela.
“The media are expecting a response to all
of this today, and from what we’ve gathered so far, this appears to
be an isolated incident.”
Angela disagreed, but she kept such
reservations to herself.
“When was the last time you heard from
Captain Martinez?” he asked, as the FBI agents studied her.
“Last night,” she answered. “He called me
very concerned about everything that had happened.”
Drake rose his head and studied her closely
through the thick lens of his glasses. “I don’t doubt it. Seems
he’s gone rogue on a fact-finding mission of his own.”
“Sir?” Angela said, feigning confusion.
“We have to get a handle on this thing,
Agent Gannon. I think you can appreciate that. But what bothers me
is when one of my agents, a damn fine agent, I might add, goes off
the radar.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Angela
said.
Drake hopped off his desk and began pacing
his office, hands at his side. “We received a call from Captain
Martinez’s wife, Gloria, about an hour ago. She’s worried sick.
Apparently, he hasn’t been home all night. His Jeep is gone. He
didn’t leave a note. And all attempts by his wife to contact him
have failed.”
Angela felt an intense worry building in her
gut. She didn’t like where the conversation was going. Now more
than ever, she needed Martinez at her side, not off on some rogue
fact-finding mission.
“I don’t know what to say, sir. He expressed
grief about Dawson and said that he had to do some investigating of
his own.”
Her comments piqued the interest of the FBI
agents, and she immediately regretted saying so
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