Writers Tennis Part 10

(Nagi)

“You’d better make this fast,” Angela said. She glanced over her shoulder to where some of the other agents were holding off Eddie and some of the ADs. It was the betrayed look on Kenneth’s face that stung unexpectedly.

But Angela had to keep her head in the game.

Thomas nodded his understanding. “Don’t worry - we have a couple of federal prosecutors on hand to counteract anything the studio lawyers try to pull.” He thrust something into her hands - small, a microchip; she’d have to look at it later in her trailer. “Another victim went missing today; that’s ten American hostages in total. If we don’t figure out where they’re being kept in the next seventy-two hours, we risk sparking outright global war.”

“Why isn’t the NSA or CIA handling this?”

“Because this cell is homegrown,” Thomas said. “Your mark is part of a sleeper cell, possibly an Omega, so he hasn’t been in this alone.”

“How do you know?”

“The last victim went missing while he was on set.”

“That explains why the timing on his squibs has been off. He’s been antsy.”

“By the time he gets his synchronization on those back in line, it may be too late,” Thomas said. “Do you have your firearm?”

“No, but I could steal one from props in a pinch.”

Thomas shook his head. “Collateral damage is more than the Bureau is willing to risk.” He unbuckled his shoulder holster - he always carried two pieces on him, shoulder and ankle - and handed it to her. “Keep an eye out and see if you can corner him. We need information, and we need it fast.”

Angela nodded. “All right. What do I tell the others when I get back on set?”

“Tell them that the Angela Carlisle we were looking for was a washed-up actress and recommend to your agent that you pick a new screen name.” Thomas smiled tightly and opened the car door.

Angela slid out and made a big show of tossing her head and smoothing her clothes, indignant. Then she headed back onto set. Immediately, she was surrounded by producers, Eddie, and a cadre of worried make-up girls. Oddly enough, the one who seemed most concerned was Johnny, still clutching the triggers for his mis-timed squibs.