Thirteen Across by Dan Grant

Author:Dan Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dan Grant
Published: 2019-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

55

TAKING THE CALL

Strategic Information & Operations Center (SIOC), FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC

Alice Watson hovered over the speaker phone on the conference table and tried to relax her muscles. Beside her sat an inquisitive Will Shortz.

Per protocol, a trace had been initiated on the incoming call.

An SIOC tech popped his head into the room. Watson waved for him to speak.

“It’s not cellular. It’s sat. That takes longer to locate an origin because we cannot triangulate between cell towers.”

She frowned. Every technological advancement available, with the best law enforcement staff in the world, was sometimes no help at all. “Keep on it.”

“Special Agent Alice Watson,” a husky voice on the phone asked, “is Will Shortz there?”

“Yes. Who are we speaking to?”

“Jack Wright,” the husky voice continued.

Watson sighed. “That’s a tough one to pull off, because Special Agent Jack Wright died in the line of duty last month.”

The line fell silent.

When the voice returned, its tone was unwavering. “We can play games, but the clock’s ticking and I’m on a midnight deadline. We have 38 DOWN, if and only if we can talk on a secured line without a trace or the conversation being recorded. You have three seconds to make a decision.”

Watson shot a nervous glance to Shortz, who gave her a “why are you looking at me?” expression.

He mouthed “that’s not an answer we have” and pointed to the heavily gapped SCRABBLE puzzle on the table.

“Deal,” Watson said. She snatched up a pen and a paper. “What number can we call you back at?”

“We’ll call you. Two minutes. No traces. No recordings. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” Watson gave the direct line and extension to the phone on the conference room table.

The line went dead.

“Did we get a trace on that?” she yelled.

In the distance, someone shouted back, “No.”

Watson closed the conference room door and sat beside Shortz.

“So, Will,” she asked, as her gaze darted to a red LED clock mounted on the wall, “how you like working for the bureau?”

He made a noise that was not quite a chuckle. “To tell you the truth, this is nothing like my day at the office. I work from home, mostly. A luxury. Books fill my house. And the best thing is I don’t have to pass through metal detectors, carry a name badge, or keep secrets.”

Watson gave a bark of laughter. “Just so you know, most of our work is routine. Yeah, we have events, situations, disasters, and some very unpleasant days. But we make a difference. Our jobs really are based on old-fashioned detective work. A lot like solving puzzles, I presume.”

He smiled. “I love what I do. Edit and review puzzles. Brainstorm with a few colleagues. Travel to the city, but don’t have to live there. Record segments for NPR. Fit in a few TV appearances. Play lots of table tennis. I have a streak of consecutive days played going.”

She flashed him a wry grin. “A record of sorts. So I’ve heard.”

He took a breath. “Besides claiming to know 38 DOWN, the caller knows about midnight.

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