2. CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Atlas

With heavy panting and sweat dripping from my brow, I pressed my back against the shaded brick building, then bent forward with my palms on my knees, attempting to catch my breath.

Since I moved to Minneapolis three weeks ago, the length of my morning run has increased. It took me a while to find the right route that was both scenic and close to my apartment, but now that I had one that I enjoyed, I ran it every morning.

As my pulse started to slow and breathing became more manageable, I stood up, pressing my back against the bricks, cooling my body down, and then wiping the sweat from my brow away with the bottom of my shirt. I took a few minutes to cool off and watch the morning rush of people along the street and sidewalks.

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was clear of clouds, and the sun was already starting to dry the ground from last night's rain. There was a park directly across from where I was standing, and kids were playing on the playground before they had to make their way to school.

Pulling my phone from my pocket and checking the time, I groaned a curse. Today was my first day in the new office that I had recently been transferred to, and already I was going to be late.

They gave me three weeks off to get myself situated here, and I took advantage of the time to decompress and settle in. I’ve worked for the CIA for five years, and not once have I taken any vacation time. I love my job and the work I do, so it's hard even to consider taking time off.

Adjusting my earbuds, I turned my music up a little louder to compensate for the noise of the surrounding traffic. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and pushed off the wall, switching from a light jog to a full sprint as I made my way around the last corner before reaching my apartment complex.

The CIA had made arrangements ahead of time for an apartment for me here, which was the one thing I was dreading to search for with my initial move. They rented me a really nice luxury apartment in Uptown. It was newly built and fully furnished, another thing I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with.

My new home was within walking distance of many restaurants and bars, which was a huge convenience. I liked not having to drive everywhere all of the time. After attempting to get around using only local transportation, I got sick of it and eventually broke down and bought myself a black Jeep Grand Cherokee SUV.

I decided to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. I lived on the second floor, so there weren’t many steps to go up, and I didn’t want to waste any more time. I knew I would be late already, but I didn’t want to make it even worse. Every minute counted at this point.

My shower was quick and cold, and once I was done drying myself off, I dressed in my usual outfit of dark denim jeans and a white t-shirt. I stuffed my wallet and keys into my jeans and shrugged on a black leather jacket.

As I was on my way out the door, I stopped briefly in the entryway to push my damp hair back with my hands and pick up my badge from the bowl on the table underneath it.

Hopefully, today won’t be as much of a disaster as I'm anticipating it to be.

I arrived at the office—very late, of course—and knowing it would take me even longer to wait for the elevator, I went for the stairs, striding up them two at a time until I reached the fifth floor. That was my second mistake this morning—thinking I would have the energy to climb five flights of stairs after my morning run. I was exhausted by the time I reached the top.

I navigated my way to the gossiping receptionists, who paid me little attention as I stood before their desks. They were stuck in a world of their own, talking about someone who got caught fucking in the stairwell and what they were going to order for lunch. I cleared my throat, and they both snapped their attention to me. One of the women dragged her eyes up and down my body before meeting mine with an amused grin.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asked, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder. I wasn’t interested in flirting with her; based on her attitude alone, she wasn’t my type. More importantly, I needed to get to the briefing room for my meeting.

“I’m the new transfer from DC. Can you point me to the briefing room?” I asked.

She raised a brow and checked her computer monitor, “The briefing started twenty minutes ago.” Her tone had a little bite to it as if she were scolding me for being late.

“Well aware of that. Can you tell me where it is?” I rolled my eyes, agitated. I didn’t ask her to check on the briefing itself; I just needed to find the right room. This whole interaction was unnecessary and took longer than it needed to.

She sighed, as if I was being a royal pain in her ass, and gestured over her shoulder, “End of the hall and to the right.”

“Thank you.” I nodded and followed her direction down the hall. Was that such a hard thing to tell me? She should have just started with that; it would have saved us both the headache.

The office was sleek and modern. The center of the main floor was full of cubicles, and along the outer edge of the floor were private offices and meeting rooms walled off by frosted glass windows.

After approaching the briefing room, I slid through the door and fell into the empty chair at the back. Deputy Director Conrad continued his briefing, “—and now that we are beginning to see a trend with these recent kidnappings and murders, we are finally able to narrow our search down to three potential suspects. Of course, the current details we have on them are very vague.”

He stood at the head of the long meeting room table, palms on either side of a stack of files, looking down at the briefing document sitting on top. With his positioning and attention directed elsewhere, I assumed he didn’t see me enter the room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Agent Jensen. I hope tardiness is not what we are to expect from our newest transfer from the Washington, DC Unit. Especially someone as highly regarded as you.” He lifted his head, raised a brow, and leveled me with a glare. Shit.

“No, Sir, my apologies. It won’t happen again.” I wanted to crawl under a fucking rock.

“See to it that it doesn’t. I have zero tolerance for those who can’t follow orders as simple as ‘be on time.’” Just as I had suspected, he was every bit the hard ass that he was rumored to be. I might regret this transfer in the end.

I cleared my throat and nodded in response, then sank back further into my chair as agents around the room started whispering to one another. Fan-fucking-tastic . It was my first day showing up in the office for this case, and I've already received more attention than I wanted. I could tell this was going to be a long and drawn-out day.

Conrad continued, “If it wasn’t already known to those of you in here, Agent Jensen comes to us from the DC Unit. He was an Agent there for five years, and in the last two, he has been recognized as the top Agent in his division.” A pointed look, “I hope the skills and experience he brings will help us finally apprehend those involved in the recent threats against Roman Atwater and his employees.”

As he spoke, thick manila folders were slid across the table to each of us. I picked up mine from where it had slid to a stop within arm's reach on the table and quickly glanced at the documents inside. The folder contained limited information, indicating a lack of substantial leads. I would have to start this case from scratch. Already, we were off to a rocky start.

Roman Atwater. I learned a few details about him and his business dealings from passing conversations when I was back in DC. His case here is roughly six months old and escalating quickly, which is why I was transferred on short notice. The Minneapolis Unit needed someone with more experience in kidnapping and murder cases, and that was one of my specialties. There was speculation that this could potentially evolve into a serial killer case.

Atwater, a prominent figure in the pharmaceutical industry, has recently faced allegations of stealing a drug from a private lab in Europe. It is rumored that he plans to introduce this drug to the US market by the end of the year. The drug is believed to be revolutionary and could significantly impact the pharmaceutical industry once it is released.

Atwater has made millions by exploiting the pharmaceutical industry to his advantage, and it is clear that his decisions are starting to bite back at him. I can’t quite remember the specifics of the drug he is accused of stealing—and nor do I really care—but I do know that in the past month, multiple employees of his have been kidnapped and murdered. The only evidence left behind is a scene of brutality and gore; never has a whole body been found. Leading us to believe that someone is out for blood and they have no intention of stopping—and whoever these guys are, they are twisted as fuck based on the scenes they have left behind.

The main challenge in this case is identifying the motive. We currently have no clear idea as to why the suspects are engaging in these actions and what their ultimate goal is. The two main possibilities are the drug itself and Roman Atwater. Several months ago, something spooked him, and he promptly left the city; he hadn't been seen since. It was around this time that the kidnappings and murders began, shortly after he disappeared.

“I’ve already selected the team of agents who will investigate this case further. It will be your job to find the suspects and either bring them in or put a bullet in their heads if it comes down to it.” Conrad picked up his briefing document and floated it in front of him. He wasn’t messing around with this case. He knew how badly it had escalated, and now we just had to stop them at all costs before their body count climbed any higher.

“Agents Jensen, King, Avery, and Holt,” the four of us stood at attention as our names were called. I looked around the room to see who each individual I would be working with was.

“The four of you will be working closely together, so get to know each other after this meeting. You need to take a deep dive into the documentation I’ve provided you and figure out their next move. We need to stop them before they take their next victim—or worse, kill them. ”

“Do we know anything more regarding those who have been kidnapped with no body found?” One of the Agents inquired as they flipped through the pages before them. There weren’t many; most of the scenes all showed significant signs of the victim being mutilated and murdered; however, with the last two, we haven’t been able to find a body or anything to show they were potentially harmed in any capacity.

“As far as we know, they are all determined to be deceased, and there will be no additional search for them. There has been no evidence of those we haven’t found being held anywhere long term, and based on the brutal scenes of the previous victims,” He scratched the back of his neck and blew out a sigh, “these suspects have no intention of leaving survivors behind.”

The room fell silent for a few minutes, and photos I had seen previously of the crime scenes briefly flashed across my mind—a shiver ran down my spine. They primarily utilized warehouses for their work, and when we managed to find where the victim was held or taken to, we were always greeted with blood and gore.

“Everything we know, you will find in your folders, so if there are no additional questions regarding this case, then you are all dismissed. We will reconvene in a month; that should be plenty of time for you to make progress on this case.”

At his words, everyone stood from where they were seated and exited the room. I moved to follow when the last two agents had exited. A month was a long time, but not long enough for a case that had no concrete leads and vague details; this was going to take significantly longer unless the suspects were to screw up at some point.

“Agent Jensen,” Conrad called over my shoulder as I reached the doorway. I stopped and turned to face him.

“Sir.”

“I expect you to have made significant headway by our next briefing. Do not disappoint me.”

I gave him a single nod and continued out of the room, closing the glass door behind me.

One of the stipulations of my transfer was that I was to be assigned a private office rather than a cubicle. I was not going to uproot my life of five years for nothing but a small and cramped space on the main floor.

I made my way to the opposite side of the floor and opened the door to my new office. Inside was a large glass desk with an all-in-one computer monitor in the corner. A black leather, high-back office chair rolled in behind the desk, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows with a beautiful skyline view. I remember Derek telling me that the sunsets in this city were stunning, and I was glad I could take advantage of seeing them from my office window.

I dropped the folder from the briefing onto my desk, removed my leather jacket, and hung it behind my chair. Then, I stood by the windows, taking in the morning skyline while contemplating where to begin with this case.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I didn’t know you were going to be our transfer. I knew we were getting an agent from DC, but I didn’t think it would be you, of all people.” I knew that friendly and familiar voice. I turned my head to see Derek Avery standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, leaning his shoulder against the frame.

Derek was wearing black jeans similar to mine and a black T-shirt that fit snugly to his broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was short on the sides and long on top, similar to my own style—except where mine was straight, his ended in tight curls.

We met during our college years in Baltimore, where we graduated simultaneously with our MBA Degrees, and while we left our college world as friends, we weren’t really that close and didn’t become best friends until years after, when I discovered that my Dad and his were working together. The two of them helped us get jobs with the CIA in DC, and from there, we spent a lot of our free time playing the wingman for each other.

We worked as partners on multiple assignments over the years before he was transferred to this newer Minneapolis Unit about six months ago. It was hard to say goodbye to a close friend when he moved, but we stayed in contact and planned to visit each other when we could.

I didn’t reach out to him when I received my transfer orders because I wanted to surprise him. I also didn’t want to tell him before I got here because if things fell through and plans changed, I didn’t want him to be left disappointed.

After I arrived, I had every intention of surprising him, but I ended up enjoying the quiet time to myself and just wanted to take advantage of it while I could—not that I didn’t like spending time with him. Hopefully, this transfer will end up being permanent and not temporary, so we can get back to hanging out like we used to.

“It’s good to see you again, Derek. How’s Minneapolis been treating you? The entire Unit misses you back in DC.” I turned and strode over to him, holding out my hand. He took it and pulled me into him, slapping me on the back of my shoulder in a guy hug.

“Well, it’s definitely not DC, I can tell you that much. In all honestly, I like it more.” He gripped my shoulder when he pulled back, “When did you get here?”

“About three weeks ago, but they gave me time to settle in before officially starting.” I shrugged like it was no big deal. But I knew what he was thinking before he even said it.

“You’re telling me you’ve been here for three weeks and haven’t reached out to me once?” He frowned. I knew I should have reached out to him.

“I intended to surprise you, and the move itself was overwhelming. It isn’t easy to leave a city of five years behind.” I was fortunate to have the apartment that the CIA provided for me, as packing up my life was far from easy. My parents were not pleased with me moving even farther away from them. I will need to go back and visit them once this case is over and take a real vacation.

“Well, I am definitely surprised, and that whole overwhelming move shit was me six months ago.” He shrugged it off, “So I get it, man. But now that you are here, we have some serious catching up to do.” Derek smiled, and I couldn’t help but agree with him .

“One hundred percent. These past six months have crawled by; you seem like you’ve adjusted well since you’ve been here, though.” He looked even better than when he left DC. We partied too much on the weekends, and I don’t think he got much sleep in general. He always looked tired and run down. Now, he looks great.

I gestured to the seat in front of my desk. With a brief nod, he crossed the room and took a seat. I walked around my desk, pulled out the black leather chair, and took my own seat, resting my forearms on the desk.

“Have you explored much of the city since you’ve been here?” He asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. I knew what he was referring to; it wasn’t the city itself. He meant the nightlife and the women.

“Nothing outside of where my apartment is located in Uptown. I wanted to take the three weeks they gave me as a break from everything. A chance to disconnect and focus on myself for a bit.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame because it’s a party out here, and the women,” He blew out a low whistle, “I gotta tell you, man, they are just as perfect as back home. Maybe even a little better.” Derek was always focused on women. I ended up being his wingman more often than he was mine. While he would pursue any woman with a pretty face and two legs, I was always searching for something deeper and never quite found it.

“Is that so?” I leaned back in my chair, raising a brow and crossing my arms over my chest. “Are you offering to show me more of that side of this city then? ”

Now that I've finished staying cooped up in my apartment, I'm ready to go out and have some fun. Derek smugly shrugged and laughed.

“Derek doesn’t even know how to get a woman’s number. Don’t trust him to get you laid here.” There was a lively chuckle as two Agents entered my office and came to stand beside Derek. The one who spoke held his hand out to me.

“Marcus King, and this here is Dean Holt,” I leaned forward across my desk and shook his hand, gesturing a curt nod to Dean simultaneously. I saw both of them standing in the briefing room when Conrad called our names. These were the other two agents with whom I would be working on this case.

Marcus and Dean both looked and carried themselves like your average college frat boys. They were both muscular with broad shoulders and lithe figures. Marcus looked almost boyish, with his dark, curly hair mussed on his head like he had just woken up and had a clean-shaven face free of any stubble. His skin was as smooth as a baby’s ass, and if I didn’t know his actual age, I’d assume he was still in high school.

Dean, on the other hand, looked older than Marcus. He had mid-length, dirty blonde hair that he had slicked back against his scalp, almost as if he had just run wet hands through the strands, and it stayed in place. They were about five-nine, a little shorter than Derek and myself, who stood at five-eleven.

They were both dressed the same, wearing black slacks and white dress shirts. Their badges hung around their necks on silver chains. The buttons at the top of their shirts were left undone, revealing the collars of their white t-shirts underneath, and their sleeves were rolled up past their forearms.

The office had no official dress code, at least not one that Derek or I ever cared to follow. I could dress up if necessary, but no one has ever required it. I’d rather be comfortable at work than be stuck in a suit.

“Atlas Jensen, a pleasure to meet you both.”

“ Fuck , here we go…” Marcus blew out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He shook his head and couldn’t hold back the sarcastic chuckle that escaped him.

“Got a problem with the bro squad, Avery?” Dean commented as if what he had just said was not embarrassing and completely stupid. Bro squad? Did I hear that right?

“The fact that you call yourselves the ‘bro squad’ is a problem on its own.” Derek retorted. “You two need to put on your big boy pants and stop calling yourselves that. This isn’t a frat house; it’s the CIA.”

“ Anyway ,” Marcus rolled his eyes and returned his attention to me. “We were transferred and assigned to this Unit two years ago. Both of us came from the LA Unit.” Marcus gestured between Dean and himself, throwing a quick glare at Derek. That did not surprise me in the least, and I could tell that there was a lot of tension between Derek and him. Whether it was in jest or serious, I still wasn't sure. I hoped they actually got along because this case would be a shit show if the two of them couldn't work together.

A grin tugged on his mouth as he continued, “If anyone is going to show you a good time here, it would be Dean and me, and since we are on assignment together, even more of a reason. Let’s consider it a team-building exercise.” Marcus rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“I don’t think AJ is looking for a quick and dirty bar bathroom fuck, Marcus.” Derek rubbed his brow with the back of his thumb and sighed as if he felt sorry for him.

“That wasn’t what I was planning for him, but by all means, Derek, please show us how not to get our dicks wet.” Marcus clapped back. I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head and checking my watch for the time. Going out with these three could end up being a pretty good time, especially if this kind of banter continues.

“Look, I’ve got a few more hours here to go over the assignment details and notes—get myself up to speed on everything that has happened here so far. But if you guys are free tonight, I would gladly accept being shown what this city has to offer. Just let me know where to go and what time to be there.” What’s the worst that could happen?

Marcus and Dean exchanged a glance as if they were plotting something. Just as I was about to retract my statement, they both nodded and spoke in unison, “The Landing.”

Without another word, they both turned and exited my office after informing me that I needed to look the place up and dress appropriately. Apparently, The Landing had a dress code, and what I was wearing wasn’t part of it.

Derek laughed and shook his head as he got up from where he was sitting and followed the two of them out the door, speaking over his shoulder, “I hope you know what kind of hell you’ve just unleashed on yourself with these two.”

“Oh, not just on myself. You’re coming too, Derek.” I said with a playful tone.

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head with a light chuckle.

“See you tonight, Derek,” I said amusedly. He hummed as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

I spent a good part of an hour staring blankly at the folder in front of me. It was thinner than most of our case files, which meant this case would be challenging. There wasn't enough essential information; it would be like putting a puzzle together with only five out of one hundred pieces.

I leaned forward, picked up the folder, reclined back into my chair, and pulled out the first page. I rubbed my brow with the back of my thumb as I continued flipping through the pages that documented each of the victims who were killed.

There wasn’t anything significant that caught my eye; it was a lot of miscellaneous information regarding the employees who were kidnapped and their job descriptions. Most were lab technicians, and one was a research and development assistant. None of the employees had anything in common aside from working for Atwater in the same lab building—no wonder this case was becoming such a pain in the ass that they now needed four of us to work it .

Based on what I’ve already read, I can’t find a clear motive for these kidnappings and murders outside of the drug being the only decent assumption. Whoever is behind all of this clearly doesn’t care to leave behind a trail of bodies—or lack thereof, seeing as some of the scenes only had pieces of the bodies left. These fuckers were sick and twisted.

One of the victims was found strung up against a wall and skinned alive. It had been days before we were alerted to the body, and by the time we got to it, it had already started to decompose. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the smell radiating off the body. One thing I never had to experience was seeing the scenes firsthand and in person. Everything I know and have seen has been either photos, videos, or stories from Agents who were there.

I stopped when I reached the documents regarding our potential suspects. All three of the profiles were of what looked to be—women. This took me by surprise, seeing as the brutality left behind for us was not something I would think a woman capable of creating.

Several of our Agents either threw up or had to be escorted away from the scenes shortly after they entered. Even I had a sour stomach after just looking at the photos of the scenes.

The photos of the women were all blurry and vague, most likely taken from a nearby CCTV camera. I had to hand it to them; they were brilliant and knew what they were doing. They were all dressed from head to toe in black and wore masks covering most of their faces. Even their hair was covered by hoods, leaving us with no identifying features. They presented themselves like trained assassins for hire. Even the vehicles they drove in the footage changed every time—it was as if they changed out their cars with every kidnapping.

These women were good, and they were going to be a pain in the ass to track down. Biting my thumbnail, I closed the folder and threw it back on my desk, glaring at it as if it would solve itself if I stared hard enough.

I leaned forward, rested my elbows on the desk, and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. After a few minutes, I let out a deep sigh and opened the folder back to where I had left off. I spent several long hours diving into each suspect profile and the assumptions made based on the security camera images.

The day dragged on, and by the end of it, I had a headache and just wanted to get the hell out of this room.