Sherlock doesn't trust the FBI as far as he can spit them.
"In this, Mr. Bright," he says, "we are in complete agreement."
***
"Mr. Bright didn't tell you who the go-between was?"
"I didn't need to know," Joan says with a completely straight face. She's lying, of course...she knows who the contact is, but she's certain now that this agent is dirty. That if she gives him the name, that person will wind up with a bullet in the head, just like Marcus Wright.
She glances away to hide any suggestion of distress at the thought of Marcus Wright. It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed a death. Nor the first time she had been certain she was in the crosshairs. She's suspecting that the reason she's still alive is because they still don't know who hooked Bright up with Marcus. It also means her continued existence hinged on her perceived usefulness.
"I've been here for a while," she says calmly, with a hint of weariness that was absolutely genuine. "Could I have a cup of coffee?"
He looks at her. She looks back with perfect (tired) calm.
"Sure," he says.
He leaves the room, the door locking behind him.
When he returns with a cup of coffee Joan is up and stretching. "I appreciate it," she says, coming to retrieve the coffee.
She catches her hip on the corner of the table and stumbles right into him, sending coffee all over his front.
"Oh god, I'm sorry!" she says, trying to regain her footing and extricate herself from him, her hands looking for purchase while he swears at the hot coffee all over his shirt and pants. He pushes her away and rushes out the door again, slamming it behind him.
Joan, also covered in coffee, sits down.
And pulls out the phone she pickpocketed from Agent Skerritt.
In a few quick actions she wipes the phone to its factory settings, which included the text program. She shoots off a quick text to Malcolm:
It's me. Loc unknwn. FBI compromised. Skerritt wrkng 4 senator.
She sent the message then deleted it from the phone's memory. She dropped the phone into the puddle of coffee on the floor and stomped on it for good measure before quickly returning to her seat and focusing on her ruined clothing.
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Date: 2021-06-18 11:56 pm (UTC)From:"In this, Mr. Bright," he says, "we are in complete agreement."
***
"Mr. Bright didn't tell you who the go-between was?"
"I didn't need to know," Joan says with a completely straight face. She's lying, of course...she knows who the contact is, but she's certain now that this agent is dirty. That if she gives him the name, that person will wind up with a bullet in the head, just like Marcus Wright.
She glances away to hide any suggestion of distress at the thought of Marcus Wright. It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed a death. Nor the first time she had been certain she was in the crosshairs. She's suspecting that the reason she's still alive is because they still don't know who hooked Bright up with Marcus. It also means her continued existence hinged on her perceived usefulness.
"I've been here for a while," she says calmly, with a hint of weariness that was absolutely genuine. "Could I have a cup of coffee?"
He looks at her. She looks back with perfect (tired) calm.
"Sure," he says.
He leaves the room, the door locking behind him.
When he returns with a cup of coffee Joan is up and stretching. "I appreciate it," she says, coming to retrieve the coffee.
She catches her hip on the corner of the table and stumbles right into him, sending coffee all over his front.
"Oh god, I'm sorry!" she says, trying to regain her footing and extricate herself from him, her hands looking for purchase while he swears at the hot coffee all over his shirt and pants. He pushes her away and rushes out the door again, slamming it behind him.
Joan, also covered in coffee, sits down.
And pulls out the phone she pickpocketed from Agent Skerritt.
In a few quick actions she wipes the phone to its factory settings, which included the text program. She shoots off a quick text to Malcolm:
It's me. Loc unknwn. FBI compromised. Skerritt wrkng 4 senator.
She sent the message then deleted it from the phone's memory. She dropped the phone into the puddle of coffee on the floor and stomped on it for good measure before quickly returning to her seat and focusing on her ruined clothing.