Unforeseen Dives – 31b – Dissolution

<< 31a – Dissolution

The team left my office after a long briefing/brainstorm combo. They reacted more optimistically than I thought to the idea that the whirlpools were man-made. Their eyes sparkled with excitement for the “how to make a whirlpool” puzzle. They weren’t investigators and though their field work was good, they lived for research and figuring out stuff. Unleashing them on a problem was like handing them a fat Christmas bonus. I knew they would work with three times the energy they had so far.
However, with my whole team involved in reproducing whirlpools, I didn’t have resources to help me investigate anymore. On the other hand, the recent events might motivate Aaron to loosen his leash on Daniel and allow him to assign more agents to my investigation. We hoped to achieve it by the end of yet another meeting.
Rebecca was growing restless. The time spent talking about the problems didn’t register as time spend trying to solve the problems for her. No matter the crankiness that accompanied it, I rejoice at her loss of patience; it meant she was back to her fighting self. She wanted Sean. Her emotions pushed her forward. She trusted me. Her emotions wouldn’t cloud her judgment as long as I monitored them. Best of both worlds.
Daniel and Aaron waited for us. They stood shoulder to shoulder over the desk, rearranging some papers as they talked. They nodded our way when we entered.
“My guess is that you’re here to request additional resources.” Aaron attacked as we sat on the couches. “You’ll get them.” Neither Becky nor I expected it would be that easy.
“There is quite a quantity of red tape preventing us from reassigning said resources immediately.” Daniel explained. That made more sense. “We’ll be working on it. So far we were consultants, as usual. Official inter-agency cooperation will take some time.”
“It’s the only way we can assign such a big chunk of our resources on one investigation.” Aaron concluded with a rustle of papers. “Can you update us on your progress?”
About half an hour disappeared in the explanation of where we stood and what we intended to do with additional resources. Daniel and Aaron asked several questions and noted the important parts of our answers. Apparently, the request forms needed details. Rebecca fidgeted next to me. She almost sighed when we were interrupted by a phone call.
Aaron answered in a courteous and confident manner but all his composure melted under the first few sentences from whoever was calling. Though seeing Aaron lose his cool entertained my partner and me at first, it soon worried us. His expression meant bad news and orders coming from way above his head. One look at Daniel, whose face mimicked his old partner’s, confirmed our suspicions.
The room’s complete silence broke when Aaron hung up. He sat on the couch and cleared his throat.
“The school for the prompt divers was attacked.” Aaron paused. We gasped. “Security was breached quite easily. We had nothing heavy in place. They took all the students and personnel.”
“There wasn’t any whirlpool hiding the school. We should have seen it coming.” I whispered.
“Don’t.” Daniel interrupted. “You were focusing on something else. You cannot watch out for the world by yourself.” I didn’t feel any better.
“If they aren’t undercover, we can find them.” Rebecca was right. I straightened with hope.
“No.” Aaron cut with a definitive tone that sent shiver down my spine. “They’re shutting us down.”
“They can’t possibly shut the investigation now. We’re the only source of information they have.” Daniel countered.
“They can and they are. Not just the investigation. They’re dissolving PSI.”
Daniel’s jaw and mine dropped to the floor. Becky’s squared with fury.
“That’s impossible.” Rebecca’s anger menaced to torch the whole room.
“Look at the facts!” Aaron found some flame of his own. “The victims are PSI’s operatives or people directly linked to them. They’re all somewhat government-related readers except for the bar incident. In that case, psychic information caused six FBI agents to lose their lives.” Aaron took a deep breath. When he resumed his speech, his tone was smoother. “What they see is a group of individuals they were never sure they trusted who now attract problems. And we can’t help them to solve said problems because we’re blinded by whirlpools only us can say exist.”
“Add the pressure from the media.” I continued, demoralized. “We’re a liability.” If the upstairs people believed in us, they would protect us and keep us in the loop. Unfortunately, their trust was always fragile and this situation strained it to breaking point.
“They’re not shutting me out of the investigation to save my husband.” Rebecca bolted out of her seat and punched Aaron. Though I understood why her emotions targeted the FBI liaison, I couldn’t sit by and watch. I caught her fist when she raised it for a second hit and tried to pull it behind her into a hold. She read my mind but I was getting quite good at prompt diving in fighting situation. I spun to hit her legs and sent her down.
“You don’t want to do this.” I straddled her. She would be able to push me off without breaking a sweat if she tried but her anger started to recede.
“I won’t report it.” Aaron massaged his jaw. “I’m sorry about all this.” Rebecca began to cry softly. I rose to my feet and pulled her up.
“I don’t think ‘sorry’ covers it for a woman who’s basically lost everything she holds dear.” I steered Rebecca back to our office. Besides the paintings and the coffee mugs, nothing belonged to us so the packing was done before the official announcement was made.
The cafeteria was the only room big enough to contain every employee. Daniel announced the bad news with as much detachment as he could. He didn’t like it either.
There were tears. There were people storming out. There were frustrated grunts, questions and exclamations.
There wasn’t a Psychic Service of Investigation anymore.

Va – A Walk in the Park >>

About Aheïla

Somewhere in Quebec City, Aheïla works as a Game Design Director by day and writes by night. Known for her blue hair, unyielding dynamism and tasty cooking (quails, anyone?), she’s convinced “prose is the new crack”. She satisfies her addiction daily on The Writeaholic’s Blog and weekly on Games' Bustles View all posts by Aheïla

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