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| Scene Title | Airtight |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The President tries to lock down on information. |
| Date | July 3, 2009 |
Somewhere Official With Offices and Long Dramatic Hallways
And then he flew away.
There is a long moment of the President of the United States simply staring at the photograph placed in front of him. Black and white, two figures wrapped around each other as if in embrace, and he doesn't need to make out the faces. The previous photographs had been far clearer - Tracy Strauss's jaw set in business-like defiance as she stares up at his younger counterpart, wielding a gun like a man half his age, putting it to her throat.
But this one is far more incriminating. They're nine feet up in the air.
"Mr. President?"
God, he wished he had Hiro's ability. Nothing good lasts forever, but Nathan could really use the power to stop time right about now. If only to give him a few seconds to think, or to delay the time he has to look up and meet Agent Grant Fitzgerald's too earnest gaze, waiting for answers and responses he doesn't have. Should have.
"This is a surprising turn of events. Your men never picked up anything like this before when they were tracking him?" Nathan settles on, looking up from the photographs spread on his desk.
"No, Mr. President. The only intel we've collected were sightings in public places, and those are few and far between. We haven't been regulating the skies, but we'll be sure to start."
"And we're confident that it wasn't Miss Strauss that was doing the flying?"
There's a pause, Grant standing baffled for a moment and turning a glance towards where Everett Hicks is looming towards the side, his arms folded. The Head of DHS gives away nothing, watching the agent as hawkishly as the older President. "We don't have any confirmation yet on the Evolved activity," Grant settles upon, neutrally. "The briefings of all four agents all strongly leans towards the shapeshifter being the flyer, with all due respect."
The shapeshifter. It's a neat little lie, suddenly lying very messy in front of them. Christ, he must have been desperate. Their shared lie, one of the most important lies they have. Nathan shakes his head to himself, and tosses one of the less infuriating pictures atop the blurriest. "Then we have quite a situation on our hands, don't we? I can count on one hand the amount of people known for multiple abilities. Did we get any information on what the hell they were talking about up there?"
"Negative. Only visual confirmation. They acted when they saw the target pull the gun."
A brisk nod, before Nathan is standing once more, Grant darting in to collect up the photographs as the President speaks. "Have these destroyed," he says, nothing that comes as a shock to the agent, who only nods at this familiarity. "Where are the agents who were pursuing this lead?"
"Oh— Agent Malcolm, Agent Ota, Agent Dumont and Agent Müller, I believe, are all still within the building."
"Alright. Have them detained until further notice."
There's a pause, Grant a little slow to jump upon the immediate confirmation that he'll see this thing done; it's up to Everett Hicks to comply with, "Absolutely, Mr. President. I understand this is particularly sensitive information," and his gaze ticks on over towards Grant, who nods once.
"Then we're all on the same page. As for Ms. Strauss— I want her watched, but not approached. Not yet. No one moves until I'm ready for you to move, is that understood?" It is. Nathan need hardly confirm. His hand drifts up to straighten his tie, before his brown-eyed gaze is shifting on over towards the elder man in the room. "Everett, if I could have a word with you?" And back to the younger, he awards him with a smile. "You're dismissed, Agent Fitzgerald. Thank you for your work so far."
"Absolutely, Mr. President."
And Grant can breathe a little easier when he's moving out from the office, politely shutting the door behind him, a tweed-clad figure in this world of gunmetal grey. The files of confidential photographs tucked beneath an arm with a leather patch at the elbow, he starts making his way through hallways, a clearance card flashed, identification, and out onto the street where a red Sedan is already waiting for him.
Opening the door to the passenger side, he slips himself onto the leather seats, and glances to the driver. Agent Lee gives him a red lipped smile as she starts up the ignition. "Look at you, all grown up," says the younger of the two. "What's the situation?"
"Four agents kept in a little room until the President comes knocking on his mom's door so she might have it fixed for him," Grant says, doing up his seat belt. "He's scrabbling to lock down on information he has no control over. Speaking of which— " He waves the files before they're set in his lap. "Let's get these where they belong. Ms. Dalton's wracking up quite the collection."
The car pulls out into the road. "Any closer on getting to the dupe?"
"I'm starting to think he's gonna get what he wants before we can."
"Well with the tie you've got on now, he's bound to see you coming."
"Shut up, and drive."