I leaned forward, positioning myself directly in front of the secure desktop microphone. The cold metal of the device felt grounding against my fingertips. I imagined Agent Vance sitting in his car, trapped and completely isolated, surrounded only by the federal shadows he thought he controlled.
"Good afternoon, Agent Vance," I stated smoothly, my voice completely devoid of any emotion, echoing with the lethal, untouchable authority of the Queen. "I do hope you appreciated the small gift we left on your desk this morning. We thought it might serve as a powerful reminder of your past."
There was a long, agonizing pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the erratic, shallow breaths of the veteran FBI agent. When Vance finally spoke, his voice was tight, vibrating with a desperate,
