The silence that followed was suffocating. Ambrose Ward stood perfectly still, his eyes locked onto Gerald Gaines with the chilling precision of a predator watching its prey twitch. Gerald looked like a man who had been hollowed out from the inside, his face a pale mask of damp skin and flickering eyes.
"I have to say, Director, I simply don’t understand you," Ambrose said, his voice dropping into a register of mocking amusement. "You were practically begging for a call from the Federal Bureau of Public Safety. You spoke about your 'high-placed friends' with such pride. Well, the call finally came, exactly as you wished. Why do you look like you’ve just seen your own ghost? Aren’t you satisfied?"
Ambrose let out a short, dry chuckle that held no warmth. Suddenly, his expression shifted,
