The Call Pt5

I pop off the bus and head straight for the library. It wasn’t ‘till I hit the west stairwell that my breathing evened. I’d been nearly hyperventilating the whole ride in. My eyes scanned my surroundings half expecting a swat team but the sidewalk void of loiterers; it seemed I was alone. I swallow my fear as each step forward leads me to conflict. 

Detective Corleion had instructed me to follow directions to the next coordinates and mission. I was to fasten the disguised cameras to my body and insert the earpiece before arrival. A voice chirps in my ear, reminiscent of the general repair agent that tapped my landline four days prior.

“Hi Amelia, this is Detective Bronstin. We met a few days prior. I’ll be with you the whole time. Are you ready to enter?” They spoke like a quest giver, calming and assured. Their confidence irked me.

I huffed up the west stairs, paced 20 ahead and heaved up to the second floor.

“Your breathing seems substantially heavier, are you alright?” The concern fueled my embarrassment.

“Just under fit, evidently.” He could hear the bitterness in my tone, I was sure of it.

As I walked my 40 paces forward, my mind swirled.  I recalled the library catalogue reference number and immediately found the book. 

“So it is a book.” I nearly swat the intrusive voice away remember Bronstin with delay,

“The FBI File on John Dillinger.” I sputtered out slightly confused. Who the fuck is John Dillinger…

I check out, exit back out the west doors scanning the rooms I enter as if looking for clues. Crossing the street to the unmarked van inconveniently wedged between two pompous looking luxury cars. The door slides open to reveal both Detective Corleion and Bronstin surrounded by monitors and alien gear. I barely get in the van as the pages are swiped from my hand much to my chagrin. The detectives grimaced clearly realizing concepts above my head as Who the fuck is John Dillinger burns into my brain for later research.