Page 31 of Whistleblower

After two weeks with PALADIN, my brain is a puddle.

Callen warned me to slow down—I should’ve listened. I’ve done the interview approach at every company I’ve consulted for. At one point, I conducted fifty employee interviews in a week’s span and didn’t fatigue. Then again, most of the complaints were about favoritism, lunches and breaks, and promotion opportunities.

All PALADIN wants to talk about is targets. And by targets, I mean human beings. The agents want more high-profile cases and they hate the hoops they have to jump through to pull the trigger. I thought they feared the assassins—turns out they envy them. Apparently there are a lot of evil criminals in this world who deserve to die, and they want to operate as lawlessly as Vesper’s operatives do. That’s why these agents volunteered to join PALADIN.

The only, somewhat valid, requests I’ve received so far are a few recommendations for better snacks for the break room and for flat-screen TVs in every office, equipped with HBO.

I’ll only be obliging one of those requests. I am happy to have Callen order both Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch Doritos for the break room. HBO, however, is not a hill I’m willing to climb.

Knock, knock.

Looking up from my dual monitors, I see Callen in the doorway of my office with a big smile on his face.

“Hey.” I roll away from my desk. “Come on in.”

He enters my office and closes the door behind him. After taking in a panoramic view of my space, Callen looks at me curiously. “Do you need anything, Eden?”

“Pardon?”

“This office looks a little bland.”

He’s not wrong. It’s a smaller office than I’m used to, with one large oak desk in the center of the room, and then a small sitting area crammed into the opposite corner. All the furniture is pleather and generic—which is honestly preferable in case of spills. I eat most of my lunches here, sometimes on the floor, legs tucked under the coffee table. My metal wastebasket is probably the shiniest item in my entire office. My office looks more like the inside of a police precinct than anything else, but what do you expect when your workplace is literally underground?

“It’s fine,” I say, leaning against my desk and stretching my legs. I’ve been sitting for way too long.

“You sure? You’re welcome to order some stuff on the FBI’s dime if you want to spruce this place up.”

I point to the left side of my desk where there is a mini sandbox and an itty-bitty rake. “I brought my Zen Garden.”

“What is this?” Callen saunters over to my little box of stress relief. “A tiny cat box?”

“No… It’s for…” I scrunch up my face, trying to figure out how to explain how arranging mini rocks, trees, and bushes, and drawing words in a miniature sandbox can be very therapeutic. “It’s just for fun. Anyway, what’s up Callen? Something I can help you with?”

He drops the small Zen Garden rake and makes his way over to the pleather sofa. It squeaks then wheezes when he slumps down.

“Two things. One—the new doctor is officially here, per your request.”

“Ah, good. I’ll need to make a personnel file for her.” I’ve taken on the administrative burden of PALADIN as well, but I don’t mind too much. Honestly, I am more than relieved that there is a dedicated doctor for the compound now. After the third time, in two weeks, that Lance busted into my office, asking me to please check out something that was itchy on his ass or ball sack, and then me kindly explaining I am not that kind of doctor, I insisted Callen bring a general doctor on board. The team needs easy access to medical attention. It seems these people only see doctors if they are near death. I had to explain the importance of preventative medicine and routine physicals.

“And what’s the other thing?” I ask.

“Right,” Callen says, clasping his hands together and pointing them at me. “A very intelligent organizational leadership consultant once told me that it is important to tell team members when they are doing a stellar job. So, this is me…following orders.” He winks.

I blink at him, confused. He responds by rolling his eyes.

“You, Eden. You are doing a great job. Oddly enough, this place is running smoothly. Lance called me ‘Sir’ the other day. Cricket is doing her paperwork. Even Linc greeted me in the hallway today. He said, ‘Good morning.’” Callen holds up two fingers and widens his eyes for dramatic effect. “That’s two words,” he reiterates.

“Linc’s back?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since my embarrassing meltdown during the team meeting two weeks ago when I ran out, ready to puke. The same one where I found out that my little janitor crush was actually a killer. He missed his scheduled interview but Callen informed me he was still out on yet another job.

“He got back this morning.”

“Oh, okay. Well, overall, it’s an easy team to work with.” As long as I ignore what they really do for work. “My prior leadership theory is defunct though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t need to develop new leadership, Callen. There’s only one leader the operatives will listen to, and luckily for you, she has the agents’ respect too.”

“Vesper,” Callen says.

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