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Ronald Sandoval appreciatively sipped at a glass of wine. An excellent vintage with a hint of peach flavor from a small vineyard in Georgia. One of his favorite indulgences even if it could no longer intoxicate him.
He glanced around his office. It was very formal with solid colors and a pronounced lack of personal touches. His partner at the FBI, Agent Barrington, would have described it as uptight and formal, the kind of decor people use to scream that they want to keep everyone at an emotional distance.
Sandoval smiled bitterly. What would Emma have thought of him now? Sandoval knew that she would not have been afraid to tell him exactly what she thought to his face, though her respect for his position would have led her to do so privately.
Emma Barrington. Sandoval stared at the carpet. He had wondered what she was up to, it had been nearly five years since he had last laid eyes on her and that was not a memory he cherished. She had been horrified by what he had done to Dee-Dee.
"I don't know you anymore." Emma had said sadly shaking her head as he came with a large cardboard box to finish clearing out his desk. He had stared at her perplexed before deciding that her lack of exposure to the Taelons drove her words. As merely an FBI Agent she could not possibly understand the wonder of serving the Taelons.
Now it was Sandoval whose head was shaking. Sometimes he cursed the CVI for allowing him such perfect recall, especially when memories came unbidden to intrude and remind him of lost things. His thumb stroked the wine glass as he allowed himself to recall when next he had heard of Emma.
It was at the conclusion of a meeting with Agent McAllister. The tall, polite agent was in his mid-fourties and one of the more essential cogs in his project.
"Until next time. Thank you, Agent Sandoval." McAllister said picking up his red leather briefcase and stepping away from the highly polished conference table.
"Just remember to keep a tight reign on security." Sandoval reminded him. "And while you are at it, keep an eye on the agents whose names on the list I gave you. They might prove useful."
McAllister nodded, then paused. "There is something I have been meaning to mention to you, about one of the names on the list. An Agent Barrington. She was your partner at the Bureau for some time, I believe." The agent said in a carefully casual tone that worried Sandoval.
Sandoval's curt nod was his only reply.
"You should know that Agent Barrington is dead."
Sandoval felt his heart lurch. He blinked and it was a full minute before he was able to recover himself. His years with the Taelons had allowed him to develop the ability to remain unreadable the majority of the time. Now it took a great shock to crack his mask for longer than a second or two.
"I'm sorry." McAllister said.
"How?" Sandoval demanded.
McAllister looked past Sandoval and out the floor to sealing window that served as one wall of the conference room. The window was treated to allow one to look out, but to prevent anyone from looking in. "I thought you knew."
"Thought I knew what?" Sandoval growled gripping the back of a chair tightly.
McAllister took a deep breath before answering. "Barrington was among those picked up for use in the project during the crackdown."
When the other agent fled the room, Sandoval collapsed into a chair and pulled out his global. He had reviewed the names of military and FBI personnel taken thoroughly and was positive Emma's name had not been among them. He would never allow her to be used like that.
He called up the files and realized his mistake. Emma had married and taken her husband's last name. He had not thought anything of using Emma Merad, but he had not known.
"Oh Em, I'm so sorry." He whispered. He ran a finger down the side of her picture. Taking a deep breath he called up specifics on what had happened to her.
There it all was in neat print: Emma Merad, taken November 6, 4 AC. Died on November 29, 4 AC from cerebral hemoraging caused by a CVI rejection.
He closed the file on her death and was about to close the entire file when a notation caught his eye. She'd had a baby eight months before her death. A little boy named James.
He closed the file quickly. Not only was he responsible for the death of one of his best friends, but he had made a widower of Rick Merad and cost James Merad his mother.
"I do wonders for the women I care about." He said bitterly. Dee-Dee, Siobhan, Emma. Quite the list now.
He re-opened his global. "Find out where the body of Emma Merad is."
"Yes sir."
At least he could give her husband a child a grave to visit, to place flowers on and the knowledge that she was at peace.