The air was crisp, clean. He later learned that sun heated air produced from a convection chimney atop the roof was passed along pipes that led from the building to an underground trench, creating in the room a natural, fresh air quality and a consistent, comfortable temperature all year round with an economy of electrical energy usage. It was actually fashioned after an ancient air conditioning/ventilation system invented and used by the Romans that very much impressed Hollister when he'd come across the information during his study of Roman history.
Suspended inches from the black, semi-domed, star-studded ceiling which resembled deep space even above all the bright lighting were miniature replicas of possibly every known Star Wars spacecraft from the Acclimator-Class Republic assault ship to the Virago, strategically arranged giving the appearance of a mock battle sequence perpetually frozen in time. Miniature action figures of every conceivable Star Wars character occupied a floor-to-ceiling curio in one corner of the room. Also dispersed at various locations throughout the office and arrayed in confrontational poses were life-size figures of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Obi-Wan Kinobi, Princess Leia, Lando Calrissian, Chewbacca, C3PO, R2D2, Emperor, Tarkin, Jaba The Hutt, Boba Fett, Darth Vader, Yoda and a half dozen or so white-armored and armed Stormtroopers. The resemblances were so uncannily real that Bill's imagination fleetingly tricked him into thinking he actually saw the beautiful Leia breath. Behind the desk on a wall to the right, which would be Bill's left, hung an impressive 5'x4' iridescent poster of Yoda, woven of fine China Silk. The diminutive, green-skinned, object-subject-verb speaking sage is levitated within a heavenly shaft of neon-blue light above an island-sea-green circular pond with a forested background. The opposite wall to his right is adorned with another poster of equal dimensions made of the same fine silk and featured the fearsome, villainous cyborg and Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Vader clad in shining black regalia, standing in his classic pose of defiance and superiority aboard the Death Star.
Bill ascertained that this place was perhaps Hollister's child-like obsessive indulgence of a private fantasy as much as a temporary retreat from the real world of evil versus good. Bill himself was not a man to partake in such jejune ventures. He never even wasted time or money on a hobby of any kind. His compulsion lay with the mysteries of mind and its uncharted capabilities. For him nothing else was comparable compared to the unexplored frontiers of the psyche. Though he could appreciate such a creative by-product of the mind's imagination, he felt the true credit lay with the creator(s) of these products and not with the collector(s) of them.
Hollister was nowhere yet in sight. Bill glanced impatiently at his watch. Ten minutes had melted away. Bill couldn't help but wonder if this delay was Hollister's egotistic contrivance of allowing his visitor(s) a few moments privacy to soak in admiration of his expensive though meticulous collection. He had heard that one of the agency's stipulations in green-lighting Hollister's request to construct this office was that it would be funded with his own money. A proposal Hollister wasted no time accepting. Being a man not only well connected but immensely wealthy from investments in numerous oil companies and successful startups, Hollister spared no expense.
Bill shoved his hands inside his pant pockets not knowing what else to do with them. He didn't want to sit down on the comfortable looking black leather Sierra sofa only to have to stand again out of respect once Hollister entered. Again his eyes surveyed the room but by now the novelty of the moment had faded into a casual, almost humorous appreciation of the surroundings. In fact the austere part of his nature almost wished he had happened upon The Rack or Judas Cradle torture devices from the unenlightened period. Seemed a man of Hollister's position and reputation was being blasphemous against his sworn furtive duties to take such an amusement so seriously. But who was he to judge? For it was historical fact and usually common practice for men of great prestige and wealth, who in their solitary moments hidden from public scrutiny would engage in what the average citizen considered bizarre behavior. J. Edgar Hoover had his cross-dressing… The mere thought of which always tickled Bill. And now he felt an almost irresistible urge of laughter rise within him with the force of lava making its way to the surface of a volcano. It painted a grin across his face and he snickered. What prevented him from erupting into unbridled laughter was the dark reminder that in spite of Hollister's seemingly juvenile fantasia the man was in a position of unchallenged authority to make anyone's life a living nightmare at the very least. At worse he could terminate ones very existence with just a phone call. Bill knew Hollister was already upset with him about the recent spate of disappointing events. He could appear at any moment and the last thing Bill wanted was to insult the man with his fortuitous merriment and possibly wind up on either his shit or hit list. Given the country's current political atmosphere of fear mongering and terrorism paranoia which has led to a steady and frightening erosion of personal rights and freedoms it would not be difficult to be labeled a threat, abducted perhaps without due process, legal representation or trial and railroaded to some exotically named American tax-payer funded facility where torture and deprivation was standard procedure or just to keep matters simple buried in an unmarked grave somewhere. Just as Bill erased the last vestiges of a smile from his face, Hollister entered the office through a door to what appeared to lead to a bathroom. It was a bathroom, Bill determined, as he heard the receding flush of a toilet beyond the door. Using a paper towel Hollister was wiping his hands with the desperate determination of a killer wiping away his victim's blood. He glanced at Bill on his approach toward the Falcon Millennium desk, still wiping his hands he greeted, "Bill."
"Director Hollister," Bill replied.
Hollister stood momentarily in front of the high-back seat to the desk that resembled a spaceship pilot's chair. "Have a seat," he instructed, as he obsessively insisted on wiping his hands. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Hollister discarded the paper towel into a receptacle beside the desk. He sat down inspecting his hands with the attention of a surgeon moments before performing heart surgery. Finished, he said, "Bring me up to speed on the situation."
Bill knew that Hollister was already keenly aware of the situation, but he was in a habit of questioning those under him to see if they were on the same page. If your information did not match his you had better have a good reason.
"Agent Greves," Bill began, "is on limited desk duty awaiting medical clearance. Agents Kawalski and Dobbs are still hospitalized."
"Still comatose I presume?" Hollister asked.
"No, sir. But they're in and out of consciousness. Not completely cohesive, yet. There's an internal investigation pending…
"No," Hollister interrupted. "We keep this between you and I. For now."
"Yes, sir."
"The issue with the drugs found on them," Hollister inquired. "Updates?"
"Blood test came back negative for both agents. More than likely Leonard planted the marijuana as an attempt to toss in the proverbial monkey wrench as a delay tactic." Hollister takes a few seconds to ponder.
"I want to personally interview Dobbs and Kawalski before they're discharged."
"I'll make the arrangements," Bill said.
"You know," Hollister said, "if this goes south the agents will have to be the fall guys."
"Sir?" Bill was tentative.
Hollister went on, "We can't afford to have this case looked into beyond what you and I know. It definitely can't go public."
"Sir, I… I understand and agree," Bill said respectfully."
"They obviously didn't follow our command to keep their distance," Hollister insisted. "There is a price to pay for disobedience and stupidity. What about our subject – is he still incognito?"
"Yes, sir," Bill said. "We're using every resource available to locate him."
"Jack," Hollister said, "has he reached out to you?"
"I doubt he will at this point," Bill said. "We have twenty four hour surveillance on him. We do know he paid a visit to the coroner."
Hollister's left eyebrow arched. "The coroner," he said, intrigued. "Do we know why?"
"Seems Jack's doing some private investigation of his own.
"How cooperative was the coroner?" Hollister asked.
"I spoke with him. He denied any knowledge or involvement. But I know Jack. He's an expert at detecting when someone's lying."
"So you think the coroner may have been compromised?" Hollister said.
"Possibly."
"Mmm." Hollister thought for a moment and then finally said, "Jack's revealed where his loyalty stands. He knows we're watching him. He won't do what we expect him to. Besides, his wife is more important to us anyway at this stage."
"Mrs. Hollister," Bill said, "has resolved herself to the denial of her gift. She hasn't used it for years and has forbidden her sons from using it. Lawrence pretended to be compliant to her wishes only to keep the peace. Leonard on the other hand was more outwardly rebellious and not only uses his gift but has continued developing its unlimited potential. It was the main reason for the fallout with his mother. She can be a very headstrong."
Hollister said, "you believe she won't attempt to contact Leonard through the use of her own ability."
"I can't be certain of that, sir. Blood, as the saying goes, is thicker than water. Left now with only one son she may be tempted to reconsider her feelings and reach out to him. On top of that, Jack can be a very persuasive man. If he's determined enough to get in touch with his son he just might be able to convince his wife out of her stubbornness."
Hollister contemplated and then said, "What do you think, Bill? Should we wait for Jack's gentle persuasion or take matters into our own hands?"
"Time is of the essence, sir".
Hollister allowed a light but brief smile to play across his face. "I'm glad we agree," he said. "The woman must has to come under our control sooner than later." He then engaged himself in a moment of deep contemplation; he began looking over the room as though noticing its theme for the first time and to Bill it seemed the admiration in his eyes was akin to a divine light. "Did you see the movie Star Wars, Bill?"