Ayala was not bashful and nor did she feign modesty. She smiled and shook John’s hand, her eyes clearly assessing the man even as she gripped his hand with somewhat excessive firmness. He smiled in return, unfazed by her scrutiny or her applying her considerable strength to his hand.

“To her left is Dr. Martin Sobleski, a projectile engineer who has spent the last two months working with Colonel Milton on long-range missile options to take out your friends above us.”

Several of the group inadvertently glanced skyward at the rusted roof while Martin and John nodded at each other and the scientist gingerly shook the Agent’s proffered hand.

“And, last but not least, we have Captain Jack Toranssen, of the US Air Force. The captain served under Colonel Milton for several years at the beginning of his career, but now he is a B-2 Mission Commander. He is normally based out of the Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri, but he is on loan to the Hanscom right now, at the request of Colonel Milton, of course.” John Hunt nodded, and the captain stepped up to face the Agent, displaying the same lack of reticence as Ayala had moments before.

He stared straight into the eyes of the young-looking Agent and said firmly, “Good evening, Mr. Hunt.” the lack of rank was notable, if only to John and the Colonel, “I think I’ll go ahead and say something I assume the others are all thinking. The colonel has shown me a lot of frankly circumstantial evidence of this conspiracy. Persuasive evidence, certainly, especially considering the man it was coming from, but now that I’m here … I think it’s reasonable to say I want to see something more … concrete.”

The captain spoke without spite, but with enough force and bluntness to make the words a form of threat, and Neal and Madeline flinched a little. Knowing some small measure of the Agent’s abilities, they knew that facing off against the machine was nothing short of suicide. Of course, neither of them thought for a moment that John would actually hurt the captain, it was just disconcerting to see a proverbial Jack Russell barking at a Rottweiler, no matter how well restrained that Rottweiler might be.

The British officer stood firm, meeting Jack’s inquisitive gaze head on, and Neal half expected the Agent’s vicious left eye to metamorphose again. Because of that, Neal found he couldn’t help but stare at that orb, his morbid fascination taking over.

But instead, John smiled, then shrugged, apparently deciding that the captain would respond to something rather different than the display he had given Neal and Madeline.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment. Maybe this will help.” said the Agent.