Senator Caddrick nodded slow agreement, despite the fury seething in his eyes. “Of course, Ms. Azzan. It was never my intention to conduct an official investigation personally, although I certainly will demand that one be launched immediately. I shall, of course, conduct a fact-finding mission of my own while I’m here.”
There being nothing she could do to stop him, short of throwing him into the brig—which would not improve the station’s image—Ronisha simply nodded graciously. “Now, then, senator, you said your daughter had obtained forged identification papers? She and her kidnappers are travelling under assumed names, then. What names? Any information you can give us will be critical in tracing them.”
“Yes, of course.” The senator was digging into a pocket for a CM disk, which he held out. Ronisha accepted the disk just as the emergency phone on the corner of Bull’s desk jangled, its tones shrill in the hushed office. Ronisha glanced at it with a sinking sensation in her middle. Whoever was on the other end of that line knew what Ronisha was in the middle of, up here, how serious this meeting was.
“Excuse me, please,” she said, picking up the phone. “Aerie, Azzan speaking. This had better be good.”
“Mike Benson, reporting in!” The security chief had to shout above the roar in the background. “We’ve got the Ansar Majlis ringleaders under wraps.”
“Fabulous,” she said with a rush of relief.
“Do you still need me to answer that silent alarm?”
“Yes, please.”
“On my way.”
She hung up the phone and faced the expectant crowd in her office. “Now, then,” she said pleasantly, “where were we, senator? You were about to give us the information on your daughter’s forged identifications, I believe.”