I reached out for the one I tried to destroy

March 31, 2006
Technological Intelligence Movement Monitoring (Foliage Census) Secured Facility
Three Miles Underground
Somewhere Outside Chevy Chase, MD

O'Connell ran both his hands through his hair, looked mournfully at the Stantz file folder one more time, and knocked on his boss's door.

"Come in."

Jannot's office was, as always, humming with computer equipment; still, O'Connell fancied he could hear a silence settling over the sounds as he entered. With a suppressed grimace, he laid the file down on the bald man's desk.

"Is this what I think it is, O'Connell?" asked Jannot, one eyebrow arching.

"It's the Stantz file, sir. I can't do it any more. I've been on his case for a year and a half now and despite all the resources at my disposal, I can't crack the man's case."

The bald man sank back in his chair, fingers steepling, but said not a word.

"I've been able to run even the most complicated cases to ground in the past- I've never had a failure yet- but I have to say, sir…" O'Connell shook his head. "I've got no clue where he's getting his tech from. Or how to keep it from getting into the general population. I'm sorry."

Jannot sighed, picking up the file and thumbing through the countless sheets of burned DVDs inside. "I suppose I have no choice but to accept this," he said. "I've seen your reports. You haven't been falling down on the job-"

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Get back to your office and start on that incident with Wilcox."

As the black-haired man closed the door behind him, Jannot grimaced. Changing investigators in mid-stream was never good for a case. More importantly, the only one he had available- well. The man had no intelligence agency credits to his name. Oh, sure, he'd been brilliantly competent in his field, but it wasn't exactly TIMM's field. Privately, Jannot suspected there'd been a clerical error somewhere along the line.

Still, the guy got results. He dropped the first DVD into his computer and picked up the phone. "Extension four seventy," he said. Then: "Red. I'm forwarding you a case now…"

There was a momentary silence before the voice on the other end answered. "Mr. Jannot? Is this what I think it is?"

"It's a year and a half's worth of investigative files on one of the Ghostbusters."

"Yes," said the other man slowly. "I thought it might be. Hmmm."

"O'Connell couldn't pull it off," Jannot warned. "Do you-"

"Oh, I can get him for you," said the other man almost cheerfully. "I can definitely get him for you. I know this man."

Jannot blinked. "You do?"

"I most definitely do." There might have been a snicker from the other end. "I'll have a progress report for you in a-"

"Two weeks, Red," said Jannot. "I can't give you a month. O'Connell's been spinning his wheels on this since last year."

"That's more time than I need, sir. You'll have a progress report and a fully detailed proposal in ten days."

"All right," said Jannot. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"You won't be disappointed."

Jannot hung up the phone and sighed wordlessly. This, he thought, had better work.