The object is hidden inside."Angela followed the faint sensation. It almost felt as if she were floatingdown a stream as she wandered up one aisle and...down another. Eventually, shewas drawn to a huge wooden crate and the pull disappeared like a snappedrubber band.Angela glanced toward the end of the aisle and spied the battered toolboxshe had seen on countless rounds through the warehouse. She stifled a squealof excitement when she opened the rusty lid and found a couple of hammers,several. S. attorney, Gina Brand, was right. How else to explain what was going on around this man. FBI agents didn’t march into a police precinct and come out thinking that a man could do no wrong. That he could break any law.My phone buzzed on my hip. I pulled it off the plastic case on my belt. A new email. Confirmation that it was on the way. I swallowed at that. I had done it. I had a paper trail now connecting me to the subject.I stared at that email. I kept reading it over and over again. It was. In the meantime, shall we organise a plan to transfer the House Rodgers survivors to this vessel?" Captain Bishop said."Excellent. Let me know when you're done. In the mean time, I have some work to do here. Feel free to dock with the transport as soon as we separate. You will find five prisoners, the captain, the First Daughter of House Rodgers and two of her handmaidens with her," Logan described."I thought she travelled with three," Captain Bishop queried."She did, but after an incident, it. I handed it back to her with a slightly shaking hand. “No breaks, and ask before you take step outside, clear?” She apparently got off on getting one over me. “Yes, Marietta.” I hung my head. “I think, given the circumstances, you should address me as Ms. Miller, don’t you think?” We had always been using given names here in the office. I swallowed hard. “Yes, Ms. Miller.” The first two hours, I steamed. The next two I was filled with cold rage. But then it was time for lunch break. My stomach.