DC is a wealth of security lines, suspicion, and scrutiny.
Hunnigan, sitting in her dark and soundproofed cubicle, glances over at a tiny beep and flicks on a screen. An old line is being opened? It must be Clernall, being surreptitious.
Hm. No. It's a CIA line? She blinks. They abandoned that one long ago. She only has it in her files because they thought they might pick it up again for a mission she was involved in.
So maybe someone there has reopened it and wants her to notice. She's got a sneaking suspicion this has to do with the Las Plagas cells mess. Let's see; the message is going to hit a relay, maybe she can passively view. . . she starts clicking keys. There is no further activity. She doesn't recognise this encryption, but that's what her computer's for. She runs it through and turns back to her mundane paperwork.
There's a beep some time later. She bumps the mouse, and her screensaver flickers. She glances at the opening line of the readout. Her eyes widen. Wait, isn't that an Umbrella code base?
She reads it, and her heart starts racing. Ideas leap into her head, traces, pings to see where it's been and where it's going, maybe he won't--
Get a grip. Of course he'll notice. He's a professional. And it doesn't look like he knows he's been made. She has to keep it that way. In one of the greatest efforts of the year, Hunnigan does nothing at all with the channel. She sets an alarm if another message comes through, sets her system up to record a copy, and turns the screen back off. Her hands are shaking.
Then she turns back to her screen and picks up the phone. What DOD members just went to New York?
Hunnigan, sitting in her dark and soundproofed cubicle, glances over at a tiny beep and flicks on a screen. An old line is being opened? It must be Clernall, being surreptitious.
Hm. No. It's a CIA line? She blinks. They abandoned that one long ago. She only has it in her files because they thought they might pick it up again for a mission she was involved in.
So maybe someone there has reopened it and wants her to notice. She's got a sneaking suspicion this has to do with the Las Plagas cells mess. Let's see; the message is going to hit a relay, maybe she can passively view. . . she starts clicking keys. There is no further activity. She doesn't recognise this encryption, but that's what her computer's for. She runs it through and turns back to her mundane paperwork.
There's a beep some time later. She bumps the mouse, and her screensaver flickers. She glances at the opening line of the readout. Her eyes widen. Wait, isn't that an Umbrella code base?
She reads it, and her heart starts racing. Ideas leap into her head, traces, pings to see where it's been and where it's going, maybe he won't--
Get a grip. Of course he'll notice. He's a professional. And it doesn't look like he knows he's been made. She has to keep it that way. In one of the greatest efforts of the year, Hunnigan does nothing at all with the channel. She sets an alarm if another message comes through, sets her system up to record a copy, and turns the screen back off. Her hands are shaking.
Then she turns back to her screen and picks up the phone. What DOD members just went to New York?
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