“That’s very clever of you, sir,” the driver responded dryly without taking his eyes off the road. “I could point out that we’re too young to know who the Hardy Boys are and make you feel very old,” he added as his brown eyes glanced to the rearview mirror and looked back at Ty. “But I would never do that, sir.”
Zane’s lips twitched, but he didn’t comment. His eyes displayed his amusement as he glanced a little more carefully over the two young men.
They were both very young, but Zane knew that experienced agents were practically being churned out of preschools these days.
“Welcome to New York, Special Agent Garrett, Special Agent Grady,” the passenger greeted as he turned slightly in his seat. “I’m Agent Mark Morrison, this is Agent Tim Henninger,” he went on. His voice changed slightly to add a hint of sarcasm. “We’re the lollipop boys sent to take care of you.”
Ty narrowed his eyes and examined Morrison and then Henninger slowly. He turned his head and glanced at Zane critically. “I think that was supposed to be a cultural reference of some sort,” he explained to his partner.
“I don’t get it,” he huffed.
Zane snorted. “Big surprise,” he murmured, almost under his breath.
Morrison leaned around the seat to look back at them. “We’ll be your escorts and New York Field Office contacts while you’re here. We’re on the way to the office now to meet the Special Agent in Charge. Can we stop anywhere on the way? Food? Drink?”
“What, you didn’t pack your lunch?” Ty asked sarcastically as he shifted around in the seat and wedged himself against the door. He kicked a foot up and propped it on the console between the two front seats.
“Sure, in my SpongeBob SquarePants lunch box. I have the thermos, too,” Morrison shot right back.
Zane kept his mouth shut, eyes moving between the two men, and occasionally back to the driver, who was casually paying attention.
Ty stared at the kid and narrowed his eyes further. “Spongewhat?” he asked flatly.
Zane didn’t even try to hold back the chuckle when Morrison looked at Ty like he’d lost his mind.
“Spongewha … you’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?” Morrison said. “Henny, he’s yanking my chain.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what you getting for waving it in his face,” the driver answered reasonably.
“What the hell is a SpongeBob?” Ty asked Zane quietly in the backseat.
Zane turned his chin, taking a moment to gauge if Ty was serious and if he’d slam Zane for answering. “It’s a cartoon character popular recently,”
he answered, voice low. He could see the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror again, watching them. Examining them.
Ty stared at Zane incredulously for a moment and then looked away with a shake of his head.
“Perhaps you prefer Scooby Doo?” Henninger offered politely.
“More like the Dark Knight,” Zane muttered without thinking first.
Ty smirked and glanced over at the man. “Does that mean I can call you Robin from now on?” he asked with an amused glint in his eyes.
“That’s Boy Wonder to you,” Zane answered flatly, turning to look out the window as Morrison stared at them both.
“Ugh,” Ty grunted as he looked away again and propped his other foot up on the center console. “You’re too easy,” he grumbled disconsolately.
Zane barely restrained a snicker as Morrison blinked. The young agent looked at his partner. “Well, we got the right two guys,” he said grimly.
He turned to look back at the two older men suspiciously. “They told us this was your first time working together, and that you’d probably not be too fond of each other.”
“They were right,” Ty and Zane both answered, practically in unison.
“Shut up,” Ty huffed at him.
“GENTLEMEN, so glad you made it. Special Agent in Charge George McCarty. Nice to meet you both. Let’s get on with this, shall we?” the head of the New York Field Office greeted hurriedly without giving either of them a chance to respond in kind. He dropped a few files onto the table and adjusted his tie. “I trust you’re both familiar with the case? Good, then we can get on to your arrangements and right into it.”
Ty raised an eyebrow at the whirlwind tour and glanced at Zane. Not noticing, Zane flipped open his file where he had a list of notes and questions, waiting for McCarty to continue.
“As we all know, this case has claimed two of our own,” McCarty continued as he bent over the table and looked down at his file. “Which has made it of the highest priority. You’ll be working alongside the other leads, Special Agents Sears and Ross. They couldn’t be here this morning; they’re still in the process of interviewing the staff from the hotel where Special Agents Sanchez and Reilly were found,” he said tightly. He sighed briefly, as if the little speech were taking a lot out of him. “You’ll be given a car and a driver, if you want one. We have booked you two adjoining rooms at the Tribeca Grand. It’s within walking distance of the office here and has the highest security. All our records and resources are open to you, although I will tell you right now cooperation from your new teammates will likely be at a minimum despite my orders to work with you,” he told them candidly, making no secret of the field office’s bitter feelings toward anyone from outside being sent in to handle their cases. “Any questions?”
“You provided the contact list, right?” Zane asked.
“It’s all in the file,” McCarty answered with a nod. “Anything you need during the course of your investigation is at your disposal, including the team Special Agents Reilly and Sanchez were using. Anything else?”
“Have you found out how the killer knew where the agents were staying?” Ty asked as he turned in his seat and propped his feet up on the chair next to him.
The Special Agent in Charge turned to one of the men at his side.
“No,” Morrison answered as if obeying the silent cue. He was the shorter of the Hardy Boys, but wiry, with spiked blond hair and bright blue eyes. “We don’t believe it was an inside thing, though. We speculate he may have tailed them from one of the scenes.”
“Is Serena Scott in town? I’d like her opinions on the crime scenes,”
Zane asked in reference to New York’s head profiler.
“We’ve not brought her in on this one. Yet,” Henninger answered.