50s Vigilante?

“I didn't know we had an appointment on the books,” Mr. Winters said. “But, please, have a seat,” he motions to the two expensive cushions placed in front of his desk. He takes a seat in his overcompensating chair. Really, what is it with men and over-compensating chairs. Of all the things to overcompensate, a chair does not seem like one of them. Perhaps, a car or a condo, maybe even just some exercise equipment. But, a chair, really?

“Thank you for seeing us, this appointment was a little spontaneous. But considering what we found, we thought we should come see you right away,” I say graciously. Dan takes a seat, I stay standing.

“So, what have you found?” Mr. Winters asks. I walk over to Mr. Winters, unsuspecting and completely comfortable in his “boss” chair.

“We found out that you have been lying to us,” I state, leaning in on him.

“That’s preposterous,” he spits. Waving it off like an easy payment to a hookerly-affair.

“Actually, do you want to hear something really preposterous?” I ask, grabbing his arm rests. “A man hires an investigation agency and then doesn't predict the outcome that they would discover his lies. That, Mr. Winters is preposterous.”

“I've had enough of this, come back when you have something real. Like my flash drives. Get out!” Dan rises towards the door, locking it with one click.

“I've had enough of you, Mr. Winters. Tell us right now what is on those flash drives and why people would steal them in the first place!” I say throwing him in his wheely-chair to the corner of his office, invisible by his secretary and associates.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He shouts!

“Our headquarters were blown-up by some high weapons grade organizations. What is on the Flash Drive?” I scream.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Winters pleads again.

“It’s your company, how can you not know?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t handle what goes on the Flash Drives, I just give the information over for my assistant to encrypt.”

“Where is your assistant now?” Dan asks, peering over his shoulder. She could have Mr. Winters office bugged, she could be gone by now. Long gone.

“She should be outside seating some officials for my 3 o’clock meeting.” I leave Winters cowering in his chair in the dark corner, Dan unlocks the door, and we follow through. Haste over-taking our step. Why are there so many conference rooms in one legal office? We finally find her, brown hair pinned-up in 50s style, black skirt coming up to her waist and a tan blouse popping out from the top. With heels that could stab Fat Bastard in his multiple chins neck.

“ I was waiting for you to come,” she states. “Let’s go.”