Her new boss, Ann Jenkins, the Deputy Director, seemed to sense it because she’d paused several times during their orientation walk around the ops center to give Maggie a questioning glance. “Must have been one hell of a send-off party,” Jenkins sniffed at one point, apparently finding Maggie less impressive than her personnel folder and test scores indicated. “I couldn’t sleep,” Maggie said. She didn’t bother to add that the insomnia had nothing to do with partying but everything to with her old boyfriend. “Well, then,” Jenkins said, giving her a cool smile. “What do think so far?” Her skin stretched tight across her cheek and jaw in a way that suggested an eating disorder or compulsive exercise. To Maggie, Jenkins looked uptight even by FBI standards. “A lot of different agencies and a lot of computers,” Maggie said, her tone noncommittal. “Does it work?” Jenkins tilted her head as though sifting Maggie’s words, maybe reappraising her a little. “Our capabilities outstrip anything that’s ever been done,”
