Password Incorrect

The oppressive quiet of the FBI waiting room was only punctuated by the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic tap of my fingers on the armrest. I stared up at the ceiling, counting the evenly spaced lights, a familiar ritual to pass the time.
Agent Stevenson, or 'R' as I grudgingly thought of him, was still in there with his father, the Director. I'd calculated it down to the second: 577 seconds left until my 'fate' was decided.
My phone lay open in my hand, displaying the perfectly forged life of Nicky Harrison: college grad, model citizen, no criminal record. A stark contrast to Nicolette Moore, the name plastered across the FBI's Most Wanted list, the one with ties to gangs and a knack for disappearing acts. I had to suppress a wry smile. They wouldn't know what hit them.
Just then, the door clicked open. Agent Stevenson emerged, a grim set to his jaw. He wordlessly uncuffed me from the chair, pulling me towards the office he'd just vacated. My internal clock was off by exactly three seconds. Damn.
