Imogen did not need Dr. Mansour to tell her how to do her job. The fact Dr. Mansour felt it necessary to interject herself in her role made the vein in Imogen's temple pulse ever so slightly. However, Imogen was great at her job and that often meant she had to play nicely with others, especially those who did not deserve her kindness or patience. "Yes, I believe I can easily draft up information on our journalists. I've been doing this for many years Dr. Mansour." The implication being 'keep to your job, and I'll keep to mine'.
Imogen turned and made her way to her general work area. It wasn't so much an office as it was a place she could keep her head down, away from some distractions, while she made some calls and did some digging. She had promised, after all, to not use the full amount of money allocated to her. She would do well to fulfill her promise.
Once she felt she was safely away from some prying eyes she pulled out her phone and dialed. It rang three times (standard) before it hung up. Then she dialed the number again. This time, it didn't even ring before she heard the voice on the other end. "I thought you were with the big guns now." A lilt of an Irish accent playing on his tongue, Samuel Brioney always made it seem like he was inconvenienced whenever he spoke. Which was likely true as he was a busy man. On the outside he appeared to be an IT specialist hired out to companies that needed updated security or to system check safety measures. In reality, he was a dangerous hacker who had his hand in many pies. The two of them met by chance when he showed up to her place of employment to do 'security checks'. This struck Imogen as odd as they had just had a security check last week. So she followed him and found him attempting to hack into their servers.
Instead of turning him in, they struck a deal. They have been friends ever since.
"Sounds like you miss me," she joked.
"In the way a cancer survivor misses their cancer."
"Some say that's a symbiotic relationship. Some even admit to missing it because it made them feel important."
"Are you seriously suggesting cancer survivors miss their deadly disease?"
"I am saying they feel something is lost when it goes into remission. They may not want it back, but it takes them some time to get used to the new normal."
"Aye, that it be. So I take it this isn't a personal call."
"It isn't. I am in need of some information. Three members of a news team who are privvy to some information we don't want getting out. I need any and all information you have on them."
"And I take it you don't want their recent vacation photos."
"If those photos show them doing naughty things then I wouldn't mind, but you know this already."
"Aye, that I do. How soon do you need it?"
"Yesterday."
"You are a harsh mistress."
"So says you and every gent I have been with. And even some ladies."
"Don't kiss and tell."
"Buy me a drink first. I still won't spill, but at least I'll be drunk."
"Send me the names and I'll see what I can do."
She quickly sent off the names of the three individuals as she prepared for the trip.
Sitting with Dr. Mansour, she had the information on hand. She didn't necessarily want to disclose it all to her in that moment. "I did. After all, I said I am good at my job. Have it all here." She said highlighting some files she had with her. In it, there were detailed accounts of each person. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to disclosing it all (you never knew how useful blackmail information could be for later).
"Our three individuals have been rather busy outside of work hours. While I'd like to not disclose anything as of yet, I am confident we will not need to follow through with elimination. The only tricky one was the blonde intern, Whitney. Surprisingly not a lot of social media activity from her, but I found something anyway."
Imogen had a hint of a smile, knowing that she did her job well. Well enough to be safe from critique, hopefully. She might have stepped on a few toes, but if she did her job right, no one would be any wiser.