Meanwhile, at the office..

“Darrel Andersen?” a suited man asks. Looking very much like an Agent from The Matrix.

“Who wants to know?” Mr. Andersen replies crossly. “I have got a job to do here, so unless this is a life-or-**** situation, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I can make it life or **** if you want.” the agent says, pulling a gun from his inside breast pocket. “Now, I’m going to say two words, and then you’re going to tell me everything you know about it, understand? The words are: Victor Phillips.” The agent never sees Darrel Kenneth Andersen curl to the floor, roll to the agent’s feet, or grab his gun-hand. He feels only surprise followed by white-hot agony as the smaller man flips him onto his back, breaking both of the bones in his forearm.

“If you want to play Twenty Questions, asshole, why don’t I start?” Andersen growls. “First question: Why do you want to know?”