Chapter 12

Director Pat Murphy was a pugnacious Irish-American who had grown up in the Bronx back in the days when its streets were mean. After law school, he had started his career working in the corporate sector and then had moved to public service and risen to be the Attorney General of the United States before being appointed as the Director of the FBI.

Director Murphy was fiercely protective of the FBI and was determined to weed out the mole, if one existed, and restore the pride of the agency. When Isakson had reached a dead end in his investigation, he had listened to General Klouse and Clare and suggested that Isakson seek outside help.

Isakson had heard of Clare’s team several times, but hadn’t met any of them previously. He had readily agreed to meet Broker when Clare had called him since he wanted to assess him personally.

 

Broker breathed deeply as he walked to the J. Edgar Hoover Building on the most famous avenue in the world. Spring in D.C was good, but he was a New Yorker and refused to accept that any other city was superior in any way to NYC. He noticed that there weren’t as many people doing stuff on their phones while walking – street pizza-meat he called them – as in New York, but he resolutely pushed away such traitorous thoughts.

Director Murphy studied him as Broker was ushered in the room. Showboat, he thought and then erased that from his mind. He hadn’t risen to his role by making snap judgments. He gestured for Broker to seat himself and rasped, ‘So, mister, I hear you’re going to find our mole?’

Broker grinned. ‘Are you sure you have a mole, sir?’

‘That’s what everyone tells me. You telling me something else?’ Murphy’s eyes narrowed.

‘Nope. I don’t know enough to tell you anything at this stage. All I’m saying is that it’s easy to get sucked into a mole hunt when in reality all that happened was just random chance.’

‘Isakson’s a good agent, mister, which is why I’ve made him the Deputy Director. He’s not the kind to go after windmills. I know you don’t have the highest regard for him, but I do. And if he says there’s a mole, I’ve no reason to disbelieve him. I can go with random luck to an extent, but that doesn’t explain the warehouse messages.’

Broker nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s the one thing that makes the case for a traitor. Only, I wonder why a traitor would be so stupid as to leave messages like that.’

Director Murphy waved his hand impatiently and growled, ‘Don’t you think we haven’t considered that? We think it’s not the traitor, but some stupid punk in those gangs that left those messages. Agreed, it’s a weak theory, but nothing else makes sense. Now, you tell me how you’re going to help us. You are, aren’t you? You didn’t come all the way here to show your mug, I hope?’

‘I’m in, sir. I mentioned that to Isakson. I wanted to meet you to get your views on this and–’

Murphy held up a hand, interrupting him. ‘Isakson’s views are my views. The two of us are on the same page.’

Broker inclined his head in acknowledgment. ‘I also wanted to manage your expectations. These hunts can take months and even years. If this mole is really good, he’ll be buried so deep, covered so well, that only a mistake or a betrayal will expose him. It doesn’t look like he’s made a mistake yet.’

‘I know how long this can go. I’ve been involved in a few hunts and cleanups myself,’ Director Murphy said brusquely.

Broker leaned forward. ‘Sir, how’re you protecting operations till such time as we find this bastard?’

Murphy broke eye contact for the first time, looked away and back again. ‘Mister, there isn’t much we can do on that front. We can’t cut back on operations. Isakson and a select team reviewed our policies, and we have implemented all the recommendations from that review. Our most sensitive operations are handled by agents handpicked by me – agents who are thoroughly and rigorously vetted regularly. Our information is always on the strictest need-to-know basis and our systems and policies have come a long way from the days of Hanssen. I am proud that we run the tightest investigative agency in the country.’

His voice hardened. ‘Which is why it burns me to think of some bastard sitting in some office of mine, wrecking yet another operation as we sit here. Mister, find me that bastard. I want to rip his balls off, pickle them, and display them in a jar on my mantelpiece.’

‘I’ll do my best, sir, but you know very well that I can’t promise any results. We might well end up investigating for years with no happy ending.’

Director Murphy replied, ‘Your best is what I want. I can deal with whatever shit comes out, even if nothing comes out.’

‘Sir, you know I’ll have to investigate everyone…’ Broker trailed off.

Murphy smiled grimly. ‘Mister, I would have been disappointed in Clare’s judgment if you didn’t investigate Isakson and me. If you come up with something interesting in our lives, let us know. Our lives have forgotten what interesting is, these last few years. Has Isakson sorted out everything for you?’

Broker nodded and stood up to leave. Director Murphy leaned across to clasp his hand, his grip as hard as concrete.

He looked in Broker’s eyes, and his voice softened the slightest. ‘I’m sorry about your loss. You know Isakson couldn’t do anything else.’

Broker bent his head just once and left.

Director Murphy didn’t have to say that, he thought, but it showed the kind of person he was. Didn’t mean Broker’s opinion of Isakson had changed.

He stood at the corner of the avenue and whistled for a cab. Nothing happened. He shook his head. Of course nothing would happen. This wasn’t New York. His confidence in New York’s superiority restored, he hoofed it to the nearest Metro and made his way to the airport.

 

He called Bear the next day.

‘You guys still chilling out there?’

‘Hell yeah,’ Bear answered in a monotone.

‘You don’t sound that enthusiastic.’ Broker laughed.

‘Man, everything is so perfect here. Perfect blue sky, perfect beaches, perfect teeth, bodies, hell, Broker, I’m perfectly bored. Get me out of here. Do you have a job for us?’

‘Nada.’ Broker was still chuckling. ‘Where’s Chloe?’

‘Oh, she’s gone on a perfect run!’

Broker burst out laughing. ‘Bear, you need to relax, maybe go for some yoga, discover your inner chakra or some shit like that. It’s a fucking holiday for the two of you!’

‘I need to do all that like I need a hole in my head.’ Bear snorted. ‘This holiday has outstayed its welcome.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Anyway, why did you call, Broker?’

‘How many feet could Chloe and you round up for some surveillance?’

‘How many do you need? Maybe ten, fifteen good guys. Really good.’

Broker shook his head, not that Bear could see. ‘I might need much more than that. Maybe fifty or seventy.’

‘Jeez, Broker, how many bodies you want followed? Sounds like a whole army! What’s this about? Something Chloe and I can help you with?’

‘Maybe, but not yet. Things haven’t yet fallen into place or heated up. Do me a favor. Start warming up as many feet as you can but also manage expectations. This is not the first line of approach for me, and it might not go anywhere. All I want to know is if I need feet, I can get them.’

‘Will do, Broker. Stay safe and stay cool.’

Broker hung up and checked his mail. There was an encrypted memory stick from Isakson, which had several files on it, reams of data on the investigation Isakson had conducted, files and notes of agents he had put on the scanner, and details of the various operations that had gone south.

Broker studied the files for hours, and when it turned dark, he closed the folder, leaned back and stretched. This wasn’t the approach he would take. Repeating the investigation Isakson had conducted would be pointless.

He would attack this problem from the other end. It was time he put his own badasses to work.