The grand jury in the case of United States v. Mendoza convenes a few days after the incident with Edgar. The jury issues a multicount indictment against Mendoza. The accusations against the young supermarket kingpin make the front page of newspapers across the country. Mendoza’s legal team calls the charges unfounded and argues that their client has been targeted because of his race. Citing the fairy tale story of his life, they say the case is un-American.
When Mendoza is arrested, his lawyers ensure that a gaggle of reporters are on hand to watch FBI agents place him in handcuffs. Mendoza is in custody for the better part of a morning, but is quickly released on $2,000,000 bail. His ample holdings more than sufficiently cover the amount.
The day Mendoza is released, Paulie is called in to Agent Boswhite’s office. This time no coffee is offered.
“Here are your new orders and assignment, Agent Andrews,” Boswhite says. “You are to be transferred to the Chicago Bureau, where, I’ve learned, you will be assigned to Organized Crime.”
Paulie looks at Anton in shock. “Why?” he asks.
“I truly do not know,” Boswhite replies. “If I had to guess, I would say it might have something to do with your background.”
Paulie ignores this.
“This is a real promotion, Andrews. You should be proud, as this is one of our original Bureaus. In any event, your appointment is effective immediately. You report to Chicago one month from today.”
“What about the Mendoza case?” Paulie asks, irritably. “Am I off that?”
“You know as well as I that there’s nothing left to do.”
“Is this about Baranson?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t comment on that.”
“What about Tania?” Paulie asks, then quickly adds, “Agent Caldwell?”
“She will remain here,” Boswhite says, with finality. “That is all. Good luck in Chicago. Your Supervising Agent—your boss—will be Agent Leonard Phillips. I think you will like him. I believe he’s Italian as well.”
Agent Anton Boswhite holds out his hand. Though it pains him, Paulie shakes it. He’s dismissed.
Back at his apartment, Paulie cannot stop looking at his phone. There are many calls to make but he cannot bring himself to pick up the receiver. He wants to call Papa Tony, but that’s out of the question. He could call Vincent, but he’s not ready to tell him the news. He knows how upset he’ll be. Carolyn has been distant whenever she answers his calls, which is not often. And then there’s Tania, the most difficult call for Paulie to make.
Instead, he busies himself with packing. He arranges for all his belongings to be shipped to Chicago. He thinks about driving there, so he’ll need to have the car checked out to see if it’s in shape for the trip.
Then he thinks about where he’s going to live. Probably downtown. He cannot move back in with his mother and grandfather. Indeed, he won’t be able to go back to the Neighborhood at all. He shudders at the thought. He’ll have no peace if he goes back there—the first FBI agent from the Neighborhood. When he goes back home, it’ll be like moving to a new city.
He’s packing when the phone rings. It’s Carolyn.
“Hi, what a nice surprise. I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about you.”
Carolyn is silent on the other end.
“Paul, I met someone,” she says, when she finally speaks. “I’m going home to see my parents this weekend and introduce them to him.”
All the words Paulie wants to say just stick in his throat. She continues.
“He’s a law student with me here at Georgetown. I wanted to do this in person, but we never did see each other, did we?”
“You don’t love me anymore?” he asks, his voice surprisingly firm. There’s another silence on the line.
“I…no, I don’t think I do. Not anymore. Please take care of yourself, Paul. Goodbye.” She hangs up.
Paulie sits down, surrounded by the packing boxes, trying to process the phone call. He’s in a state of shock, but not quite surprised. Things sure are going just great, he thinks. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all. He stands up again and continues to pack. He thinks about Tania.
Later that day, Paulie drives all the way down to the Santa Monica pier. He parks and walks on the beach to Venice. There, feeling hungry, he walks up to the shops. He’s waved over by a young blonde woman behind a sign that reads, “Psychic.”
“You look like you need a reading,” she tells him. “Twenty dollars for a half hour.”
Paulie sits down. He hands her a twenty-dollar bill and looks into her eyes.
“I have to tell you that I do not believe in this hocus-pocus,” he says, “but have at it.”
She smiles and pulls out her Tarot cards and lays them down in front of her. Then she looks concerned. Very dramatic, Paulie thinks, smiling smugly. She’s probably an actress.
The fortune teller says that he will be making a serious change in his career, and that his family and friends will oppose his decision. Paulie stops smiling. Then she says that he’s being tested, that he has doubts about his career. She goes on. His most recent romantic engagement was never meant to be, she asserts, and he should focus on his future.
“How do I do that?” he asks, almost pleading. She shushes him and keeps reading. A look of confidence crosses her face.
“You’ll meet someone soon who will dramatically change the course of your life.”
“What does that mean? Is it good, or bad?”
“I can’t tell.”
She waits for a response. When she gets none, she asks him if he has any other questions. He smiles weakly, as if to say no, and then rises, walking away confused and unsettled. The noise, the smell, and the people along the boardwalk begin to irritate him, so he turns around and walks back to his car, all the while thinking about what the psychic told him.
He thinks about what it might mean when he returns to Chicago. Can I arrest people from my own neighborhood? The thought fills him with distaste. Is the Bureau testing me to see if I’m truly dedicated to this life I’ve chosen? It has to be. He tries to shrug it off, chastising himself for being so self-centered. I’m just being reassigned. That’s that. It’s not the end of the world.
When Paulie returns home, he picks up the phone and makes what he thought was the most difficult call on his list. After several rings, someone finally answers.
“Hello?” says Tania. In the aftermath of Edgar’s death, Agent Caldwell requested time off to spend with her son and mother. She and Tyler have enjoyed a few days of peaceful isolation, free of intrusive busybodies, her mother notwithstanding.
“Hey, how are you?” Paulie says, trying to sound cheerful.
When she recognizes his voice, she considers hanging up. She doesn’t, but replies icily, “I’m fine, Paul. How are you?”
“I just wanted to tell you. I’ve received orders. I’m being transferred to the Chicago office. I’ll be working on Organized Crime.”
Caldwell is stunned. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she says, her anger at him slipping away.
“I don’t know what you could do. I’ll miss you.” There’s silence on the phone. Caldwell breaks it.
“So, I don’t know if you were following this, but Edgar was shot by one of his own gang members. Apparently, he told them he was through with the life—again—but they weren’t willing to let him make that decision. I don’t know if there is any truth to that. I spoke to the detectives, and to be honest, they didn’t really seem to care. Just another gang-banger shooting.”
“Yeah, I heard. Are you happy he’s gone?”
“I think so. Maybe. For myself, anyway. I’m not so sure what this will mean for Tyler, though.”
“How is he doing?”
“The social worker who saw him at the precinct comes over, and that’s helping, I think. He’s just been lying in bed, and my mother’s doting over him. He’ll come through.”
“He’s strong, like his mom.”
“I can’t believe you’re being reassigned.”
“Listen,” Paulie says. “I’ve been thinking, or rather, hoping—do you have time to get dinner? Or just lunch is fine, too.”
“Sure,” she replies. “When?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Okay, dinner. Pick me up at 5:30.”
“I’ll be there.”
Paulie hangs up. Tania is his only friend here. Sure, he had met lots of people in and out of the Bureau, but no one like Tania. Then a thought crosses his mind: Vincent would’ve made lots of friends. He’d be a star out here. Thinking of Vincent triggers another thought he hadn’t considered before: What if I went into the private eye business? Then the miserable thought of going back to Chicago hits him again, and his gloom returns.
At dinner, Paulie and Tania rely on small talk to get through their meal. The conversation is awkward for both of them. Despite how much he cares about her, he cannot bring himself to tell her how he feels. When they finish eating, he wants to ask her back to his place or suggest they go for a walk along Venice beach—anything to prolong the evening. Instead, he drives her home. He steps out of the car before she can stop him. They briefly hug goodbye. Paulie wants to kiss her, but the distant look in Tania’s eyes prevents him from doing so. On his drive home, Paulie berates himself for not sharing his feelings to Tania, wondering if he’ll ever again get the chance.