Bzzzz … “That … not all that … was in BB’s report,” Ghost said, nonplussed.
Old grief clogged my throat. “Yeah, well, whoever made the report sure didn’t live through it.” It hurt like a son-of-a-gun, breaching old wounds like that, but the funny thing was, Ghost might have actually had a point. All that accumulated mental pus had drained from me somewhat and I felt better than I had in a long, long time. I hoped I wasn’t getting soft in my old age.
Wilkes made a face. “Damn, Kal, I wouldn’t have asked you for the story if I knew it was going to be like that.” He seemed embarrassed. “One question though, who is that Sampson Pellivoynen character the monster mentioned?”
“Sampsa Pellervoinen,” I corrected. “From the Kalevala, a sort of fertility god who planted all the forests during the world’s creation. I guess you could consider him the complete opposite of Iku-Turso, who is a destroyer.” I stood and stretched battered muscles, weary to the bone. “One thing, Wilkes … how far behind McMillan were you?”
“McMillan?”
“Agent Finger. Her real name is Ariel McMillan.”
Annoyance twisted his mouth. “God, I hate covert BS.” He rubbed his forehead in thought. “Maybe four, five seconds behind. She can move like the wind, that one.”
Interesting. “Excuse me, I have to see a man about a dog.” With that I made my way to the bedroom, where my four-poster crooned to me of dreamless nights. But I still had miles to go before giving into that gentle seduction.
A fresh change of clothes later and I almost felt human again. The rags that I had taken off fit nicely in the bathroom garbage can. The bandages that had wrapped my hands joined them a second later. Alex was pretty thorough in his healing.
Instead of a polo and khakis, I decided on boot-cut jeans, a Police: 2007 Reunion Tour t-shirt and a pair of white high tops. I finished it off with a generic version of a North Face jacket.
Looking in the mirror, I had to smile. “Well, hello 1985.”
Moving the bedside table, I pushed on a section of hardwood floor and flipped up a small trap door, revealing a floor safe. Inside were a box, thirty thousand in cash, and my will. The cash went into my jacket along with the will. The box I opened. Inside lay a normal looking Citizen wristwatch with a chrome band and black face, a duplicate to the one on my wrist; both were backed with what looked like a half-dollar sized piece of crystal. The one on the new watch glowed faintly, as if phosphorescent, while the one on the old watch shone a dull dark gray. I made a mental note to have Alex charge it soon.
“C’mon, Percy,” I said as I entered the living room, tossing him the keys to the Honda. “You’re driving.”
In the car, stopped at a red light a few blocks north of the office, Wilkes asked, “So how big is this Bureau of yours?”
“Fifty field agents and fifty support workers.”
“So few?”
I rolled down the window, needing fresh air. “Think of policing the World Under as going to war. Wars don’t happen all the time, but when they do, someone winds up dying. Any more people and most of us would be sitting around all day twiddling our thumbs. Sometimes the job’s so boring I can’t get a pause in edgewise.”
“And where does that little mage guy Alex fit in? Is he support?”
“We call them magicians … mage sounds too much like a role-playing game.” A really freaking deadly role-playing game. “Alex is Special Branch, one of the support officers.”
“Doesn’t sound like much.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, it helps to think of field agents like swords. We cut, we chop. Special Branch is the body behind the sword.” And BB is the brain behind the body. “Without Special Branch we wouldn’t have the tech, or the magic, to help us do our job. Trust me, they need us and we need them.”
“So who’s the boss?”
“Of the Denver mission? I am, as most senior field agent.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“I’ll let him introduce himself. And when he does, be respectful. He’s one of the most powerful men in the civilized world.”
“That sounds a bit dramatic.”
“It would be dramatic if I had exaggerated.”
That shut him up for a while and we drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.
When we slogged into the lobby, I laid my hands on the desk and threw a tired smile to a concerned-looking Pat while Wilkes stood in the middle of the room and gaped.
“It looks like the 70s threw up,” he muttered in awe. “Really, who’s your interior decorator? The Brady Bunch?”
Pat’s Mac dinged and she rushed around the desk to give what for her passes a worried hug. Most people would consider it affectionate assault with the intent to commit bodily harm.
She quickly disengaged, which was good because my vision had been clouding with the lack of oxygen. “You had me worried sick, Kal.” That rich voice soothed my ego and bruised ribs at the same time. “You got luck, I’ll give you that.”
“The only way I want to die, Pat, is in your arms.”
“Charmer.” She gave me a once over before heading back behind the desk. “Who’s this lug?” she uttered throatily, a slow smile teasing her face. “Mama likes.”
I beckoned the bemused Detective over. “Wilkes, this is Pat, our Receptionist.”
“Receptionist?” He had caught the capital R. “I didn’t reckon the Bureau would need Receptionists.”
“Well, what I mean by Receptionist is ‘formidable first line of defense.’ She can disembowel you with a paperclip and used chewing gum.”
“And I don’t need the gum,” Pat said, no longer smiling. I noted that one hand rested below the level of the desk.
I smacked my head. “Oh dear me, Detective Lieutenant Wilkes, I plumb forgot. Put your hands on the desk right there and don’t move or Pat will blow a hole in you big enough to drive a Smart Car through.”
“What?”
The smile left my face. “And I’m not even kidding.” Quickly, he did as asked.
“What the hell is going on here?” he growled out of the corner of his mouth.
Pat met his eyes. “My job is Security and I take my job very, very seriously.” Something in her face had him nodding quickly.
Ping went the Mac.
Pat’s eyes checked the screen for second. “He’s clean. Fingerprints match recorded data.” Her hand came up from under the desk and stroked the keyboard. “Do you wish to add Mr. Percy Girard Wilkes to the temporary duty roster?” she asked tonelessly.
I nodded, placing a hand on the desk and feeling the surface warm. “I, Kalevi Hakala, am authorizing temporary access to BIS Station Denver effective immediately to Detective Lieutenant Wilkes of the Denver Police Department. Authorization code Victor Kilo Foxtrot 646.”
Pat finished. “Recorded and authorized.” Two more keystrokes and I had new sidekick—a huge one. She spared him a glorious smile, which he returned with interest.
“I may have to leave you for this side of beefcake, Kal,” she told me after opening the hidden door. As we went through, Wilkes stopped a moment to examine it.
“Drywall over steel?”
I nodded, not really impressed with his observational skills.
“A hidden door to a secret lair. A little Get Smart, don’t you think?”
“’And Loving It,” I quoted, nudging him down the hall. The gang was all there, watching TV in the break room and chatting away like it wasn’t a hair past midnight.
“Kal, you made it,” Sue exclaimed, shaking my hand hard enough to dislocate my shoulder. “Alex briefed us.”
The rest of the team added their congratulations on my not death, and even the Green Pea looked happy. I acknowledged them all politely and introduced Wilkes.
“This is Percy,” I said. He shot me a glare promising revenge and shook hands all around. In the back of the room stood a thickset Hispanic man I didn’t know. I pointed to him. “You, new guy, in my office. Wilkes, you too.”
I settled new guy and Wilkes into a couple of chairs and leaned back in my own. “You must be Jeff’s replacement.”
He made to stand, extending a hand for me to shake, but I waved him down. “Flew in an hour ago, sir. I’m Matt Alba,” he said quietly, in a melodic voice that carried a hint of New Mexico. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
It took an effort to put a sincere smile on my tired face. “I’m not a ‘sir.’ I work for a living. And the honor is mine. I heard about that Cihuateteo you took care of down in Truth or Consequences. Good job.” He seemed capable. Thick, with no neck and shoulders, wider than he was tall, all under an egg-shaped head shaved bald. Looked like he lifted weights—trains, Buicks, etc.
He smiled, showing a beautiful set of perfect chompers, relieved that I wasn’t going to leap over the desk and bite off a chunk. “For now you’ll stick to Dom like ugly on an ape,” I ordered. “Since this is the first time someone or something seems to have specifically targeted a Bureau agent, we are on lockdown until this situation is resolved.”
“Check, boss.”
“Good. Now, if you haven’t been briefed on the situation, have Dom read you in, then help us find the bad guys. And I mean yesterday.”
He went and got gone. I focused on Wilkes. “I know this sucks, but you’ll be working with us on the Organ Donor. Believe me; you don’t want anyone in the DPD finding that lady.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I’m tasked here, that means Sherrod will be on it. The man’s a dork, but he listens to authority. If someone high up says I’m seconded to the ATF or whatever, he won’t say boo about it.”
“You computer literate?”
“I can work that Mac you got there.”
I snorted and ran my hand lovingly along the monitor. “This thing is related to a Mac like a wolf is related to a Chihuahua. There are armies of computer geeks, hackers, and NSA analysts who’d sell their left testicles and their grandmothers to spend fifteen minutes alone with this thing.”
“So … that’s good?”
Obviously the man was a heathen. “That’s good. With this you can collapse nations.” I sighed. “Let one of the others help you mine whatever data you need or have Ghost do it.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather not rely on spook power.” I could tell something was eating at him so I let the conversation lapse until he couldn’t take it anymore and spilled.
“Gotta ask you, Kal … the Bureau has all this power. Heck, you got more power than most third world countries. Who watches the watchmen?”
Ahh … the one question all the Green Peas ask. Everyone thinks that Bureau agents are power-mad James Bond types with poor impulse control. The truth is, we’re picked because we’re not only good at what we do, and we’re also not the power-mad type. It’s not just physical ability; it’s our psych profile as well. “We are monitored at all times by means that are very hard to circumvent.”
“Magical?”
“And technological. The Director and Special Branch keep a close eye on us agents.”
“Sounds like Big Brother.”
“When you think about it, there has to be a balance.” I took a deep breath. “Go grab some coffee or something. I need a minute.”
The Detective nodded and headed out, leaving me to finally face an issue I really didn’t want to face.
Training Green Peas is an important process. We go through a lot of them. If you consider that maybe a third of who we recruit don’t make it through SEAL training at Coronado and then that number is reduced further by practical experience, it’s a wonder we had any agents at all.
Ariel McMillan was a good egg. In fact, she had turned out to be the only DEA agent I’d met I didn’t want to shoot in the face five minutes after being introduced, but I couldn’t let that sway me from my decision.
Wilkes was putting paid to some Eggos when I entered the break room. “Follow me,” was all I said before turning around and leaving. Curious eyes tracked the two of us as we made our way to Comms. They knew it was only a matter of time before I had to check in with BB. We ran into Alex in the hall and I pointed to the little magician. “With me.” He dutifully followed.
“Well, well …” Wilkes breathed as we entered the dark room. “Talk about a big screen. You get to watch Monday Night Football on these?”
“We get to watch everything.” Alex sounded smug.
“Get BB, Alex.” My voice had turned gray and grim.
“It’s after 2 a.m., Kal.”
“Try the office, he’ll be there.”
And he was.
“So this must be Detective Lieutenant Wilkes,” BB drawled, voice still soft despite the late hour. “I trust you have been well treated, Detective?”
Wilkes nodded openmouthed at the enormous face on the screen. “Yes, thanks. Still adjusting, though.”
That brought out a small smile. “Detective, not even I’ve adjusted fully to the World Under. You just have to learn a modicum of acceptance.” BB’s eyes focused on me. “I’ve been waiting for your call, so speak … you look like a man with something on his mind.”
I wasted no time on pleasantries. “After much consideration, BB, I think I’m going to have to flunk Agent McMillan out. Sorry.”
“Kal, it’s been a little over a day …”
“Enough for me to know, boss. She doesn’t have the sand for the job and I’m not taking responsibility for a Pea that can’t hack it when we’re on a war footing.”
For a moment it looked like he tasted something sour. “I am very, very sorry to hear that, Kal.”
“She’s a good person. She’s tough and open minded, but her skills would better be used in Special Branch rather than in field duty and it’s my recommendation that she be utilized in that capacity.”
His gray eyes met my baby blues. “Very well.”
“You’ll have my report ASAP. I know it sucks, but it’s necessary.”
“Thank you, Kal.” He removed his glasses. “I’m very … pleased to see that you are well.” For a moment he sounded … relieved? Couldn’t be. Vulcans could teach BB things about emotion.
“Thanks, boss.” I signaled Alex to cut transmission. “Wilkes, give Alex and me a few, would you?” He nodded quickly and left.
I planted a butt cheek on the table near the magician. “Okay, kid. Why doesn’t Ghost like Ms. McMillan?”
“Kal?”
“Don’t be coy. He’s been sour on her from day one, including that ‘Agent Finger’ stunt. What gives?”
He sighed in defeat. “It has to do with her first day of orientation at Warehouse. She heard about him and made the comment that spooks weren’t to be trusted and he heard it and you know how sensitive he is and …”
“Enough, enough,” I implored. Pissing Ghost off on the first day? Not the smartest move for a Green Pea. Taking a deep breath, I mentally counted back from a hundred, psyching myself up for what I had to do.
A minute later I was ready. “Okay, Alex. Call Agent McMillan in here.”
Moments passed far too slowly before Ariel walked into the room, arms across her chest in defensive posture, looking wary. She must have smelled something brewing.
I pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.” To Alex, “Begin recording.”
He nodded.
“What’s going on, Kal?” she asked quietly, confused.
“Ariel, you’re done.”
As I figured, she shot up out of her chair, nearly achieving escape velocity. “You can’t do that!”
“Actually, I can and I am.”
“Why?” Low and soft, a sign of danger.
“Because I can’t trust you …”
“Is it because I’m DEA? Because of your unfounded prejudice toward that fine institution and the dedicated people who serve in it? Is that the case?”
“Not at all.”
“Answer the damn question!” Was she really indignant, or was it all an act?
“Actually, I couldn’t give a tinker’s damn about the DEA. No, the reason I’m letting you go is that you can’t handle fieldwork. Your actions at my apartment proved my conclusion.”
Her behind hit the chair and she nearly went backwards ass over teakettle, but saved herself at the last second. For a few moments she gaped at me, at a loss for words, but I reckoned that wouldn’t last long. And I was right.
“But—”
“Sorry, my mind is made up.”
While she did a credible job as a landed fish, I jumped into the breach before she could find her voice again. “Ariel,” I began, voice soft and soothing. “I like you. Really. You’ve got to be one of the brightest, toughest people to come through the Bureau in a long, long time, but your hesitation at my apartment when you saw that ghoul makes you a liability in the field.”
“You’re wrong,” Ariel snarled, hands curled into fists.
“Am I? Think about what happened when you first saw me being attacked by that ghoul. What did you do?”
She glared hot death at me.
“You did nothing, Ariel. Nothing. A civilian blew its head apart while you stood there and gawked. You hesitated, and in this business, hesitation means death.”
“I can do better,” she uttered through clenched teeth.
“I seriously doubt that.”
“But—”
“Listen. Think. Do you have any siblings?”
“A brother.”
“Imagine your brother being attacked by a ghoul and he’s a moment away from death. Got that image fixed?” She nodded. “Good. Now imagine an agent standing there, gun in hand, for a precious three to five seconds. How does that make you feel?”
Her silence spoke volumes.
“For your safety and that of my team, you’re done. I do, however, find that you’re a good candidate for Special Branch and have made that recommendation to BB. But you’ll never go out into the field. Alex, end recording.”
“Recording ended.”
Ariel frowned, eyes moist. “I won’t stop here, Kal.”
“Of course not. I don’t expect you to. And that’s part of what will make you great.”
A hitching breath and she gathered herself quickly. “This isn’t fair.”
I sighed. “Of course it is. It’s the job of team leaders to test their new agents.” A painful memory surfaced. “You should have seen my testing, brutal has hell. Right BB?
The far wall came to life. “Absolutely, Kal.” BB’s solemnity dominated the room. “Agent McMillan, you are hereby relieved of your duties and will report to DC immediately for reallocation to Special Branch.”
“Yes sir.”
“Alex, the door,” I said before Ariel could move. The door opened to reveal all the agents on the other side. If eavesdropping were an Olympic event, my team would’ve won the gold. “I need a volunteer to escort Ms. McMillan to the airport and arrange her transport to DC.”
Pat shoved her way through. “I will.” She took Ariel’s arm in a soft yet steely grip. “It isn’t your fault, hon, it’s just the breaks.”
I leaned in close to Ariel, who was sweating heavily despite the climate control. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll make sure that this won’t shine a bad light. You’ve got brains, and in this business, that counts over muscle any day. Give Special Branch a chance; they’ll be lucky to have you.” Her answering look contained only a resigned acceptance.
Later, when I felt less of a heel, Wilkes and I sat in my office drinking sodas. Caffeine free.
“That happen often?” he asked between sips.
“Often enough. The senior agent has to make final evaluations, for the good of the team. For the good of the Green Peas. Not pleasant when they wash out, but that’s the breaks.”
“That’s sucks.”
“Tell me about it. Back when I first started, you should have seen what they put me through to evaluate my sanity. If I had failed, we wouldn’t be talking now.”
“That hard?”
“More like excruciatingly painful with a side of agony.”
“Can the Director countermand your decision?”
“Not really. As leader of Team Epsilon, I have final say on whom I allow on board. If the Director feels strongly about the wash out, he can re-allocate the Green Pea to a new team, but they have to start all over from scratch.”
“He seemed to have your back on this.”
“He has the backs of every agent and Special Branch officer.”
“You were pretty calm back there, almost icy.”
“Not my first rodeo, man.”
“Jesus! And I thought being cop for DPD was bad.”
We sat in silence for a while, sipping our sodas and feeling the weight of the day. A sort of deep, cloying weariness settled on me and I realized all I wanted was to sleep for about five years.
“Wilkes, head on out and get some shut-eye. They’ll have a cot for you.”
He got the hint and got gone.
Alone again and tired … story of my life. How many times during the past ten years have I repeated this cycle? Again I thought about Robert Frost and Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening. That guy hit the nail on the head when it came to the feeling of almost hopeless fatigue.
I knew I was getting onto dangerous ground. Feeling sorry for yourself is the quickest way to catch a heaping dose of death in this business. My resolution needed a jumpstart.
Pulling my wallet out, I flipped it open and unzipped a waterproof compartment I had made special. Inside were two photos. One was of my sister, frozen forever at ten, hair flying out behind her as she rode her bike, a half smile quirked on her perfect face. Leena, my summertime muse.
The other was of a red-haired woman with a wealth of freckles staring at the camera; face open in a wide smile of surprise and delight. I had just asked her to marry me.