After a break for lunch in the cafeteria, I returned to my office and the files.
There was no fucking end to them, and hours later, I was still reading them.
They were stacked in three piles on my desk: strong contenders, possibilities, and not in this fucking lifetime. That pile was the largest, but the possibilities took the longest to get through, because there might be something in there that could tip them into the first pile.
I took the last file and opened it. Gill Ahrens was twenty-six. He’d been working for the WBIS for the past three years in Medical, and…
Oh, for fuck’s sake, was this going to be a repeat of the situation with Matheson?
Ahrens had grown up in a decent neighborhood, the youngest of four kids—and the only boy. He’d been a volunteer fireman from the time he’d graduated high school, went on to become an EMT and then a paramedic.
How the fuck had he been recruited to the WBIS?
The phone on Ms. Parker’s desk rang. I left the file on my desk and went to answer it. Normally I’d let it go to her voice mail, but I was still waiting for The Boss to summon me up to his office.
“Vincent,” I announced curtly.
There was a moment of silence, and then Ms. DiBlasi spoke. “I’m not about to ask why you’re answering your secretary’s phone.”
Good thing, because I had no intention of telling her. “What can I do for you, Ms. DiBlasi?”
“Mr. Wallace would like to speak with you. In his office.”
It was about fucking time. “I’m on my way up.”
“He’ll be so thrilled.” She hung up. It didn’t sound like she was my biggest fan right now.
I looked around the outer office. This might be the last time I was in here. The coffeepot was still on, so I shut it off and then returned to my office. I flipped Ahrens’s file shut, slid the CD into its drive, and shut down my computer. If I was out on my ass, whoever tried to reboot it was going to be in for an unpleasant surprise.
After a final glance around the office, I put on my suit jacket, draped my overcoat over my arm, and walked out, locking the door behind me.
The corridor to the stairwell was empty, unusual for this time of day. I pulled open the door and jogged up to ten, to find something else unusual.
The corridor to The Boss’s office was deserted as well. Then I noticed people poking their heads out of their offices and jerking them back in when they spotted me. Word must have gotten out that all hell would be breaking loose soon. Not that it surprised me. The grapevine in any organization could be rabid.
Ms. DiBlasi observed me sourly as I entered the outer office. “Go right on in.”
“And good afternoon to you too,” I muttered under my breath. I smoothed back my hair, turned the doorknob, and walked in.
The Boss raised an eyebrow when he saw my overcoat, but didn’t say anything, just nodded toward a chair.
I folded the coat over the back of the chair, sat down, and waited.
He got right down to brass tacks. “You do like to stir things up, don’t you, Mark?”
“I won’t have my department fucked with.”
“No. That’s one of the reasons I gave you Interior Affairs.” He gazed at me beneath hooded lids, and I waited for him to bring up the e-mail I’d sent him. Instead, he tidied a stack of papers on his desk. “By the way, have you come to any decisions regarding the files Human Resources sent to you?”
“You were right about Rayne. She seems to be a solid bet. So does Johnson. Ahrens is promising, but I haven’t finished reading his file, and I’ve got some questions about his background. As for the others….” I shrugged. “I don’t know what they were thinking to even apply.”
“The prestige of working under you, Mark.”
No point in beating about the bush. “Would they be working under me?”
“Excuse me?”
“What did that son of a—what did Davies have to say?”
“Beyond what he said in your presence? More of the same.”
“And the information I e-mailed you?” He didn’t respond to that, and I wondered if that meant anything. “You know he doesn’t want me here.”
“I’m aware of that. He’d much prefer if it was someone like Phelps.”
“Who?” I stared at him. “You mean the guy who changes the toilet paper in the men’s room?”
He choked, swallowing his laughter. “He doesn’t quite do that. Phelps is a good man.”
“If you want to give him Interior Affairs—”
“Mark, if I didn’t want you to have your position, you’d still be out in the field, and I’d still be pretending I had no clue as to your real age.”
“Sir?” I’d been so thorough in concealing my actual date of birth. How could he… But then I remembered Quinn had been able to dig it up. If a spook could, so could the man who ran the WBIS.
“You’re not going to tell me you have no idea what I’m talking about, are you?”
“No, sir. But I don’t.”
This time he did laugh, and he shook his head. “Of course not.” His expression became thoughtful. “I was unaware Anson was overstepping his bounds to such a degree. Those files in the e-mail you sent were quite the eye-opener. I’ve persuaded him it would be in his best interest to retire.”
I’d thought The Boss had done that last year, but Davies had turned up again, a real pain in my ass if ever there was one.
“He insisted on training his successor—”
I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up a hand.
“I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased.”
“The WBIS means a lot to him.” Or so he’d said.
“Too much, apparently, and that’s just one of the things that convinced me it’s time for him to step down. For a man who sits behind a desk, this should be a job, not his life.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll notice I clarified that.”
“Sir?”
“When you were in the field, this job was your life. And that was how it should be. Not only did the WBIS depend on you, but I did as well.” He tugged on his lower lip. “I’ve noticed since your promotion that it no longer is the case.”
“Are you unhappy with my work?” It wasn’t the promotion that had changed my priorities… it was becoming involved with Quinn.
“Not in the least. I’m very pleased with you, Mark. So is Humphrey, when it comes down to it. He’s thrilled you’re finally using some of your banked vacation time. All work and no play, you know.”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m making you my second-in-command, with an eye to having you step into my shoes when I retire.”
“Sir?” It was a good thing I was sitting down, because otherwise I’d have fallen down.
“Not that I’m planning on retiring for some years.”
“The WBIS wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thank you. Of course I intend to get out on the golf course more frequently.”
I grunted.
“See Humphrey in the morning. There’s some paperwork attached to this.”
Wasn’t there always? “You realize there are going to be some unhappy directors when this gets out.”
“I know who you’re talking about, and have they ever been anything but unhappy when it comes to you?” He must have meant that as a rhetorical question, because he continued before I had a chance to come up with a response. “However, I have every confidence in you.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you join me for dinner? We can discuss this in more detail.”
“Certainly, sir.” You didn’t say “no” to The Boss. “Will Ms. DiBlasi be joining us?”
“Not this time.” Implying there would be other times? He gave a tight smile. “She’s taking a course in Ornamental Horticulture.”
“Yes, sir.” If he didn’t want me to know she’d be downloading the files of the day’s work from every secretary’s computer, I wasn’t going to let him know I was aware of it. I thought of my own secretary. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“You’re not going to insist I sack more directors... or deputy directors... are you?”
For a second I considered Gershom, but there was time to get rid of him. “No, sir. It’s about the WBIS’s lack of a maternity policy.”
“Odd you should mention that. Nola brought up the subject a couple of weeks ago.”
“Did she?” Was it a coincidence, or was she aware that it had become a necessity? I had a sudden image of them discussing WBIS policies in bed, and I wanted to wash my brain with bleach.
“Yes. She also suggested day care.”
Here? I boggled at the thought of the WBIS being overrun with rug rats.
“Well, there will be plenty of time to come up with a solid plan.”
I wasn’t so sure of that. We were going to lose two of our best secretaries before the year was out. And possibly Granger as well, if he decided he wanted to take paternity leave… or simply walked, if it came down to it.
Unaware of where my thoughts had gone, The Boss crossed to his coat closet and retrieved his overcoat. “Have you ever been to Raphael’s? I understand the veal piccata is excellent.”
“I’ve been there, sir. And yes, the veal is delicious.” Quinn had ordered it for me for my birthday last year. “Sir?” All of a sudden, he didn’t look pleased.
“How long do you intend to continue calling me ‘sir’?”
I bit back a startled laugh, recalling when Portia had said something similar after I’d called her “ma’am” one time too many.
“Sorry, s-Trevor.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
“But just so you know, it may take me a while to get used to that.” I gathered up my own coat and followed him out of his office.
“As long as you don’t call me Wally.”
This time I did laugh. “I won’t.”
“Nola, Mark and I are going to dinner.”
Ms. DiBlasi looked up from her monitor, frowning at him. “Your driver has left for the day, and I’m not available—”
“That won’t be a problem. I’m sure Mark won’t mind driving me home.”
She turned the frown on me, as if challenging me to refuse The Boss.
“Not a problem, Trevor.”
She raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t comment.
The Boss touched her hand, and her expression softened. “Don’t work too late,” he murmured. “You don’t want to miss your class.”
I cleared my throat. “I’ll wait out in the corridor.”