by John Foxjohn
Now, he needed to interview them and choose the ones he wanted, but he wasn’t looking forward to the task. He’d heard the talk that circulated about him, but didn’t care. If the bureau thought they had someone hired already to do the job, they wouldn’t’ve brought him in. If other agents couldn’t handle that, too bad.
He stomped into the building, dislodging snow, showed his identification, and signed in.
“That female agent with you just came in. She’s been down to the gym beating up on the men again.”
David chuckled. “As long as she isn’t beating up on me.”
The guard leaned forward and whispered, “How did a little girl like that get such big tits?”
David bent toward him and looked both ways to make sure no one listened. “Now I don’t know this for sure, but I got it from a good source.” He paused and looked around again. It took all his will power to stop from laughing at the guard on the edge of his seat. “I’ve heard that they aren’t real. She wears big falsies.”
“No shit!”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know that for sure, but let’s keep that between us.”
The guard straightened. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”
David headed to the elevator chuckling to himself. Yeah, right. Potts would keep it to himself until he found someone to tell.
He took the elevator to his temporary office on the fourth floor. Higher ups hadn’t made up their mind yet whether his team would headquarter in Washington or one of the regional offices. David put his plug in for Houston, but in this, the jury was still out.
Melissa sat across from his desk when he strode into the office. She handed him a list. “Beeker asked me to give you this. He said the agents’ files would be brought up in a few minutes.”
David thumbed through the list, looking at times the agents would show up for interviews. Beeker scheduled the interviews to start at ten and last fifteen minutes each. According to the schedule, the interviews would take three days. Beeker asked him to interview everyone, even if he’d made up his mind who he wanted.
David pointed at the paper on his spotless desk. “Do you know any on this list?”
Melissa smoothed her hair and nodded. “Two of them.”
“What’s your opinion?”
When she hesitated, David leaned back and adjusted his coat. “Melissa—this is between the two of us. I want your honest answer. Not a politically correct one.”
She smiled. “OK.” She gave him her most intimidating look. “Remember you asked. Joe Leske, fourth on your list, is a total asshole. Been with the bureau ten years. He thinks he should head this unit.”
David laughed at her expression. “Will he do what he’s told?”
“Sure he will, as long as you beat the crap out of him, first. If you don’t, he’ll backstab and try to take over.”
David picked up a pen and put a check by Leske’s name. “Who’s the other one?”
Melissa leaned forward and pointed to the next to last name. “Melvin Potts. I went through the academy with him. He’s a geek, a computer freak and you’ll recognize him right off. He looks like a geek.” She smiled. “He possesses a quality you might like.”
David tilted his head. Melissa’s expression told him he shouldn’t ask, but she’d tell him anyway. “What?”
“He’s shorter than you.”
David raised an eyebrow at her and attempted to give her a menacing look, but when he looked into her blue eyes, he knew she wasn’t buying it, and chuckled. He smoothed his hair with both palms. “He seems to have all the right qualifications. Is he any good with computers?”
“He knows more about them than anyone I know. He wanted a field agent assignment, but they sent him to the tech division. He either invented or wrote most of the forensic computer programs the bureau uses.”
David put a star by Melvin’s name.
Melissa leaned back in her seat. “What’ll you look for?”
David rubbed his hands together and thought a moment before answering. “First, I want the other four to fit in well. I want people who’re loyal, will do what I tell them, and will learn. I would also like for them to have a specialty.”
Melissa frowned. “What kind of specialty?”
“I want one to specialize with computers, like your Melvin. Another needs extensive interrogation experience, one with administration, and the last one with accounting background if I can find them. Beeker has assured me all the applicants will fall into one of those categories.”
David and Melissa talked for a while about what kinds of personalities he wanted. When the applicant files arrived at 8:45, Melissa rose to leave. With her hand on the doorknob, Melissa stopped when David called to her. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but after that short remark earlier, I decided to tell you.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What?”
David scratched the side of his face and tilted his head. “There’s a rumor circulating about you.”
“Rumor. What and who is saying things about me?”
David shrugged. “Can’t reveal a confidential source, but the rumor has it that you have fake boobs.”
The freckles across her nose exploded bright red. “That damn security guard told you that didn’t he? He keeps staring. I’d go down there and show him that they’re real but it would probably kill his lecherous butt.”
When Melissa left, David chuckled and thumbed through the personnel files on his desk. He made some notes and decided to get some coffee before the interviews began.
After taking the elevator to the second floor, he found several agents lounging around in the break room. While he poured coffee in a Styrofoam cup, another agent strolled in, glanced around, and said, “Hey Leske, you applying for the new team?”
David’s ears perked up like an old hound dog with scent. The largest of the agents who sat on one of the sofas with his arm across the back replied, “Yeah. Beeker told me I had it. He wants me on the team to watch this hick they hired.”
CHAPTER 3
As David sipped his coffee, he smiled. Hick, was he? He started to say something, but stopped, deciding to listen.
“What do you mean hick?” someone asked.
Leske’s booming voice filled the space in the room. “Ah—they hired some hick cop from Texas. He’s straight off the street.”
“Damn,” another replied. “That’s all we need. I’m interviewing with this idiot at 11:30.”
Now he was an idiot. David left without speaking. He made a mental note to check the schedule for the 11:30 interview. Leske’s comment about Beeker promising him a position bothered him. Director Beeker had guaranteed that David would choose those on the team. He wondered if Leske was shooting off at the mouth, or if Beeker had broken his word.
David called the first one in at ten sharp. He’d made up his mind he would stay on schedule, and the first two were okay, nothing special, but he didn’t rule them out either. At his scheduled time, Leske sauntered in, sat across from David, leaned back, and crossed his right leg over his left. With his arms crossed over his chest, he commenced to tell David all about his exploits.
David removed his handkerchief and wiped his desk as Leske talked, trying his best to stop from yawning. Melissa was right about this jerk. He stifled a temptation to tell Leske he’d overheard in the break room.
David let him run off at the mouth, glancing at his watch, and stopped him when his time ran out. Leske rose, and glared when David told him he would contact the ones chosen in a couple of days.
“When will you call me?”
David cocked his head. “If you are chosen to be on my team, I’ll call you in a couple of days. If I don’t call, you weren’t chosen.” He wouldn’t’ve chosen Leske even if Melissa hadn’t told him anything. He wasn’t observant enough. He should’ve recognized that David was someone he didn’t know in the break room and kept his mouth shut. He should’ve recognized David from the break room.
Leske s
tormed out, and David shook his head. He spent the entire day interviewing. When the last one left at 6:00, Beeker called and asked him to run by his office for a few minutes.
Lawrence Beeker sat behind his massive mahogany desk in front of a large, bay window overlooking the city. Two walls lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound books and pictures and plaques lined the other two walls. In the pictures, Beeker, smiling, shook hands with a number of presidents and congressmen. One picture in particular caught David’s attention. Every time he entered the office, his gaze found Beeker standing next to J. Edgar Hoover, his right arm around the icon’s shoulders.
Without preamble, Beeker indicated for David to sit. “How’re the interviews going?”
David leaned back in his seat and told him which ones he’d interviewed, and what he thought about them.
Beeker sat, tapping on the desktop, nodding every once in a while. “What about Joe Leske?”
“Sir—He didn’t impress me. If I rated them so far, he’d be last on my list.”
He pursed his lips. “I thought you’d say that. Joe marched in to visit me after the interview. He wasn’t too happy because he didn’t think you gave him the respect due an agent who has been in the bureau as long as he has.”
David’s eyebrows rose. “He just fell off my list. I don’t want someone on my team running to you or anyone else. As far as respect is concerned, it goes two ways and in my opinion needs to be earned, not given.”
Beeker stood and strode to the kitchenette in the back of the room, poured himself a cup of coffee and indicated the pot. When David nodded, he poured another and gave the cup to David. After sitting down, taking a sip, he said, “I figured as much. You didn’t like his little conversation in the break room, did you?”
Beeker held his hand up to stop David before he spoke. “I know what goes on in this building. More than most people realize. No one promised Leske a job with the team. I didn’t speak to him until after the interview. You make those decisions.”
After David left, Beeker put a folder away before leaving for the night, but his phone stopped him. Michael Baylor, the Bureau’s director said, “Lawrence, we have a small problem.”
Beeker sat. “What—sir?”
“We’ve had a request from Texas—the Angelina County Sheriff’s Department, for assistance in a deputy’s murder. They believe the murder may be drug-related and they’re afraid the suspects fled across the state line.”
Beeker opened his bottom drawer and brought out a file. After thumbing through, he told the director the Dallas or Houston office didn’t have anyone to send.
“I know. We need to send someone from here. Who do you recommend?”
Beeker tapped the desk with his fingertips a moment. “I know it’s not in Mason’s job scope, but his team, when he picks them, can handle the job.”
After several silent moments, Baylor asked, “Are you sure Mason’s qualified to handle this? After all, he’s new to the bureau.”
Beeker nodded his head to the phone. “Sir—there’s no doubt in my mind he can handle it. It might be a dead law enforcement officer, but it’s still a homicide. He is one of the best in the nation at investigating homicides. That’s why we recruited him in the first place.”
“Okay, I’m going to go on your recommendation. When Mason gets his team picked, bring him by my office and we’ll brief him together. Don’t say anything to him before the briefing. There’re a couple of things about this situation you should know. County commissioners forced the sheriff to call in the FBI, and he doesn’t want us there. Also, the slain officer is Justin Milam.”
Beeker frowned and scratched his cheek. “Isn’t he the one who received the award a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yep. He’s also a good friend of Mason’s.”
* * * *
Willie Peterson stormed into the Angelina County Sheriff’s Department and marched past his secretary, not bothering to return her greeting.
After entering his office door that read Sheriff, he slammed it. Pictures fell off the wall, and employees stopped what they were doing when the office reverberated. A year before, Angelina County residents had elected Peterson their sheriff. When he ran, he hadn’t expected to win the damn election. Buddies had talked him into running because they didn’t like the sheriff at the time and since he didn’t have an opponent, Peterson decided what the hell. What did he have to lose? He had a good job working at Lufkin Industries, and he wouldn’t need to quit to run. Besides, he’d always wanted to be in law enforcement.
After the election, he cleaned house. His friends told him he didn’t need employees who weren’t loyal to him. First to go was the chief deputy and the two investigators. Others left because they didn’t like the direction the new sheriff took the department. He filled the chief deputy position with Lloyd Spivey, who’d worked with Peterson at Lufkin Industries. Spivey had experience—he’d been an MP for two years in the army.
He hired other friends as deputies, and promoted one from reserve to the investigator position. Damn county commission raked him over the coals for this move. They wanted him to have people in the higher positions with law enforcement experience, but since they couldn’t make him, he thumbed his nose at them.
Now, he had the county commission all over his butt, again. They started a week after he took office and didn’t appear they would let up any time soon. First, they nailed him on his budget that he knew nothing about making. They couldn’t stop him from promoting people already on the department, but they could deny others he tried to hire.
They wouldn’t let him hire a few he recommended because they had criminal records and he hadn’t run background checks on them—or asked, for that matter.
They refused to let him hire his brother and brother-in-law because of a term they called neptilism or something. Bastards laughed because he didn’t know what it meant.
Right after Justin’s death, they demanded he bring in the Texas Rangers, which he did. Now, they had the FBI idea. Told him straight out, he nor anyone on his department could investigate this. When he refused, they made a point of telling him they would ensure he was not re-elected if he didn’t call in the damn FBI.
He made the call but didn’t like it. The federal boys would horn in and take over the investigation. He’d get no credit when the fuckers captured the killers.
After sitting at his desk, he yanked his hat off and threw it into the corner. Sorry bastards. He’d get every one of them if it took the rest of his life.
When someone knocked on the door, red-faced, he yelled, “Come in.”
Spivey tromped in, frowning. He flopped into a black leather chair and crossed his legs. “Let me guess, commission, again.”
“Fuck yeah. They insisted I call in the damn FBI.”
Spivey took his hat off, laid it in his lap, and smoothed his hair. “You aren’t going to, are you?”
“Had no choice.”
Spivey dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head. After a moment, he raised his eyes. “Who’re they sending?”
Peterson rested his boots on the desk corner. “Some behaving something team.”
Spivey’s eyebrow rose. “What?”
Peterson brushed it off like swatting at a fly. “I don’t know—some team. Who the fuck cares? This is my county and the FBI isn’t going to tell me what to do. Besides, we’ll find the bastards before they get here.”
Spivey cleared his throat. “Have you thought about what could happen if we don’t have the killers before this team gets here?”
Peterson’s face stilled. His eyes narrowed. “I have,” he snapped. “If the damn FBI gets in our way, we’ll take care of them, too.”
* * * *
David’s eyes widened. “Director Baylor wants to see me? What the hell have I done?”
Beeker chuckled. “Nothing we know of. You and I need to meet with him in his office in ten minutes.”
David, not used to the way the bureau operated, had to w
onder. In the Houston police department, an officer was in trouble when the chief called them on the carpet. He straightened papers on his desk and nodded.
Beeker pointed at the personnel folders on David’s desk. “Are those the ones you chose?”
“Yes, sir.”
Picking up the folders, Beeker sat, glancing through the files. After he set them down, he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. Moments passed before he spoke. He took a deep breath. “You made good choices. Will they have a problem with Melissa as second in command?”
Not his words, but the way he hesitated and spoke gave David pause. He leaned back after straightening the files Beeker had set on his desk. “No, sir. They shouldn’t. I called them in for a brief meeting and that’s one point I stressed. They didn’t indicate any problems.”
Beeker frowned and nodded. He spread his hands wide. “I needed to ask you that because the director has some concerns. To be honest, I have concerns myself.”
David crossed his arms. He knew where this headed and damn well didn’t like it. It was time law enforcement departed from the dark ages and accepted women as equals. A lot of women could not handle the job, but Melissa could. She would get the chance as long as he headed the team.
Beeker pointed to the files. “Every agent there with the exception of Potts has more experience than Melissa. She is a beautiful, small woman, with a body all men will notice. She can’t walk down the hall without men putting their briefcases in front of them. Besides that, these men have never had a female supervisor. Are you sure you want her as your next in command?”
David leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, fingers steepled, trying to control his anger. “I didn’t choose Melissa because I have a fondness for redheads, how her body looks, or any of that. I chose her because she is intelligent, will do what I tell her, how I tell her, and when. If she doesn’t know, she asks. If she knows what to do, she does it without waiting to be told.”
