secretly pleased. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Tess sighed. “I get the picture, Dick. It’s serious.”
“Serious isn’t the word. It’s career-ending. I always knew you would flame out eventually.”
“At least I’m going out in style.”
“We’ll see how much style you have left after OPR is through with you. And after ASU implements your punishment, which, let me assure you, will be maximally severe.” ASU was the Administrative Services Division, responsible for imposing whatever disciplinary measures the Office of Professional Responsibility deemed appropriate. “A letter of censure isn’t going to cut it. At a minimum, you’re looking at suspension without pay. Then reassignment to some choice locale-a resident agency in North Dakota, maybe. And that’s a best-case scenario. Personally, I intend to press for your termination-along with criminal charges.”
The last part was an empty threat. The Bureau would never put an SAC on trial. Too many embarrassing secrets would emerge. But termination was definitely a live option. The review would take time-investigations by the OPR always did-but in the end they would nail her. Tess had run a couple of OPR reviews herself, as every agent on a management track had to do, and she knew that the work was slow but thorough, and nobody was cut any slack.
“And it won’t help you that you never came forward,” Michaelson added. “You never did the right thing.”
“I did the right thing by coming here today.”
Michaelson snorted. “You came because you knew Crandall was going to talk, and you wanted to put your spin on the story before he did.”
Tess smiled a little. It was typical of Michaelson to think that way. That was what he would have done. “Actually, I didn’t think Rick would come here. I guess I…” She tried to find the right word. “I misjudged him.”
Neutral though it was, the statement seemed to pain Crandall. She saw him wince.
“I’m sorry, Tess,” Crandall said.
Michaelson waved off his words. “He has nothing to apologize for-except not reporting your misconduct sooner.”
“You’re right.” Tess nodded. “He has no reason to apologize. He was only doing what he felt was correct.”
She said it while looking at Crandall.
“None of this was his fault,” she added. “It’s mine. All mine. I take full responsibility.”
“You fucking bet you do,” Michaelson snarled. “Now I want to hear it, all of it, from the beginning.”
“Hasn’t Rick told you-”
“He’s told what he knows, which is only bits and pieces. You’re the one who has all the details. I want to hear them. From you. Right now.”
“Of course. And you will.” She leaned forward on the sofa. “But the most important thing is what I’ve learned today. It’s why I’m here. It’s why I had to give Abby up.”
“And what’s that?”
“She tracked down Dylan Garrick last night. Found him at the bar where the bikers hang out. She left with him. I got a positive ID from the bartender.”
Michaelson sat back in his chair. “So Abby Sinclair killed Garrick?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Shot him, execution-style?”
“Yes.”
“Why? To protect Andrea Lowry?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why, then?”
Tess took a breath. “Abby was in the house when Garrick’s crew entered. She’s the one who fought them off, not Andrea.”
“You were in the goddamned house, too. You must have seen her there.”
“I saw her.”
“She’s the reason you got interested in MEDEA in the first place?” Michaelson was getting it now. “She’s why you wanted to be on the squad. You manipulated me.”
“That wasn’t hard,” Tess said with a smile, “Dick.”
She knew he hated to be called Dick. She wasn’t helping herself by baiting him.
Hauser cut in. “I don’t follow. If Sinclair wasn’t trying to protect Lowry, why did she hunt down Garrick?”
Tess shut her eyes. “She was pissed off. She nearly died in the firefight. I think she wanted… revenge.”
“Oh, great.” This time Michaelson did get up. “Just great. She’s killing people for revenge. Maybe she’ll go after the congressman next.”
He said it without thinking, but there was a sudden coldness in the room.
“Shit,” Michaelson added. “You don’t think she would, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Tess said.
“You know her.”
“Not really. I’m not sure anybody does. She keeps secrets. She plays games. You never know what she’s really thinking-or what she might do.”
“You’re saying she could go after Reynolds?” Hauser asked.
“It’s not impossible.”
“We’ll make it impossible.” Hauser stood up. “We’ll get her off the streets.”
“If you can find her,” Tess said.
“We’ll start with her home address.”
Tess shook her head. “I doubt she’ll be there. She probably expects us to be on to her by now. She’s not going to sit around waiting to be three-oh-two’d.” Form 302 was the Bureau’s standard arrest form.
“I’ll get a warrant,” Hauser said. “Telephonic approval won’t take long. Or I can plead exigent circumstances and make a warrantless entry. One way or the other, I’ll muster a raid squad and hit her residence. If she’s not there, we’ll conduct a search. There may be something in her records to indicate where she is and what she’s planning.”
“I’d like to be in on that,” Crandall said with a glance at Michaelson.
The ADIC acknowledged him with a vague gesture. “First do an indices check on Sinclair. See if her record is as clean as McCallum claims. Then you can join Agent Hauser’s team at the residence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go. Both of you. Agent McCallum and I have a long discussion ahead of us. Maybe by the time we’re done, you’ll have Abby Sinclair in custody. And I promise you, once we’ve got her, she’ll never see the light of day again.”
These last words were aimed at Tess. She knew Michaelson meant it.
The door opened and closed, and then she was alone with the assistant director. He settled down behind his desk again and steepled his hands. His ferret eyes and hawk nose loomed over his tented fingers.
“Start talking,” he said.
42
Abby waited until she was on the outskirts of San Fernando, cruising down Foothill Boulevard, before calling Andrea again. This time Andrea answered on the first ring. The hissing noise in the background indicated that she was in the bathroom again.
“It’s go time,” Abby said. “Get in your car and head southeast on Glenoaks Boulevard. You’re wearing the wig, right?”
“Yes.” There was a tremor in Andrea’s voice.
“Steady now. No need for any opening-night jitters. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“You have?”
“More times than I can count.” This would have been true only if she couldn’t count to zero. Normally she
