“You know the answer to that, Janet,” he said.
“Kreiss was a Bureau man. He embarrassed the outfit. This whole thing reminded everybody of an old rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Once a deal is made at the executive level, always clean up any loose ends. Kreiss was a loose end with consequences, and look what happened.”
“I would have thought that document would have made them somewhat more grateful,” she said.
“What document was that?” Farnsworth asked. His expression was one of bland disinterest.
Janet cocked her head.
“C’mon now,” she said.
“The document in AD Marchand’s archives. The smoking gun. Which proved—” “Never heard of it,” Farnsworth said, giving Keenan a questioning look. Keenan shook his head. He’d never heard of it, either.
“What!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing of the sort ever happened,” he repeated.
“The resignation of the deputy attorney general of the United States was simply a case of a senior political appointee resigning as the administration ended its own term of office. Nothing more.”
“And the recent retirement of Assistant Director Marchand and his senior deputy AD, and a certain red-faced PA … well, those were driven entirely by personal reasons,” Keenan said.
“Nothing more.”
“And the reappointment of our beloved director for another full term of office had been in the works for, oh, quite a long time,” Farnsworth said, folding his hands across his chest.
“Don’t you think so, Ben?”
“Oh, yes,” Keenan chimed in.
“Quite a long time indeed. Absolutely.
At least according to the attorney general of the United States, who publicly expressed her continuing full faith and confidence in him.”
“As did the president himself. Am I right, Ben?”
“He absolutely did,” Keenan said, beaming.
“Several times. And he loves his Bureau, too.”
“Oh, positively. He loves his Bureau. Just like the AG loves her Bureau.”
“They fucking better,” Keenan said. They looked at Janet with straight faces for a moment, and then they all laughed.
Janet shook her head. In a way, it was kind of comforting. The ultimate lock was in place. The big fish could afford to smile about
it. Small fry who might know something about the antecedents of such deals were, of course, an embarrassing annoyance. Any offer on said small fry’s part to fold her tents and disappear quietly into the desert night would be gratefully and expeditiously accepted, as evidenced by the recommendation Farnsworth sent over to the university. It had been glowing in the extreme, and, just for good measure, it had been warmly endorsed by the same official at the laboratory who had been the proximate cause of her original exile to the Roanoke office. Wonders never ceased.
Farnsworth was about to say something else, when the secretary buzzed in on the intercom.
“What?” Farnsworth asked.
“An urgent telex for you, sir. From the VHP?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
The secretary read it over the intercom. It was plain from her tone of voice that she was upset. The Virginia Highway Patrol was reporting that they had found two partially mummified human heads impaled on stakes in the median of Interstate 81 outside of Christiansburg. They were requesting immediate FBI forensic assistance. They reported quite a commotion out on the interstate. Media interest was expected.
“Mummified human heads!” Keenan exclaimed.
“On stakes? Christ!”
Janet turned her face away to conceal the smile she was struggling to control.
“Close,” she murmured.
She wondered when he’d call. He probably wouldn’t. He’d come shambling down that hill behind the cabin. Maybe with Micah Wall and Whizbang.
“Hey, Special Agent,” he’d say.
“So where’s your bu-car?” She could just see it.
