“What can I do for you professionally?”
He glared at me. Then he shrugged, pulled one of the officechairs over to face me across the desk, leaned his crutches against it, andsat. Awkwardly. It looked like he had a cast on his left leg, not a permanentthing, maybe knee surgery or a broken bone.
I didn’t ask. That might have implied I cared.
He gestured at the paperwork, with those . . . distinctive . . .crime scene photos. “Good timing. If that’s the whole file, I can take it withme and you can just forget about the whole thing.”
I lifted one eyebrow and tilted my head. “You’re making thesame offer to the State Police and the city force? Can I see a court order?”
That earned me another glare. But hell, I wasn’t having anyfun, why should he?
Okay, I lied. I washaving fun. The last time I’d had a run-in with the Bureau, my boss stomped onme and we’d both kneeled and kissed the royal federal ass. Now I didn’t haveto.
“If you want to take that file, I won’t stop you. But withoutyou laying gag orders on three levels of jurisdiction, I’ll have another copyby tomorrow morning. They want me working on this case. Why don’t you?”
Actually, I was exaggerating when I said three. Probably thesheriff’s boys were happy to let state and local cops handle this one. No gloryand no headlines equals no voters. Nobody ever got far claiming that policework stayed clean of politics.
If anything, he turned up the glare. Now he was chewing onrusty nails. His pinched face looked like they didn’t taste all that good. “Mister Patterson, this is a NationalSecurity Case.” Yeah, I could hear the capitalized title. “You’ve already seenmore than you should. If you don’t want your license pulled and the IRSstudying your tax returns for the last ten years, you’re going to cooperatewith me. I understand you used to be a cop. That means you know what I can dounder the current laws. Do you wantto end up incommunicado in a Navy brig for the next three years?”
That smelled fishy. Not that the FBI didn’t have that power —he could pull me in and make mevanish, and I wouldn’t even think about going for my SIG, not against Bureautraining — but the way he jumbled things together, the way he looked andsmelled, the speed . . . I turned and stared up at the camera inthe corner. I could feel him noticethat, follow my gaze, and heard the sudden catch in his breath.
“The video and audio go off-site, before you get any brightideas.”
I didn’t bother to mention the other safeguards involved. I’vebeen doing this sort of thing for a longtime. A team of electronics PhDs and lawyers designed those systems forevidence-grade recordings of interrogations or legal depositions. Then the cityupgraded, and I bought a chunk of the old equipment at junkyard prices. I’dmade sure the shielding, seals, and protocols still met court standards, whichmeant Bycheck couldn’t fool it or fry it. I couldn’t either, for that matter.
I turned back to him. I could smell nervous sweat now, a sweetperfume under the circumstances.
“About that court order?”
Bycheck hated me. I could smell that, too, but it didn’tbother me much. You’re known by the quality of your enemies. And I’d gotten astrong sense he was running loose on this, maybe “plausible deniability” forthe Bureau. I may be a fool sometimes, but I’m an older and wiser fool than Iused to be. Bycheck was FBI, but hehadn’t wanted me to call the local office.
I considered placing that call anyway, and decided against it.Stirring up internal trouble in the Bureau wouldbe a good way to end up living on that quiet island I’d managed to avoidbefore, living with a gardener or housekeeper spliced onto my fat ass like aSiamese twin.
Or I could end up wasting space in the local landfill.
You don’t think people “disappear” in this sweet land ofliberty? Hey, I’ve got this bridge for sale, cream puff deal. Or some land inFlorida, guaranteed to sit above high tide.
Anyway, Bycheck sat there and fumed. I’m sure the experiencewas good for him. Adversity builds character.
“Let’s start over from the top. What can I do for you?” But Ileft the recorders running.
He took a deep breath and then let it out. “As I said, this isa National Security Issue.” Capitals again. “I want you to report to me only —anything you find out, any leads to that courier’s . . . package,any leads to this Albert Kratz, even any relevant dreams your subconscious seesfit to poke into your head in the middle of the night.” He pulled out a cardcase from a different suit pocket and handed me a bit of pasteboard. “Call me, not the local office. That’s my cellphone number. If I don’t answer, do notleave a message. Not even a ‘call back.’ Understand?”
I tilted my head to one side. “Court order?”
Bycheck glanced at the camera again and shook his head maybe aquarter inch. His lips were turning purple and white with the strain of holdingwords inside. Wizards shouldn’t let their blood pressure get that high. Strokeor heart attack risk, like I said.
I nodded to myself. If he couldn’t even take this to a pliantjudge, that old phrase “plausible deniability” kept echoing down the courthousecorridors. This stank like maybe the deepest, fullest outhouse pit I’d ever runacross. Which would be pretty damn deep and full.
I’d pushed about as far as I wanted to go. Anything more, and I might become deniable. I didn’t likethat prospect. I made a mental note to send out certified copies of those tapesto five different secure locations. With contingency orders that involvedhearing from me every week, no ifs, ands, or buts.
“I’ll put you on the distribution list.”
He drew breath for a rant, and I waved him off. “If I stopworking with the local force and the state unit, that’s going to raise morequestions than you want running
