Mortal Faults

41

Tess arrived at the field office in Westwood at four thirty and parked in the underground garage. She showed her creds to the Protective Service staff who guarded the parking area, then took the elevator to the FBI suite, trying to decide what she was going to say and how she would say it.

Sugarcoating the story was impossible. She had made her own choices, and some of those choices had been bad. Now there was a price to pay.

The elevator hissed to a stop. The temporary key card issued to her was already in her hand. It let her into the reception area, then the suite of offices beyond.

She traversed the labyrinth of hallways to Michaelson’s office. Distantly she was surprised she remembered where to find it. It had been a year and a half since Michaelson had offered her the post of deputy assistant director-DAD, in the Bureau’s disconcerting acronym. It was an offer he had made only because of pressure from Washington. He had been openly relieved when she turned him down.

She wondered how things might have turned out if she’d accepted the opportunity. She would have been in on the reactivated MEDEA case from the start. She might have been able to keep Abby from getting involved. She might not be facing the end of her career today.

On the other hand, she might have killed Michaelson by now. Set him on fire or thrown him out the window or something. It was hard to say.

The thought raised a brief smile to her lips, but the smile vanished when she approached the ADIC’s corner office. It was situated across the hall from the media office, where two media liaisons helped Michaelson stay in the news. They might be busy soon, and not in a good way. Or perhaps her misconduct could be kept entirely under wraps, another of the Bureau’s many secrets.

She entered the anteroom and faced Michaelson’s secretary.

“I’m Agent McCallum,” she said. “I need to see the director.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but-”

“It’s usually advisable to schedule an appointment, especially on a Saturday.”

Tess knew that Michaelson was always in on Saturdays. “Just tell him I have something important to speak to him about.”

“He’s in a meeting.”

“It’s urgent.”

“I can’t just interrupt-”

“Yes, you can. Buzz him, or I’ll walk in there without an announcement.” She would, too. What the hell, she couldn’t get herself in any worse trouble than she was already in.

The secretary grimaced but yielded. She activated the intercom and informed her boss that SA McCallum requested a few minutes of his time.

Tess expected Michaelson to make her wait, if only as a power play. She was proved wrong when his voice came over the speaker, saying, “Send her in.”

“Yes, sir.” The secretary conceded defeat with a flick of her wrist toward the closed office door. “He’ll see you.”

Tess walked to the door. She had time to wonder why Michaelson had allowed her to come in without waiting. Then her hand was on the knob, and the hard reality of it reminded her of what she was about to do. Michaelson had been looking for a way to undermine her career for years-since the Mobius case, in fact. Now she would hand him the chance he’d been hoping for. She expected him to take full advantage of it. He would show no mercy. He would do his best to finish her.

She opened the door, then stopped, freezing just inside the threshold.

His office was much like hers in Denver, only larger, with an even more intimidating desk flanked by two American flags. And there was an I-love-me wall, of course. Michaelson’s encounters with the great and the near great were lovingly documented in a photo mural that really did take up an entire wall.

The secretary hadn’t lied when she said there was a meeting underway. The ADIC sat behind his desk. Two of the leather chairs facing the desk were occupied. Hauser was in one. Crandall was in the other.

She saw their faces. Cold fury on Michaelson’s face. Disappointment on Hauser’s. And Crandall-he looked away from her for a moment, then steadied himself and returned her gaze. She read defiance in his expression. His face said, I did what I had to do. Tess supposed it was true. She had counted on his loyalty, but in the end she’d given him nothing to be loyal to.

She turned to Michaelson. “I was coming here to tell you.”

“You’re a little late,” he snapped.

She looked at Crandall. “Evidently I am.”

Crandall’s throat made a slow swallowing motion. “It was for your own good, Tess.”

She wanted to dispute the point, but she couldn’t, really. He hadn’t known she was coming. He’d reached the same decision she had, just an hour or two sooner.

“You’re in a great deal of trouble, McCallum.” The nasal voice belonged to the ADIC, whose prominent proboscis had given him the informal sobriquet “the Nose.”

“Please, Dick,” she said easily, “call me Tess.” She sat on the leather couch, another item that was larger and costlier than the equivalent furnishing in her own office.

Hauser was watching her. “Agent Crandall has told us quite a story,” he said carefully. “I’d like to believe he’s misconstrued the situation.”

“He hasn’t.”

“He says you’ve been working with a civilian, covering for her. He says this individual played a key role in the Rain Man case. And she’s been directly involved in MEDEA.”

“All true.”

“And you chose to keep this to yourself.”

“Until now, yes.”

Hauser went on staring at her. His presence meant that Crandall had gone to him first, and then Hauser had brought him to the director. It made sense. A low-level agent like Crandall wouldn’t get in to see the ADIC on his own.

“Was there something else you wanted to say, Agent Hauser?” she asked.

“I had a very high estimation of you.”

She noted he’d used the past tense. “I’m sorry to let you down.”

Hauser’s voice was low. “You let us all down.”

His quiet disappointment was harder to take than the Nose’s more theatrical outrage. Tess said only, “I made some bad decisions.”

“Bad decisions?” Michaelson half rose from his chair, then sat again, as if unable to decide what to do with his body. “Bad fucking decisions? Is that what you said?”

“I didn’t say fucking.”

“Jesus Christ.” Michaelson slapped his desk, a hard percussive sound like a gunshot. “I’ll tell you what you’ve done. Passing Bureau sensitive-information to non-Bureau personnel, falsifying an official report, participation in a cover-up, unauthorized use of Bureau resources, misprision of a felony, misuse of Bureau property, cooperation with a known lawbreaker. That’s just for starts.”

“Abby isn’t a known lawbreaker.”

“You’re saying this friend of yours has never broken the law?”

“I’m saying she’s not known for it. She has no record. And she’s not my friend.”

“Not anymore, apparently, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“She never was my friend,” Tess said quietly. This was possibly true. She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, anyway.

“If not, then why did you cover for her for the better part of two years? You’re fucked, McCallum. Any way you slice it, you are over and done with.”

She looked at him and caught the glimmer of a brief, furtive, feral smile. Beneath his indignation he was 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.