Red Right Hand

10.

CHARLIE THOMPSON PACED outside the conference room, nervy from anticipation. O’Brien was inside, on a call with the director. She’d been in there for nearly an hour.

Forty minutes ago, some Podunk online news site blew the embargo on the TIC’s recorded statement taking credit for the bombing and threatening further attacks, no doubt garnering millions of clicks before the major outlets could follow suit. Since then, the airwaves had become a feeding frenzy, and the Bureau’s phones rang off the hook-panicked citizens jumping at shadows, mostly.

The conference-room door opened. O’Brien stepped out, looking tired and drawn. Thompson froze midstride and stared at her, eyes avid.

“Well?” Thompson asked.

“I’m sorry. The answer’s no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Oh, come on, Charlie, you can’t really be surprised. We’re in the midst of a national security crisis. We know next to nothing about these TIC whack jobs, which means we’re behind the eight ball already, and we have no idea what they might do next. The last thing we need’s another 9/11 on our hands. Now that the video’s out there, the world’s eyes are on us. We need to do this by the book, no mission creep, no side projects. We simply don’t have the resources to go after Segreti right now-if, in fact, that man was even him.”

“If? Are you kidding me? You know damn well that was Segreti.”

“Sure, it looked like him, but we have overwhelming evidence that suggests he died in federal custody.”

“We had overwhelming evidence,” Thompson corrected. “It went out the window the second Segreti showed up on tape. As far as I’m concerned, we owe it to this guy to protect him. We already failed him once. And remember, he walked in of his own accord.”

“Yeah, and put four federal agents in the hospital. Three of them were so badly injured, they were deemed unfit for duty. One will never walk right again.”

“You weren’t there, Kate. I was. Segreti was a mess when he walked in. He felt cornered, threatened. If he’d wanted to kill us, he easily could have. But he didn’t. He held back. Then he surrendered his weapon and offered Organized Crime Section its biggest collar in thirty years.”

“Oh, c’mon. That’s speculative at best. We don’t even know for sure what Segreti can give us. You have to admit, the story he was peddling sounded a little too good to be true.”

“Sure, except we hadn’t even finished debriefing him before the safe house we’d stashed him in blew sky-high. You ask me, that does wonders for his credibility.”

“Maybe so, Charlie, but either way, it doesn’t matter. The Bureau can’t afford to be distracted by Segreti right now.”

“Just send me, then. I’ll go alone. Work the trail. See if I can bring him in. Surely the director can’t object to that.”

O’Brien frowned. Said nothing. Thompson’s eyes widened in understanding.

“This isn’t coming from the director, is it? This is you. You’re the one making the call not to go get him.”

“Listen, Charlie-”

“Why should I? It’s clear you haven’t been listening to me.”

O’Brien’s face showed hurt and anger. “You’d do well to take a breath and remember who you’re talking to. Right now, fiancée has to take a backseat to commanding officer.”

“Fine. As my commanding officer, you need to let me do my goddamn job. Tell me, did you even ask the director? When you were on the conference call, did you even bring Segreti up?”

“What do you want me to say? No, I didn’t fucking bring him up. The country is under attack. You really think I ought to tell my boss and every AD in the Bureau that we should divert time and effort from hunting down the TIC because the employee I’m sleeping with has a bee in her bonnet?”

“So now I’m just some office lay with a head full of silly notions?”

“Of course not. But as hurtful as he was, your father was right about one thing: we need to look at this objectively, to think about how others in the Bureau would see it.”

“And here I thought they’d see it as an opportunity to rectify one of the biggest blunders in Bureau history. But then, you never gave them the chance.”

“Believe me, Charlie. I did you a favor. If I pitched your pet project today of all days, neither of us would be taken seriously again.”

“Fine. Then let me go get him.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Just give me seventy-two hours-that’s all I ask.”

“I’m sorry. There’s too much work to do. The director’s ordered both of us to return to DC as soon as possible. I’m going to get us on the next flight. We can have one of the staffers here drive your car back down.”

“You know what? I think I’ll save them the trouble and drive it back myself. I could use a few hours to cool off.”