The Hunted

69

Jonathan Waller was summoned to Director Knox’s office at seven o’clock in the evening. Waller had just arrived home and spoken to his girlfriend, who was on her way over to have a romantic dinner with him. And she was bringing “a special something” for dessert. The way the Scarponi case had been going, they had not had much time together. Unable to reach her while she was en route, Waller left a note on his door containing a huge apology. He could only imagine her reaction when she got to his house expecting a long-awaited evening together, only to find a note and no significant other.

He pulled into the Hoover Building’s underground parking garage at five after seven and was admitted into the director’s office a few minutes later. Knox was in sweats and running shoes, his suit coat hanging in the far corner of his suite, on his bathroom door.

“You’re not my favorite person right now,” Knox said to Waller before he could sit. The director was leaning against the windowsill, his arms folded across his chest.

“No, sir.”

“I’d like to give you a chance to make amends for the abominable work you’ve been passing off as a member of the Bureau, to show me you can follow orders and procedure and complete an assignment without screwing up.”

Waller kept his mouth shut, something Haviland often said he should do in times like these — but rarely did.

“I’ve assigned you to part of the group that rides with me during Agent Payne’s transport tonight to Vandenheim Air Force Base.”

Waller nodded, pleased that he was being given the opportunity, but confused all the same. He had assumed he was automatically going to be included. Not wanting to stir up problems, he again held his thoughts. “Thank you, sir. I’d like that.”

“I thought you might. There’s a briefing that starts in ten minutes, in Strategic Planning One. I’ll be there as soon as I can shower and throw my clothes on.”

Waller thanked Knox again, and then headed to the elevators. If Waller was to have any hopes of getting a favorable final evaluation from the director to his superior, SAC Lindsey — if he was to have any hopes of salvaging his career — then he had to make sure the role he played in Payne’s transfer was significant. Without screwups. Without variance from established procedure.

He walked into the elevator and pressed 4, then chuckled. Well, best he could hope for was to avoid screwups.