Troubleshooter

Chapter 36

They sat in the command post awaiting word back from Tannino. He was in with the mayor right now, conference-calling the higher-ups and pretending to have some say if their task force would be subsumed by the FBI's or vice versa. Despite the Hanukkah jingles audible from the criminal clerk's screensaver down the hall, the mood was less than jolly. It was only 9:00 P.M., but it felt to Tim like the middle of the night. A check-in call to the hospital-no news means what?-only added to his sharply felt frustration. He flipped listlessly through photos of Den and Kaner, chewing on a brown swizzle stick until his molars ached.

Mounds of files overflowed the table, the floor, the empty chairs. Paperwork drooped from pushpins. The chief's assistant had dropped off crullers with red and green sprinkles, the few stale survivors collecting off-season flies in their pink box. The marshal's wife's fruitcake sat untouched on the tabletop, its pristine two-tone cellophane intact; Mrs. Tannino's baking, even when it didn't involve candied fruit and dark corn syrup, was eat-at-your-own-risk.

Scrupulously balanced human-interest holiday reports compensated for the paper-thin local news-a dulceria's Jesus cookies cried cinnamon tears; a Tarzana housewife made a giant menorah evoking the Hollywood sign; a crippled kid got his operation thanks to an Islamic charity. Even the CNN crawl had gone syrupy, bringing news of marshmallow-eating contests and a Star of David on the White House tree.

Most of the task-force members were home with their families. Slumped over the intersection of his forearms, Jim caught some shut-eye at a corner desk; light duty or not, he was in for the haul. Freed, divorced, had stayed back so Thomas could sneak dinner at home. Even if he'd wanted to leave, Bear had nowhere to go. He had his feet on the conference table, and he stared at the ceiling, his cocked-back chair doing its best to stand up to his weight. Tim checked in with the ICU doctor for the third time that day-no Christmas miracles there. He felt a stab of guilt for not going in, but Dray cut him off. The Sinners don't take a night off. You're sure as shit not going to just so you can stare at your comatose wife.

Haven't heard from you in a while, he thought.

That's because you haven't killed anyone in a while. Been, what, four hours?

I miss you.

But he heard no response.

Maybeck and Haines finally made for the door, wearing guilty expressions, though no one faulted them.

Jim raised his head at their departure. "Merry Kwanzaa."

Maybeck, white boy personified, smiled and flashed him a thumbs-up. "See you in the morning."

"If we still have the case," Tim said.

A roomful of dour faces looked back at him. From his recline, Bear grunted, and they went back to waiting for Tannino.

Guerrera finished arguing the latest girlfriend off the phone with a suddenly overplayed accent, casting embarrassed glances at the others. "I tole you not to use the work line, baby." He hung up.

Still gazing at the ceiling, Bear said, "Jean Ann?"

"Alicia."

Bear didn't quite smile, but his face shifted. He rolled his head over to face Tim. "Our boy is back."

Everyone stood when Mayor Strauss entered with Tannino. His face was hard and red, a mallard green tie loose at the collar. His breath smelled of red wine. "After extensive discussion with the East Coast, we've determined to let you and the FBI keep your respective bailiwicks. I've been pleased with your progress, and I-and Director Reyna-are disinclined to halt your progress. The FBI will, of course, continue with Operation Cleansweep simultaneously, and you are to liaise and share information. If you let your egos get in the way of the well-being of this city, you will answer to me personally. Understood?"

Nods and assorted affirmative mumbles. Tannino added, looking to City Hall for confirmation, "And the Bureau's agents are under the same orders."

"Now"-the mayor reverted to politician-"has anyone fed you boys some turkey?"

"We're fine, thank you, Mr. Mayor," Miller said.

Strauss nodded and exited, as Bear stared at Miller resentfully.

Tannino paused behind him at the door. "Someone eat a slice of the fucking fruitcake before the wife comes in." No one moved, and he sighed a tired marital sigh. "Bear, dispose of the thing, would you?"

The door slammed behind him.

Tim exhaled, relieved, and a few of the guys exchanged solemn high fives.

"Next move?" Freed asked.

"Jim, you've got a hook at Border Patrol, right?" Tim asked. "Get him on the horn. I want to know all the border-crossing data they logged on our boys at San Ysidro-Tijuana. What they were riding, plate numbers, the whole nine yards."

Bear thunked his chair back to an upright position. "What if those shitheads are decoys, like Rich said? I mean, the AT could already be here. It might be hitting the streets as we speak."

For the first time since the shooting, Guerrera spoke decisively. "I know how we can find out."