Collateral Damage (8 page)

“That’s bullshit, Charles. I want you to call Lizzie Fox. I like the way she kicks ass and gets right in everybody’s faces. If he isn’t off my property after the allotted time, I’ll shoot him. Just so you know. Do you hear me, Charles?”

“I do, Nellie. Relax and go back to The Shopping Channel. I’ll take care of things.”

Nellie was miffed. “How do you know about The Shopping Channel?”

“You told Myra who told Annie who then told me. They said you’re addicted. Are you saying it was supposed to be a secret?”

Nellie broke the connection. Obviously no one could keep a secret, herself included.

E
rin Powell was more than a little frazzled and hoped it didn’t show. Her people were looking at her strangely. Then again, maybe that was just her imagination. She looked at the huge clock hanging on the wall, a reminder that she’d had no dinner. A PowerBar hardly qualified as one of the major food groups.

Nine o’clock. And her people were standing around staring at her with pity in their eyes. She licked at her dry lips. “Someone better tell me right now how that circus in front of the building happened. The director called and chewed out my ass, so now I’m going to chew you out. Charlie, what happened?”

“Emery pulled a fast one. You said to be polite. I was polite. The guy is slick. He is, after all, the deputy district attorney for D.C.,” Akers said, as if that was explanation enough. “It’s not like he’s simply some private citizen who’s intimidated by agents of the federal government.”

“Where is he?”

Akers shuffled his feet. “Room 3.”

“And Doug is in the hospital. That never should have happened. Is there an update on his condition?” she asked.

Joe Landos smirked. “He’s okay. That means he’ll live, but he’ll be on disability for about six weeks. Let’s be honest here, Doug did it all wrong. Wong has a sterling rep, and the locals are on his side. Cummings likes him a lot. There’s a video bearing out everything Wong said. We took a big black eye on that one.”

“Are you telling me Doug acted like a rookie? What the hell was he thinking?”

“I guess you’ll have to ask Doug that yourself. I just got an update from the hospital. I didn’t personally talk to him,” Landos said.

Erin hated the self-satisfied look on the agent’s face. They were all getting off on the fiasco that had gone down. And she didn’t see one iota of respect for her in any of their faces. Her back stiffened. “Why isn’t Lizzie Fox in Room 4, Joe?”

“Are you kidding? You can’t be serious if you think I should have hauled her in in front of that mob out there. It was a judgment call. Come morning, I’ll serve her up with your breakfast.”

Erin knew Landos was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She turned around and homed in on Pete Mangello. “Well?”

Mangello glared at the woman standing in front of him. “I had to fucking threaten a federal judge. Then I had to have Director Cummings call her. She refused to cooperate,” he explained, defensively.

It was Erin’s turn to glare. “You did
WHAT?
You went over my head? How dare you do that! How dare you! You know the chain of command, Mangello. Do you expect me to overlook this?”

Mangello’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Erin, Judge Easter is one sharp lady. She doesn’t go the bullshit route. She’s also got some powerful friends. Friends attached to the media. If I had suggested she call you, she would have laughed in my face. She only deals with people of her own caliber. I made a judgment call, just like Joe did. I talked to her and got exactly nowhere. And, that was
after
she talked to Director Cummings. Just in case you don’t know this, let me be the first to tell you that Lizzie Fox is also her attorney of record. As she kicked me out, Lizzie was just arriving, and
she
threatened
me
. Said if I ever tried talking to her client without her being present, she’d cut off my balls and shove them up my ass. That’s a direct quote. Then she added that she’d call in the media so they could watch her do it. You know she’s a media darling. She loves the limelight. Like I need shit like that on my record. And the Bureau, as Director Cummings has said, does not need any more bad press. You’re pulling in negative points by the bushel, Erin.”

“You’re making that woman sound like some kind of avenger,” Erin snarled. “I want her in here as soon as possible. Joe, do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Landos drawled.

Erin pointed to the one clean board hanging on the wall. The name Lizzie Fox was at the top in bright red marker. “Fill it in, gentlemen, and don’t leave anything out. I don’t care how inconsequential you might think it is. We do not need to be blindsided by some media-hungry sexpot.”

The men standing in front of Erin laughed. Bert laughed the loudest. Erin wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Whoa! Bert blinked as he envisioned the catfight that was more than likely going to ensue the moment Lizzie Fox walked into the building for her Q&A. He almost pitied Powell.

Erin was halfway out the door when the phone on the desk rang. Being the nearest, Bert answered. He schooled his face to blankness and flattened his voice when he said, “Director Cummings for you, Erin.” He handed her the phone.

Erin’s heart fluttered in her chest. This was a call she wished she could take in private, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Powell,” she said curtly. She listened but was unable to hide the dismay she was experiencing. “Yes, sir. With all due respect,
sir,
I thought I was running this task force, meaning I’d make the decisions. Yes, sir, they were my orders. No sir, federal agents do not threaten…Again, sir, with all due respect, my people react to the situation they’re dealing with at the time. No, sir, Deputy District Attorney Emery has not been questioned as yet. I was on my way to speak with him when you called. Let him go! Did you just say let him go? I understand about the unfortunate circus atmosphere. That was beyond my control, sir. Surely you aren’t holding me accountable for what happened outside. I didn’t even know it was going on until after it had gotten out of hand. Yes, I am very quickly coming to understand just who Ms. Fox is. Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Yes, sir.”

Bert swiveled around. This was the part where he almost felt sorry for Erin Powell. He thought she was going to cry any moment. He understood her humiliation. “You might want to rethink your strategy, Erin. You’re dealing with some very powerful people, who know even more powerful people. They know how to play the game. You’re the new kid on the block. Their rules are not your rules. Do you want me to show Emery out of the building?”

Erin squared her shoulders. “I think I can handle it, Bert.”

The agents watched Erin leave the office, her back ramrod straight.

“She looks like she’s going to her own execution. I give her one more week,” Landos said.

“She’s in over her head,” Mangello said. “Two weeks, maybe three, but three is a stretch. She’s going to cave.”

“I can’t believe the director appointed her to head this task force. Some women’s group must have gotten to him,” Akers said.

“Jesus, it’s only her second day on the job,” Bert said. “Give her a break. You know what, Pete, you were out of line when you had Cummings call the judge. In case you don’t know this, women hold grudges, and they are sneaky. You know that old saying, ‘Don’t get mad, get even.’ Some woman coined that phrase. Everyone knows that. You got, what, nine more months till you retire, right? I’d start worrying if I were you.”

Mangello looked sick at Bert’s words. He looked down at his watch, and said, “I’m outta here, it’s almost ten o’clock.”

Joe and Charlie followed him. Bert was left standing alone in front of the blank board. Nothing like driving a wedge between all the team players, he thought smugly. His next big decision was, should he leave or wait for Erin to get back in the office? He looked at the blank board and—grinning—wrote, “femme fatale.” He reached for his jacket. If he was lucky, he’d meet up with Jack outside. As he packed up his briefcase, he wondered how old Jack was doing going up against Erin Powell. Jack knew how to dance his way around interrogations. Bert knew Jack could reduce Erin to a basket case without batting an eye.

Just as the thought entered Bert’s head, Jack Emery was doing exactly that.

As a show of courtesy, Jack stood when Erin Powell entered the room. He knew why she was here. She’d gotten orders to release him, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. He knew from past experience how the fibs worked. Astute at reading people, Jack knew she had her marching orders, and those orders were to send one Deputy District Attorney Emery on his way.

Jack shrugged his arms to settle the sleeves of his jacket more comfortably. He made his way to the door before Powell stiff-armed him. “You going somewhere, Emery?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I’m going home. It’s late, and I’m tired. Please, I’m asking you nicely, drop the arm.”

Erin narrowed her eyes. “And if I don’t?” The challenge was there, but Jack just laughed.

“You want to go a few rounds with Cummings, be my guest. I’m outta here, and before I leave I want to go on the record as saying I do not appreciate the strong-arm tactics you and yours used this evening.”

“No one strong-armed you, Emery. You think you’re above the law, don’t you?”

“No. Actually,
I am the law in this jurisdiction,
and I take it very seriously. If you want to talk to me, call my office in the morning and make an appointment. I’ll be glad to comply, but only with my lawyer in attendance.”

“You do know what the penalty is for lying to a federal agent, don’t you?”

“You betcha. By the way, I am assuming you’re Special Agent Erin Powell. Aren’t you guys supposed to identify yourselves? We’re a lot more professional where I work. Good night, Agent Powell.”

The arm went back up. Jack gently slipped it aside and stepped through the doorway.

“Were you responsible for that circus out front? Remember what I said about lying to a federal officer.”

“Well, yeah,” Jack drawled. “I put in a call to my lawyer. That was it. You guys aren’t very good at crowd containment, now are you?”

“Get the hell out of here, Emery,” Erin snarled.

Jack grinned. “See, now you’re getting it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last ten minutes. Give my regards to Director Cummings.”

Five minutes later Jack was breathing in the last minutes of the fresh October air. He was about to head for the curb, where he could smoke a cigarette until he could hail a cab. He heard the voice but couldn’t tell where it came from. Bert.

“Wait five minutes, walk around the corner, and I’ll pick you up.”

Jack nonchalantly fired up a cigarette, made a pretense of looking for a cab. He took a couple of deep drags until he was sure five minutes had gone by before he turned and walked to the corner.

Just as he turned his back to the front door of the Hoover Building, Erin Powell walked outside. Her gaze immediately went to the figure walking toward the corner. Where was Emery going? It took her only a second to make the decision to follow the man who’d just made a fool out of her. At the corner she stopped and watched as Jack got into a black Mustang. The split second the door opened, and the dome light came on, she recognized Bert Navarro. Everyone on the floor knew Bert Navarro drove a restored 1965 Mustang. Her stomach crunched itself into a tight knot. “Crap.”

“My boss just saw you getting into my car, Jack,” Bert said as he put the car in gear and peeled out onto the road.

“So what? It’s late, you’re giving me a ride home. Let them make a federal case out of it. No pun intended. What the hell is going on?”

Bert laughed. “Harry took out Parks earlier, but you already know that. Seems it took almost an hour for him to be transported to the hospital. Snafus along the way. He’s out of the loop now. Harry’s people following orders. The director called Erin and told her to let you go. She bristled at that order and gave him an argument, for all the good it did her. She lost face in front of the guys, and she’s going to take that to heart. Nellie made short work of Mangello. Seems he threatened her. Erin read us all the riot act and was bellowing about chain of command. She’s in over her head. Right now she’s got a hate on for Lizzie Fox. We all know how that’s going to turn out.”

Jack grinned in the darkness of the car. “Someone should tell Ms. Powell she’s out of her league.”

“I’m not really sure about that, Jack. You don’t know Erin Powell. She might be temporarily, and I stress the word ‘temporarily,’ out of her league, but she’ll fall back and regroup. She’s a good agent. She’s got what it takes, but, unfortunately, this task force is a thankless job. If it can get off the ground, she’s the one to do it. Having said that, my money is on the Silver Fox.”

Jack started to laugh and couldn’t stop. “I’d buy a ticket to see that little meeting when it takes place.”

“No problem. I’ll record it for you.”

“Oh, if they only knew,” Jack said.

Both men laughed uproariously.

Sixteen minutes later, Bert pulled the Mustang to the curb outside of Jack’s house. “You want to come in for a beer? It’s late, and if you want to stay over, it’s no problem. Actually, it might be a good idea. I have to call Charles, and if we hustle our butts, we’ll make the eleven o’clock news.”

“You got anything to eat in there? I’m not talking about those weeds you call vegetables. Man food.”

“Got tons of frozen dinners and some leftover Chinese. Fridge full of beer.”

“Then I’m your man. Let me get my go-bag out of the trunk.”

The go-bag was a bag of supplies most agents kept in their cars in case they were directed to hop a plane or train on the spur of the moment. The bag contained shaving gear, clean underwear, and several shirts, along with a warm-up suit. The trick was to remember to repack the bag once it was used.

“Nice night, doncha think, Jack?” Bert asked, slamming the trunk.

“Winter’s coming. I hate winter,” Jack said, opening the door.

Down the block a car stopped, the headlights off. Erin Powell watched as Bert opened his trunk and took out a bag. “Well, well, what have we here?”

Bert turned around in the open doorway, then lifted his arm and waved in Erin’s direction. “You knew she was back there, right?”

“Oh, yeah. This will give her something else to spin her wheels about.”

When Erin saw Bert wave at her before the door closed, she wanted to spit. Instead, she banged her head on the steering wheel.
I must be a piss-poor excuse for a federal agent.