DeSantos shrugged. “Well, we kind of made a wrong turn, and… here we are.”
“The fuck you want?” Flint asked.
DeSantos pulled a stick of Juicy Fruit from his pocket and folded it into his mouth. “I detect a little attitude there, Nellie.” He tossed the spent wrapper through the gate at Flint’s feet.
“That Juicy Fruit makes you look real tough, G-man.”
DeSantos took a step forward.
Uzi knew that taking issue with DeSantos’s deceased partner’s gum was the wrong tack, even though Flint could not possibly know the significance behind it. He cleared his throat. “Santa, tell the man what we came here to tell him.” The comment seemed to refocus DeSantos, but he still stood there, squinting at Flint, hatred floating on the air like teargas.
After a long moment, Uzi pressed ahead: “We know about your connections to the NFA.” He watched for Flint’s reaction. The man’s eyes quickly locked on Uzi. Direct hit.
“You don’t know shit, ’cause if you did, you wouldn’t be standing on the other side of the fence like fags. You’d be on my property, crawlin’ all over this place.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Flint. We’re not storm troopers. We don’t just bust in. There are rules we have to follow. But we do have some good stuff brewing. The background files we’re amassing on William Ellison and Russell Fargo are leading us right here. See, what you don’t comprehend is that we’ve got an army of agents trolling the supersecret databases the government keeps on everyone. They’re going through everything with a fine filter, and they’ve been sifting out little pieces to the puzzle. Pretty soon, before you know it, we’ll have enough to see the whole picture. That’s when we come busting in.”
“All talk, is all.” Flint turned and took a step toward his Hummer.
“We’re connecting the dots. We know about Skiles Rathbone and his connection to—”
“Uzi,” DeSantos shouted, “that’s enough. He’ll find out when the time is right.”
Uzi looked at DeSantos, then hesitated for a moment before acquiescing. Uzi stepped closer to the gate, only a few feet away and outside the earshot of the other armed men. “We’re after the bigger fish, Mr. Flint,” he said in a low voice. “Help us out now and you’ll get the deal. They’ll get fried. If you send us away and we find out the info ourselves, or if one of the others sings first, the deal’s off the table.”
Flint took a couple of steps toward the gate, then sucked a long drag on his Marlboro, appearing to consider the offer. But then he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it through the bars at Uzi, who swatted it away. “Fuck you, Fibber. Get away from my land.” He turned and got into his Hummer, the truck leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
Uzi dropped DeSantos at the gate of the Pentagon, preferring to keep off its visitor logs until he could be sure how deep the potential Douglas Knox/National Firearms Alliance bond extended. With Knox’s roots well entrenched in super-secret spy groups, Uzi figured the director had to be aligned to some extent with NSA-types — officially or unofficially.
Leaving DeSantos to work that end of the investigation — it was, after all, DeSantos’s area of expertise — he broke away to meet with Karen Vail, who had left a voicemail five minutes earlier.
The profiling unit’s receptionist buzzed the security doors and Uzi proceeded down the maze of hallways to Vail’s office. He stepped in and saw Vail sitting at her desk, her elbow on the armrest and her chin nestled in her hand.
Uzi took a seat in the chair beside her wall of bookshelves and crossed a leg over his knee. “What’s wrong?”
“I think the branch is about to break.”
Before Uzi could ask for clarification, a man walked in with a scowl on his face. His attention was focused on Uzi.
“Agent Uziel. I’m Thomas Gifford. ASAC of the behavioral analysis units.”
Uzi sensed this visit was not going to be cordial, so he did not offer his hand to shake. “We’ve met,” Uzi said, leaving the comment ambiguous to retain an advantage. If he knew or remembered something Gifford didn’t, it would bother the man and give Uzi a sense of control.
“Agent Vail has been doing some work for you,” Gifford said.
“We’ve talked about a case, yeah. She was helping me understand a few things from a behavioral perspective. But I wouldn’t say it was for me. It’s for the Bureau. For the investigation into the veep’s assassination attempt.”
“There’s a protocol around here, Agent Uziel. The unit chief and I assign the cases. Agents don’t get to call their friends and have them do work for them. Understand?”
The word “protocol” sent a dart into Uzi’s heart. He of all people understood the importance of following procedures. He did not know how to respond.
“Frank,” Gifford called down the hall, into the adjacent office. “A minute.” He turned back to Uzi. “Frank Del Monaco is the agent assigned to this case.”
“With all due respect, sir, I did not mean to cause problems. Agent Vail was at the crash site. I have a relationship with her. I trust her abilities, and trust is an important issue with me.”
A heavyset man appeared in the doorway behind Gifford. Gifford nodded at Uzi’s comment but was clearly not swayed by his explanation. “It’s not her job to get touchy-feely with the law enforcement officers she serves. Our entire unit is trustworthy, with all the abilities Agent Vail has.” Gifford took a step into the cramped office and indicated Frank Del Monaco with a nod of his head. “This is Frank Del Monaco. Frank, this is Agent Uziel. He’s from WFO, head of JTTF, running the task force investigating the chopper incident.”
Del Monaco nodded at Uzi, but his eyes were narrow and his arms folded across his chest.
Gifford continued, “Because of all the work Agent Vail’s done behind my back, and because of the amount of time invested in this case, I’m going to allow her to remain on. She’ll work with Agent Del Monaco.”
“Aren’t they partners anyway?” Uzi asked.
“That didn’t sound like an apology,” Gifford said sternly.
Uzi dipped his chin. “I won’t muddy the protocol again, sir. I apologize and accept full responsibility for dragging her into this. In all fairness, she told me right up front I should be speaking with Agent Del Monaco.”
“Did that make you feel better, getting it off your chest?” Gifford glanced at Vail, who still had her chin buried in her hand, eyes examining the carpet. “I’ve dealt with Agent Vail how I’ve seen fit — in essence, you’ve boiled some water and stuck her hand in it. Maybe next time you’ll consider the consequences.”
Gifford was now twisting the dagger he’d thrown earlier. Uzi struggled to shrug off what Gifford was saying.
“It won’t happen again.”
“No, Agent Uziel, it won’t. I’ve spoken with ASAC Shepard and made sure of it. You guys come to us for help, we’ll give you everything we’ve got. Just don’t run over my toes again or this’ll be the last time you see the inside of my unit.” He pushed past Del Monaco and left the room.
Del Monaco frowned at Uzi, then followed Gifford’s exit.
Uzi exhaled, then rubbed his forehead. “Sorry.”
“My fault. When I told you ‘no,’ I should’ve meant it.”
“How bad?”
Vail shrugged. “Nothing I won’t get over. Gifford needs me. We’ve had our rows in the past, much worse than this one, and we’ve gotten past it. I’m dealing with it. Besides, I’m dating his son. That kind of limits the blows.” Vail cringed. “So to speak.”