“Yeah?” DeSantos stood with his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s not working.”
“You know what? If you’re going to preach, you’d better be prepared to follow the advice in your own sermon. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be doing exactly what I’ve been doing if your loved one’s life depended on it.”
DeSantos dropped his arms and turned away, placed both palms on the driver’s side window of the adjacent SUV.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
DeSantos did not answer. But the fact that he hung his head suggested she was, indeed, correct in her assertion. Finally, DeSantos pushed back from the truck and walked away, back the way they had come, toward Union Station.
57
Vail had returned Gifford’s call while they were en route to their car. She had nothing else to do, since DeSantos was in no mood to talk. At least he was in no mood to talk to her.
Lenka told Vail that Gifford was in a meeting but wanted to see her in his office if she was headed back to the unit. Vail could not think of other leads to track down, so going back to the BAU seemed to be the best move. If Rooney had not yet left for Iraq, she wanted to sit down with him and tell him all she had learned about Guevara, John Mayfield, and the drug smuggling operation. Perhaps he could recommend some unseen angles worth pursuing.
DeSantos said he had an errand to run twenty minutes from the BAU, so he dropped Vail at her office and told her to check in with him when she was done.
As Vail moved through the secure door to the BAU, a text came through from Dixon:answer on audio of message left on wirths voicemail. guardian angel was robby. :-)
She allowed herself a moment to grin. Robby may’ve been undercover, but after giving Ian Wirth’s home address to Guevara, he found a way to send Wirth an anonymous warning.
While Vail was typing a reply, another text came through:and got a hit on handcuffs serial nmbr. female cop napa pd. last seen at a bar downtown about 1am. didnt report to work today. this isnt gonna end well
No. This isn’t going to end well. Vail typed back:for what its worth she was probably cannons first victim
“Everything okay?”
Vail looked up. She was standing in front of Lenka’s desk.
“Yeah, sorry. I was—” She held up her BlackBerry. “Got a text.”
Lenka reached for her phone. “I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m not sure if he’ll be glad or mad.”
Vail tucked her chin back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My sense is that he’s had a bad day. And right now, with the people in his office and the noises coming from inside, I think it’s only gotten worse.” She lifted the receiver and poked a button. While it rang, she said to Vail, “Not to mention he should’ve gone home fifteen minutes ago.”
Vail’s relationship with Gifford was odd, to say the least, for an ASAC and an agent. Profilers usually dealt directly with their unit chief. But Vail and Gifford always worked one-on-one. Her unit chief didn’t mind—at least, he’d never said anything to her about it—although that could’ve been Gifford’s doing. Maybe he labeled her a troublemaker and felt a more direct, hands-on approach would be the best way of keeping her reined in.
Am I a troublemaker?
Lenka set the handset back in its cradle. “You can go in.”
Vail nodded, then turned toward the office door.
“Good luck.”
Vail looked over her shoulder at Lenka, hesitated with her hand on the knob, then walked in.
And it immediately became apparent why Lenka had wished her luck. Gifford was behind his desk. Standing to his left was FBI director Douglas Knox. And to his right was DEA administrator Bronson McGuire. Gifford did not look pleased.
Knox did not look pleased.
Nor did McGuire.
In fact, they looked downright angry, like frustrated cougars who couldn’t get at their meal. And Vail suddenly felt like a sacrificial lamb.
“Agent Vail,” Knox said. “Good of you to finally join us.”
“I just got word—”
“I received a call about an hour ago,” Knox continued. “Do you know who it was?”
“I’m guessing it was Administrator McGuire,” Vail said, and glanced at McGuire. Is he salivating?
“That’s right,” McGuire said. “I had a scheduled meeting with the president, which was supposed to be happening—” he consulted his watch “—right about now. Only once have I ever told a president I had to reschedule. And that was when I was in an ambulance on the way to an emergency appendectomy.”
Vail licked her lips. Something tells me I’m about to have some scars of my own.
“Do you know what the problem is?” Knox asked.
“No sir, not exactly.” There’ve been so many things I’ve fucked up. Take your pick.
Knox’s eyes flicked over to McGuire before settling back on Vail. “I’m pulling you off this case. Effective immediately.”
“You mean Rob—Detective Hernandez’s case?”
“That would be the one,” McGuire said. “You weren’t officially authorized to be working it, anyway. And if you’d kept your nose out of things, we wouldn’t be needing to have this discussion.”
“Okay,” Gifford said, lifting a hand. “Just hold it right there. We all know that’s not true.”
McGuire snorted. “We don’t know it’s not true. Agent Vail—”
“No need to rehash it,” Gifford said. “I’ve heard your position.”
McGuire’s hard stare spoke volumes. Gifford, a subordinate, was standing up to the DEA administrator. Ballsy. Risky. And—holy shit—it sounds like he’s defending me.
“Your actions,” McGuire said to Vail, “have seriously jeopardized a years-long effort to take down the Cortez cartel. And while I understand your knee-jerk, ill-conceived, half-assed attempt to find your boyfriend, we are professionals. We all know the risks when we go undercover. Detective Hernandez certainly knew them.”
Gifford shifted his feet, turned his head, and looked off at the wall. Vail couldn’t help noticing. Interesting body language—that statement made him uncomfortable. Why? Because he feels responsible for what happened to Robby?
“This operation is far more important than absolving yourself of guilt over having blown his cover. And possibly costing him his life.”
Vail clenched her jaw. She had reached her tolerance point for taking the bullshit McGuire was doling out. Respect for authority or not, she could not let his statement stand without a response.
“I resent the implication, sir,” Vail started.
“I’m not implying anything. I thought I was pretty damn clear.”
“Bronson,” Knox said firmly, “that’s enough. This has been a tragedy. For the DEA op, for Detective Hernandez—and, yes, for Agent Vail. Pointing the finger is not going to get us anywhere. Move on.”
“Fine,” McGuire said. He turned to Vail. “Then let’s get something straight. If you ever get in the face of one of my ASACs, I’ll make sure you’re busted down from the BAU so you regret your behavior for a good long time.” He faced Knox. “The Bureau is done here. Don’t come near my operation. I’ll let you know when we find Hernandez. Alive—” he turned to Vail—“or dead.”
McGuire slammed the door on his way out. The room was silent.
“Don’t worry about him,” Director Knox said. “He’s got no jurisdiction over Bureau personnel matters. I’ll clean up the mess once he calms down. But me . . . that’s another story. We are done with this case, and you do have to do as I tell you, Agent Vail. Because I do have the power to make your life miserable. And I know you’re not even close to retiring from the Bureau, so let’s be honest. Your work is exceptional but you tend to find yourself in deep shit more often than is acceptable. Don’t think I’ve not been made aware of all your recent escapades. And for an FBI director to be made aware of the actions of a profiler in the BAU, that means something’s wrong with its management.”