I looked out the car window to the relatively benign world outside. My conversation with Paul suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago.
“We’ve seen a lot together over the years. We go back a long way,” I said elusively.
“Some lives saved back and forth, I suspect,” Sanders said.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said.
“Hey, I bet the press is having a real field day with this,” I added, partially to change the subject.
Sanders looked over at me with a wry expression before returning her attention to the road before us.
“What an understatement. We’re crafting it somewhat differently as a failed attempt to assassinate a sitting congressman. Although the press is curious why Nevis Corners has suddenly become such a dangerous place since the Wallace Building explosion,” she said. “Luckily for you, so far we’ve managed to keep your name out of the spotlight.”
“And I couldn’t be happier about that.”
She winked at me.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about tonight, and something keeps nagging at me. When I met Criswell in the park, he told me that only he and his administrative assistant knew about our meeting tonight. So, just how did those assassins find out about it? Because I sure as hell didn’t tell anyone else.”
She shrugged.
“Maybe they were already staking you out,” she suggested. “Forensics is still collecting evidence but I’m hoping we receive some quality data to review relatively soon.”
I looked over to see Sanders frowning as she drove.
“Of course, we also wondered how our shooter had known to show up in Chicago, as well,” she said. “I’ll inquire into the prospect of wire taps, as well as any prospective surveillance authorizations. You’ve already been followed by who-knows-what agency.”
“There’s been a possibility of an inside leak somewhere,” I said.
“I’ll run a check on Criswell’s assistant, just as a precaution,” she said.
I resigned myself with the realization that there were few secrets left in the world. Eventually, word gets out about everything.
But what bothered me in our case was how quickly it had happened.
* * *
I slept like the dead once I’d taken a shower and fallen into bed. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning when the doorbell finally woke me up.
Sanders brought coffee with her when she stopped by to give me my vitamin injection. While she didn’t seem to be in a hurry, I was too tired to bother asking her to show me how to inject the damned thing myself.
I thanked her for both the coffee and her time. Rather than making a snarky comment, she merely winked and patted me on the back before leaving to head back to the office.
“Next time, I wouldn’t mind a hug,” I teased as she walked out my front door.
“Get over yourself, Bringer,” she snapped as she stepped off my porch. “And please do your best to haul your lazy butt down to the office by one o’clock.”
I just smiled, then took a swig of my coffee and watched her drive off.
Lexi called to check up on me, as well as Mom. I even chatted with Dad on the phone for a few minutes. He told me he was proud of me, which made me feel pretty good, given everything.
And I took some pride that, for the first time in weeks, I felt that my family was safer for my actions the previous evening.
Then my thoughts returned to the conversation I’d had with Paul Criswell. He’d made a number of good points, as well as revelations, concerning Nuclegene Corporation.
I felt a little better knowing that Continuance Corporation was making it onto a number of watch lists and government radars. With luck, maybe that would force the company to go further underground for a while; maybe even become inactive.
I wondered how an outfit like Continuance still managed to be referred to as a corporation. It hadn’t been that many years since we were all worried about rogue nation states; now we sweated over rogue companies.
What the hell was the world coming to?
It took another hot shower and some ibuprofen before I managed to move around without considerable pain. My body had taken a lot of punishment in a relatively short period of time.
Still, I felt a sense of hopefulness for the future.
My future.
Chapter 20
By the time I made it into the downtown FBI office, it was straight-up one o’clock. However, I was amused from seeing Sanders look down at her watch while shaking her head slightly.
“Well, you’re punctual, at least,” she said.
“It’s 1300 hours. Reporting for duty,” I said with a wry expression. “Anything interesting to share?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” she blandly replied and pointed to the desk nearest to her. “You can sit down at that computer and start typing a detailed account of what happened last night.”
“Yeah, right. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m just a civilian,” I said. “Shouldn’t someone officially employed here be doing this?”
“You’re a volunteer, remember?” she countered.
Busted.
I groaned, which, by the look of satisfaction on her face, provided her considerable amusement.
“Just great,” I said. “Bureaucracy finally rears its ugly head.”
Two hours later, I’d completed what I thought was a relatively thorough recounting of everything that had happened.
Sanders scanned the hardcopy version, and muttered, “Not bad, actually.”
Then the two of us met agents Tara Collins and Ben Foster in the familiar conference room down the hallway from the main office.
I looked at Collins appraisingly, admiring her fitted knit slacks, which hugged her attractive hips and butt in all the right ways.
She smiled back at me with a glint in her soft blue eyes.
With no sense of guilt, I opened my mind to listen in on stray thoughts as I casually scanned the room.
…how much better that chest of his looks without that shirt
, came Collins’ thought.
Yep, I was definitely intrigued by Collins at some levels.
…gotta’ finish that report before heading home tonight
, came Foster’s thought.
…making eyes at her like some slick player in a bar
, came Sanders thought.
Sanders glowered at me when our eyes met, which jolted my concentration, and I immediately lost touch with the minds in the room.
“What?” Sanders suspiciously asked.
“Nothin’,” I said with a shrug, deliberately looking past her to the wall of windows revealing the cityscape.
Moments later, Chuck Denton and Deputy Director Tevin walked into the room and took seats at the head of the table.
“It looks like I’d better set up an office here in Nevis Corners,” Tevin quipped.
Agent Denton explained that Tevin was tasked to preside over the investigation into what was being touted as an assassination attempt against Congressman Criswell.
Then I was grilled by everyone in the room for details on the events, including recounting my story from scratch. Sanders asked clarifying questions to the report that I’d just typed for her, as well.
“Any idea who the assassins were?” I asked.
“His body was burned pretty badly, so forensics will need some time to work with the coroner’s office,” Foster said.
“And how did the guy know I was meeting with the congressman?” I asked. “Criswell said only he and his administrative assistant knew about it.”
“Well, our burnt assassin had been following you and Sanders, as well as staking out your house,” Denton pointed out. “Maybe the park was a location of opportunity?”
“And he brought a friend with him,” I said. “Why not just take me out at my house, then? Why go to the trouble for a public location like the park?”
“We thought we had a leak early in the investigation,” Sanders said. “Maybe there are additional leaks, including in Criswell’s office.”
“Yeah, but what would the motivation be to kill Criswell?” I countered. “To my knowledge, he hasn’t had an active role in what’s taken place.”
“Collateral damage?” Agent Collins suggested.
“Perhaps. Still, it’s an angle we’ll want to look into further,” Tevin noted.
“Agreed,” said Denton.
Little else was brought to light that I thought was useful, and it took the remainder of the afternoon before the meeting ended.
As everyone rose from the table to leave, Tevin took Sanders and me aside.
“Bringer, your performance was pretty damned impressive last night. Aside from the proliferate damage to public property, and the unfortunate death of two local police officers, you still helped to keep the casualty count to a minimum,” Tevin said. “Son, don’t let this go to your head, but your value just tripled overnight. You’re practically a hero now.”
“I really wish that you hadn’t emphasized that,” Sanders groaned. “He’s going to be insufferable now.”
I flashed her a dirty look before shaking hands with Tevin.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want a repeat of last night’s events.”
“Neither would I,” Sanders quietly added.
I spared her a quick glance, but her facial expression was neutral and her eyes didn’t meet mine.
“Are you feeling okay?” Tevin asked with concern.
“I’m serviceable,” I replied.
“Good to hear. You stay serviceable,” Tevin said, briefly clasping me on the shoulder. “We may be able to make good use of you again before this Continuance investigation is over.”
“I’m making Continuance my personal project as long as they remain a threat to my family,” I affirmed.
“Deputy Director, Bringer almost got killed last night. It would make things a lot nicer if the FBI could do more to
legitimize
his assistance,” Sanders pointedly noted.
I appreciated her saying that, and I had to admit that I wouldn’t mind an offer of financial assistance. Granted, I already had one, but it was from a company that I still had serious doubts about.
“That thought has crossed my mind,” I agreed.
Tevin sighed and nodded.
“True, but I’m afraid I’m not in a position to do more than thank you at this time,” he apologized. “However, I’ll see what I can do. For the time being, please know that the bureau does genuinely appreciate your assistance, as well as putting your life on the line. You’re a bona fide patriot, Bringer.”
With that, Tevin left the room, leaving Sanders and I staring at each other.
“Bona fide patriot, my butt,” Sanders scoffed. “More like free ride for the government, if you ask me. I mean, what agency
wouldn’t
appreciate free telekinetic services for as long as it lasted?”
I nodded, thinking much the same thing myself. As much as I was in this primarily for personal reasons, the bureau was more than happy to leverage me to their advantage, as well. Their
unpaid
advantage.
Admittedly, and despite my reservations, Criswell’s recommendation the previous night regarding accepting Clive Bernard’s Nuclegene employment proposal sounded better with each passing minute.
But, did I want to get into bed with a huge corporation that had already treated me as a blind guinea pig?
I looked outside through one of the room’s large picture windows, observing the waning sunset with a frown.
The swift passing of time surprised me. Had it nearly been a full day since I’d killed two assassins?
To be sure, I’d expected similar acts of violence while deployed in the conflict-plagued Middle East, but not in the middle of the United States. In Iowa, no less; arguably one of the safest, most boring places in the world.
“You okay, Bringer?” Sanders prompted with concern.
I stared into her hazel eyes and nodded.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
As we walked back to the main office, I asked, “Got any dinner plans tonight?”
“Bringer, please tell me you’re not asking me out on a date,” she challenged, though with a hint of amusement.
“What, are you kidding?” I countered, holding the door to the office open for her. “Hell, I’m just getting hungry and was hoping that the FBI might pick up the dinner tab.”
“Keep hoping,” she replied with a gleam in her eyes. “But I’m game for something, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, I’m definitely interested,” I quipped, to which she looked at me with a surprised expression.
It satisfied me to no end to catch her off guard like that.
We barely made it through the door and into the office before a loud booming noise sounded and the building rumbled with a series of small reverberations.
Everyone in the room momentarily froze in place.
“What the hell was
that
?” Agent Collins demanded.
One of the office phones rang, followed closely by two more. Agent Foster answered the one closest to him as Denton and Tevin appeared through the small doorway into Denton’s office.