We look at each other, both seeing the other’s mind racing, trying to think of and assess every conceivable outcome of a theoretical attack against that ship. No scenario ends well.
Shit!
How did the biggest naval event the city had seen in years not cross people’s minds as something Pellaggio might be interested in?
Shit! Shit! Shit!
“I think we have a very big problem,” I say.
“I think you’re right,” he agrees.
“C’mon, we’ve got to let people know.”
We rush out of the doors, not bothering to go back to our table.
This time, we did hail a cab. We pull up outside the Field Office, clamber out of the taxi, and sprint through the main doors. We ride the elevator up to the eleventh floor. The doors ding, open, and we head toward the conference room where we’ve spent much of our time. I figure people will be there or thereabouts.
We rush into the open office space, and everyone stops and turns to stare at us.
“Where’s Agent Chambers?” I ask the room, unfazed by the attention.
“She’s in a meeting,” says a female agent on the left who’s standing next to a computer terminal.
“Okay… Agent Wallis?”
“He’s with her,” she says.
“Shit. Where?” They look a little unsure about telling me. “Goddammit, where?” I shout.
“They’re in a meeting across the hall with the ASAC.”
“Thank you,” I say, running out with Josh behind me.
“Hey!” I hear them shout after us. “You can’t just…”
I ignore them. I’m not going to hang around so someone can tell me I can’t do something, when they can’t stop me from doing it.
We head back down the corridor and turn left into the larger office area. It’s bustling with the noise of activity and we move unhindered through the maze of desks toward the far end. There’s a large room with a window that runs floor to ceiling. The blinds are down but open, and I see both Chambers and Wallis sitting side by side looking unhappy. I can’t see who they’re talking to.
“C’mon,” I say to Josh.
“Adrian, maybe we should wait ‘til they’re done?” he suggests.
“Why? Pellaggio fucking won’t!”
He sighs. “Fair point…”
“Wait here if you’re going to be such a woman about it,” I shrug.
I walk over to the office and open the door without knocking. I walk in and they both turn to look at me; their faces both confused and a little embarrassed.
I quickly look around the office. It’s very nice — lots of dark wood everywhere. The desk in front of them, in particular, looks really expensive. Behind the desk is a very broad man, probably late forties. He has thick dark hair with flecks of gray above the ears. He’s leaning back in a big leather chair, his elbows resting on the arms and his fingers bridged together in front of his face, like he’s deliberating over something. He looks up at me, but doesn’t look shocked or confused — and certainly not embarrassed. He doesn’t make a gesture to stand up and he doesn’t look questioningly at either Chambers or Wallis. He simply regards me, silently.
“We have a big problem,” I announce.
“Adrian!” hisses Chambers. “Now really isn’t the time!”
“It’s alright, Agent Chambers,” interjects the man behind the desk. “It’s obviously something Adrian Hell deems to be of great importance, so let’s hear him out.”
His voice is deep and powerful. I imagine he’s used to commanding respect from people. But I pick up on something in his tone that I don’t like. I turn to Josh, who’s standing behind me just outside the room.
“Josh, was he just being sarcastic? I’m not sure,” I ask.
“A little bit, yeah,” he says, stepping inside and waving awkwardly at everyone.
“Okay, I don’t know you, therefore I don’t trust you,” I say to the man behind the desk. I make a point of turning my back on him to face the others.
“Adrian, he’s my boss,” says Chambers, quietly and more embarrassed.
“So? He’s not my boss. Listen, guys, I think I know what Pellaggio is planning.”
“What?” asks Wallis, speaking for the first time since I’d walked in.
I look at them both in turn. “I think he’s going to launch an attack on the S.S. Jeremiah O’ Brien tonight.”
21
I’ve never heard so many people say ‘Shit!’ in such a short space of time.
Pellaggio’s target is glaringly obvious. The U.S. Secretary of Defense, along with a who’s who of military and naval personnel, are going to be in the same place at the same time — aboard a ship, celebrating seventy years since we kicked ass against half the world. And because everyone was so concerned with me being the main target, no one’s thought outside the box and considered the bigger picture.
Chambers and Wallis exchange worried and frustrated glances.
“Shit!” they say in unison again.
They look at their boss, silently asking permission to leave. He thinks for a moment into his bridged fingers, then nods. They both stand but I hold my hand up to stop them.
“There’s one more thing…” I say.
Josh steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“Grace, do you trust your boss?” I ask.
She frowns and looks over at him. “Yes,” she says. “Absolutely.”
I trust her judgment and I look over at Josh, who nods his agreement.
“Okay,” I say, looking at everyone in the room in turn. “Before we left Manhattan, I asked him how Pellaggio managed to stay one step ahead of us this whole time. He said Agent Green is working for him.”
Everyone looks at each other with a mixture of disbelief and anger. I think the thought had crossed everyone’s minds about an inside man, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept when it’s proven.
“Do you believe him?” asks the ASAC. The nameplate at the front of his desk says Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge Webber.
“Yes, I do,” I say to him.
Webber looks at Chambers questioningly.
“How do you want us to handle this, sir?” she asks him.
“Get his ass in here,” he replies. “Now.”
“Can I suggest something?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says, matter-of-factly. “This is an FBI matter, and we’ll handle it. Your contributions to our investigation have proven very useful, and your methods of obtaining information for us have proven effective — if not questionable at times. But we’re capable of handling our own problems.”
“Of course you are…” I say. “So why have I been working my ass off to help you all week?”
“Make no mistake, Adrian. I signed off on your involvement on Senior Special Agent Chambers’ recommendation, but don’t think for one second I approve of it.”
“Well, luckily for me, I’m not an FBI agent, and I could give two shits about your approval. You asked for my help, and I gave it. And people around here seem grateful for it. Now, I’ve got to go and stop a terrorist from killing the Secretary of Defense, but before I do, I’d like to suggest a way of dealing with your… rat problem. End of the day, he’s putting my life in danger as well.”
We regard each other silently for a moment. I can feel the tension in the room and everyone else — even Josh — seems awkward and on edge.
“I’ve read your file,” he says, casually changing the subject. “You and I have a lot in common, you know?”
“I very much doubt that…”
“We both served — I did two tours during Desert Storm before hanging up my boots and joining the FBI.”