Bad Blood (37 page)

Gibbons saw red. “Listen, pal, I was out in the field catching lead when you were still wearing short pants in prep school. Don't tell
me
what the Bureau stands for. It stands for catching bad guys and bringing them to justice, not creating paperwork in the office and not watching your ass all the time just so you can worm your way up to the next promotion.”

Ivers slapped the desk. “You're out of line, Gibbons.”

Gibbons pounded the desk. He'd been dying to tell this guy off. “Three-hundred-and-twelve people were trapped on that ship, fifty-nine had already gone into shock from dehydration when the Coast Guard started popping trunks. Mrs. D'Urso was so shook up on the scene, Tozzi was able to get her to tell us where her husband kept his records, and as a result, twelve-hundred more slaves were
located and freed this weekend. Carmine Antonelli was arrested on a charge that'll probably stick for a change. John D'Urso didn't get to kill his boss, which you can bet would've set off the kind of gang war this town hasn't seen since Lucky Luciano was around. And on top of all that, the yakuza doesn't have a foothold in New York anymore. Is all this the result of your able leadership, Ivers? Not on your fucking life. All
you
know how to do is suck up to the Director and write reports.
We
know how to get results.”

“Easy, Gib,” Tozzi said.

“Yes, you got results,” Ivers shouted back. “But not by the book. Not our book. You withheld vital information from the Bureau while you conducted the investigation your way.”

“It all came down so fast,” Tozzi cut in. “There wasn't a whole lot of time for writing up reports. We took the only sensible course of action.”

“Cut the bullshit, Tozzi. You guys endangered hundreds of lives doing things your way. It wasn't sensible. It was bullshit.”

Gibbons was sorely tempted to say it right there and then, but he still wasn't sure yet. Instead he looked past Ivers, out the window. “Oh, go scratch, will ya?” he muttered.

Ivers pointed his finger in Gibbons's face. “You know, the only reason you're so goddamn arrogant, Gibbons, is that you're riding high with all this hoopla. You know we can't touch you right now. God forbid if the two big heroes were ever disciplined. I can hear the editorials now if we tried it. It's like goddamn blackmail. And this isn't the first time you've done this to me.”

That's it. Gibbons sat forward on the edge of his seat and stuck
his
finger in
Ivers's
face. “Well, if I'm such a goddamn thorn in your side, maybe I should quit. How about that? I'll quit and you can go back to fucking things up your own way. That okay with you, Ivers? Will that make you happy?”

Ivers was seething. “That would make me
very
happy.”

“Fine.” Gibbons got up and knocked his chair over as he did. He walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Tozzi looked at the door in shock. Gibbons, the black of shoe, the white of shirt, the straight of arrow, mouthing off to a SAC? He never thought he'd see the day. He looked at Ivers. “Ah, maybe we should continue this later when we're all a little cooler.”

“Oh, don't worry about that, Tozzi. We certainly will continue this
later. You can count on it.” Ivers's tone was sarcastic and ominous. He started shuffling through files, making himself busy all of a sudden, which was obviously Tozzi's cue to get lost. He
was
an asshole.

Tozzi left Ivers's office and went directly to Gibbons's cubicle where he found his partner sitting with his feet up on his desk and his fingers linked over his mouth as if he were praying. Tozzi expected him to be fuming. Actually he looked more sad than mad.

“Hey, Gib, you're not serious about quitting, are you?” Tozzi pulled up a chair and sat down.

Gibbons rolled his eyes at Tozzi, then blinked and sighed. Tozzi didn't like the implication of his not answering.

“Ivers is an asshole. Putting up with his crap is just part of the job. You know that.”

“Yeah . . . I know that.”

Gibbons was almost whispering he was so subdued. This wasn't like him. Normally he'd be cussing Ivers up and down. What the hell was with him? “Listen, let Ivers cool down a little, then I'll go back and talk to him. We'll go in together later this afternoon, listen to his crap, make nice, and be done with it. What the hell, just make him feel like he's on top. That's all he wants—”

“How's your girlfriend, Toz?”

“What?”

“Roxanne. How is she?”

“She's okay. But what's she got to do with anything?”

Gibbons nodded behind his folded hands. “She's a nice girl. Don't be stupid. Be nice to her.”

“What're you talking about?”

“Just listen to me. Be nice to her. Don't ever hurt her. You'll regret it.”

Tozzi sighed. Now he knew what this was all about. “My dear cousin Lorraine. She's on your ass again about retiring, right?”

Gibbons let out a long sigh. “I haven't talked to her since she walked off the car lot the other day. She's not answering the phone.” He picked up a ball-point pen off his desk and clicked it a few times. “She's right to be pissed off at me. I don't blame her.”

“So you're gonna quit the Bureau to keep her happy? Come on, Gib. That's crazy.”

“You know, when I was laid up in the hospital, I gave some pretty serious thought to getting married. I gave it a
lot
of thought. We need
some stability, something more permanent. We're not getting any younger. Me especially. What am I gonna do when I get out of this job? What if I got real sick, bedridden like I was? Who's gonna take care of me? Who'd take care of Lorraine, for that matter? You?”

“You're getting maudlin, Gib. Either that or senile.”

“Go ahead, make jokes, Tozzi. You can laugh ‘cause you're still young.” He started clicking the pen again. It was beginning to aggravate Tozzi.

“What are you saying here? You want to retire now? Go settle down in some leisure village with my cousin? Is that what you're thinking?”

He looked Tozzi in the eye. “I don't want to lose her.”

“You mean she gave you an ultimatum? If you don't quit the Bureau, she walks out of your life forever?”

Gibbons shut his eyes and shook his head solemnly. “No, I told you. I haven't talked to her about this at all. This is what
I'm
thinking.”

Tozzi's heart was beating fast. He didn't want to lose his partner. “You better go see a doctor. You're definitely not yourself.”

Gibbons put his feet on the floor and threw the pen on the desk. Tozzi waited for the nasty remark. It didn't come. What the hell's gotten into him?

“Just give me a straight answer, Gib. Just tell me. Are you quitting or not? I have to know.”

Gibbons smiled like a crocodile, a born-again crocodile, a crocodile holding onto new wisdom, a crocodile who'd seen the light . . . a crocodile with no fucking bite. “Later,” he said, moving around his desk. “I gotta go to the john.”

He walked out and left Tozzi sitting alone in his cubicle. Tozzi's brow was furrowed. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't because it was almost lunchtime. He picked up the pen from Gibbons's desk and started to click it.

Bad Blood

All Rights Reserved © 1989, 2008 by Anthony Bruno

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Originally published by Putnam's

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ISBN: 978-0-786-75339-0

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