Street Justice (8 page)

“Nah, this place is great, it has character,” Steve replied, downing the rest of his beer and signaling for another round.

“That guy at the end of the bar keeps giving people low fives,” Adrian says, “and half the customers sound like they have horrible allergies.”

“Gonna bust them all for drugs?” Steve laughed, but stopped, “Seriously Adrian, don’t. I just want to have a drink.”

Adrian surveyed the room, then looked back at Steve, “Fine, besides I’ve already had half a beer and according to the FBI manual, rule 34.3(b), I am not supposed to attempt to enforce any laws under the influence.” Adrian who was in his standard uniform of a suit and tie sat bolt upright on his stool trying to touch as little as possible. He reached out and grabbed his glass, wincing at the slight hesitation it took to lift it as the glass stuck to the wooden bar top.

“That’s a good boy,” Steve said to Adrian as the bartender set down Steve’s fresh beer and shot. Taking the shot down in one gulp, then took a large swig of the beer and asked, “So, to get back to my earlier question, what’s new?”

Adrian set his glass back down and said, “Not much. I should be asking you shouldn’t I? The FBI only brings you when it needs some special work?” Adrian let a wry smile cross his lips as he said “special work.” Truth was that Steve was a specialist and was only brought in when needed.

“Tell you the truth, I don’t know much either. They asked me to come in for a new case they say is just taking shape. Normally I want more structure before I fly in but then Sam said you might need some help with the gooey duck situation and I couldn’t let you down.” Now it was Steve’s turn to smile.

“I’m guessing this is what tomorrow morning’s meeting is all about,” Adrian said.

“I guess so,” Steve agreed.

“Well then, I guess we’d better head home and hit the hay, it is an eight o’clock meeting,” Adrian offered.

“Feel free. I’ll see you in the morning,” Steve responded then upended his beer, finishing it in two giant gulps and signaling the bartender for a new round.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Adrian said as much to himself as Steve while shaking his head. He reached toward his pocket to get out a few dollars to pay for his beer.

“I gotcha man,” Steve offered, “See you in the morning.”

“Good night.” With that Adrian turned and walked from the bar, happy to be out of the dingy surroundings but happy his friend was back.

“Good morning sunshine,” Steve beamed to Adrian as Adrian walked up to his own cubicle. Steve sat on Adrian’s desk rather than the chair. He seemed chipper and it was impossible to tell he’d been drinking as hard as he had the night before.

“Good morning,” Adrian replied, “You close down the bar last night?”

“Yeah, you guys only allow them to stay open until two.”

“Oh, the humanity,” Adrian mocked.

“Actually it wasn’t all bad as I did need to take it easy last night as I have this meeting this morning,” Steve playfully responded.

Adrian shook his head again. He and Steve couldn’t be more different but they meshed well and solved cases even better. “Speaking of meetings, let’s go see Sam.” Adrian dropped his briefcase on his chair since Steve was sitting on his desk, took off his coat and headed toward Sam’s office without looking back.

He knocked and was immediately greeted with a “Come in.” Adrian opened the door to Sam’s office and he and Steve entered. Sam was of average height but his love of fine food showed. Adrian had worked with Sam for five years now, and had slowly watched as Sam’s jowls crept down his face. Sam was broad, helping him carry his increasing weight well. His brown hair was still full and only starting to show flecks of gray.

If Sam’s body wasn’t in the best shape, his suits were immaculate. Sam never wore anything off the rack. All of his suits and shirts were handmade. The craftsmanship showed in the impeccable way  each article of clothing hung on Sam’s shape. Nothing bound, nothing billowed. The quality of the fit helped hide Sam’s size, throwing his double chinned face into even starker contrast.

Sam was seated behind his large oak desk when the two men entered. He took his eyes from his monitor and removed his reading glasses but did not stand. “Good morning gentlemen, how are you?”

“We’re good sir,” Adrian said formally. He had known Sam for five years and respected the man greatly. He was a great FBI agent, which was how he’d made director and led the Seattle office. Sam had always been pleasant with Adrian and a great mentor. But there was still an air of formality with their relationship. Adrian stood at what the military would call ease, feet slightly spread, hands behind his back but still far more rigid than most people naturally stand.

“I hear you had a bit of a dust up at the harbor yesterday,” Sam asked.

“You might say that sir,” Adrian said. Sam shifted his gaze from Adrian to Steve.

Steve stood in his perpetually relaxed stance. His feet were slightly apart, like Adrian’s, but instead of having his hands folded behind him, he was inspecting the finger nails of his right hand. He looked up and broke into a good natured grin. “A dust up is over selling it, just a couple of local kids with caps guns, nothing to get worked up over.”

Sam cocked his head and responded, “That’s not what the write up says.”

“I don’t do the write ups,” Steve shrugged. Sam looked over to Adrian who also shrugged.

“Fine, whatever, the job is done and there is more than enough evidence to justify the fight, convict the two dead men and lead us to a whole lot more. Good job,” Sam looked at Adrian and gave him a quick smile. He didn’t send a smile toward Steve but if Steve noticed or cared he didn’t show it. “Now on to why we’re here.” Sam indicated the two chairs across from him. They were standard metal chairs in the industrial gray-green paint that only seemed to show up in government buildings. The seat and seat back were minimally padded in a brown pleather.

Steve and Adrian took their seats and Sam proceeded, “We’re working with the DEA on a major drug importer. They are handling the drug trafficking side of things, which isn’t our jurisdiction. We are in charge of the money, where it comes from and how they are getting it off shore.”

“Sir, I’m not sure we are the team for this,” Adrian protested, “We have more experienced agents in drug cases, why don’t you put them on it?”

“I did,” Baskin and Schroyer have been working this case for two months now with nothing,” Sam replied.

“Great sir, you know what this is going to do to my reputation in the office,” Adrian half asked, half stated. Taking a case over from another agent was taboo in FBI politics. At best, what it said to the original agent was that they were not smart enough to handle the case and the taking agent had the ego to believe they could do better. At worst, if the case was about to be solved and the new agent took it, they were taking the glory without doing the work.

“I know what you’re thinking and this isn’t the case this time, figuratively or literally,” Sam assured, “You’re not coming in here asking for the case, I’m taking it and giving it to you.”

“Sir you know as well as I do, no one will believe that. And most won’t even bother to ask, they’ll simply know Baskin and Schroyer were on the case and now I am and assume it is because I horned in,” Adrian repeated his objection.

“Then you’ll take it because I’m ordering you to,” Sam’s voice rose slightly making this an order. Adrian paused for a moment, his mouth open but not saying anything.

“Sir, I don’t think this is a case for me,” Steve interjected into the silence. Both men turned their heads toward Steve who proceeded, “I don’t think I’m a good fit for this mission and my skill set isn’t going to be valuable here. I think I’ll decline your invitation to join.” Blood rushed to Adrian’s face. Not only was he being forced onto this case but now Steve was bailing on him, leaving him alone to track down the dealer’s money trail, but also to face the glares of those in the office.

“Steve, you know why we need you. We will only be able to solve so much of this sitting in the office. If it could have been solved in the office Baskin and Schroyer would have solved it, or at least gotten farther than they did,” Sam explained.

Steve held Sam’s eyes for a moment, then, very calmly and at a pace slightly slower than his usual, as if explaining a complex issue to a child, “I understand that sir. I also understand my skill set is unique, as in you don’t have another resource, which is why you pay me what you pay me. I understand I am a key piece to this case and that without me, there is little chance that the case will come to a successful conclusion. And I do not believe, with how we all picture the political environment going forward with the situation as it is, that I would like to participate in the case. Since I am a contractor you cannot order me to.”

All three men sat in silence for a moment while Steve’s words sunk in. Moments later Adrian’s heart rate returned to a calm state and the blood left his face. His ears no longer burned. Steve wasn’t abandoning him. Steve knew he was needed, and if he said he would not participate, then Sam would have to change his tact. Adrian, he could order to like it but he had to appease Steve or lose him. Sam’s eyes darted between Adrian and Steve. Steve smiled, not blinking. Adrian maintained eye contact but his face was tight, waiting to see how Steve’s gambit played out.

Finally Sam let out a sharp breath, “Fine, I’ll make this right.” Sam pushed the intercom button on his desk. The intercom was connected to a speaker system throughout the building. “Agents Baskin and Schroyer, please come see me,” Sam said into the intercom. He released the button, looked at Steve, who was still smiling and relaxed, then to Adrian. “I do not like being pushed around like this. This better not become a habit.”

Adrian went to say, “No sir” but then realized that he hadn’t done anything. While Sam was looking and talking at him, it was Steve who had forced his hand, not him. He also knew there was no way he could speak for Steve. Steve was a great guy, someone he trusted even more now, a man who had saved his life twice, but that did not make him predictable or controllable.

Adrian looked over at Steve. Steve shifted his gaze from Sam to Adrian. Their eyes met. Adrian widened his eyes and gave a slight nod, as if to say, “Well, answer him.” Either Steve did not understand, which was unlikely, or did not care, much more likely. Instead of answering Sam, he parroted Adrian’s actions, widening his eyes and giving a slight nod toward Sam, then snorting a small chuckle.

“Something funny?” Sam asked. Adrian shot upright, snapping to seated attention, head facing straight forward but before he could answer, Agents Baskin and Schroyer walked in.

“You wanted to see us sir?” Baskin asked. Baskin and Schroyer were an uncommon team in the FBI world in that they were both women. There were few enough women in the bureau so to have two of them teamed together was very rare, usually they were spread around. Baskin was 5’ 6” with dark brown hair. While not unattractive, she would not stand out in a crowd either. Her dark gray skirt suit did not help distinguish her. Then again, Adrian guessed it was all part of a well-coordinated effort to blend in and not be seen in crowds.

“Yes Agent Baskin, I wanted to let you know that Agent Massie will be taking over operation Cash Cab,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“What? Sir, that’s bullshit and you know it, we’ve put a lot of hours in on this, and I think we’re getting close,” Schroyer protested. Unlike her partner, Agent Schroyer was not going to blend in anywhere. She had bright red, curly hair, cut short, that would almost make her look cute or comical, if not attached to the rest of her body. Agent Schroyer stood just shy of six feet and she was a fitness addict. She wore a well cut blue pinstriped pant suit that highlighted her strong physique.

Sam chuckled, which caused Agent Schroyer to cock her head slightly. “I try not to pull cases from agents, but without fail, those cases I do pull are always ‘getting close’ to being solved.” Agent Schroyer opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. “Anyway, you two got assigned to this case before Steve here,” Sam nodded toward Steve, “was available. He is available now. His skill set and our ability to throw him under the bus should something go wrong mean I need him on this case. He won’t work without Agent Massie. I don’t need all four of you on this. That means if you want to blame anyone, blame Steve.”

Both women pivoted their heads to look at Steve who still sat there with a smile on his face. They shot him daggers from their eyes. He responded with a quirky smile and a couple of nods of his head as if to say, “Yeah, it’s my fault, you can dislike me, and I’m good with that.” It had never crossed Adrian’s mind that Sam might use Steve because he could make him a scapegoat if anything went wrong or that he would use him as the scapegoat here. But Steve seemed to understand this and be at peace with it.

              After a pause of a few seconds, Agent Baskins spun on her heel and left without a word. Agent Schroyer followed directly behind her. Steve watched them walk out of the room then shifted his attention to Sam and asked, “OK, where do we need to start?” as if nothing had happened.

              Sam proceeded, “We’ll get you the full file from Agents Schroyer and Baskin, but as you know, Seattle is a major port, and the only major port in the area for the US. If you want to import drugs into the northwest, you do it through Seattle. That also means that a good amount of it ends up on the streets here. Basically, a guy who is street level may only be two levels from the source here in Seattle, while that guy who is on the street in Des Moines is about ten.