Chapter Ten
The FBI Building
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Nine A.M.
Monday
When they arrived, they were welcomed without any pushback from the people who worked there. That didn’t always happen when you came from a different city to work a case.
Only, here in Puerto Rico, the agents working the office were a friendly bunch, and they must have gotten a heads-up from their colleague, Lucas Mayfield.
Because they weren’t shocked that they were there.
On top of Lucas Mayfield alerting them, Gabe had to have made a call too.
How did they know?
Well, they each had space to work, equipment to work on, and that didn’t happen by small miracle.
It was a small office, and they were taking the only conference room as theirs.
Luckily, there were only six agents, but the tight squeeze would be manageable. The team there rotated shifts, and they handled anything that the local cops couldn’t.
Or wouldn’t.
Which didn’t seem like a whole hell of a lot. Then again, they were from a whole different world—apparently.
In Philly, you didn’t have downtime, a beach, or time to do things at your own pace.
The grind didn’t stop.
They worked on a production line, of sorts.
The cases came in, they worked them, and out they went until the next ones showed up. Sometimes, it was a balancing act, and they were good at it.
Trained in the fire, you didn’t get shocked by much. Somehow, Gene believed if these agents got hit with half the shit they did, there’d be mutiny in paradise.
Call it a hunch.
Back home, it was a grind, and all three men knew they couldn’t work here.
It would make them batshit insane.
There were only so many paperclip chains you could make sitting at your desk.
This place was distracting as hell, and not in a good way—the kind of distraction that kept a person from wanting to do their job.
First, the windows were open, and it was warm in the office. They were definitely not accustomed to the climate. Already, he was sweating.
And he didn’t like it.
Pass.
Gene was more a winter kind of a guy, and would rather be inside when the snow fell on a couch with his man. No one liked a bear sweating in the summer.
NO.
ONE.
Well, then again, Ethan liked him musky and giving off those pheromones, and he did too, so maybe sweating wasn’t so bad.
It got them both laid all of the time.
Now, as they were in the conference room, they were talking to the three agents who were on duty. They needed to get some information and the lay of the land.
“Thank you for helping us, Gentlemen,” Gene said to the agents who worked there, as Ethan and Greyson were sitting nearby at the massive conference room table.
The first agent spoke.
“No, thank you for coming off of your vacation to help,” Special Agent Angel Ramirez offered. “Gabe said you were flying in,” he said, glancing over at the two men sitting.
Greyson covered.
“We don’t mind. Ethan can head back to Utah, once we all close this,” he said, trying to make it seem like he was working this case.
He wasn’t.
If anything, he’d learned a valuable lesson with Gabe. He would stoop to all kinds of levels when it came to spying on his agents.
For all he knew, any or all of these men were spies for the big man. Call him paranoid, but he was being careful.
His job was well-defined.
He was there to see why Gabe said this office was a shitshow.
So far, it wasn’t too bad.
Oh, it was understaffed, but what office wasn’t at that point?
That was the million-dollar question—thanks to Director Moore.
AKA—the douchebag.
“We want to help figure out what happened to the agent who worked here. What can you tell us about Agent Jarod Shand?” Gene asked. “Your insights will help us cut down on some legwork. We already talked to Agent Mayfield last night on the scene.”
While he wished he could fill in the blanks himself, Gene couldn’t. It had been a while since he’d seen him, and like he’d told Ethan and Greyson, he’d only known him when he first was brought on by the FBI in training.
Another agent shared.
“He worked the homicides, mostly, but he would jump in and help any of us with other cases. We work four guys during the day, and two guys at night. Weekends, we rotate, and are on call. Jarod liked the night shift,” Agent Noe Cragen admitted.
Ethan was making notes, and so was Greyson, but just for different reasons. On the paper in front of Ethan, he had a list of agents that he’d pulled from the personnel files.
Day Shift
Agent Angel Ramirez
Agent Noe Cragen
Agent Del Torez
Agent Miguel Crespo Gonzales
Night Shift
Lucas Mayfield
Jarod Shand
They were all hoping the men on the list who weren’t dead would be able to assist them.
“So no one else worked the night shift with him, but the agent we met last night?” Gene asked, wanting to get that down in the record.
Then again, he could see Ethan’s notebook, and already, he had the names. Someone was being proactive.
The agents there nodded.
“That’s it. Lucas is the only other night shift guy. Neither like the heat, and we don’t have air conditioning here, so they preferred not to sweat. Honestly, once you get accustomed to it, you don’t mind it so much,” offered Agent Del Torez, introducing himself.
Yeah, those were words none of them would ever say to anyone.
Ever.
It was spring, but it was humid as hell.
Checking out Ethan’s list, Gene knew there was only one guy left that they hadn’t talked to yet, and that meant it had to be Agent Miguel Crespo Gonzales.
“What did you work specifically?” Gene asked the last man.
Miguel answered.
“I handle the homicides that Jarod would catch at night. He’d pass them off, and I’d pick them up and run with them. We don’t get a lot of homicides here. The local cops handle more of them. Usually, it’s cases tied to mass shootings from drug running when a boat comes ashore that was shot up.”
That was good to know.
Then Corbin and Will should be able to get some answers.
He hoped.
Del Torez was to the point.
“We think it’s shit that Jarod is dead. I’m pissed about that. The dude was a good guy,” he stated.
All the men agreed.
Yeah, that’s exactly what Ben Crowley had said last night, and Lucas Mayfield.
“We’re sorry for your friend’s death,” Gene admitted. “We’ll make sure he gets justice.”
Oh, they all hoped so, and their faces said one thing. If they didn’t, there would be four men jumping in to make sure it happened.
Gene was going to have to make sure he stayed two steps ahead of these agents, so they weren’t out trying to work this on their own.
That’s what he would do if someone he worked with died, and he’d been told he couldn’t work the case.
“What was he working on before he died?” Ethan asked. “Since he caught the homicides, what was he handling?”
They all looked at each other.
“Uh, we don’t know. You’d have to have his laptop and go in.
I know he caught something,” Miguel offered.
“There was a note on my desk the day after he picked up a homicide. He told me he was going to keep chasing this one, and would tag me in later when he had some substantial information. Something bothered him, and with Jarod, if there was one thing about him, he was like a dog to a bone. He didn’t let go easily. ”
That was a description of all good agents, and Gene knew it.
Now, he was curious.
“Can you get us his laptop and that note?” he asked. “And when did he catch the case, Agent Gonzalez?”
The man stood and considered it, trying to remember when that note showed up on his desk.
“I think it was around Wednesday last week-ish. He met with someone, and said he had to follow up. Other than that, we don’t really keep track. There’s no management here. We’re all on our own, and we handle our own caseload without a director here.”
Yeah, Greyson could see that.
And he didn’t like it.
That’s how shit fell through the cracks.
Someone needed to be tracking cases, creating files, and a spreadsheet that went to Gabe. Now, he understood why he wanted him here.
It was a mess.
“I’ll grab his laptop for you,” Miguel offered, and then headed out to the other room.
When he was gone, Ethan had more questions.
“What are you guys working on?” he asked. “And what is Agent Mayfield working on?”
The men rattled off their cases.
They ranged from guns coming in at the port to drugs being sent from the mainland of the States. There were some car theft rings, and even some money laundering.
So…
The standard.
As for the nighttime agent, that was an easy one.
“There was a suspicion of an illegal fighting ring that’s bringing in big money.
He was saying how people are being flown in from the mainland to almost fight to the death, but that’s all he mentioned,” Del offered.
“Lucas caught that one, and he is working with the local cops to see if they can figure out who’s running it. ”
Okay, that helped them.
Miguel and Jarod were handling homicides, and the rest had all the other Vice issues.
They might need to pick Miguel’s brain at some point, since he and Jarod tag-teamed homicides. It was all going to come down to the laptop, and what Jarod was working on.
Hopefully, he’d be willing to answer any questions they might have.
“What about his family?” Del asked. “Have they been notified?”
Greyson nodded.
“I spoke to Gabe last night, and he said he would contact them as soon as the ME got positive ID.”
Gene shared.
“When we found the body, Lucas ID’d him by a tattoo on his leg. So I’m sure Gabe contacted Ben, and he got the positive ID. He’s proactive when it’s one of his agents.”
Oh, they were well aware.
“I’m glad it was handled. Jarod had family back in the States, and they should know,” said Noe.
On that, they all agreed.
When Miguel came back in, he didn’t have a laptop in his hands, and Gene didn’t like that.
Not.
At.
All.
“Sorry, but it’s not here. He must have taken it home with him Friday when he left for work. He was off duty this weekend. This was Lucas’ weekend on,” he stated.
Well, shit.