Chapter 8
FROM THE CORNER OF his eye, Chambers saw Pendergast turn toward him and raise an eyebrow.
“Approved it?” Estevez asked. “Without my knowledge?”
“Sir, it’s been pretty clear to all of us in the office that morale has been declining under ASAC Urbanski.”
“You, of all people—talking to me of morale?”
Chambers felt his cheeks flame. “That’s… exactly why I was afraid you’d veto it. Respectfully, sir, I do indeed have the authority as senior agent to authorize an operation like this.”
Estevez stared at Chambers a long time. Chambers looked down, then up, then down again. It was impossible to read the FO head’s expression.
Chambers hadn’t intended to speak out or jump to Pendergast’s defense like that. Half an hour ago, he hadn’t given a shit about anything except whether he’d make it until tomorrow without offing himself. He hardly understood what he’d done, or why.
Pendergast spoke into the silence. “Perhaps it’s time to open that envelope?”
Estevez looked at Pendergast, then Chambers, then at Urbanski and Fulsom.
“If you open that,” Fulsom said, “I promise you, my attorneys will come down on the FBI like a ton of bricks for violating my privacy rights, assaulting my person, and taking my property.”
That, perversely, seemed to make up Estevez’s mind. With a nasty look at Fulsom, he tore open the envelope. A small videotape fell out, sealed in plastic, with an FBI evidence tag affixed to it.
In the freezing silence, Estevez calmly pressed a button, then spoke to his secretary in the outer office.
“Would you send two agents in here, please—each with a set of handcuffs? There are two individuals to be taken into custody.” He hung up and, in a low monotone, recited Miranda warnings to each man in turn.
The two agents arrived just as he’d finished, and under his supervision—hardly able to restrain their own surprise—they put Fulsom and Urbanski in handcuffs and led them out.
Now Estevez turned his eyes back on Chambers and Pendergast.
“I’m senior partner, sir,” Chambers said, doing his best not to babble.
“I’m ghosting Agent Pendergast. Although I’ve admittedly been doing a piss-poor job of it, his actions are still my responsibility, and if there’s any blame to go around here, it should fall on me.
That’s… well, that’s all I wanted to say, sir. ”
Estevez looked at him with hooded eyes. Then he turned to Pendergast, almost as if Chambers had never spoken.
“Decker’s the reason I took you on. He’s also the reason I assigned you to Chambers here.
You don’t fit the FBI mold—that’s putting it politely—and Chambers is more open-minded than most around here. And he was a good agent… once.”
There was an excruciating silence before Estevez continued.
“Maybe he can be one again.” He took a breath; pondered a minute; took another.
“Here’s the deal. I know you have friends in high places.
Decker told me that. He also told me you have a problem with authority.
Well, as it turns out, I have a problem with insubordination.
You ran this sting operation in my FO, under my nose, without my authorization.
So what we now have on our hands is a big—fucking—problem. ”
Estevez pierced them each in turn with his eyes.
“Pendergast, I don’t care who your guardian angel is—this is my crib.
Try another stunt like this and I’m not only pulling your badge and gun, but writing up a report even Mike Decker can’t wipe clean.
As for you, Chambers, I’d hate to see your illustrious career end in early termination—with prejudice. Questions?”
This closing word echoed loudly through the room with no response.
“In that case, both of you get the hell out.”
Pendergast and Chambers began to turn.
“Shall I put Agent Pendergast on the Shattered Shield case with me, sir?” Chambers asked, thinking it better late than never to show some responsibility.
“I don’t mean out of this office. I mean out of this building. Grab some rat-shit investigation that will take you both far out of town. I don’t want to see either of your sorry asses in here for at least seven days. Take the time to get your attitudes straight. Or! Else!”