13. This is going to be a disaster.
THIRTEEN
This is going to be a disaster.
Bailey
Tiffany raided a gas station for several gallons of diesel, mixed it with neutralizer and a bunch of other ingredients she’d gotten at a grocery store and a hardware store, and stirred it together in a bucket while whistling a merry tune.
After sealing the concoction in the bucket, she then drove me to the nearest FBI resident agency, located in Little Rock, Arkansas.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I predicted. “Shouldn’t we have gone to the police station first? We have a sealed container of napalm in the trunk. We’re going to die from gas fumes.”
“We’re not going to die from gas fumes. I used a practitioner trick to seal the bucket.
It’ll be fine. Anyway, the FBI will confirm your rank and get any badges you need here.
This is a major agency. I could’ve taken you to a closer agency, but this one will have the ability to give you a Federal badge until we can get your NYPD badge shipped in.
And since they’re giving you a broad jurisdiction, running you with an FBI badge makes sense.
Of course, they might just ask a cop to run a police badge over, but it’d be for the wrong state.
If you’re really lucky, they’ll ask an angel or demon to teleport to New York to fetch your real badge. ”
I stared at the building while Perkette drove up to the gate.
The guard watched us with interest while she leaned through the window to speak to him.
“I’m Tiffany Perkins, and this is Police Chief Bailey Quinn of the NYPD.
We need to see someone about a badge replacement and a jurisdiction issue.
It’s about a missing police officer taken out of state. ”
I had to give Perkette credit; she sounded like she meant business, and her tone implied she wouldn’t be accepting no for an answer.
“Any weapons in the vehicle?”
“No, sir. We have two animals, a husky and an ocelot. Chief Quinn has a temporary permit issued through the CDC while waiting for an official card.”
While I thought a bucket of napalm counted as a weapon, I kept my mouth shut. Technically, it wasn’t a weapon, and it wouldn’t even ignite without a lot of help. Then the reality of Perkette’s statement punched me in the gut.
I doubted I’d ever get used to anyone calling me Chief Quinn. I fought the urge to twist in my seat to look for Quinn despite knowing he wasn’t with us.
The guard pointed at a nearby lot. “Park there, go inside the building, and speak to the security desk.”
Perkette saluted the guard, waited for the gate to lift, and parked where told. “See? It’s easy to get through when you know what to say and you have the right rank. And the FBI takes badge replacements seriously. Toss in a missing officer, and they’ll be dancing to your tune in minutes.”
“More like dancing to your tune,” I muttered, gathering up Avalanche and making sure she was swaddled in her new blanket.
The kitten yawned and resumed her nap. Perkette grabbed Blizzard’s leash, and while the puppy preferred me, he wagged his tail and heeled like I’d been trying to teach him whenever I got to take him on a walk. “Good boy!”
He beat Perkette’s leg with his tail.
The gate guard must have called security about us, as the two men behind the huge desk in the lobby watched us like hawks from the moment we stepped through the doors until we reached them.
I set my kitten on the ledge, grabbed my wallet, and tossed my license onto the polished surface.
“I’m Bailey Quinn, and I need to get a temporary badge issued.
I also need to work with the FBI about a missing officer. ”
The older man, with gray streaking at his temples and a name tag that declared his name to be Eric, picked up my license. “Rank?”
“NYPD Police Chief,” I replied, wondering how the hell I’d become my husband’s equal.
“I’ve heard of a Chief Quinn, but he’s a man,” the guard said, taking my license and looking it over. “No disrespect meant, ma’am, but you’re not a man.”
“That Police Chief Quinn is my husband. I’m not offended. I’m the Police Chief Quinn who transforms into a fire-breathing unicorn.”
Both guards stopped what they were doing to stare at me.
“You’re the cindercorn from the 120 Wall Street incident,” Eric said.
Damn it. Had everyone heard about that? I sighed. “That’s me.”
“You weren’t a uniformed officer during that incident. Welcome to the force, Chief Quinn. Former CDC specialist?”
I sighed. “Thank you, I think. And yes. I worked for the CDC, and the NYPD somehow hoodwinked them out of my contract.”
“I’d say the NYPD made out like bandits to get someone like you batting for them.
All right. You’re going to need some special handling; you have clearance flags most chiefs lack, so you need a special badge issued.
There is one already made for you in New York, so we may be able to send a teleporter to retrieve it.
Please come with me.” Eric stood and gestured towards the bank of elevators behind him. “Have you been evaluated before?”
“Through the CDC.”
“What’s your rating?”
“I’m sure one day they’ll bother to tell me rather than filing shit on my behalf,” I muttered.
Eric chuckled. “The FBI has a history of doing that to us, too. Sometimes, they don’t tell us we’re cleared because we don’t need to know. We find out when they think we need to know.”
“If I need to know, I’m sure someone will tell me. I suspect I have whatever rating is the minimum for working as a chief. They haven’t removed my vanilla rating from my licenses yet.”
“Vanilla? They called someone who can transform into a cindercorn vanilla?”
“Cheaper labor that way.”
“Ouch. And I thought the FBI could be ruthless at times. That’s just harsh.”
I nodded my agreement. To my dismay, Eric swiped his security pass inside the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor before leaving Tiffany and I to fend for ourselves. “Someone will meet you in reception,” he said, and the doors closed before I had a chance to thank him.
“I feel like I’ve been invited to dinner, and the host is a cat.” I sighed. “And I can’t transform because I’ll drop my kitten.”
“You don’t need to be a unicorn for this, Bailey. You’ll be fine. They’re not arresting you. They’re helping you.”
The elevator dinged, and the door opened. I stepped out, and flash of golden light startled me into spinning around. I sucked in a breath as I almost crashed right into Quinn’s grandfather. “Devil angel,” I hissed, clutching my kitten closer. “We meet again.”
He hooked a finger into the blanket to reveal Avalanche.
“When you get something into your pretty head, you go in all the way, I see. You found a lovely ocelot.” He stroked the kitten’s head, and she nuzzled the angel.
“You’ve done well by her. A little malnourished still, but otherwise healthy. I thought you would like to know.”
Relief washed through me. “Thank you, Sylvester. I got a cold rescuing her, too. What are you doing here?”
“I am your pet sitter, and I’m also volunteering to teleport to fetch your badge, as you will need it, and getting a new one made would cost you valuable hours.”
“I would hug you, but I’m holding the kitten.” I bounced and nodded at Blizzard. “That’s Blizzard, and he’s Quinn’s puppy.”
“Hello, Blizzard,” my angelic grandfather-in-law greeted.
Blizzard sat and held out his paw to shake. The angel chuckled but obeyed the puppy’s wishes while Tiffany snapped pictures with her phone.
“Excuse me,” the receptionist said. He was an older gentleman in a suit with a badge hanging from his neck proclaiming him to be a member of the FBI. “Which one of you is Chief Quinn?”
As my grandfather-in-law had already been hired as a pet sitter, I handed him Avalanche. “Defend her with your immortal life,” I ordered before strolling to the desk, arming myself with my driver’s license. “I’m Bailey Quinn. Sorry to be a bother, sir.”
“It’s no bother. It’s admirable you’re coming out of vacation to join the search for your missing officer. We need to do some paperwork for your badge retrieval, although I see we have already acquired an angel. That’ll simplify things.”
“He’s an in-law, and I’m abusing my granddaughter-in-law privileges. I’m a wayfinder, so the sooner I can get the paperwork filed and jurisdiction issues settled, the faster I’m on the road.”
“Yes, I have a note here I’m to have you fill out jurisdiction forms for the entirety of the United States excluding Hawaii, Alaska, and territories. If you need to go to Hawaii or Alaska, come to any FBI building to fill out the forms. I’ve a note I’m to issue you a firearm as well.”
“Are all secretaries as badass as you are?” Had I missed a better calling? The FBI secretary seemed like he could probably kick my ass given any justification.
Sylvester laughed, and as always, I relaxed despite knowing the angel found me and my thoughts amusing.
“I’m actually in management, and since you were on the way, I let the actual secretary go take a break.
She’ll be back in a few minutes. If you’d follow me, I’ll take you to the conference room, and we’ll get this show on the road.
I’m Alfred, and no, I’m not a butler, nor do I have access to a cave full of special gadgets and crime-fighting tools. ”
“But is your last name Pennyworth?”
“Much to my eternal shame, anguish, and dismay, yes.”
Poor bastard. “Are you English?”
“I was born here, but my father’s British. My mother’s American,” he replied, guiding us through a maze of hallways to a spacious conference room with a massive table. A tall stack of papers waited.
“That’s a lot of paperwork.” If it was anything like the CDC’s forms, I’d be hard at work filling it out for hours.
“You have to read it, you don’t have to fill it out. Someone is printing the real forms now. It’ll take a few minutes, but we’re digitally populating the fields from what we have in your file. You just need to know what your jurisdiction rights are for every state.”