Crucible, p.37
CRUCIBLE, page 37
At least Foresight had been completed with great success.
A notable bright spark like a lone lighthouse shining through the dark and murky waters.
The situation with Special Affairs was out of my control. It had been since the beginning.
But Rick going dark, that was another story entirely. I should’ve been able to pull him back from the brink. I should’ve reacted quicker, reacted harder, tightened the proverbial leash on him, at least until he’d finally given in and allowed himself to deal with what had happened the night of the invasion. I should’ve been able to stop it before it had escalated, before he’d gone too far. Before he’d become unsalvageable.
What he’d done to Rupert and the staff up at the NTF had been bad enough, but finding out what he’d done to Kara that had occurred even before that… I couldn’t get it out of my head. Her suffering through that, him taking her power away like that, making her a victim, subjecting her to that depraved abuse. She’d been putting on a brave face, but she had unloaded some of how she was feeling about it, the incident itself, and what had happened in that alley.
The night I’d gotten my ass kicked.
Because I’d fucking well hesitated.
The moment that had happened, it had given Rick the major advantage. And being who he was, possessing the skills he did, there was no way to come back from that once that happened.
I’d let the fact that he’d been one of us, that he’d been by my side, cloud my judgment.
Maybe it was more than even that. Maybe that massacre at Jezebel’s had hit me harder than I’d allowed myself to admit.
I could do the down and dirty work for the agency, for the good of the city, do what needed to be done, but I always had time in between to properly compartmentalize it and any possible fallout. Rick going down this fucked-up path hadn’t given me that time.
It was a goddamn mess and it really wasn’t going to go down well with Stover. In fact, I was sure it would be at the top of his list of things to ream me out for. A rogue agent, especially one with Rick’s capabilities, was no minor matter. They wouldn’t see that I’d managed to keep him in line for years on end, or all the things I’d been able to accomplish with him as a top asset to the agency. All they would see was the recent failing, of him turning now.
A light rap sounded on my office door.
I eyed my watch. Right on time for Stover.
I got a pleasant surprise when a playful knock followed on the heels of the first.
I smiled to myself, knowing it well. “Come in, Paul.”
He chuckled as he entered. “I’m that obvious?”
“Your amusing knocks have become distinctive.”
“Damn, the mystery has gone out of our relationship already.”
“It would seem so.”
He walked up to my desk. As he stopped a foot from it, his lightheartedness gave way to clear anxiousness. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in here with better news.” He thumbed the door. “That SAU suit just arrived. I saw him on my way in, waiting in the lobby. I’m sure the front desk will be buzzing you any second to let you know.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“No problem.”
He hesitated, then turned to go.
“Paul,” I called out.
He spun back to me. “Yeah?”
“What did you actually come in here to say?”
He winced at being caught out, being so readable.
“I just… I’ve been wanting to tell you… what happened with Rick… it wasn’t your fault.”
“And you were scared to tell me this, why?”
“The way he hurt you, how close you were, the asset he was to you and the agency… I know it’s a sore topic.”
“That’s my burden to bear, not yours.”
“Okay, well, you need to know that you did everything you could to keep him on the right path. That’s actually the consensus among the staff.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I hated to admit it, but him putting the words out there had me realizing just how much I’d needed to hear it.
“No worries.”
He turned to go again.
I ground my jaw, hesitating, much to my chagrin. Just say it.
“You want to get a drink after?”
He spun around, his surprise blatantly clear. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, shifting my weight in my chair. “Doyle’s Tavern?”
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“Once in a while I make an exception.”
A smile spread across his face, his eyes lighting up as he obviously realized what I was doing—or trying to do at the very least. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good. It’s a go then.”
He grinned.
“What?”
“It’s a go? This being about you trying to learn to loosen up, you might want to avoid phrases like that. You know, the same ones we use when we’re talking about a project or an op?”
“Duly noted.”
He chuckled. “I’ll meet you there?”
“Yeah. I should be finished up with the suit within an hour. At least, according to the meeting invite I was forced to accept—a one-hour block of time.”
“Lovely.”
“Should be.”
“Good luck. Although, you don’t really need it. Everybody knows you can talk your way out of anything.”
Let’s hope so.
We exchanged a chin lift, then he took off out of my office, leaving me to center myself for a few moments before my meeting with Stover.
And so it begins.
53
~Adam~
FOR THE GREATER GOOD.
That was what I was keeping my focus on as I forced myself to swallow down the insult of this meeting with the twenty-five year old kid strolling into my office, full of a fuck-ton of swagger and confidence. Possibly, arrogance. I’d know soon enough.
“Have a seat, Deputy Director,” I said in my nicest possible tone, gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of my desk.
Tablet in hand, he took a seat, his eyes on me the entire time with a mixture of intrigue and wariness. That was about right.
He noted my aviators resting atop my hair, his gaze moving down to my military jacket, taking in the dog tags resting on my white tee, then eyeing my Beretta holstered at the hip of my tactical pants.
The gun made him nervous and he tried unsuccessfully to cover it up by looking down at his tablet as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. He shifted his weight, his navy tailored suit straining because it was so ridiculously tight, pulling taut across his lean body. He was average height, five-foot-ten at the most. His platinum-blond hair was styled with a shit-ton of mousse in some sort of perfect presentation, not a single hair out of place.
Interesting. Just a cursory glance could reveal so much about a person.
“So, let’s get down to it, shall we?” he finally spoke.
I clasped my hands on my desk. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
He offered a polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “As my colleagues made you aware, the Civilian Security Agency is currently under review. Despite being an independent organization straddling the line between police and military, the CSA is not fully exempt from oversight, especially not by us.”
“I’ve been made acutely aware of that fact.”
“There are parameters you are required to operate within and these parameters may have been violated, according to reports we’ve received.”
“What’s the source?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Source?”
“Of the reports.”
“I can’t reveal that.”
“As I’m sure you can imagine, the CSA’s very nature, its mission statement, creates a lot of animosity among the criminal elite. We have many enemies. So, should the source of these reports have come from—”
“The reports didn’t come from within Roburn,” he cut in. “And the source is reputable.”
“I see.” His impetuousness and his unwillingness to have his reason for being here called into question, had just unwittingly narrowed my list of suspects down significantly. For one thing, the source coming from outside the city and being reputable meant it was highly likely it was somebody with a grudge against me directly, not any of my agents, or even the agency itself.
It was personal.
And there were very few people left alive in that category.
“Now that’s been cleared up, can we get down to it, Commander?” he asked with an obvious edge.
He was in my office, in my agency, yet he clearly thought he was in charge. I’d allow him to believe that for a little while longer. Misperception and arrogance invited mistakes.
“Absolutely,” I said, leaning back in my chair and affecting a cool and casual demeanor. “Go right ahead, Deputy Director.”
“I’m gonna be here for a while. Call me Ben.”
“Can you be more specific, Ben?”
“On what?”
“On what a while means to you and Special Affairs?”
“That depends on the extent of your cooperation.” He smirked. “Adam.”
He was a ballsy bastard.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind that I could respect.
He scrolled on his tablet for a few moments, then looked up at me again. “So, I’m required to conduct an interview with you first and foremost. Afterward, I’ll move on to evaluating your employees, your operations, general conduct, to obtain a detailed picture on how you truly run things. If I identify any deficiencies or violations, I’ll put forth a proposal to correct them. However, if any of these qualify as severe violations, the CSA’s operations will be terminated until they are dealt with. If that proves impossible, Direct Waters will consider a merger.”
“If the latter occurs, I’ve been assured I’ll maintain full operational control.”
“Yes, I saw the document.” He shook his head. “Rather underhanded, wouldn’t you say? To go around me before we’d even begun?”
“It was simply a case of taking precautions. Non ducor, duco.”
“Latin? I’m not familiar. What does it mean?”
My gaze drilled into his. “I am not led, I lead.”
I saw him swallow hard.
It took him a moment to get past it, before he shifted his weight awkwardly, then told me, “Well, if you think that’s going to be an excuse to dismiss my investigation, let me caution you.” He leaned forward, his eyes hard, as his role had now been called into question again. He was ridiculously sensitive about it. “If you fail to cooperate and things do go the way of a merger, know that obtaining full operational control could end up meaning nothing but you remaining on as a figurehead, with the SAU controlling things behind the scenes. Once that takes effect, there’s no amount of influence that you or any of your friends can employ to alter it.”
I smiled. He wanted me to believe that, to believe he actually had that power. Unfortunately for him, he’d just identified himself as a threat. “Well said. Stakes understood.”
He studied me for a moment, clearly trying to gauge whether I was bullshitting him.
Of course I was.
He gave up trying to get a read on me, then tapped his tablet and said, “Let’s begin the interview.” As he shifted his weight, I got a look at the screen, seeing a bulleted list. Talking points and questions. “You’ve been Commander of the Civilian Security Agency for eight years, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you joined a year prior, learned the ropes.”
“Yes.”
“At twenty-nine years of age you were tapped for the Commander role. A lot of responsibility thrust upon the shoulders of somebody so young.”
“It wasn’t thrust on me. I chose it.”
“Still, it’s a lot for one person to bear.”
“I have a good group of people around me.”
“The CSA’s results are indisputable and, up until receiving these recent reports of misconduct, the agency’s record has been impeccable. Not one misstep, not one complaint, not one error in judgment in the full eight years that you’ve been Commander.” His eyes bored into mine. “Your record is too clean. It’s just one of many red flags.”
“And what are the others, pray tell?”
“We’ll get to that.”
Little shit.
He scrolled on his tablet for a few moments, before looking up and continuing with his ridiculous interview. “The CSA has murdered men during your tenure as Commander, yes?”
“Murdered?”
“Whatever you military guys call it. The use of lethal force.”
I gritted my teeth. Disrespectful fucker. “When there’s no alternative, it can come down to that.”
“How many?” he pushed, his fingers poised over his tablet to take down the number.
“Off-hand, I couldn’t say, but the information is readily available in our well-kept records.”
“Personally then? You know that number, don’t you?”
“I’m ex-military.”
“I know. A sniper. A very good one, apparently. But those records are sealed for some reason.”
For some reason. His inexperience was showing. “I don’t know the number.”
“How is that possible?”
I smiled, but there was no humor in it.
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled my lighter out and began flicking the lid open and closed. “If that was relevant, Waters would’ve found a way to access my military records. Suffice to say, yes, I’ve had to use lethal force, both during my time in the military and with the CSA. Let’s move on.”
“Do you feel remorse?”
“Remorse?”
“For taking those lives?”
“Only a monster wouldn’t.”
“Have you ever used lethal force without authorization during your tenure with the CSA?”
I managed to school my reaction as suspicion sung. Did he know something?
“Yes,” I answered.
The corner of his mouth turned up, thinking he’d got me. “Is that right?”
“There isn’t always time for authorization. In the moment, during combat, things happen. It’s why I have strict rules of engagement that myself and my field agents follow to a T.”
That gleeful look subsided. “I see,” he said, as he noted it down. “I’m going to need access to all reports of those missions.”
“Absolutely. I’ll have them sent to you.”
“Good. Now, I understand that the Circle wants to authorize lethal force on one of your former agents.”
“That’s the favored option to reduce collateral damage and harm to the CSA and the city populace.”
“I’ll need to review the request and have Director Waters do the same.”
Acting at a snail’s pace when it came to this sort of thing was incredibly dangerous and one of the things I’d been seriously concerned about, bureaucracy’s hindrance on our ability to act in real-time.
“Going forward, any such orders will go through the SAU immediately and only us. I have the paperwork for you to complete following our meeting. The same documents are being sent to all members of the Circle as well.”
“I’ll need to see a complete list of any proposed procedural changes and evaluate their effectiveness myself. Often things that work well on paper, don’t hold up well in reality, especially not in the field.”
“Adam, I—”
“I have full operational control.”
“Yes, you do, but—”
“And only a figurehead would have no say in such changes.”
Our eyes locked, his narrowing at me turning his words from earlier against him.
“Fine. I’ll see to it.”
“Good.”
“Back to the subject of your former agent, Rick Walker. He’s been classified as rogue.”
“For a week now.”
“I understand his special abilities present a high-level threat to both the CSA and the City of Roburn as a whole. A week he’s been out there unchecked and you’re still no closer to apprehending him.”
“It’s a complicated situation.”
“Is it? Or have you lost control of the situation?”
“I’m in control.”
“Tell me, in your opinion, why did Walker defect?”
“The work we do can change a person. He snapped.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“I think you’ll find everything you need to know in my report.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Rick became addicted to the fight. He lost sight of the mission, his need for the thrill and his power-hungry nature superseded all else. He got a taste of the dark and he let it consume him.”
“Do you think you could have done anything different to prevent him from defecting and becoming a rogue agent?”
“No.”
“You lost control of the situation, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Your decision-making was compromised by your obsessive need to take down Tempest, wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely not. And there’s no obsession.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re a workaholic.”
“A very good thing for those counting on me to lead this agency.”
“That depends on the reasoning behind it.”
“It’s dedication.”
“So, you wouldn’t say that you’re driven by the obsessive need to destroy the organization that ordered the murder of your wife and unborn child?”
Son of a bitch. My fingers dug into the warm metal of my lighter. “No.”
“You wouldn’t say that you’re prepared to do anything, cross any line, sacrifice lives to achieve vengeance?”
“If that was the case, do you really think I would have taken almost a decade to do it?” Fool. “The takedown of Tempest is all about the long-haul. To avoid catastrophic collateral damage, it needs to be done strategically, systematically, carefully. It’s an incredibly complicated undertaking. So, no, commanding the CSA in that mission couldn’t be accomplished by an out-of-control, blood lusting, vengeance-driven, psychopath, as you seem so intent on painting me as.”
