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“That’s not my job, but I have no doubt, based on this article, that the Justice Department and the FBI are already in the process of doing just that.”
“Yeah, I wonder if anyone in this building gave them a head start.”
“Don’t make this about me,” Adams said in a sad voice.
“Fuck you.”
“Mike,” Kennedy said forcefully.
“This is bullshit,” Nash said directly to Kennedy. “I want to know how many terrorists this waste of sperm has captured. How many people in his office have been killed in the line of duty since nine-eleven?”
“This isn’t about me, Mr. Nash.” Adams shook his head and casually flicked a piece of lint from his pants leg.
“No, it sure the hell isn’t, because I can’t think of a single thing that you’ve done to protect the American people from another attack.”
“We all have our role to play,” said Adams.
“Some more important than others.”
Adams sighed as if he was bored. “I’m not going to allow you to bait me into a fight when I have nothing to do with this.”
“The hell you don’t.” Turning back to Kennedy, Nash asked, “I wanna know if I’m under investigation by the Gestapo here.”
Before Kennedy could answer, Adams said, “That’s none of your business.”
“What about my rights?”
“You surrendered them the day you walked through the front door.”
“What about you? Who investigates you?”
Adams laughed. “That’s funny, Mr. Nash. Who investigates me?” He shook his head. “I don’t need to be investigated. I play by the rules.”
“Spoken like a true sociopath.”
“Let’s just calm down,” Kennedy cautioned.
Nash’s headache got worse. He looked at the woman he’d always respected and suddenly lost his patience. “Fuck this.”
“Excuse me?” Kennedy was shocked.
“This is all a bunch of bullshit. You’re telling me to calm down. I saw the front page of the Post. It’s all a bunch of lies, but it doesn’t matter. The politicians are going to want to burn someone at the stake and this little smug prick here is trying to offer me up.”
“There is no need to talk to me like that.”
“You’re scum, all right. You’re a traitor to your own country.” Looking back at Kennedy he said, “How much do you want to bet he’s one of the anonymous sources mentioned in the Post story?”
Adams stood abruptly. “I don’t need to take this. My work here is above reproach, and I for one have done nothing to embarrass this agency.” Adams started for the door, and as he passed Nash, he said, “I doubt you can make the same claim.”
Nash’s right hand shot out and grabbed Adam’s fleshy bicep. He spun him back around and said, “Don’t ever compare what you do around here with what I do. When you have a bad day, a file gets lost. When I have a bad day, one of my boys gets killed.”
Adams tried to pull his arm away. “Get your hands off me!”
Nash ignored him. “You’re not on the field. You’re not on the team. Hell, you’re not even in the arena. You’re at home with a bottle of beer and a bag of chips watching the game on TV, criticizing our every move, when the truth is, your fat, lazy ass wouldn’t last five minutes out there.”
“Mr. Nash!” Kennedy yelled as she stood. “That is enough.”
“It sure is.” Nash let go of Adams and started for the door. He grabbed the handle and looked across the office at Kennedy. “The next time you need someone to go to Afghanistan and get shot at, you can send this prick.” Nash yanked open the door and was gone befo
