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“Do you have a change order?”
“No.”
“Let me do the job for which I was hired.” He ended the call without a goodbye.
He did not trust these people. He didn’t trust anyone he worked for, which was why he had survived for as long as he had as a fixer. But these people were particularly capricious and slippery.
Yet he prided himself on doing his job well, and his plan was set. Structured, but fluid enough to adapt if necessary.
Two people would die today.
Game on.
He changed the music from Tchaikovsky to Mozart. Not his favorite, but the balanced rhythm of the sonata had a wonderful centering effect on his mind.
He had a job to do, and he would do it. After all, they paid him a lot of money to clean up their messes.
4
At its core, the FBI was a huge bureaucracy.
The Los Angeles FBI office took up the majority of the seventeen-story cement atrocity called the Federal Building, across from the Los Angeles National Cemetery. Special agent in charge of the Mobile Response Team, Mathias Costa, didn’t like the architecture of the DC building that he worked out of now, but compared to LA headquarters, the Hoover Building was a work of art.
After Michael dropped him off, Matt checked in, then was led upstairs for his scheduled meeting with ASAC Rebecca Chavez, George Chandler—the assistant US attorney overseeing the federal aspect of the David Chen investigation—and ASAC Bryce Thornton.
He had been peeved when Thornton hadn’t been demoted after the OPR investigation. The only consolation was that he was given a one-year probation and working directly under Chavez.
Los Angeles was the second-largest FBI office in the country and had their own assistant director in charge. Still, they answered to national headquarters, and while technically Matt was an operational “equal” to SAC Brian Granderson, Granderson deferred to him and made it clear to his staff to cooperate with Matt.
After the Chen hearing was set, Matt had talked to both Rebecca and AUSA Chandler frequently. Matt generally worked well with his colleagues, but because he had made it his mission to ensure that Thornton was under strict supervision, he hadn’t made many friends in LA.
Matt had testified against Thornton at the OPR hearing. When Matt was vetting Kara’s credentials for an investigation he led several months ago, Thornton had lied to him regarding an LA-FBI investigation involving Kara. The OPR investigation was broader than Matt’s accusation—Thornton was accused of leaking to the press the identity of two undercover operatives, resulting in the murder of Kara’s partner. He had been cleared of those charges, but received two weeks’ unpaid leave for his handling of the federal investigation into David Chen, his personal motivation into recommending no prosecution, and his unsanctioned investigation into LAPD Detective Kara Quinn.
That he was still an agent irked Matt. Thornton had formally apologized, but told OPR that Matt had misunderstood him, and that he should have been clearer.
Matt did not misunderstand Thornton, but the panel took him at his word. Thornton admitted he had a personal beef with Kara and that his frustration with her had led to his unprofessional behavior.
Kara didn’t talk about it much, but she had a lot to say about the first run-in she had with Bryce Thornton eleven years ago. While Matt waited for the meeting to begin, he thought about what Kara had told him.
Four months ago, Matt and Kara were at his house in Tucson, celebrating the successful closure of a difficult case. Matt had some loose ends to tie up—and a lot of paperwork—and Kara decided to stay. They’d needed some quality time together, away from work and any distractions.
That evening, they’d gone out with Matt’s best friend, Tim Armstrong, and his wife, Sarah. They’d had a fantastic time, but when they returned to his house, Kara seemed quiet. The recent monsoon had ushered in fresh air to cool the hot night. Despite the late hour, Matt decided to turn on his hot tub and suggested they have a nightcap.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” she said.
“That didn’t stop you last night in the pool,” he said with a half smile.
“We had sex in the pool. Is that what you want? You could have just asked.”
Her tone more than her words had Matt wary. “I just want to relax.” He grabbed a couple beers from the refrigerator and walked outside. “We don’t have to get in the hot tub. It’s a nice evening.”
She followed him outside, took one look at the frothy bubbles and stripped. Taking a beer from his hand, she eased her naked body into the water.
He did the same, sat on the opposite side. Sipped his beer. Watched Kara, wished he could read her mind. Her head was back, eyes closed; she relaxed before his eyes. He breathed easier.
“Did I do or say anything tonight that upset you?”
“No. Why?”
