There was more activity than usual in the bull pen today, but it hadn’t been hard for Douglas to find out why: Lee Stetson had announced he was coming back to work, only three weeks after he’d been sidelined by a brutal accident, and only ten days after he’d been released from hospital.
At first, he’d been startled to learn that the agents who staffed the Q-Bureau were husband and wife. Surely Melrose ran a tighter ship than that. But over time, as he’d been regaled with story after story about “Scarecrow and Mrs. King,” and as he’d gotten to know Amanda Stetson herself, he’d had to admit that the stories suggested an arrangement that worked — and worked well. He simply couldn’t see why it was needed. Mrs. Stetson was a fine agent in her own right, and hardly needed anyone’s help to be effective.
As for Lee Stetson? Surely not all of the stories could be true. And the more Douglas heard, the less inclined he was to believe any of them.
He slipped through the general hubbub, ostensibly keeping his eyes on the printout in his hands lest he get drawn into yet another conversation. In reality, weaving through the crowd demanded his full attention whether he liked it or not.
One strident voice suddenly rose above the rest. “All right, that’s enough, damn it! Everybody get back to your posts!”
Billy Melrose had earned Douglas’ respect several times already. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about the man’s supposed second-in-command. She always seemed to be caught up in her own world — except for the few times she’d spoken, when she’d shown herself to be downright nasty.
“She’s under pressure,” Zeta `— Zusterakos, he corrected himself, remembering how she’d looked when he’d used the code name — had told him once, in that serious, yet eager, way of hers. He hadn’t wanted to curb her enthusiasm, so he’d refrained from mentioning that there was no excuse.
“I said, that’s enough!” Francine Desmond was standing on a chair now, and her voice was rising toward a shout. “Billy and Lee will get down here when they get down here, and the last thing they need is a huge crowd of people waiting for them!” There was a pause. “And you! You’re not supposed to be down here at all!”
Douglas had to crane his neck to see who she was addressing. It was the nervous young man from the film unit, Parker, and he was visibly shaking. He stood his ground, though. “I just wanted to deliver these stills to Nancy —”
“You needed to call her up there to get them. You did not need to come down here into a secure area!” Desmond climbed down from the chair. “How did you manage that, anyway?”
Parker’s reply was lost in the general noise level, but Douglas noticed a flustered-looking Zusterakos making her way over from the coffee machine. Curious, he started edging his way closer.
Desmond’s voice came again. “I don’t want to hear it, Parker! There’s a reason you’re not cleared down to this level.”
Zusterakos’ body language suggested she was attempting to defend Parker, although the one time she’d looked directly at him, her expression had been annoyed. The lad himself was starting to pale, though, and he was shaking his head desperately.
“That’s not good enough! Now you tell me how you got in here, and you tell me now!”
Douglas was just barely close enough to hear the reply. “I just got on the elevator and followed Agent Jenkins when he got off. Honest! I knew Nancy worked somewhere downstairs and that Jenkins worked nearby. When I saw him, I thought it might be nice to bring the stills down here instead of calling her upstairs —”
“Can it!” The sentence was a snarl. “And quit insulting everyone’s intelligence. You weren’t just curious how she was going to use these pictures, and you damn sure didn’t just wander randomly onto the elevator, hitch a ride with someone, and magically end up here! Everyone who belongs here knows better than that, Parker! You didn’t get in here by accident! People bleed to get access at this level, and you just came sneaking in like it’s no big deal!”
Douglas looked around. Jenkins had shrunk into a corner, perhaps to try and make himself invisible.
Desmond paused to take a breath. The bull pen had fallen so silent you could drop a pin, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You want to impress my partner? Then you earn your way onto this floor! You don’t tailgate in like it’s some kind of a teenage prank or stupid little game. Do that on your own time, somewhere not here, and with someone who’s a hell of a lot less likely to see you as the liability you just proved you are!”
“Francine!” snapped Zusterakos.
“What?”
The younger agent took a breath before answering. “Let’s take this into Mr. Melrose’s office.”
At that, Desmond’s eyes widened and she looked around, just now seeming to realize what had happened and how far she’d overstepped. Her mouth opened, then closed, and then opened again to speak with a much quieter tone. “Um. Yeah. Right. Come on, let’s go. Parker, just —” she waved her hands at him. “Just leave.” She paused. “Oh, and Jenkins? You’re with us.”
Scotty exited at a dead run, as Jenkins, dread plainly present in his expression, made his way toward the office door. Douglas shook his head. While Billy Melrose had told him he preferred to run this section with a light touch, his agents clearly needed far more oversight than they were receiving.
“Look, Billy,” began Lee. “If this is about oversight, I’ve got that. I read through the doctors’ orders. More than once. I’m gonna check in with Kelford and follow all the directions I get —”
There was a faint scoffing noise from Amanda. A laugh, maybe? Billy couldn’t tell, and she hadn’t looked up from where she was reviewing a transcript.
“— for the most part, anyway. I don’t need to work my way back up to full-time hours. I can handle it. Besides, if I have to keep sitting still, I think I’ll go out of my mind! Sitting around staring at the wall isn’t going to do anyone any good! Me least of all!”
Billy indicated the medical release notes, keeping his expression neutral. “According to this, Dr. Sanchez is only releasing you to light duty and part-time hours. And that’s only if Dr. Kelford concurs.”
“Sanchez is just being overcautious!” In the past, Lee would have thrown up his hands or been pacing by now. Instead, his knuckles were whitening as he clenched his hands tighter and tighter around the crutches’ handles. The handles didn’t appear to be straining, but the marked contrast made it clear: he wasn’t physically able to do much more than that. And according to these records, there were no time frames or estimates about when — or even if — that might change.
Which was entirely Billy’s point. “Lee, Amanda’s already told me they don’t even know if they can release you back to field duty.”
“Then I’ll drive a desk for a while. At least that’s something! Come on. Just one case. I’ll take junior status on it if you want. Research and analysis. I don’t have to walk to do that! Not that much, anyway, and that’s what these things are for.”
He shook his head. “If you hadn’t made that asinine announcement to everyone about coming back to work, you wouldn’t have even gotten this far today. No, Lee. It’s a liability. If you were thinking clearly you’d have figured that out already.” He softened his tone. “I’ll cover you for the masses down in the bull pen, but then you’re back out of here.”
“Now, wait just a minute —”
The sound Amanda made this time was different. Her head lifted, her eyes going distant instead of focusing on either of them. It was enough to give Billy a view of her expression: confused. Curious. A little worried.
“What is it, Sunlight?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “This — something’s off. Maybe the translation isn’t completely accurate. Does Steno still have the recording downstairs, or did they send it for archiving already? I’d like to listen.”
He glanced at the top of the page, noting its headers. “Original’s in Arabic.”
“I know. I’ve been practicing since that case last July.” Now her eyes fell on Lee. “It gave me something to do while I was waiting.”
“See? Even Amanda has to fight boredom!”
“Be quiet, Stetson!”
Both their eyes snapped to his face, and despite everything, Billy couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Guess last names don’t work when they’re the same, do they? Pipe down, Scarecrow. I want to hear what your partner —” he put a slight emphasis on the word — “thinks she’s found.”
“That’s just it, sir. I’m not sure.” She tapped her pencil against one of the lines. “This phrase. They’ve translated it as ‘a glitch in the plans’ but that’s not how a native Arabic speaker would say it. Especially if they’re speaking Modern Standard instead of a local dialect. They wouldn’t be that informal.”
“Meaning?”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “It sounds like someone either tried to translate an idiom or lost something in the process. Either way, I’d like to know what was originally said.” She reached for the telephone. “I’ll just call down there.”
“I’ll have them drop it off for you in my office,” Billy replied. “Since you need to take your husband home.”
“Billy! Why not let me go get it? That way I can check in with Kelford. That’s inside the guidelines!” Lee leaned forward slightly on his crutches. “It’ll also let me see everyone, since we can swing past Medical, then go by Records and stop off at —”
“I said no. This isn’t about what you can do, Lee. It’s about what you should. Reading between the lines, it’s what your doctor really wants. He just didn’t come right out and say it.” He looked Lee straight in the eye. “So I will. Go home. Both of you. Amanda, I’ll have that tape held for you downstairs.”
This time, they both protested. “Sir —” “Oh, come on —”
“Not another word out of either of you! I’m calling Mrs. Marston in ten minutes, and I’d better hear she’s checked you out.” Billy yanked the Q-Bureau’s door open. “And if I don’t — what in all hell is that?”
It sounded, for all the world, like there was a riot going on — but it was inside the Agency! But before he could take two steps, the noise collapsed into a sudden, ominous quiet. As if I didn’t already have enough problems!
“Marston!” he hollered as he barreled toward the stairs. “What’s going on down there!”
She was staring up with wide, shocked eyes. “I don’t know, but I was just about to —”
The closet elevator’s door slammed open and Scotty Parker shot out into the Georgetown foyer, panting heavily. He went stark white when he saw who was there watching him. “Oh, shit! Wait, wait, I’m sorry for the bad language, but I promise I didn’t really mean anything and it’s not gonna happen again and —”
“Parker!”
“Yes, sir!” It came out as a squeak.
“Try that again. Use nouns. And breathe between your sentences.”
He gulped audibly before nodding. “Yes, sir. It was — I was just trying to be sweet, you know? Taking the stills down to Nancy instead of making her come all the way up here. But Miss Desmond, she — she screamed at me, sir! About clearances and authority and how this isn’t a game — which I know that! — and how I’ve got to earn my way in and —”
“Parker.”
Scotty sputtered to a stop. “She carries a gun, sir.”
“Most of them do. Tell me she didn’t take it out.”
“Oh, no, no, sir, I’m sure she wouldn’t do anything like that! But the way she just kept going and going and going until Nancy got over to her and then they went into your office and…” he was shaking so badly his teeth were chattering.
Billy swore softly, counted to ten, then swore again. Sweat prickled along his hairline. Damn it, he should be able to walk away for ten minutes without World War III starting in his own section. Maybe it was time to yank everyone into one of the come-to-Jesus meetings that seemed to be necessary every so often.
“Scotty,” he directed, keeping his tone gentle, “go on back to work.”
“You mean you’re not going to fire me?”
“Not today.” Not at all, he thought. “You and your supervisor and I will talk about this a little later, but right now, it sounds like I have to go put out a fire.”
As if in response to the thought, his stomach twisted painfully. He rolled his eyes as he got onto the elevator. Even extra-strength antacids wouldn’t do a bit of good this afternoon.