āAs I said before, since you wonāt take my word for it, you can speak with any of the SWAT team members who were there in a support role,ā I tell her. āI mean, have you bothered following up with any of them?ā
āThis isnāt about them. This is about you and your actions, Chief Wilder. And I have to be honest, I find your continued attempts to deflect from the issue at hand troubling.ā
I look to the two men beside her, searching their faces, trying to find some bit of help from them. Graves is out of control, and this hearing is anything but impartial. Her conclusions have been predetermined, but neither of them will meet my eyes, telling me sheās got them under her thumb and theyāre going to be of no use to me. I suddenly feel like my chances of escaping these hearings unscathed have taken a nosedive as the odds of my taking a potentially fatal hit to my career have skyrocketed. That doesnāt mean that Iām going to hold my tongue though. I feel like Iāve got nothing to lose now, so if I go down, Iām not going down without a fight.
āDeputy Inspector, Iām not deflecting from any issue. If anything, Iām downplaying what happened in the Atlanta field office,ā I tell her. āWhile there, the office we were using was bugged, the executives at Wellburn Pharmaceuticals were tipped off about our investigation, misinformation meant to discredit our work was leaked to the pressāā
āI certainly hope that you are not accusing Vincent DeClerk of these things. Heās a highly decorated veteran of the Bureau with a sterling reputationāā
āA reputation so sterling he was demoted and reassigned,ā I cut her off. āThe fact of the matter is, there is no proof now-SSA DeClerk did these things, or that he was in the pocket of Wellburn Pharmaceuticals; but there were enough hints of impropriety that he was in fact punished for what happened. Personally, I think he should have been criminally investigated, but thatās not my call to make.ā
āChief Wilder, need I remind you that we are here to review your actions, not Vincent DeClerkās?ā she hisses. āYou would do well to remember that you are the one whose conduct in Atlanta is being questioned right now.ā
āIt seems to me that youāve already come to a conclusion regarding my actions, Deputy Inspector, which, in my opinion, taints these proceedings and should disqualify you from running this hearing. But Iāll table that for now since it gives me grounds for appeal when you lay down whatever punishment youāve already decided to slap me with,ā I growl. āMy only question for you is, what has brought you to that conclusion? Your close, personal relationship with SSA DeClerk? Or are you in the pocket of whatās left of the executive board at Wellburn?ā
āHow dare you,ā she replies, her face purple with rage as she gets to her feet.
The man to Gravesās right seems to finally pull himself out of whatever stupor heās been sitting in. Clearing his throat, he puts a hand on Gravesās arm, a stern expression on his face.
āI think this is a good time to take a break in these proceedings,ā he says. āChief Wilder, letās put a pin in this for the moment. Take the night, and letās all just calm down so we can have a civil and productive conversation. Weāll reconvene tomorrow morning at ten.ā
Getting to my feet, I glare daggers at Graves as I gather my things. I slip it all into my messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder, then turn and storm out of the hearing room without another word. I somehow doubt tomorrow will be any more civil and productive than our session was today. As I walk through the halls of the Justice Department, heading for the parking lot, eager to get the hell out of there, for the first time since I arrived in DC, my heart flutters with concern.
For the first time ever, Iām seriously worried about my career.
The Vibe, Dupont Circle District; Washington, DC
I drain the last of my scotch, then signal the waitress for another. After having to deal with all that garbage in my hearing today, I think Iāve earned a few drinks. In fact, I think Iāve earned the right to get completely smashed if I want to. Maybe if Iām nursing a wicked hangover, I can get through tomorrow without going bananas on Graves again. The waitress drops off my drink and gives me a small smile that doesnāt reach her eyes. It reminds me of the sort of look people might give somebody whoās about to walk the green mile that ends with me getting a pink slip and a boot out the door. Orā¦ maybe Iām projecting.
Leaning back in my booth, I close my eyes and let the music wash over me. The Vibe is a nice place but doesnāt have the same sort of feel the Emerald Lounge does back home. It feels buttoned down and corporate but is trying too hard to be hip and edgy. It doesnāt have that wild and uncontrolled air I like to feel when Iām in a jazz club. I like jazz clubs that are a little raw. A little grimy. And Iām sure the lack of grittiness has everything to do with the prissy and painfully proper K-Street and Capitol Hill types that crowd around the tables and booths.
As unappealing as the rest of the club is, the quartet on stage is good, and I find myself lost in the rhythm, the problems of the day slowly flaking off and blowing away. Good music and a good drink have incredibly underestimated restorative powers. But that restoration of my mind and mood is interrupted when I feel somebody sliding into the booth across from me. My eyes fly open, and I sit up straight, ready to tear somebody a new one for interrupting my much-needed moment of Zen. The words wither and die on my tongue, though, when I see whoās sitting there staring back at me.
āDeputy Director Church. Whāwhat are you doing here?ā I stammer.
āI heard what happened in your hearing today and figured youād probably be needing a drink tonight,ā she replies. āOr maybe ten.ā
The corner of my mouth quirks upward. āFair. But I suppose the better question is, how did you find me here?ā
āWell, I may not be a fancy profiler, but back in the day, I was a pretty good field agent. I always had a knack for being able to find people.ā
Church signals the waitress to bring more drinks to our table, and I sit back again, absorbing a feeling of the surreal. To be honest, itās kind of a fangirl moment for me since Iāve long been an admirer of hers. Sheās a strong, intelligent woman whoās cut her own path through the male-dominated hierarchy that continues to permeate the Bureau and has ascended to a position of real power. How can I not admire that?
At the same time, though, I temper my fangirling with the reality of the world we exist in. Lauren Church has ascended to the position sheās in because sheās tough, no-nonsense, and most of all, because she can be as cold-blooded and ruthless as any man. Maybe even more. Sheās gotten to where sheās at because she plays the game hard. She knows how to pull the right strings and maneuver people around the board. And above all, she knows how and where to bury the bodies of those who either no longer serve her purpose or stand in her wayāformer ASAC Vincent DeClerk being exhibit A.
Admirer of hers or not, Iām realistic enough to know that Iām only as useful to Church as the next thing I can do for her. Ours is a symbiotic relationship of sortsā¦ though from her end, itās more take than give. But having somebody like Church in my corner, backing and protecting me, is never a bad thing regardless of how long of a shelf life our pseudo-symbiotic relationship has. Having the people aligned against me in the cutthroat, backstabbing world of Bureau politics knowing Iāve got Church backing me might make them think twice before baring their blades.
āI guess your network of eyes and ears in DC is as impressive and well-informed as the rumors say it is,ā I say.
āIt is. But it also helps to know your target before you go hunting them.ā
āHow so?ā
āI know youāre a lover of jazz musicābecause of your parents, I believe. I also know when youāve had a tough day, you like to unwind with jazz and a glass of scotch,ā she tells me. āAll I had to do was find the spot with the best live jazz and best scotch within walking distance of the Hay-Adams where youāre staying while youāre in town, and voilĆ , here I am.ā
I stare at her blankly for a minute, my arm resting on the table in front of me. A wry smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I shake my head, then take a quick swallow of scotch to hide my surprise. Iām impressed. Church sits back with a look of smug satisfaction on her face.
āHowād I do?ā she asks.
āMaybe you should have been a profiler. You seem to have a certain aptitude for it,ā I say.
She shrugs. āIām not too humble to say I was good at my job. But Iām afraid Iām a little too old to be out in the field kicking in doors anymore.ā
I scoff. āHardly.ā
The woman is in such good shape, she looks like she could still blow doors off their hinges if she were so inclined. I think what she actually meant to say was that her focus isnāt on fieldwork anymore but on climbing the ladder of power. Sheās never said as much, but she is a woman with her sights set firmly on the Directorās chair. I can see that in her eyes as well as her behavior and her demeanor. Iāve got little taste for politics, but that doesnāt mean Iām ignorant of them. Iām smart enough to see the wheels of power turning behind the scenes and to know that Church is one of those whoās got her hand on the levers.
By gathering people around herāpeople like me and my teamāwho deliver results on high-profile cases, she is basking in that halo effect and strengthening her base. With every big case closure sheās related to, sheās accruing more power and esteem for herself. Sheās polishing her own reputation and leadership as she puts herself in as solid a position as she can to make a run at the big chair. Itās smart. Sheās got her eye on the big picture and is doing everything she can to amass as much power and control as she can before making her move.
I typically donāt tolerate being used for somebody elseās ends and donāt like being a pawn in somebody elseās game. Iām a lot of things, but a useful idiot is not one of them. However, Iād be lying if I said my relationship to Church doesnāt come without some benefits. Being on the side of somebody like Church who has a clear vision and a belief in the work weāre doing is worth it. She has the power to give us the resources we need as well as the autonomy I want to operate. What she did to help us down in Atlanta is proof enough of that.
Itās for reasons like those that Iām on board with her. Itās why Iām willing to play her game. And itās also why I feel itās as close to an even give-and-take relationship with a Bureau power broker that Iām ever likely to get.
The waitress stops at the table and drops off three fresh glasses of scotch. āYou double fisting it tonight, Deputy Director?ā
Before she can answer, though, a man slips into the booth next to Church. Standing six-two with wavy hair the color of chestnuts, hazel-colored eyes, and almost classic Kennedy-like features, heās instantly recognizable to me. Heās normally smiling and seems to be in good humor, but tonight, his face is stern, his thin lips a tight slash across his face, and his eyes are filled with brooding tension.
āSenator Barlow,ā I say. āI didnāt know you were joining us this evening.ā
āBelieve me when I say I wish I didnāt have to,ā he replies. āNo offense.ā
āNone taken,ā I say, then turn to Church. āIām suddenly getting the feeling that you didnāt go to the trouble of tracking me down just to make sure Deputy Inspector Graves didnāt rough me up too much today.ā
āAs always, your instincts are spot on,ā Church says, her expression growing grim.
A few people glance our way, but for the most part, despite being as well-known as he is, not many in the crowd inside the lounge seem to recognize Senator Barlow. Or maybe they just donāt care. Heās a strikingly handsome man whoās so camera-friendly that he seems to be on television more than some celebrities. The networks canāt get enough of him. Itās strange that nobody is approaching him. But then, I donāt really know how things work in the Beltway, so maybe thereās some unwritten rule about badgering government officials in their downtime or something.
Most believe itās only a matter of time before Barlow announces his run for the presidency. And as I look at him sitting beside Church, I realize sheās found her path to the Directorās chair. Presidents get to name their own FBI heads, and itās obvious these two are good friends. I donāt need to know their biographies to see thereās some history between these two. But if and when Barlow runs for the presidency, if he wins, it seems certain that Deputy Director Church will be on the shortlist to remove that pesky āDeputyā from her title and become the first female Director of the FBI.
āSo, if I may ask, what is this meetingāwhich I assume is being kept secret from the people in your officesāall about?ā I ask.
āYou were right,ā Barlow says to Church. āSheās perceptive.ā
āEverything Iāve told you about her is true, Elliot,ā Church replies.