Chapter 3

The office was in chaos when Emery returned. Other departments had arrived to help carry the load, and the air was humming with angry adrenaline, their grief focused on destroying those who were responsible.

Geoff Pearce, a senior agent who was one of the few who hadn't been on the mission, was leaning against the wall near Emery's desk looking at his phone. She didn't know him very well, but he'd always been nice to her and answered her questions more patiently than any of the others.

"Agent Pearce?" she said.

He looked up but kept his phone in front of him.

"I know you must be very busy," she said. "I just…did we…how many did we lose?"

He pressed his lips together and walked to her desk, pulling out her chair. "Why don't you sit."

"It's that bad?"

"Please." He nodded toward the seat.

He pulled another chair around for himself.

"Did anyone make it?" she asked.

"I saw you talk to Murati quite a lot when she was in the office."

Em pressed a hand to her chest. "She's gone?"

"We've confirmed her and Nicholson so far. But we expect there to be more. I'm sorry. I know this is hard."

"I shouldn't be—I mean, there are others who were closer to them. And their families…I can't imagine."

"We have a lot of question that need answering, and unfortunately I don't have the time right now to go through yours."

"I know. I don't want to keep you. I saw it on the news and rushed back, so I hadn't heard anything yet."

"You going to be okay?"

"Don't worry about me. You go."

He stood and patted her shoulder. Then the assistant director called him from across the room, and he was gone.

She opened her emails, scanning through what had come in. There wouldn't be a lot for her to do right now, which was helpful because it was impossible to concentrate. The others didn't have the luxury of spinning out or losing focus like she did. She was glad that her heart being in a million pieces wouldn't put any more lives at risk or disrupt the investigation. But could she have prevented their deaths? Murati had two kids and a husband who would suffer for the rest of their lives for what she couldn't stop.

She peered over her computer screen at the two agents talking nearby, listening to the details they relayed to each other until her desk phone rang, startling her.

She quickly lifted the handset. "Hi, yes, this is Em Chapman."

"Can I see you in my office?" It was Gardener.

"I'll be right there."

Her gaze lifted as she crossed the room to a large monitor on the wall playing live coverage of the explosion.

She stopped when she saw a covered body being wheeled toward an ambulance. After closing her eyes to erase the image, she continued to Gardener's office.

"You wanted to see me?" Em said when she entered the room.

"Sit down, please."

This time, when Em sat, she pressed her back into the seat. She needed the stability of the chair to keep her steady.

Gardener folded her hands on the desk. "I wanted to talk to you about what you brought me earlier."

If this was what it took for them to take notice of her, it was a high price to pay. "My concerns about the mission? Or the files?"

"Both. It raises some difficult questions."

"I'll answer you as best as I can. Whatever I can do to help."

"Good. Because the way I see it, this has gone one of two ways. Either you had information from an unknown source that you did not share with me, giving you inside knowledge—or it was simply coincidence."

"I—" Em's voice caught in her throat for a second. She cleared it. "I would never withhold information. If I had had anything else to share with you, I would have."

"So you're saying it was coincidence?"

Em bit down on the inside of her check in an attempt to bolster her confidence, but too much tragedy had happened for her to feel anything but pain. "I don't believe it was coincidence."

"Then what was it?"

"I had seen most of what was in the reports. I have access to most of the intel and the details of the operations. I think what happened was that everything I knew came together. I couldn't find the details in the files, but I interpreted?—"

"Em, let me stop you there. You've been with the organization long enough to know that sometimes an operation goes wrong. Agents get killed. It's part of the job. This is not a profession devoid of failure or tragedy. But our role as analysts is to make sure we minimize the risk and present the information in a way that is beneficial to the team."

"Yes. I agree."

"That's why, since all you had was a bad feeling, it was nothing more than the two things colliding on the same day. I would bet money that you've had similar anxiety on past operations where you knew the risk was high. But when everything turned out okay, you forgot all about it. It's just that this time, things didn't turn out okay."

"I appreciate what you're saying, but?—"

Gardener put her hand up. "If you can promise me that you had no other knowledge of today's event, and you haven't been in contact with anyone, then we're done here. But if you have spoken to someone, this is your last chance to tell me without serious ramifications. Withholding valuable intel on a crime like this would be…irresponsible to say the least. I don't think I need to remind you that lives were lost today."

"No. What happened today… I wish I could say that I did know more. I wish I could shed some light on what happened. But I can't." Em picked at her fingers. "I wish I could have done something to stop it."

"With the information we had, there was nothing any of us could have done. Now that we've cleared that up, there's no point focusing on the past."

"But if I'd?—"

"I was a touch harsh during our last conversation, I know. I admit that. But my impatience is a symptom of the high expectations I have for you. I see you as my protégé of sorts. You could be the future of this task force. Then you will be the one sitting in my seat, and you'll understand better the difficulty of this position and what it takes to run this side of the department. That team out there needs us to be as sharp as we can be. We look at the data, analyze it, and bring them clarity and focus to help facilitate their side of the equation. They're the ones who have to think on their feet and go with their gut instinct in times of chaos and crisis. That's not our job, Emery. And if I can't count on you to be objective, then I can't have you in this role. It's too dangerous. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you agree that your earlier concerns were subjective and merely coincidence in connection to the unfolding situation?"

What could she say? "Yes."

"And you believe you can rise above your feelings and sensitivities and bring a higher level of professionalism to your role?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I trust this is the last time we need to speak about it. Now, we have a lot of work to do. We've lost good agents, and we have to help the others find out why. Can I count on you to do that?"

Em nodded.

"You're dismissed."

Emery left Gardener's office and went straight to the bathroom. She'd convinced herself that God had more for her to do in this role than manage information. But even if she had a gift for interpreting details and following God's leading, she'd misread the situation badly. Or maybe Gardener was right, maybe Em had let the fear get to her, and it had steered her into a position she couldn't get out of without humiliating herself.

Staring at herself in the mirror only increased her anxiety, so she splashed water on her face. None of it mattered anymore. She'd tried and failed. Her job was to sift through information and organize it. That was all. She could encourage a friend at church or let God guide her in personal matters, but from now on, it would stay out of the office if she wanted to keep a job she loved. It was a hard lesson to learn, but she'd absorb it quickly. She wanted to be fully available to do her job to the best of her ability.

After ripping a paper towel from the dispenser, she blotted her face, then risked another look in the mirror. She was a little blotchy, but they all had more important things on their minds than her complexion, so she tugged her blouse to straighten it and headed back to her desk.

The bullpen was quiet when she returned. There were a few murmurs, but everyone's attention was directed to where Assistant Director Lawson was standing beside the deputy director.

Lawson stepped forward. "Thank you for your attention. I'm sorry to interrupt when you're so busy with important matters, but Deputy Director Truman would like to say a few words."

There had been an ongoing feud between Truman and Lawson but only speculation as to what it stemmed from. This was the first time since Emery had started working with the task force that Truman had visited them.

"Thank you," Truman said before clearing his throat. "I know your time is valuable, so I will keep this short. I would first like to offer you my sincere condolences, as I know you've lost not just colleagues but friends. The agency is poorer for it. But I'd like you all to know that finding who is responsible and how it happened in the first place is our first priority. We are putting our full weight behind this. I thank you all for your hard work, and I know you will all do everything in your power to uncover the answers we need. In saying that, however, as of the end of the week, we will be disbanding this task force."

Murmurs rose, and Emery's heart sank, but it was Lawson who drew the most attention by the shocked look on his face. It was news to him.

Truman continued. "You will be given your new assignments over the next several days, and, unfortunately, that means some of you will be unable to continue with this investigation. However, we will endeavor to keep you in the loop until it is resolved."

"Sir," Lawson said. His face had turned reddish-purple, but he kept his voice even. "Can we have a word?"

Truman kept his focus on the crowd. "This shouldn't come as a surprise for anyone here, and I would expect it to be a welcome change for most of you. You are now severely short-staffed, and over the past couple of years, your completion rates have fallen dramatically."

"That's because the group we're up against is employing new tactics," Lawson said. "We've been working nearly blindfolded. Operating on limited intel. From where I'm sitting, we're doing well with what we have. We're the best unit to continue this investigation."

"I'm sorry to—" Truman tried to interject, but Lawson wouldn't let him.

"We were always an experiment. One of our core goals was trying out new strategies. Looking for chinks in the armor of our enemy. We were given discretion because of that."

Truman shook his head. "It was an experiment that worked at one time. It doesn't anymore. I'm sorry to bring this to you all on such short notice, but making the changes now will mean less disruption into the future. I don't make this decision lightly."

"All we need is more time," Lawson said. "We're getting close. We've been successful in the past; we can be successful again."

"You've had time. So unless you have a magic formula to turn back the clock, I'm afraid we're finished here."

"If I may." Agent Pearce stepped forward. "Perhaps there is a way to go back in time and see if we can't bring back the success we had."

"What exactly do you mean?" Truman said.

"We're short agents right now, but several years ago, when this task force was at peak performance, we had one who was excellent. A real standout. He did the job of four men at least."

Lawson scowled at Pearce, trying to stop him from continuing.

Em looked between the two men, wondering what was happening. She didn't have to wait long.

"Who's this agent?" Truman said.

Pearce glanced at Lawson briefly before he said, "Jep Booth."

Lawson shook his head. "Out of the question."

"Wasn't he fired?" Truman said.

Pearce looked at Lawson again. "Not exactly."

"He should have been," Lawson said. "For all the trouble he caused. He's as good as fired. We can't bring him back. It's too late. He was asked to leave. Lucky for us, he complied."

"So he wasn't fired?" Truman said.

"His methods were unconventional," Pearce said. "And he didn't fit in, but he was better than anyone at his job."

"This task force was successful despite Booth," Lawson said. "Not because of him."

"He had the contacts, and he was always two steps ahead," Pearce said, turning his attention to Lawson. "I know you didn't like him, sir, but you have to admit, he was very good."

" Like had nothing to do with it," Lawson said. "This isn't a playground. Jep posed a threat."

"Not enough of a threat to fire him," Truman said with a nod. "That's what we need right now, because that's what the enemy has been doing to us. I remember him. Only met him a few times, but he was exceptional. He got the job done. All right. I'll give you a reprieve. I'll delay shutting you down and give you time to see if you can bring in Jep and turn things around."

"But—" Lawson said.

"Unless you can offer me a better solution?" He lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

"I'd prefer if we talked about this in my office."

"From what I can see, there's nothing to discuss. I've made my decision."

"He doesn't have the agency's best interest in mind. He never has."

"Does he have America's best interest in mind? Because that's all we need right now. Once we catch the terrorists and bring them to justice, we can reevaluate."

"I still object."

"Nevertheless, I want you to do whatever it takes to bring him back. This group is on its last legs. You've all done your duty, but we need better. Jep Booth is your last chance. Good luck. Keep me updated on your progress."

Lawson waited until Truman left before turning on Pearce and dragging him aside. They were close enough to Em's desk that she could hear them despite their lowered voices.

"What were you thinking?" Lawson said.

"I know you never liked Jep, but Truman was going to shut us down. Would you rather that?"

"Jep's a bomb waiting to go off."

"I'd say time has tempered him."

"You weren't here long enough to know how he was."

"Would you rather we all get transferred?" Pearce said.

"I can't believe Truman did that to me."

"He didn't give you any indication before coming here?"

"He's been threatening me for a year to shut us down. I thought it was all for show. He knew I wouldn't say much with my entire team watching."

"At least we have a stay of execution."

"You had better hope Jep steps up to the task."

"We should move on this now," Pearce said.

"Fine. If you want him so bad, you go get him."

"Me? I didn't know him well. I think he'd be more convinced if you showed up."

Lawson chuckled darkly. "You think so? You think he's going to throw a welcoming party when the feds turn up at his door led by me? No. You're going. It's better he meets with someone he doesn't have a tainted history with. But I don't want to get any complaints when he breaks your nose." Lawson turned and noticed Emery. "On second thought, bring her."

"Emery?" Pearce said.

"He probably won't hit you with a pretty face to distract him."

Emery hid her blanch well, but she wouldn't object, not with so much riding on this guy Jep coming back on the team. If her presence encouraged this guy to be more agreeable, then she'd do her part. But beyond the initial visit, she would steer clear. The last thing she needed was more trouble.

"You really think that's necessary?" Pearce said.

"I'm not saying she has to go on a date with the guy, but if we're going to get him back through those doors—" Lawson jammed his finger toward the elevator. "We need to use what resources we have. Do you have any problem with that, Miss Chapman?"

"Uh, all you need me to do is be present?"

"You think you can do that?"

"Yeah. I'm okay with that."

"Good. Pearce, you let me know if you hit any snags."

"Yes, sir."