Archer Mayor - The Marble Mask

Bill tried softening the message. “I didn’t know the status of his application.”

Stanton kept his watchful eyes on me. “He’s in the pipeline, Joe, along with several others.”

“Maybe so, but since proper procedure’s already out the window, let’s cut corners,” I suggested, matching his stare.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, not right out of the starting gate.”

“Why not?” I asked, anger slowly beginning to build in my chest. “When were you going to decide about him?”

Stanton’s mouth tightened slightly. “It’s not up to me alone. There’s a panel-”

“Which you bypassed to hire me,” I interrupted.

“You were a special case,” he said, giving the comment a clear double meaning. “Kunkle doesn’t fit that category.”

I turned to the door, resting my hand on the knob. “Maybe you got me wrong.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Joe,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “When you signed on, the deal was we consider Kunkle’s application along with everyone else’s. We’re doing that. You can’t force us to accept him-it wouldn’t be ethical.”

I laughed, the frustration of waiting around for weeks coming to a boil. “Ethical? You didn’t want him to begin with, and it’s starting to look like you’ve lost interest in VBI. If Willy really is under consideration, and not just being jerked around to keep me quiet, now would be a good time to show some good faith. Let me have him for this case on a provisional basis. Call him a consultant if you want, instead of a special agent, and make his performance a factor in his passing muster, but give the poor bastard a chance, stop treating me like some senile chump, and let the Bureau prove itself in the real world.”

Stanton scowled at me. “I made you SAC of the whole outfit, for Christ’s sake, and I’m one of the few people who doesn’t want the Bureau chopped off at the knees. Everyone has the highest respect for you. You’re the one putting a monkey wrench into the works with your obsession with this guy.”

I didn’t say a word, but I left my hand on the doorknob. He finally relented, which ironically highlighted his ambivalence about our fate, since if ever there was a time to call my bluff, it was now. “All right, you can have Kunkle-provisionally. He’s not to have VBI credentials, and once this case is over, whether he’s accepted or not, I don’t want to have this conversation again.

“And,” he added, pointing his finger at Bill Allard, “I want at least two more people of your choosing assigned to this, regardless of how many break-in problems it might create. They are not to be from Brattleboro or Windham County or even from the southeast corner of the state. If Kunkle’s going to be part of the equation, I want him counterbalanced with the best you can get your hands on. In fact,” he added after a brief pause, “why don’t you pull in someone from BCI as an unofficial intern? That way, Kunkle won’t be alone, it’ll help show we’re not a closed shop, and maybe word’ll leak back to the BCI rank-and-file that we’re not the threat their brass is making us out to be.”

He shifted his glare to me. “That better be acceptable, Joe, or you damn well can walk out that door.”

I smiled at him instead, amazed I’d gotten away with it. “Don’t worry, Dave. This won’t bite you in the ass.”

He shook his head. “The way I see it, it already has.”

Bill Allard laughed as we shoehorned ourselves back into his office. “Christ, that was hardball. What’s with this Willy Kunkle guy?”

Sammie rolled her eyes. “If you have to ask, you obviously don’t know the man.”

She knew that better than most. Still, I saw the relief in her face and hoped my gambit would benefit both Willy and her.

By conventional wisdom, however, neither chicanery nor time would be kind to them. Opinionated, headstrong, and passionate, they were fated to clash more than they might commingle. Which probably should have concerned me as their boss. But I’d known them for years and had seen their focus on the job, which is no doubt why they’d remained such perennial loners so far.

There was an additional influence working on me, of course, more personal and elusive. My own years-long relationship with Gail Zigman was undergoing some adjustment, ever since we’d decided to go back to living apart and she’d taken a job in Montpelier for half of each year. We’d shared a house only briefly-and then only because she’d needed to rebuild herself after a harrowing sexual assault-but I’d grown used to the domesticity and was by nature less driven than she to climb a career ladder.

Which made nurturing Sam and Willy’s odd romance all the more instinctive.

“Willy’s definitely an acquired taste,” I explained to Bill, “but he’s a dog with a bone on something like this, and I’m used to working with him.”

Allard slid behind his desk. “So who else do you want?”

I watched him carefully. “That’s a little risky, isn’t it? Given Stanton’s marching orders.”

He allowed a thin smile, revealing a bit of what had made him so successful within the ranks of the state police. “Stanton’s a good guy-savvy at paddling his chosen waters.” He paused and then added, “But he’s not Bureau chief.”

“Nevertheless,” I said, “I don’t want to be too obvious. He did say to pick someone from outside Windham County. How ’bout Lester Spinney?”

Sammie Martens immediately laughed, reminded of Spinney’s famous sense of humor. “I didn’t know he’d joined up. I thought he was happy investigating for the Attorney General.”

“He was happy working for Kathy Bartlett,” I emphasized, “but when the AG made her VBI special prosecutor, he figured he’d tag along.”

But Bill shook his head. “Maybe later, if things start heating up, but even I know you’ve worked with Spinney before. Stanton’s bound to smell a rat. We need some relative stranger we think’ll fit your style.”

I was stumped. I knew quite a few of the approximately one thousand full-time cops in the state, but only a handful had risked joining the Bureau so far. A conservative bunch by nature, police officers were inclined to sit back and watch when politics were in motion.

“You know Paul Spraiger?” Allard asked.

“I know his boss,” I answered, “assuming he’s the Spraiger from the Burlington PD.”

“One and the same. A twelve-year veteran. He was about to be rotated back into uniform when he decided he’d gotten used to plainclothes. He’s a quiet guy, a good interrogator-has a way of making people feel comfortable. Incredibly smart but keeps it to himself. He also speaks French, which might come in handy.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. What about the BCI intern?”

This time, Allard didn’t hesitate. “Tom Shanklin. He’s in the Middlesex barracks right now-a good people person, easy to get along with, popular with the troops, and a gung-ho Green-and-Gold type, but not obnoxious. If we can turn him around to what we’re up to, he’d be a great ambassador.”

“He been with BCI long?” Sammie asked, obviously mistrustful of all the strategizing.

Bill tried putting her at ease. “Oh yeah, years. He’s worked several major cases on his own. He’ll be an asset.”

I’d heard only good of Tom Shanklin, although we’d never met. I rose to my feet. “Okay by me, and unless you feel otherwise, we might as well keep it at five total for the moment, till we know what we’re facing. You want to meet with us once we’re all assembled?”

Allard’s smile suggested otherwise. “Give you all a rousing speech? I don’t think so. You’re the field man, Joe. Run things as you see fit. Just keep me informed and let me know when you need help.”