David Wiltse - Into The Fire

"I do see that, but technically-and I hate to be technical, but there are those times when it matters-technically you were put on medical extension before you-announced your dissatisfactions, and just as we cannot dismiss an agent when he is on extension because of stress or other psychological reasons, so, too, we cannot accept a resignation under those circumstances. It might be stress-induced, you see. It wouldn't be right for us to do so."

"I should have had Tee shoot you. It would have been so much simpler."

Hatcher tossed the ball to Becker's insistent fingers, throwing it underhanded. To Hatcher's intense annoyance, Becker deflected it off his knee, tapped it with his forehead, and put it into Hatcher's chest. This time Hatcher managed to hold on to it.

"We do think we know who has been sending you the letters," Hatcher said, struggling against an urge to hurl the ball into Becker's face.

"Of course you know. That last number was his prison identification number, wasn't it?"

Becker wiggled his fingers again, calling for the ball.

"I am told it may have been. I wonder, John, could we go to your house?

Agent Crist should be back from work soon and it would be good for her to take part in this discussion."

This time he handed the ball to Becker.

"Is this a discussion? I've already given you my answer."

"Inasmuch as it concerns her, too."

Becker stuck the ball on his hip.

"How does it concern her?"

"In her work, I mean."

"Karen is in Kidnapping. Are you treating this as a kidnapping?"

"Actually, I'm moving Special Agent Crist to Serial Killings."

"Why?"

"Why not? She's an excellent agent and a very competent administrator.

It's the usual procedure for grooming people for advancement to move them around, get them familiar with as much of our scope of operations as possible."

"You can't do that."

"Why is that, John?"

"I don't want her involved in Serial Killing."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't do it, that's all."

"It's the proper career move for her, John."

"It wouldn't be good for her."

"Would you care to elaborate? It might help if I understood just why."

"No, I wouldn't care to elaborate. She was in Serial once; she has enough experience with it."

"We do have certain procedures. If it were up to me-, I "It is up to you, Hatcher. It's all up to you. I'm telling you, I don't want her transferred to Serial."

"I see. Well, it is a little unorthodox. However, you're right, she was in Serial briefly as a very junior agent. Just one case, as I recall, before she transferred out. I don't recall the case in detail."

"Sure, you do. It was my case. It was your case, too, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, that's right, John. I'd forgotten… There were some deaths, as I recall."

Becker glared at him, but Hatcher's bland tone never wavered.

"Well, I suppose we could fudge things a bit under the circumstances. I could make it a temporary posting for her, just for this one case, then she would be through with Serial for the rest of her career. I don't think it would affect her overall performance rating."

"Who gives her that performance rating? Not you, by any chance?"

Hatcher tightened his smile another notch. "Naturally, the quicker the case is closed, the less Special Agent Crist will be exposed to Serial."

"Meaning if I don't take the case, I'm responsible."

"There's no connection, John. You and Agent Crist are separate entities-who just happen to live together."

Becker took a step towards Hatcher and dropped the 'ball, bringing his right foot into it with a massive blow.

"No!" Hatcher yelled and fell to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. Even as he dropped he realized that Becker was not aiming the ball directly at him. Close, but not at him. If he had wanted to, he could have decapitated Hatcher with the ball.

Hatcher got to his feet, cheeks blazing with humiliation, but he didn't mind the embarrassment. He had what he wanted.

He had Becker back at work.

The Reverend Tommy R. Walker lay on his back on the bed with Rae astride him, naked for a change. Normally she would be wearing her nightgown shoved up to her hips, or a t-shirt that she slept in during the warmer months. Often as not she was wearing her socks, too, complaining about cold toes even in the warmest weather.

A shy girl, old Rae, Tommy thought, and after the first year or so he didn't much mind if she stayed covered up or not. There not much to look at anyway.

L however, since Aural's arrival, she'd been shed ding clothes like a Christmas tree dropping pine needles.

First went the socks, and then the shirt, and lately she'd taken to slipping into bed every night with nothing on at all, primed and ready to go. Tommy had been getting quite a workout, which was another surprise because normally Rae was not one to initiate anything. Now all of a sudden the last few days she was like a bitch in heat, presenting herself to him every time he turned around, naked as a jay and in the full light of day. She had always been a lights-out, curtains-drawn kind of girl before this.

"Oh, Tommy, you great big-hunk," she said, searching slightly for the word. It wasn't exactly Wung dirty, but it was talking, which was more than she ever did before unless he told her exactly what to say. It didn't matter that it seemed awkward coming from her and was never the right thing-the very fact of vocalizing was interesting.

He knew it was all about Aural, of course. He had but to mention the younger woman's name and Rae would be rubbing up and down against him as if the thought of her as exciting to Rae as it was to Tommy. The last few times they had talked about Aural while Rae was riding him, him asking questions about what she'd done and said lately and Rae gasping out- answers between her little puffs and pants. This whole business of sitting on him was Aural's idea, he bet. He was fairly certain she'd been giving Rae tips on what to do, because Rae sure as hell had shown no natural gift for the sport before this. Rae seemed to like the position, too, once she got used to being exposed the way it made her.

"Oh, Reverend," she moaned. "You are so large."

Tommy told himself not to laugh. The girl was trying and should be encouraged.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're like a whole big piece of-ummmm!"

She closed her eyes and waggled her head from side to side.

"Like what? A whole big piece of what?"

"Ummm!"

He grabbed her hips, holding her still for the moment, which was the last thing she wanted.

"A big piece of what?"

She struggled with him, trying to think of something but having trouble with the concept.

"Sai@," she gasped at last, pushing his hands away and pumping now for all she was worth.

Tommy knew what the plan was, of course. Rae was hoping to fuck him senseless so that he wouldn't have the strength to think about chasing after Aural. Aural, who was undoubtedly egging her on, was probably hoping the same. But they were wrong on two counts, Tommy thought. One, frequent sex didn't make you want less, it made you want more. Sex was the greatest aphrodisiac in the world, and Rae could bang him three times a day after every meal and he'd still find a way to lust after Aural if he was of a mind. And second, he wasn't any longer of a mind.

He was still obsessed about Aural, all right, but not to get in her pants. He'd had a taste of what kind of a painful mess that would be.

What he wanted now was to get rid of her. Quickly, cleanly, neatly. And as they were always saying these days, information is power.

"Oh, Reverend," Rae was sighing as she collapsed on his chest. "You are the best.":'How would you know?" 'You make me so happy, sugar," she said.

"How would you know I'm the best? You ain't had but a handful of men in your whole life. Least that's what you told me. You weren't lying to me, were you?"