Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fix

“Neatly summed up.”

“Summaries are for idiots. Anybody can do them.”

“You said ‘allegedly’ just now in referring to Dabney’s espionage and gambling habit.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s nothing alleged about it.”

“Maybe to you, but not to me. All I have is your word for it. Not good enough.”

She put the car back into drive and they pulled off. “You always this cooperative with a sister agency?”

“Ironic, since I’ve seen zero cooperation from yours.”

“Look, you’ve actually given me some valuable information. How can I return the favor?”

“By making no objection to our working on the case.”

She kept driving, turning down one road and then another. “How exactly would that work?” she asked.

“That would exactly work with us investigating the case and finding the truth.”

“You mean a joint investigation?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I’ll have to think about it, talk to my superiors.”

“Great. You can give me your answer tomorrow morning.”

“You have no authority to give me directives.”

“I see you do know where I live,” said Decker, as they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. “I can’t say that’s comforting.”

“Friends close, enemies closer.”

“I wouldn’t imagine I was either. Yet .”

“You like this area? It’s still a little dicey.”

“It’s growing on—”

Brown had pulled her pistol and killed the engine. It was then that Decker saw what she already had seen. Two men were stuffing another man into the trunk of a car.

Brown was out and sprinting toward them before Decker even got his car door open.

“Federal agent, hands in the air!” she barked, her pistol pointed at the men.

One ducked down behind the car. The other pulled a gun. Before he could turn and fire, Brown had dropped him with two bursts of her pistol.

The next instant she was bowled over and pinned to the pavement by a huge weight.

“What the—” she gasped.

The rounds ripped through the air right above her.

The man who had ducked down was firing from behind the car with an AK-47 assault rifle.

Decker, who’d knocked Brown down when he saw the AK pointing her way, rolled off her, sprawled on his belly, took aim, and fired at various spots under the car. The scream told him that at least one of his rounds had hit the shooter in the ankle or foot.

As the man fell beside the car grabbing his leg and screaming, Decker emptied his mag at the same narrow space separating the bottom of the car from the asphalt.

The screams stopped.

Brown and Decker leapt up. When they raced over and peered around the rear of the car, the man was no longer moving. There was blood all around him and the AK was lying next to him. As Decker knelt down next to him, the man remained still.

Brown pointed to the entry wound on the side of the man’s head. “You got him in the leg, but this was the kill shot. Good aim,” she added coolly.

“I wasn’t aiming, I was just trying to hit something on him,” said a pale Decker.

“Well, better to be lucky than dead.”

Decker rose and hurried to the open trunk of the car, where a bound Tomas Amaya was struggling to free himself. There was a gag over his mouth. Decker untied him and helped him out of the trunk.

Amaya, breathing hard, swayed on his feet. Decker observed the purplish knot on the man’s forehead and said, “Sit down before you pass out.”

At first Amaya seemed about to protest, but then he followed Decker’s instruction and sat down on the asphalt.

Then something occurred to Decker. “Danny! Where’s Danny?”

“He’s at a friend’s casa ,” murmured Amaya. “He is... my hijo is okay.”

“Who’s Danny?” asked Brown.

“His eleven-year-old son.”

Brown nodded and said, “You want to call this in?”

Decker pulled out his phone and called Bogart. In one efficient minute he conveyed what had happened. “Can you call the locals in?”

Bogart said, “Doing it right now. I’ll see you in thirty minutes. You sure you’re okay?”

“We’re fine.”

“We? You mean Jamison?”

“No. Agent Brown is here with me.”

“Right,” said a clearly puzzled Bogart. “Well, you can explain that all to me later.”

Decker clicked off and looked at Brown. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Jesus, Decker, you saved my life. I never saw the AK coming my way. If you hadn’t pushed me down, I’d be heading to the morgue too.”

Decker looked down at Amaya. “Mr. Amaya, the police are on their way. You’re going to have to be prepared to tell them what’s going on.”

Amaya said nothing, and he would not look at Decker.

Frustrated, Decker glanced at Brown. “He’s not been very cooperative. Seems to be my lot in life,” he added.

Before Brown could respond, Jamison, who had walked back from the restaurant, turned into the parking lot. When she saw what was going on, she raced forward and said, “Decker, what the hell is going on?”

“Just another day in the neighborhood,” he said, becoming even paler. Then he abruptly started off toward the building.

“Wait a minute, where are you going?” said Brown.

Without turning around he said, “To throw up a cheeseburger.”

Amaya refused to say anything to the police. “ No entiendo, no entiendo ,” he kept saying over and over. When they brought in an officer who spoke Spanish he just shut up altogether.

The two dead men had no ID, but one of the cops thought he recognized the AK shooter.

“Hired gun,” he said. “Rents out to lots of different gangs. Don’t think we’ll be able to run anything down there. Those guys do all cash and never face-to-face. Sometimes it’s just a phone call and the name of the target and a wad of bills or pills in a paper bag when the job’s done.”

Bogart had arrived and was dealing with the locals. Decker, minus a burger in his gut, and Brown had given their statements.

Bogart came over to where Brown was standing and said, “Surprised to see you here.”

“Not as surprised as I was,” said Brown.

“You going to be put on admin leave by DIA after this?” asked Bogart.

“Hardly. Not how we operate. And besides, it was clear what happened. Any investigation would back up what we did.” She eyed Decker. “How about him? He discharged his weapon. Will this get him stuck behind a desk?”

“Normally, yes. But he’s not a special agent. He was reinstated as a homicide detective in Burlington, Ohio, so he’s a sworn officer with arresting authority on loan, as it were, to the Bureau. So we’ll have to see.”

“Right. Good old bureaucracies.”

“I understand you wanted to talk to Decker about something. Anything that you can share with me?”

Brown glanced at Decker as he walked over to them. “I don’t know, is there?”

Decker said, “We talked about a joint effort to get to the truth.”

“And I made no promises,” said Brown. “In fact, I said certain phone calls might be made that would draw a mandate from within the FBI for you to stand down.”

Bogart raised his eyebrows as he glanced at Decker. “So we don’t seem to have made much progress.”

Brown said, “I’ll think on all this, Agent Bogart. Decker saved my life tonight. I owe him. And I don’t like owing people.”

And with that she walked to her car and drove off.

Jamison, who had been standing in the background, hurried over and whirled on Decker. “So what the hell was all that about?”