Max Collins - Fate of the Union

She shared the backseat with Reeder. Detective Woods was in the front passenger seat, her guys Bohannon and Wade remaining behind at the crime scene.

Rogers phoned Anne Nichols to assemble the team in their office, then called Miggie — not an official task force member — to join them. Both already knew what had gone down, the shooting all over TV and the net.

Woods, with just a little edge, craned to ask Reeder, “So you’ve saved another political figure from assassination. How does that happen three times?”

Reeder said flatly, “Just lucky I guess.”

Woods frowned but turned back around, as they slowed to pass security before entering the J. Edgar Hoover Building’s underground garage. Rogers was not surprised to see news vans lined up out front.

“Welcome to the media shitstorm,” she said to Reeder.

“And me without my umbrella.”

“I don’t envy you.”

Reeder gave her a sideways look as they speed-bumped into the concrete catacombs. “Are you kidding? You’re the one who took down a wannabe assassin. You’re the star here.”

Rogers said, with a shiver, “Hell, I hope not.”

She had enough to contend with just for discharging her weapon, however righteous the reason — there’d be a board of inquiry and almost certainly desk duty until a ruling confirmed a justified shoot. No worries about the decision, just the time it would take away from the Bryson investigation.

Though private-citizen Reeder hadn’t fired a shot, the Bureau — due to the inevitable media attention — would surely want to distance itself from him. In stopping this crime tonight, had she and Reeder lost their ability to solve a series of crimes already committed?

The SUV slowed and stopped twenty feet from a bank of elevators. Waiting there like a classy tour guide — her charcoal suit immaculate, her helmet of dark hair perfect, her mouth a thin straight line, arms folded — stood Assistant Director Margery Fisk.

They clearly rated. Not all condemned prisoners were met at the gate by their executioner.

“Fuck me,” Rogers muttered under her breath.

Reeder said, “Not on the first date.”

She managed a grunt of a laugh and he gave her a little supportive pat on the shoulder. After climbing out on the driver’s side, she took her time coming around the vehicle, composing herself.

Reeder and Detective Woods, having gotten out on the passenger side, were already approaching the AD. To Rogers’s surprise, Fisk smiled as she extended her hand to Reeder.

“Joe, good to see you,” the AD said, putting her left on top as they shook, a surprisingly warm gesture. “Mr. Benjamin is very lucky you were around.”

“You can take the man out of the Secret Service,” he said with a small smile, “but not the Secret Service... you know the rest.”

“I do,” Fisk said.

Rogers fell in at Reeder’s side, nodding to Fisk, saying, “Assistant Director.”

Fisk’s smile was tight but seemed genuine. “Well done, Special Agent Rogers.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The AD turned a businesslike smile onto Woods, who was beside Reeder. “Detective Woods?” she asked, extending a hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Woods nodded, shook her hand and smiled back, obviously a little flattered by such attention from a high-ranking FBI official.

“Would you mind,” she said pleasantly, “giving us a few moments in private?”

The young detective shrugged, perhaps too intimidated to feel offended, and walked halfway down a row of mostly empty parking places, out of earshot.

Fisk returned her gaze to Rogers. “This is the first time you’ve taken a life?”

“It is,” Rogers said, somewhat surprised that Fisk seemed already to know that.

“How are you with it?”

“Necessary action, ma’am. I’m fine.”

“You’ll have to undergo counseling.”

“Understood.” That wasn’t optional.

“Of course,” Fisk said, “you’ll work that in and around your duties.”

That rated a Huh?

But Rogers just said, “Of course.”

“Good. There’ll be a board of inquiry, naturally, but with positive media reaction and social media trending so highly in your favor, the Director will encourage a prompt decision. After all, almost everyone in this country has seen, by now, what you did. You’re a hero. In my opinion, you made the only decision you could.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“My off the record opinion, that is. In the meantime, I need you to keep a low profile for a while.”

Rogers nodded dutifully. “If I’m to be temporarily reassigned to desk duty, might I request input into which task force member steps in for me?”

Fisk’s smile actually showed some teeth. “Special Agent Rogers, I think you’re quite capable of continuing to lead your task force. I would avoid fieldwork, when possible... but if that should prove necessary, avoid media contact. For now.”

“Uh, understood, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Fisk turned in the direction of Woods and called, voice echoing, “Detective, if you’d join us please?”

Woods clip-clopped over and resumed his place next to Reeder.

Fisk said, “Detective Woods, thank you again for coming. We have an unusual situation in that you were already working with Rogers and Reeder on a series of related murders that may include the faked suicide of a former Secret Service agent.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you understand that we will be taking the lead in this attempted assassination of Adam Benjamin.”

His brow furrowed. “That would seem to be a DC police matter, ma’am.”

“Not when a major political figure, on the verge of running for president, is nearly killed within yards of the White House. And not when the assassination is prevented by the actions of an FBI agent and one of our consultants.”

“Excuse me,” Reeder said.

Everyone looked his way.

“There’s a possibility these investigations could converge. The assassination attempt and the string of murders might possibly be related.”

Fisk asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Start with a .45 automatic being the weapon of choice tonight as well. And while the attempt on Benjamin’s life was hardly execution-style, the use of a sound suppressor seems a professional’s touch.”

Fisk gave him a single, narrow-eyed nod.

He continued: “Who needs a silencer in a room that size? But a professional might have one handy and feel the silenced shot in the noisy hall could give him a few seconds before the realization of what happened kicks in.”

“Making an escape,” Rogers said softly, “more possible.”

Reeder nodded. “To pull it off, he had to get close — but still wanted a way out of the hall.”

“A possibility,” Fisk granted.

“There’s something that isn’t just a possibility — before he died, Jay Akers uttered the word ‘senk.’ And shortly before his death, Bryson told his wife that he was worried about what she thought was ‘sink.’ If this isn’t one case, I’m surprised.”

His irritation finally showing, Woods said, “I don’t care how many cases you think this is — these are DC Homicide’s jurisdiction.”

“No, Detective Woods,” Fisk said. “The Benjamin investigation is ours — we’ll keep you in the loop, work with you — but it’s ours.”

He frowned, a child fighting back a tantrum. “I need to interview your agent and Mr. Reeder.”

“We will conduct our own interviews with our agent and our consultant, and keep you apprised. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll give you a ride back to the crime scene, where our agents Bohannon and Wade are now in charge.”