"Full." I slid the clip back inside the gun, hitting it sharply with the palm of my hand to make it click. "He had a loaded 9 mm in his desk, but he grabbed salt and his book of shadows. He didn't waste time grabbing for the gun. He either knew what the thing was, or he sensed something about it and knew the gun wouldn't work, and that the spell would." I raised the gun up so that Bradley looked at it, the barrel pointed at the ceiling. "The spell worked, Bradley, We need to know what it was, and the only way to know that is to get a witch in here."
"Can't you take the book and just show her pictures?"
"What if the position of the book is important? What if there are clues to the spell in the circle itself? I don't practice this kind of ritual magic, Bradley. For all I know if you get someone in here, they may be able to sense something that I can't. Do you really want to take the chance that pictures and just seeing the book in their own home will be just as good as seeing it here like this?
"You're asking me to risk my career."
"I am asking you to risk your career," I said, "but I'm also asking you to not risk any more innocent lives. Do you really want to see this done to another couple, another family?"
"How can you be so sure that this is the key?"
"I'm not sure, but it's the closest thing we've seen to a break in this case. I'd hate to lose it because of career jitters."
"It's not just that, Anita. If we use anything more exotic than psychics and we fail, then the entire unit could be disbanded."
I placed the gun in his hand. He stared at it. "I trust you to do the right thing, Bradley. That's why you're one of the good guys."
He shook his head. "And to think I blackmailed Marks to get you back on the case."
"You knew I was a pain in the ass when you fought to get me back on the case. It's one of my many charms."
That earned me a weak smile. He was still holding the gun flat across his hand. His fingers tightened around it. "You know any witches in the area?"
I grinned at him. "No, but I bet Ted does." I shook my head. "I've never hugged an FBI agent, but I'm tempted."
That made him smile, but his eyes stayed cautious, unhappy. I was asking a lot from him. I touched his arm. "I wouldn't ask you to bring in a witch if I didn't think it was our best shot. I wouldn't ask just on a whim."
He gave me a long look. "I know. You are one of the least whimsical people I've ever met."
"I would say you should see me when I'm not neck deep in corpses, but it doesn't really matter. I don't get much lighter than this."
"I've checked the cases you've helped the St. Louis PD solve, Anita. Gruesome stuff. How old are you now?"
I frowned at the question then answered it. "Twenty-six."
"How long have you been helping the police?"
"About four years."
"The Bureau switches its agents off the serial killer shit about every two years. Whether they want to transfer or not. Then after a break, they can come back."
"You think I need a break?"
"Everyone burns out eventually, Anita, even you."
"Actually, I'm thinking about a vacation when I get home."
He nodded. "That's good."
I looked up at him. "Do I look like I need a break?"
"I've seen it before in other agents' eyes."
"Seen what?" I asked.
"Like your eyes are a cup, and every horror you see is another drop added. Your eyes are full of the things you've seen, the things you've clone. Get out while there's still some room for things that don't bleed."
"That is damn poetic for an FBI agent."
"One friend stayed with it until he had a heart attack."
"I think I'm a little young for that," I said.
"Another friend ate his gun."
We stared at each other. "I'm not the suicidal type."
"I also don't want to see you in jail."
My eyes widened. "Whoa. I do not know what you're talking about."
"The state department confirmed Otto Jefferies is a retired government worker, but they couldn't access the rest of his file at the present time. I've got a friend at the state department with a level two secret clearance. He couldn't access Otto Jefferies' files either. He's a total black out, which means he'sa spook of some kind. You do not want to get involved with the spooks, Anita. If they try to recruit you, say no. Don't try to find out who Otto really is, or what he did. Don't get nosy or you'll end up in a hole somewhere. Just work with him, leave him alone, and move on."
"You sound like you're talking from personal experience," I said.
He shook his head. "I'm not going to talk about it."
"You brought it up," I said.
"I told you just enough to get your attention, I hope. Just trust me on this. Stay the fuck away from these people."
I nodded. "It's okay, Bradley. I don't like ... Otto. And he hates women, so don't worry. I don't think it would occur to him to try and recruit me."
"Good." He put the gun back in the desk drawer and closed it.
"Besides," I said, "what would the top secret set want with me?"
He looked at me, and it was a look that I wasn't used to getting. The look said, I was being naive. "Anita, you can raise the dead."
"So?"
"I can think of a half a dozen uses for that one talent alone."
"Like what?"
"Prisoner dies in interrogation. Doesn't matter. Raise him up again. A world leader is assassinated. We need a few days to get our troops ready, raise the leader for a few days. Give us time to control the panic, or stop the revolution."
"Zombies are not alive, Bradley. They couldn't pass for a country's leader."
"From a distance, for two or three days, don't even try and say you couldn't pull that off."
"I wouldn't do it," I said.
"Even if it meant that hundreds of lives could be saved, or hundreds of Americans could be evacuated in safety."
I looked at him. "I ... I don't know."
"No matter how good the cause seems at the beginning, Anita, eventually it won't be. Eventually, when you're so far in you can't see daylight, they'll ask things of you that you won't want to do."
I was hugging myself again, which irritated me. No one had approached me to do anything on an international level. Olaf thought I was good for only one thing and that did not include helping the government. But it did make me wonder how Edward had met him. Edward was spooky, but was he a spook?
I looked up at Bradley's so serious face. "I'll be careful." Then I had a thought. "Did someone approach you about me?"
"I was thinking about offering you a job with us." I raised eyebrows at him.
He laughed. "Yeah, after looking through your file, it was decided that you're too independent, too much a wild card. It was decided that you not thrive in a bureaucratic setting."
"You got that right, but I am flattered you thought of me."
His face went back to serious, and there were lines in his face that I hadn't seen before. It made him look forty plus. Most of the time he didn't. "Your file got flagged, Anita. It got moved up the line. I don't know where to or who asked for it, but there is government work out there for the independent wild card if they have specialized enough skills."
I opened my mouth, closed it, and finally said, "I'd say you were joking but you're not, are you?"
He shook his head. "I wish I was."
Edward had said that he wouldn't have brought Olaf in if he'd known I was coming. It made it sound like Olaf had been invited in, not volunteered, but I'd ask Edward. I'd make sure.
"Thank you for telling me, Bradley. I don't know much about this stuff but I know you're taking a chance telling me at all."
"I had to tell you, Anita. You see it was me that pulled your file in the first place. I was the one that pushed to get you invited in. I brought you to someone's attention. For that I am heartily sorry."
"It's okay, Bradley. You didn't know."
He gave a small shake of his head, and the look on his face was bitter. "But I should have."
I didn't know what to say to that. It turned out I didn't have to say anything. Bradley walked out of the room. I waited a second or two, then followed him out. But I couldn't shake the unease. He'd meant to scare me, and he'd succeeded. It was all Big Brother watching and paranoia. He already had me wondering if Olaf had invited himself, or even if Edward could have been asked to recruit me. It wouldn't surprise me that Edward worked for the government, at least part time. He took money from anyone.
It would have seemed silly if I hadn't seen the look on Bradley's face. If he hadn't told me about my file. He said file, like everyone had a file. Maybe they did. But someone had requested my file. I had a sudden image of my life, my crimes, all printed in neat type crossing one shadowy desk after another until it reached, where? Or would the question be who?
Blake, Anita Blake. It even sounded funny. Of course, the federal government has never been known for its sense of humor.