“Hi, honey,” said her mother. “How’s it going in sunny Florida? Sunny Baltimore is currently in the forties.”
“It’s going slowly. I’m not sure when I’ll be back again.”
“I meant to ask you, don’t they have FBI down there? Why did you and Decker get called in for this?”
“I’ve been asking myself that from day one. And the agent we’ve been working with down here was not particularly happy about it.”
She had not told her mother that Agent Andrews had been shot, and that she had been shot at, too. And she prayed her mother did not see it in the news somewhere.
“Well, it could be that the Bureau considers you and Decker crackerjack agents and you get sent out only on the tough ones.”
“Yeah,” said White sarcastically. “I’m so crackerjack I’m two promotions behind. But that might just be due to my winning disposition.”
“And the fact that you don’t take crap from anybody, particularly from male agents who try to put you in a place they want you to be. But you keep fighting the good fight, honey.”
They spent some time going over how the kids were doing, and White told her mother she would get up to see them as soon as possible.
She clicked off, sat back, and wondered again why they had been sent down here when there were FBI agents all over South Florida, and the Bureau also had large field offices in both Tampa and Miami.
It’s not me, that’s for sure. So, is it Decker? I mean, I know the guy is good, but is that it?
She couldn’t very well ask her superior about it.
Hey, sir, why did you send our sorry asses down here when you already got all that manpower in the Sunshine State?
On a whim she decided to call Jim Pollard, a friend of hers at the Hoover Building who kept his ear to the ground and knew all the Bureau gossip.
“Hey, Freddie, how goes it?” said Pollard in a booming voice.
His voice matched his stature, she knew. He was a big, gregarious guy with the rep of a good agent, but he had a secret desire to act—and did so in local productions. Everything about the man was larger than life. He also loved the inner drama of the Bureau, of which there was an endless supply.
“I’m down in Florida on a case.”
“I know you are, Freddie. With the one-of-a-kind Amos Decker, no less.”
“So you knew that?”
“Hell, everybody knows that. Sorry you got stuck with him as his new partner. I heard his old one ran away to New York.”
“Actually, Alex Jamison thinks the world of him,” retorted White, who was surprised at how angry his comment had made her.
“Not what I heard.”
“What did you mean everyone knows about us being down here?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Ross Bogart was Decker’s protector. Now that he’s retired the Bureau is getting tired of the man. Granted he’s had some success, but word is Decker is an absolute dick to work with.”
“He’s a little out of the mainstream, but he’s got a brilliant mind and a softer touch with people than I would have imagined.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect to hear that from you.”
“I just call them like I see them,” she replied coldly. “And what do you mean they’re getting tired of him?”
“They want to get rid of him, that’s what. I’ve heard scuttlebutt from the executive suites that they just want to cut bait on him. He’s rude, won’t follow orders, won’t toe the Bureau line, and is never going to fit in.”