The Reckoning - BLACKBIRD book 3

6. green light

The last interview was over, and Brock decided to have a tea before reporting to Cassidy. He'd already interviewed all the low-ranked agents Cassidy wanted assessed. Only the senior agents were pending, and Brock had a couple of names in mind to suggest, so Cassidy could pick one to conduct those interviews with any hope of getting realistic results.

He was at the staff kitchen when Jo, Cassidy's secretary, approached him. "Sir, the Section Chief needs you."

"I'll be right there."

Brock glanced at his mug and sighed, sipping his tea on the way back to his office, to fetch the folders Cassidy would ask.

Cassidy's door was closed, and Brock saw him through the inner window, pacing slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes down under a focused frown. He was about to leave the folders to the secretary when Cassidy paused before the window and signaled him to come in. Brock did so without a noise. He recognized right away Russell's voice coming from the phone speaker.

"...But there are no cargo manifests to check what they're transporting from the harbor to these five locations."

"And all five locations belong to the same holding," said Cassidy, still walking about the office.

"No, sir. One of the members of the board owns the textile and the transportation company. We're still looking into it, to see if he also has a part in the other companies involved."

"Oh, okay. So what's the plan?"

"Be there next Wednesday night, get eyes on the delivery and bug the trucks. They don't go back straight to their parking, so we want to map out their full route, in case they go to the other locations."

"Why Wednesday?"

"As far as we know, that's the day when the textile workshop receives the delivery from this transportation company, always after nine p.m. We're setting a watch on the place around the clock, starting tomorrow. There's a building across the street, with a couple of vacant apartments that would give us a good view to the back side of the site."

"Where you think they're holding the illegal aliens."

Brock scowled. Human trafficking in Boston?

"Yes. At least that's where the armed men stand watch twenty-four/seven."

"Who's gonna watch the site?"

"Bellison, Schwarz and Morris, on eight-hour shifts."

Brock scowled deeper. Gillian's team was in the field? So soon? And on such a sensitive case? How come?

"And what about Wednesday night, Coleman? How do you plan to bug the trucks?"

"Bellison will keep the watch to report their movements, and Morris will cover us from higher ground. Schwarz, Miles, Gillian and I are sneaking into the site to plant the GPS trackers on the vehicles. We also expect to get evidence of the people being held there."

And bet whose plan was that. Brock forbade himself to shake his head.

"Alright, Coleman. You're on. Just keep me in the loop."

"Thank you, sir. Have a good night."

Cassidy disconnected with a sigh. "Tell me, Brockner, d'you remember your daughter's first school day?"

Brock nodded when the other man met his eyes.

Cassidy flashed a little ironic smile. "That's exactly how I'm feeling. Multiplied by seven."

Once again, Brock forbade himself to say a word about it, but raised his eyebrows—hope you're happy with your new recruits. He handed Cassidy the folders, not interested in hearing any further about whatever was going on in Boston.

"I've finished the interviews, sir," he said. "This is my report."

Cassidy took the folder with a slight frown, as if wondering what he was talking about.

"About the pending interviews, I think the right person to conduct them is..."

Brock trailed off when Cassidy raised a hand and circled his desk in two quick steps. He fished through one of his drawers and handed Brock what he'd just grabbed.

"You're doing it," he said, plain and final.

Brock scowled when he saw the credential, his eyes moving in disbelief over his own name and picture. Cassidy had his hands back in his pockets, and waited for his obvious questions with a mild smile.

Brock needed a whole minute to be able to look up at him and mumble, "Supervisory...?"

Cassidy only nodded, his smile growing wider when Brock scowled even deeper.

"But, sir... Why...?"

"Among other things, because I can't have you assess agents who outrank you."

Brock breathed deep and tried to get a grip on himself. "Thank you, sir," he managed to say, the new credential still in his hand.

Cassidy patted a pile of folders. "Here, pick four of these and get ready to interview them. You're starting in two days."

A while later, when Brock got back home, he headed straight to the corner table where the Blue Label was. He was pouring himself a drink when he received Viv's text. "Got a baby-sitter! Thursday at your place?"

His tongue clicked softly as he savored the whiskey. Everything felt still almost surreal. There he was, in DC, back home. A badge in his wallet saying he was a Supervisory Special Agent again. An attractive woman who didn't expect anything from him, other than warming up her bed a couple of nights a week.

As if the last twelve years hadn't even existed.

But he knew that was just a mirage. He was the living scar left.

Over the last twelve years, he'd been to heaven and back. To hell and back.

Brock kept the last drops of the Blue Label in his mouth a little longer. His eyes rested on the elegant bottle and his thin lips pursed, close to a smile.

He'd even been to Boston and back.

But that was all over now.

He left the empty glass to type, "Pick you up at seven."