+18 - eps 28-32 - On the sixth installment of the Blackbird series, Cassidy sends Gillian and her team with Brock and Russel to Tampa, Florida, to look into the death of a girl while winter storm Jonas beats the East Coast. But this seemingly ordina...
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The men over the accusing side of the table stiffened at her harsh reply. Save Wright, of course. He raised his eyebrows a little, as if acknowledging the mouse's guts to throw such an accusation at the pack of lions.
The ADD didn't sound like a disappointed father anymore. He voice was sharp and cold, the lord of the land to a peasant. "Explain yourself."
"I was ordered to let go of a case of domestic abuse, pedophilia, child abduction and accessory to murder. And I was ordered to look the other way because it involved a personal friend of the Deputy Director's. I believe my job is seeing that the law is served, and protecting those who cannot protect themselves. I also believe nobody is above the law, especially those sworn to represent the people. But if I'm wrong, please, by all means kick me out, because I clearly don't belong here."
Wright's raised eyebrows were mirrored all along the table, as many of the men looked down to keep from trading funny glances.
Of course, the ADD ignored most of her answer. "Those are serious charges, Agent. You'll be asked to provide solid hard evidence for every one of them. Do you have it?"
"Yes, I do. And the evidence may add even more charges to the list."
The Deputy Director stirred in his seat but controlled himself. Then the door opened behind Gillian, and the energetic voice of a man thanked somebody at the hall. She looked over her shoulder as a man in his mid-fifties, in a wealthy, elegant gray suit, strode around the end of the table with a confident smile, as if he were in his own living room. Her guts twitched at the brink of a retch at the very sight of Senator Graff's face.
"I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic's a mess this morning," he said, heading straight to the vacant chair by the Deputy Director's. He sat down and looked up to meet Gillian's glare, his smile turning sarcastic.
"Nice to finally meet you in person, Agent." He turned to the ADD with a nod oozing authority. "I'm sorry for the interruption."
The Deputy Director raised his hand, his face carved in stone to say, "Agent Gillian, Senator Graff asked to witness this meeting and I—"
"And you just can't say no to your friend. It's okay, sir, I know."
Some muffled coughs echoed from both ends of the table at Gillian's soft reply.
"Mind your words, Agent," the ADD warned. "You must address the Deputy Director with due respect to his office."
Gillian flashed a bitter smile at him. "I'm sorry, sir, but respect is to be earned. And I owe none to a pedophile's protector."
Graff leaned back in his seat at her words, the confident little smile nailed to his face and his eyes narrowed to stare at Gillian. She ignored him completely and kept looking at the ADD. The man was about to speak when the door opened again. The surprise on the faces at the accusing side of the table made Gillian look over her shoulder—and join the general gawk when the tall figure of the Director walked in.
He nodded at them with what Gillian labeled as a deceiving poker face and spoke with a matching deceiving causal tone.
"Morning, gents, Agent. I must've misread today's schedule, 'cause I wasn't aware we had a meeting with the Senator."
He glanced at Gillian as if asking for permission to grab a chair from her side, since all the seats at the other side were already taken, and rolled it to the head of the table. Before sitting down, he looked at the still-open door and nodded again. The suits opposite Gillian frowned when Brock walked in. Cassidy came in next. And Cooper. And Russell with the whole team.
The Director waved for them to sit on Gillian's side and turned to the Deputy Director and the ADD, his poker face daring them out loud to object his dispositions. Brock sat down at Gillian's right and Cooper at her left. Cassidy, Russell and the team took the remaining seats.
Ten to ten is more like it, she thought, biting her lip not to grin and keeping her eyes down as she made solemn vows to ignore Brock's cologne.
The Director leaned back on his seat, best Wright's way to enjoy the show. He kept his calm, cold eyes on the suits a moment longer. And just like every kingdom since the dawn of time, the long-titled men didn't dare to object to the shortest-titled man of the land sitting at the head of the table. When no complaint was voiced, he turned his hard stare to the other side.
"Please, carry on," he said, royal enough to make Gillian want to ask him for an autograph—and maybe a crash course on polite deathly intimidation.
"Show us what you have, Agent Gillian," said Wright softly, and she could bet her kidneys that his soft tone was only caused by the laughter he was fighting back.
