**picture: Boston Downtown
Russell and Gillian expected Brock to spin around and leave. Instead, his eyes moved from her to the map on screen. Gillian's harsh words forced him to shake Burton's joke off his mind and focus on such a critical situation.
Crystal clear she wasn't stepping back, and if push came to shove, Brock didn't want to even think what crazy plan she'd come up with to face the crisis. So he needed to get his head on the game, to keep their feet on the ground. And even if they were actually part of the victimology, it was also true that they were, by far, the best option in the local PD to work the case with.
And as for Burton's comment, he could fancy whatever he wanted. A man like him would never understand that what Gillian had said at the gala didn't have anything to do with sex, but with a deeper, more honest sort of... bond between her and Brock, born from a shared passion for their work and the same conviction about the best method to carry it out. Despite the extravagant ways Gillian had to apply it, and that they were always getting on each other's nerves.
So in a way that looked like out of the blue to the other two, he said, "All things considered, we should assume the subject knows at least some of you. We may be talking about a law enforcement officer in active service with explosives training. Do you know of anyone who holds a grudge against the SCU? Any name that comes to mind?"
Russell's relief echoed in his voice when he replied, "We thought about it, too. But when the PD started the SCU project, over a thousand agents applied to it, all of them highly qualified."
"And proud as cocks," Gillian added bitterly.
Russell shrugged. "Maybe our subject is among those who didn't make it to the team."
Brock rested against the inner window, folding his arms with a thoughtful look at the map.
His attitude defused Gillian in a heartbeat, and she said, "The message puzzles me, though. The quote he chose. Whether he relates to King Arthur or Sir Gawain, we're talking about strong heroic figures. But bombers are supposed to be socially submissive."
"He may not fit the text-book bomber," replied Brock.
Russell frowned, a little lost.
Gillian got it right away, as Brock knew she would. "You mean he's using explosives only because of his area of expertise."
See what I'm talking about, mister Section Chief? Maybe bond was an overstatement. There's no bond between us—there could never be—but this is what I mean. "Yes. Maybe he still feels outraged about being left out of this elite group, where he thinks he rightfully belongs, and the SCU being commended at such an important event was the stressor."
"And in order to take revenge for it, he wants to prove he's smarter than us." Gillian nodded. "The best way to do that is exposing us, making us look like useless jerks."
"Exposing implies an audience, the public opinion. It has to be a situation your team cannot handle."
"It has to be something big to overcome us all." A-bomb-in-the-North-End big, she thought.
Brock nodded, finally getting to the same conclusion she'd set out. "It's gonna be an attack against civilian population, and a bomb would get the most effect. We need information about those who tried to join the unit."
"I'll get T," said Russell, and left the other two before gawking in front of them. They were basically like water and oil, impossible to mix, and always looking like about to punch each other's lights out. Yet as soon as Brock started his usual kind of analysis, Gillian just jumped on the train and rode along, their minds working together in the same frequency, as if they'd been doing it for ages, all their differences left aside.