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“Mission critical,”I said, storming into the control room. Kavanaugh and Fox jumped to attention, but Rae just quirked an eyebrow at me.
“What’s going on?” Kavanaugh asked, shifting into work mode.
“We have a possible target. I need intel—everything we can get on this guy.”
“Who is he?” Kavanaugh asked.
“I only have a first name. Andrew. He works on an oil rig and just got in last night. He shouldn’t be too hard to track down.”
I sat at my station and started a search algorithm, pulling up his name first and then anyone associated with him. I wanted to know his family, the company he worked for, his childhood dog, and even the first girl he ever kissed. This man wouldn’t stand a chance when I was through with him.
“His father works for the IRS,” Kavanaugh said over my shoulder, reading the information as it popped up. “Huh, he left his job at the FBI six years ago.”
“Six years ago?” Fox crowded in, looking over my other shoulder. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Why? What happened six years ago?” Kavanaugh asked.
Fox snorted. “What didn’t happen? There was that thing withSerbia. Oh, and then there was that thing with the balloon that wasn’t supposed to fly over that place. And don’t forget about the whole football debacle.”
“I doubt this has anything to do with football,” Kavanaugh said. I could practically hear his eyes rolling. “But who leaves the FBI to go work for the IRS? There’s something there.”
“Like a conspiracy!” Fox exclaimed. “Yes, I can see it. The FBI spies on people all the time.”
“Right, but there are all those pesky rules you have to jump through to get court orders.”
“Technically, you jump through hoops, not rules,” Fox corrected him. “But I see where you’re going with this. At the IRS, he could spy on citizens without needing warrants. An audit here and there on the right people, and in the meantime, he’s using his resources to go after his targets. He tracks them in the night, stalking his prey. And then when he locks on his target, he attacks in broad daylight, taking them down in one ruthless swipe.”
“And he locks them up,” Kavanaugh continued. “Holy shit, this is about more than just taking down targets. Imagine what he could do, the empires that would crumble with that kind of power.”
“Exactly. It’s no wonder the IRS doesn’t get anything done. They’re not short-staffed. They’re using their resources to take down political opponents.”
“Yes! It’s just like how they took out Kennedy or Marilyn Monroe.”
“Elvis,” Fox nodded. “Oh man, just wait until Cash hears about this.”
“Yeah, but how do we get on the inside?”
“He has a dog named ChiChi,” Rae said in a bored tone, flipping through a magazine.
“Right,” Kavanaugh nodded. “We’ll take the dog to the groomer and then take him hostage.”
“Eh, I’m kind of against that now. Besides, it’s a dog. He never hurt anyone.”
“Well, threatening this guy with giving his dog a spa day isn’t likely to scare him into talking,” Kavanaugh snapped. “If we’re going to catch this guy, your hands are gonna have to get dirty!”
“No, I told you. I don’t do that anymore. I’m done with that life. Now, if you want me to lure him here with the promise of a massage as he meditates, I can do that. But the man will be given the full treatment. I’ll get you the answers you need, just not in the way you want.”
“Do you actually believe that bullshit?”
“How is it any different than you and mummies?” Fox shot back.
“Mummies are real. You can feel them. They’re tangible.”
“But the threat isn’t. Zen really does calm you down.”
“Zen is a state of mind,” Kavanaugh shot back.
“It’s an inner calm,” Fox argued. “Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve shot someone?”