Page 103 of The Right to Remain

It was Andie’s first day back in the Miami field office in nearly three weeks. And she was in a funk.

An undercover agent’s return from assignment was normally an adrenaline rush, with kudos from supervisors and colleagues eager for war stories. But there were no high fives and congratulations for canceled operations. The downtown office had over a thousand employees. It simply wasn’t possible thatallof them knew that headquarters had pulled the plug. Yet, as Andie walked alone through the lobby, it sure felt like everyone knew.

She grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and continued down the hall. The assistant special agent in charge was in his office, and his door was open. Andie stopped and knocked on the door frame.

“Got a minute?”

Todd Tidwell was the newest ASAC, one of three in South Florida. He invited her in, and she took a seat in the antique Windsor armchair facing his desk.

“Sorry about Seattle,” he said.

“Thanks. I’ll get over it. Except for maybe one thing. And I don’t mean my haircut.”

He smiled. “I didn’t say a word. Don’t report me to HR, Henning.”

“No worries,” said Andie, and then she turned serious. “I’ve hardly slept since I’ve been home. I can’t stop thinking about Graciela.”

“Who?”

She took a minute to tell him about her contact, the teenage girl in the motel room, a sex-trafficking victim. “I want to help her.”

“Andie, the operation has been deep-sixed.”

“I want to help her,” she said, repeating her words with added emphasis.

Tidwell didn’t immediately say no—which was the reason she’d gone to see him over the other two ASACs.

“It can’t be you who helps her. You can’t blow your cover, even after the operation is over.”

“I know. I have a plan.”

“All right. Write up one page for me. Let’s see if there’s something we can do.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

She couldn’t mention Francine by name. “Yes. I assume I’ll get an official notice on this, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that I’ve been walled off from a new investigation. What’s that about?”

“Operation P-P-P. Port-au-Prince Pipeline.”

“As in ‘iron pipeline’?”

“Yeah. Gun-running. Haiti’s government has been in a shambles since the assassination of President Jovenel Moise, and its people are at the mercy of heavily armed gangs. The country has one of the highest rates of gun violence in the world, but it doesn’t have a single weapons or ammunition factory.”

“The guns have to come from somewhere else.”

“Exactly. Which is why a handgun that sells for four hundred bucks in Miami can be resold to Haitian gangs for ten grand or more.”

It was interesting information, but Andie needed to get to the heart of the matter. “Does Operation P-P-P have anything to do with Owen Pollard’s gun destruction facility? Is that why I’m walled off? Because of Jack’s case?”

Andie knew it wasn’t Jack. Francine had told her it was Theo. The ASAC’s response would tell her how straight he was willing to be with her.

“I can’t tell you why you’re walled off, Andie. You’re walled off.”

At least he didn’t lie to her.

“I understand,” she said. “But let me ask you one favor. If there comes a point where Operation P-P-P is going to come crashing down on the head of Jack or anyone else in my family, I want to be there when it happens.”