Full Disclosure (Nice Guys 2)

“Gladys, meet Deputy Marshal Knox.” She nodded and did manage a look at him, but that was about all he got.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, trying for nice.

“Here’s your code. It allows access to every floor in this building. If it’s forgotten, please report to bureau security on the first floor. They will assist you. Please memorize the number and return this page to me before you leave this building today,” she said, handing him a sheet of paper with directions on how to work the keypad in the elevator along with the four-digit number.

“This is your badge. You’ll be asked to present it every time you enter the building. Since you carry a weapon, you’ll have to have it logged and go through the formal procedures every time you enter,” she said crisply.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tried again. Who knew if Gladys here would be his go-to assistant during the duration of his assignment.

“This is the bureau’s policy on the dress code. I understand this is a delicate situation, but as long as you are in this building, you’ll need to cover up the tattoos and no vulgar or obscene clothing.” She glanced at his T-shirt, then lifted her perfectly arched brows as her eyes caught his. “Director Young doesn’t give on that breach. And what you’re wearing right now, Deputy Marshal Knox, is completely inappropriate for most situations.”

She stood and went to a door behind her. Several suit jackets and ties hung in the closet. Mitch said nothing to this. He understood most agencies frowned on profanity on T-shirts and didn’t allow their agents to have tattoos, but never in all his years working for the Marshals Service had he been asked to cover himself up.

“I’ll guess this is about your size,” she said, pulling a jacket from the closet. He didn’t reach out and take the suit jacket because he could already feel the fabric sucking his will to live.

“Wear the coat, Knox. It’s not an option while you’re in this part of the building,” Director Carpenter ordered as he walked away from the desk heading toward the back of the building. Reluctantly he took the jacket, sliding the restrictive fabric on as he followed behind, quickening his steps to catch up. Director Carpenter rapped his knuckles on a big oak door and walked straight in to what Mitch assumed was the big guy’s office. Mitch looked around and, to his surprise, the office was bigger than his entire apartment in Pineville, Louisiana. It may have actually encompassed the entire side of the fourth floor of the FBI building.

Director Young, the biggest dog of the FBI, sat behind his ultra-clean desk, motioning them in while ending a phone call. There was a large desk and credenza area, but also a small conference table that sat about eight people. Directly beside that, a sitting area. Two long sofas and several matching upholstered chairs sat around a large coffee table. Again, for about the thousandth time in the last two days, the opulence of how this bureau ran itself overwhelmed him.

Mitch followed Director Carpenter’s lead and took a seat in front of the desk. “Sorry about that. That was agent Connors,” Director Young said while standing and extending a hand across his desk. He was shorter than Mitch had imagined. He stood to shake the man’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Deputy Marshal Knox. Thank you for taking on this case. Director Skinner’s waiting on the other line to be conferenced in.” There was no pause on Young’s end. He punched a couple of numbers on the phone. “Tom, you here with us?

“Yes, I’m here,” Director Skinner acknowledged.

“Director Carpenter as well as Deputy Marshal Knox are also here. Special Agent Tyler Connors has had a family emergency. He should be available later this evening. Knox and Connors just returned from Kentucky, from what I understand.” Director Young quickly got everyone caught up.

“Yes, Sir,” Mitch responded and tugged at the uncomfortable suit jacket he’d been given.

“Senator Greyson wasn’t pleased with the interview he received,” Director Young started right in, his tone changed, becoming a little harder.

“Knox, we need you to play a little more diplomatically when dealing with members of Congress,” Director Skinner said.

“Sir, I’m not unsympathetic to the senator’s plight, but the meeting and interview were bullshit. Two and two never equal five, even if you’re in Congress,” Mitch said. He could hear his own director sighing, but Director Carpenter was the first to reply.

“And what is it exactly that doesn’t equal up for you?”

“I’m afraid none of this is. Connors feels like we should tread lightly here, and he’s probably right. He clearly understands this bureau more than I do.” Mitch gestured wildly with his hand, waving it around the room and then down the suit jacket he’d been forced to wear.

“Just talk, Knox,” Director Skinner pressed.

“My gut says that we didn’t need to waste our time in Kentucky. Our first viable lead was right here, and no one wants to see it. Look, the Greyson kid’s a straight A student. He’s well-mannered and well-behaved. He’s Ivy League, wants his own political career someday, and he’s openly gay, but yet still very respectful of his father’s political views on the matter. Now, all of a sudden, in a matter of a few minutes, he becomes this unmanageable rebel and ducks out on his security detail to find himself kidnapped? He’s not sixteen years old. He’s a sophomore in college with no history of defiance. That tells me someone on the inside helped this ‘accident’ along.” Mitch raised his two fingers, making air quotes, stressing the word accident.

“That was my initial conclusion too. I’ve met the kid a few times, know the family,” Director Skinner added, backing Mitch up. It shocked him a little, but since he’d already gone against what he, Connors, and Kreed had decided and gone off half-cocked, pointing fingers without proof, he needed Skinner on his side.

“I called in some favors and got a full list of the security detail on the Greysons for the past six months. We dug a little deeper and nothing’s obvious,” Mitch said, sitting forward in the seat.