Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

Before he could open the door to the room where we were waiting, we all got to our feet. He moved immediately to Becker and offered him his hand.

Becker took it fast, looking almost shell-shocked as he stared at our boss.

“I’m so sorry about all this and very relieved that you weren’t physically harmed.”

Because Kage knew Becker’d been hurt in other ways, he added the physical part. People said a lot of things about Sam Kage, and people speculated about the kind of man he really was. But I knew. He was a good man.

“Thank you, sir,” Becker replied, releasing a deep breath.

“I’m insisting on a formal public apology,” Kage told him. “You can be there to make a statement yourself or not. That’s up to you. I myself hate public anything, but I never assume anyone else’s preferences.”

“Yessir.”

“You, of course, can sue the department as well, and based on the apology, I’m sure there would be compensation involved.”

He shook his head. “No, sir.”

Kage patted his shoulder before turning to Ching and offering him his hand, making sure he, too, was all right before rounding on the rest of us. “What the hell was wrong with taking out your badges before you walked up on the car? Why would that have been hard?”

The yelling surprised me.

“Were you intentionally trying to make the officers on-site look worse than they already did?”

He was waiting between questions, but I had the feeling that answering would be bad, from the way his gaze was boring into each of us, one at a time. The undercurrent of murder was there in his face. He was furious and, even worse, disappointed.

“We’re all in this together, gentlemen. Us, CPD, the FBI, CIA, Homeland, State, all of us.”

I noticed he didn’t say DEA, and I made the mistake of smiling.

“Jones?” he said, his gaze zeroing in on me. “Something you’d like to add?”

I cleared my throat. “No, sir, except to say I didn’t think of pulling my badge before we walked up on them.”

The whole room around me groaned.

“But that’s protocol, isn’t it?”

Was it?

Ian swore, Dorsey rolled his eyes, Ryan shook his head, Ching looked disgusted, and Becker nodded, silently saying that yes, dumbass, that was protocol.

Kage’s grunt was not a good one, full of judgment and recrimination.

Ian tried to defend me. “It was the heat of the moment, sir.”

“I see,” Kage said darkly, his tone menacing. “Well, because you didn’t think of it and none of you followed protocol, but because what you did was actually in support of members of your team, I’m going to educate you instead of suspending you.”

Oh God. My eyes might have fluttered as I imagined the horror.

He’d once sent me to Asset Forfeiture, where they managed and sold assets that were seized and forfeited by criminals, the proceeds doled out to victims and innocent people caught in the crossfire. Funds were also used for community programs and different initiatives that… God… I couldn’t remember. I knew they did good work. Compensating people hurt by crime was a noble pursuit, but the day-to-day accounting of it was a snorefest. They were, in fact, heroes, but they didn’t look cool doing it. I was vain enough to know that following Ian through the door, being the one on the ground, was something I got off on. I was as susceptible to praise as the next guy. So spreadsheets and endless reporting were not things I had the heart for. I was only there a week, but it had felt like a year. It was a huge responsibility. Huge. The marshal service managed assets in the billions, and I never, ever wanted to know anything about that. I was happy being in the field. I would die sitting behind a desk doing what others enjoyed because it wasn’t me. Sam Kage knew it, and just the idea that he’d send me back was terrifying. I prayed he wasn’t that mad.

Please God, don’t let him be that pissed off.

“So you two,” he said, pointing at Dorsey and Ryan, “will enjoy being on WITSEC intake this week, and you two,” he continued—Ian and I were up—“will enjoy flying to Las Vegas to bring back a witness who is not presently in custody, but that the office there has under surveillance. Maybe then you’ll all remember to pull your badges.”

“Paperwork,” Dorsey whined.

“Witness transfer,” Ian groused.

There was nothing on Kage’s face at all to indicate even a sliver of caring.

“You should get going, gentlemen,” Kage told Ian and me. “That plane leaves at seven a.m. from O’Hare, I believe, and Monday morning traffic in Chicago means you better be there a helluva lot earlier than that.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

“And before you go, you need to settle that business with Cabot and Drake. I want to know their status before the plane takes off in the morning since you won’t be here.”