Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

“The only one I’ve spoken privately to is Becker,” Kage said, looking over at him, giving a slight smile that somehow conveyed warmth, even being no more than a faint softening of his eyes and a curl to his lip that was gone before he turned back to all of us, “as he is the only one who’s being promoted. The rest of you will receive your new interim assignments, and they will be assessed in ninety days.”

Still quiet.

“As our department grows, so does our reach into the community, and we need to be able to work seamlessly with other law enforcement. The task force opportunities will only grow as we educate and are in turn educated by other agencies. For that reason, I’ve added a deputy director position here that we haven’t had before—haven’t needed before now—that will coordinate this new interagency cooperation.”

Poor Becker. Really, God, poor fucking Becker. I couldn’t imagine the horror of being the guy who had to talk to Chicago PD and the Illinois State Police, the FBI, Homeland, ATF, and of course, the DEA. I got chills just thinking about being the poster boy of interagency clusterfucks. It made sense he’d choose Becker, as he was without a doubt the one of us who was the most unflappable, the most grounded, the guy who rowed the steadiest boat. But still, to be the center of the storm, the one who had to keep tabs on everyone, who coordinated who went where and how and what and when, required a level of professionalism and patience, organization and quiet, steely command I certainly did not possess. Becker was the best choice for the job.

“So,” Kage said, taking a breath, “as of today, Christopher Becker has been promoted to supervisory deputy of the Northern District of Illinois.”

It took a second for the words to sink in because that was not where I thought he was going at all. And didn’t we already have a supervisory deputy?

“Holy shit,” I gasped, stunned and sucker-punched but also very thrilled for my friend, who so deserved the promotion. Just working with Ching all those years should have gotten him some kind of commendation.

I started whooping and clapping along with everyone else, and anyone who wasn’t standing did, as did Becker, who smiled, nodded, and gave us a wave before flipping us all off. It was totally him.

He then turned to Kage, who walked over to him and offered this hand. The two men shook, with Kage squeezing his shoulder and Becker taking deep breaths.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” he promised as Kage passed him a new badge, new credentials in the small trifold wallet, and a lanyard we were all supposed to wear inside the building and never did.

“I know that,” Kage assured him with a true smile this time, patting Becker’s shoulder before releasing him and stepping back.

We rushed Becker then, Ching first, hugging his best friend and partner tight and whispering urgently.

All I heard was Becker’s reply: “Nothing changes with us.”

“No,” Ching agreed, pounding his back and then letting go so the rest of us could hug him, one after another.

After he and Ian embraced, when my husband went to draw back, Becker clutched at him, holding him there. “I promise to give you all the support you need, Doyle.”

Ian looked up at him, appreciative but also confused. “Why do I need support?”

Becker shrugged and then gave him a pat before letting him go.

“Settle,” Kage ordered, and we all went quiet. “Darren Mills has been reassigned to the Warrants division here and will be reporting to Becker as of today.”

He didn’t say the words no one ever wanted to be associated with: demotion, reclassification, reassignment. I noticed the grimaces on everyone and felt it too, the stab of guilt that came with the relief that it wasn’t me.

“As supervisory deputy, you carry a gun, but Mills does not in his new capacity,” Kage said, enunciating the “not” at the end so Becker, along with the rest of us, were clear. “I had him turn in his firearm last night, but if he comes in with his spare for any reason, he’s to be placed immediately on administrative leave.” He finished with a pointed stare at his new supervisory deputy.

“Yessir,” Becker acknowledged solemnly.

I glanced over at Becker, and his look of pain was unmissable. That was going to be a barrel of fun right there.

“Moving on,” Kage said quickly, facing the room. “The commander position that has been vacant in SOG will be filled by Wesley Ching.”

I was stunned, and clearly, when I turned to Ian, so was he. But Ching was a former Marine, a gunnery sergeant with years of combat experience, and he’d been a marshal a lot longer than the rest of us, except for Becker. So the surprise wasn’t that Ching couldn’t do the job, never that, it was just that Ian, with his Special Forces background—he was an ex–Green Beret, for fuck’s sake—was, in my mind, the more likely choice.