The Monuments Men Murders (The Art of Murder 4)
“You know what I mean. MFAA Deputy Chief Emerson Harley is your grandfather.”
“Yes.” Okay, he had known Sam would probably recognize his grandfather’s name. And he had figured Sam would disapprove of his decision to work the case rather than recuse himself. He had also figured that Sam would recognize his efforts to stay objective—it was right there in his written analysis for Sam to read. He wasn’t concealing, covering, condoning. He was simply gathering the facts—all the facts. He had assured himself it would be okay, but there was a note in Sam’s voice that seemed to catch him mid-heartbeat.
Sam said in that deadly quiet voice, “You’ve got a conflict of interest as wide as the Danube. How did you convince Kapszukiewicz to grant an individual waiver in this case?”
Despite the sudden dryness of his mouth, Jason said steadily, “I didn’t. I didn’t disclose my potential conflict of interest.”
“You didn’t tell Kapszukiewicz and you didn’t consult an ethics official?” The lack of any…anything in Sam’s voice was far more alarming than if he’d raised his voice. “Did you discuss this with your squad supervisor, your SAC or your ADC?”
“No.” Jason rushed on to say, “Because there isn’t a conflict, Sam. Not really. I know my grandfather was not involved. He did not give Thompson those items or even permission to move them to a safer local.”
Sam started to speak. Jason kept talking, “I know what you’re going to say, but I have the advantage of having known the man. But that’s beside the point. I’m investigating this as I would any other case. You’ve got both my notes and de Haan’s in front of you. You can see I’m not trying to lead the inquiry in any direction; I’m not trying to conceal anything. It’s all there. I’m following the trail to wherever it leads. If that wasn’t the truth, I wouldn’t have asked you to look at the files.”
Granted, if he hadn’t been a little smashed and so tired he couldn’t see straight, he wouldn’t have asked Sam to look at the files. He could see now that had been a huge tactical error.
Sam put on his glasses, picked up his phone, and read aloud, “5 C.F. R. Section 2635.501 through 503 (Subpart E - Impartiality in Performing Official Duties). In addition to the impartiality regulation, 28 C.F.R. Section 45.2 prohibits a DOJ employee, without written authorization, from participating in a criminal investigation or prosecution if he ha
s a personal or political relationship with any person or organization substantially involved in the conduct that is the subject of the investigation or prosecution, or any person or organization which he knows has a specific and substantial interest that would be directly affected by the outcome of the investigation or prosecution.
“Tell me what part of that you don’t understand.”
Jason said stiffly, “I understand every part of that.”
“Tell me which part of that is news to you.”
“No part of that section of the Code of Federal Regulations is news to me.”
“Tell me the part you think doesn’t apply to you.”
Jason controlled his temper. “I know it all applies to me.”
Sam stared at him for a long moment. “Then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, West?”
In this context, “West” was not remotely a pet name.
“I think I’m working a case I am best qualified to investigate.”
Sam put a hand to his temple as though he thought his head was about to split open. He said in that same tight, terse tone, “You don’t get to make that call.”
Jason opened his mouth, but Sam overrode him.
“And if you think this isn’t a real problem, let’s phone Kapszukiewicz right now. Let’s explain the situation to her and see what she has to say.”
Jason closed his mouth.
Sam’s smile was humorless. “That’s what I thought. You’ve not only compromised yourself and your investigation, you’ve compromised me.”
Jason felt the blood drain from his face.
“Was it your expectation that I would keep this information to myself, or did you assume I’d contact your superiors?”
Jason said nothing. He was genuinely stricken.
Into his shattered silence, Sam said, “So you’re making me complicit in this clusterfuck.”
“That was…not my intent.”
“Good to know.” Sam’s eyes looked like ice chips.