#youlikeit - BLACKBIRD book 1

5. unexpected

Brock didn't linger at the field office. He left all the staff gathered around the screens, watching the news, and headed straight to his hotel. Once in his room he turned on the TV, channel-surfing until he found a live coverage from the school. Eyes up on the report, he took off his suit coat, leaving his wallet and phone on the table by his side.

Several reporters questioned Cook outside the school parking lot. To Brock's trained eyes, Cook's friendly pose was transparent. Behind the man, he saw a fire truck and the van reading SCU. A Bomb Squad truck drove away as Cook was proud to announce, "Our agents have successfully located and neutralized all the incendiary devices."

"Does it mean the place is secure now, Captain?" asked a reporter.

"We're proceeding to do one last search, just to be sure there are no other hidden threats to our children's safety."

Brock frowned at Cook's dramatic choice of words.

"Any leads on who did this, Captain?"

"We're looking into it right now. We have some evidence that may soon lead us to identify the perpetrators."

While Cook talked to the press, Brock's attention was caught by a delivery bike from a coffee shop downtown, stopping by the barrier. The uniforms blocking the access to the parking lot smiled as the delivery boy approached them with six large paper cups in a cardboard tray.

Gillian showed up behind the beat cops and traded a few words with them. The uniforms seemed to be mockingly reproaching her something as she paid for the coffees. She took the tray and gave one of the paper cups back to the delivery boy, pointing at Cook, who was still deep into his character of efficient officer.

Brock noticed Gillian's smirk, and the way the beat cops shook their heads, when the delivery boy headed straight to Cook from behind. Brock shook his head as well, but with an annoyed huff. How could she be playing jokes in that situation? Well, it matched the way he'd heard her talk to her former partner the day before at Boloco, teasing each other nonstop while they discussed the case.

"We only see police officers, Captain," said a reporter. "Aren't the federal authorities helping in such a critical situation?"

Brock was interested in hearing Cook's answer. A few hours ago, Gillian had told him the PD brass wasn't fond of the FBI, so how was the man going to explain it? Oh, well, we hate them damn feds?

"They've been duly informed, of course. But fortunately, their assistance hasn't been necessary so far. Our Bomb Squad and our Fire Department are working with our experts from the Special Crimes Unit in order to..."

Cook trailed off when the delivery boy poked his shoulder to give him the coffee, while the reporters let out some mild giggles. No wonder Gillian was used to be suspended, being such a punk. Cook managed to fake a smile and thanked the boy, who left as he turned back to the reporters, trying to look casually smart—and failing.

"As you can see, our experts think of everything. I'll come back to you as soon as we have anything new." No doubt he was about to strangle his lieutenant.

A reporter shot one last question. "So, Captain, would you say the threat has been neutralized and people can be at ease that the area is safe?"

"Yes, that's correct. Thank you all very much." I'm in a hurry to find that punk and gut her.

The reporter turned to his camera and commented on Cook's words. Brock lingered there, watching the report. At least they had found the devices, and there hadn't been any incidents. He was so focused on the TV that he didn't notice his phone buzzing on the table. When he did, it was already too late to pick up the call. He checked his phone and frowned, puzzled. Burton?

He dialed right away, his heart beating faster. But his call skipped straight to voice mail. What the hell? He tried Burton's office number. A very kind secretary explained to him that Section Chief Burton had just been called to a meeting, but he had been trying to reach Brock, so she asked him if he would be so kind to call back in two hours, because Section Chief Burton needed to talk to him asap.

"Of course, I'll call him," Brock replied, taken aback.

He disconnected and turned to look out the window. The last time he'd heard from Burton had been four years ago. Brock had been informed about his new post giving seminars outside DC, and Burton had granted him five minutes of his precious time to talk about it. Only to refuse to do anything to change the brass' decision of sending him away from DC.

And now he wanted to talk to him 'asap'? What was going on?