The Reckoning - BLACKBIRD book 3

5. dirty deals

Cassidy disconnected and turned to Brock with his little smile. "So what do I owe the honor?"

Brock gave him the report he'd brought as he circled back the desk to stand before him. Cassidy flicked through the pages.

"So we're done?"

"Yes, sir. My part, at least."

Cassidy looked up at him and narrowed his eyes. "Spit it out, Brockner."

Brock set his jaw. He was used to Cassidy's rough ways. But it didn't mean he'd grown to like them.

"Well, now I've done what you asked me, I thought we could talk about what I'm going to do from now on. I mean, what post do you have in mind for me."

"You're already bored of DC?" Cassidy chuckled when Brock hurried to shake his head. "But you're sick and tired of paperwork."

"Not quite my thing, sir."

"And what's your thing, then?"

"I would like to be in the field, sir."

"Here in DC."

"If possible. Wherever the Bureau needs me, sir."

"That could be Alaska, Brockner."

Brock frowned. Knowing the Section Chief, it didn't need to be a joke. Lucky him, Cassidy scoffed again.

"Okay, sounds fair. You've done a hard work over the last months, and gave me exactly what I needed. Now you know the Section even better than me, so tell me what you wanna do, and where. Wanna go back to the BAU?"

Brock stiffened. He would've loved to work as a fulltime profiler again, but his reaction to Tremont's offer was still fresh in his memory. He'd feel completely awkward, working with them again after what had happened.

Cassidy's tone was both plain and casual, as if deciding about tea flavors.

"Grubber is about to retire, and he could decide to step down earlier than scheduled. God knows I got enough dirt to convince him to do so with nothing but a grateful smile on his ugly face. And then you would be the new Unit Chief. Coleman is only a month away from finishing his profiler training, and I'm confident I could recruit Gillian, if it means working for you. That would give you two excellent assets to start with, in order to reorganize the unit."

Brock's frown turned to a shocked scowl. Cassidy raised his eyebrows, as if asking what he was so shocked about.

"As far as I know, you were Jackson's pick to take his place. But when the old man retired, Grubber lobbied against you and got the post instead, the official excuse being that you were too young to be Unit Chief."

Brock received the insight without a blink. Yes, he knew that. Sort of. He knew Burton had chosen Grubber over him because of his years in the Bureau. The other part was just expectable. But he hated the idea of getting back at him for that.

"Sir, SSA Tremont's been working for years to get that promotion," he said, distant and cold.

"Only because you were outta the picture." Cassidy stood up, annoyed. "What's wrong with you, Brockner? Don't you wanna get what's yours? Are you afraid of standing before them as their Unit Chief, as you should've been for the last ten years?"

Despite the summer sun coming in through the window, the glasses cracked when the temperature inside the office dropped below zero at Brock's answer.

"I'm not afraid, sir. Of anything. Making dirty deals is their thing, maybe yours too. Certainly not mine."

Would the seminars still be available? Or that quiet archive in Greenland? Maybe counting ants in El Paso desert? Solar screen does really work nowadays.

To his surprise, Cassidy let out a loud, pleased laugh and faced him with what looked like a proud smile, no matter how crazy it might seem. He sank his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

"What am I gonna do with you, Brockner?" he said, in an odd affectionate way, like a father to his rebellious son. "You should be in a position of power, of authority. That's what the brass wants. And what the Bureau needs. Men like you running things. But you just won't come around! Took you four years to accept going back to the field. And now you still refuse to take a post anywhere close to what you've earned and deserve!"

Brock's head moved a little forward, a questioning scowl shadowing his eyes, as a chill of suspicion ran down his spine. "Accept going back to the field?" he repeated. What the hell was Cassidy talking about?

Instead of answering, Cassidy strolled across the office to an elegant file cabinet, pulled open one of the drawers and took a thick folder from there. Then, in anything but a hurry, he came back and dropped the folder on his desk for Brock to see. He read his own name on the cover and scowled up at the Section Chief. Cassidy went to the other end of his office, opened a modular and produced a bottle and two glasses. Brock, still standing in the middle of the room, scowled deeper, if that was even possible. On his way back to his desk, Cassidy closed the blinds of the inner window, then handed Brock one of the glasses.

"Sit down, Brockner," he said, in an oddly soft way.