Thread of the Spider by R. R. Irvine

Author:R. R. Irvine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2015-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

27

FBI agent Curt Rawlings wondered who he’d pissed off. It had to be someone important, otherwise why was he stuck following archaeologists up and down the state? During a July hot spell yet. What the hell was the point? They’d retrieved the documents for the man named Harold, whoever the hell he was, and chased off the archaeologists.

During their pre-strike briefing, the special agent in charge had said, “This comes right from the top.” Meaning, of course, the J. Edgar Hoover Building in DC. “Top priority.”

It was then his partner had nodded in Harold’s direction and asked, “Why are we taking a civilian?”

“Haven’t your read your file folder? Police officers were killed,” the SAC had replied angrily. “Furthermore, you will be taking orders from this man.” Even the SAC had looked cowed in Harold’s presence.

Rawlings blinked away the memory and glared at his partner, Ward Edwards, who was driving the unmarked Chevy, a stripped down model that screamed government car. Hardly the blend-in kind of vehicle called for in surveillance manuals.

Edwards looked totally unconcerned with their present shit assignment.

“The brass are pussies, you know that,” Rawlings blurted.

Edwards shrugged as if to say he’d heard it all before.

“When word comes down from the Hoover,” Rawlings went, “they all roll over and play dead.”

“What do you expect? The SAC was jerking us off, like always. That’s why they made him the SAC.”

“What about Harold? Do you think he was jerking us off?”

“He gave me the creeps, that’s what he did.”

“Fucking-A.” Rawlings tugged at his tie to loosen the pressure on his sweat-chafed neck. “For chrissake, turn up the air conditioning.”

“It’s wide open just like the last time you asked me,” Edwards shot back.

Rawlings thrust his hand over the dashboard vent. “I’m getting hot air here.”

“You signed for the car. You should have checked it.”

“Watch it,” Rawlings said, pointing to the road ahead. “She’s slowing down.” The Scott woman had led them right back to where they’d started from, the university. Without warning, she pulled alongside a red, no parking zone.

“Christ!” Edwards blurted, then swung the Chevy into a driveway, temporarily losing sight of the woman’s Jeep, not that it mattered. The locator beacon attached to her car was working perfectly. Even so, Edwards immediately backed up to reacquire their target. Their cell phone interrupted the maneuver.

Rawlings punched the dashboard speaker, since policy decreed that agents use both hands at all times while driving during surveillance. Besides, this way they could both listen.

“This is Assistant Director Miles Craycroft.”

Rawlings and Edwards exchanged wide-eyed looks. Rumor had it that Craycroft was the real power at the Hoover building. When he spoke, he spoke for the director.

“Gentlemen,” he began, his placid tone causing Rawlings to release the breath he’d been holding, “I want there to be no mistake on this. As of now, you’re off the case. Forget everything you’ve seen and heard. Return to your office for reassignment. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Good day, then, gentlemen.” Craycroft disconnected.

“What was that all about?” Edwards said.

“I don’t want to know,” Rawlings answered.

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