Butterfield

Not twenty minutes after he’d submitted his report on the secure server to the Phoenix office, his phone rang.

Butterfield.

“Not happy, Special Agent Tucker,” was how it started.

“How are you, sir? Nice day out there.”

“Never mind that. Looks like you left something out of the report you just filed.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“The part where I sent you out to canvass that neighborhood and bring me back evidence of a hate crime,” said the boss. “I’m coming down. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Sure thing,” said Elias, but Butterfield was gone. Dial tone.

Elias sighed and let Valentine know. He started the Keurig and tied his tie up again. It took an hour before his superior made it down from Phoenix.

Butterfield came in. “Sit down, Tucker,” he said. He was tense and wound up, almost hopping. Elias sat. Butterfield didn’t. That was the only way Butterfield could seem taller so he could talk down to people.

“SA Tucker,” he said with a sigh, looking up at God, “you’re somehow now untouchable. Washington won’t move you and won’t let me discipline you. Did you know that?” The last part, he looked Elias right in the eye, hands on hips.

Elias shook his head no.

“…Officially,” said Butterfield with a gleam in his eye. “Nothing on the books.

“But I promise you,” he said with a finger in Elias’ face, “you’re going to bring me what I want. You’re going to do what I want. Because if you don’t, I’m going to have you on litter patrol all summer long. Outdoors. On foot.”

Elias suppressed a laugh. “Sir, it was a noise complaint. You can see in the 302 that the residents clearly stated that that’s all it was. Noise, not racism.”

Butterfield stopped for a moment for effect and then spun away. Like a dance step. “When a man enters the military, they spend months yelling in his face. Breaking him down. Making sure he knows that above all else, he must follow the orders of his superiors. Then they can build him back up into a lean, mean fighting machine. And point him at the enemy.

“And do you know why, Tucker?”

“No,” said Tucker. “Why?”

“Because when the bullets and flying and bombs are falling, it’s very easy for a man to lose his head and do something stupid. He needs loyalty to the chain of command or else all is lost.

“We don’t have that luxury, Tucker, to train new agents properly. So for some of them, there’s a distinct lack of loyalty. They freelance. And freelancers are very dangerous.

“Above all, Tucker, we demand loyalty. What you did to Assistant Director Wolf brought shame and dishonor to the Agency. You hurt us, Tucker. You hurt us all. You did that. It’s nearly unforgivable.

“And now you must be broken down. Broken and made to be loyal.”

Elias was shocked. He’d uncovered a government conspiracy which killed thousands of people for the benefit of a very few. And this was the thanks he got?

He set his jaw. “I won’t apologize for good police work,” he said.

Butterfield’s eyes narrowed. “So be it.”

And then he walked out of the office. Elias let out the breath he was holding and relaxed.

Then Butterfield marched in again and threw a leather strap down on Elias’ desk, shuffling his paperwork and sending some to the floor. It was a shoulder holster.

“Tucker, you’ve been keeping your service firearm on your hip. Bureau regs clearly state you must keep your service firearm concealed in a shoulder holster. From now on, that’s how you carry. And be happy I let you keep it at all.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“You wish,” said Butterfield. And then he left for good.