"Welcome to the division agent Nora. I'm sorry about your nose." I say the moment I step into the office. Before I was finally allowed back in the building I was informed of her joining our division. Of all people they had to assign the one agent I least wanted to see. This is a punishment, but one I deserve.
"No..." She said and I cut her short to make things less awkward.
"I understand. I don't mind if you hold a grudge against me, just keep things professional and we won't have a problem. Thompson, please tell me you have something for me."
"Yes, plenty. Our entire division is currently working under agent Hale on the contraband case."
"Did you check his file?"
"Yes, I also examined the testimonies of the criminals arrested during the sting operation and most of it lines up. Everything is on this file." Thompson handed me a deceivingly thin file. Considering how many people was involved I would have expected more. However, It was so well put together, organized and illustrated in graphs there really was no need for anything else.
"According to this, the crooked FBI agent was the one in charge of the criminal band responsible for selling the health potions. They were contacted by the returnee who claimed to have a large stock of health potions at his disposal, but there's allegedly more merchandise hidden somewhere."
"Correct."
"It's strange, there's no signs of him renting a place, warehouse, deposit, even bank. Not just that, according to his location history he only goes to buy groceries and stays home."
"He could leave his phone at home." Nora said.
"True, but there would still be a money trace." I keep reading at the brief file as if the answer would pop up.
"Maybe he uses a sub space." Nora proposed.
"Unlikely," Thompson adjusted his glasses before continuing. "apparently, there was no such thing as sub spaces in the world he cleared."
"Besides, if he had a sub space at his disposal he would have use it to move the merchandise instead of a warehouse in the port district." I really missed making sense of charts and statistics.
Most agents think this is mind numbing and boring, but in reality it's where things get done. The more we dug into the bank statements the more information we found. Off shore accounts, hidden assets and money laundering. The smuggling operation turned out to be way bigger than we expected, but this isn't one of those silly TV series where things become dramatic out of a sudden.
Sure, I could run to the director with what we have now, but handing over incomplete information is worse than delaying things. Investigation is like a pyramid where the data is the base. If you build a case on incomplete data is akin to building on a weak foundation and the most obvious outcome is for the entire structure to collapse.
"Isn't it time for your appointment?" Nora threw the equivalent to a grenade to my quiet morning.
"Thanks." Clocks, it's always those damned things.
I rush towards the briefing room in that awkward jog we do when we're really late for something. You can't run unless it's an actual emergency, but you need everyone to see you're moving fast.
"Sorry for being late." I say to no one in particular as I enter the room like many other times I went unnoticed. Only this time it was different.
"Agent Bob, thanks for making time for us," Agent Hale said as he gestured me to approach. I know I screwed up at the sting operation, but this is too much. It would be one thing if he wrote me up, I can deal with papers, but public humiliation not so much. "we've been waiting for you." This is bad, really bad. Everyone's looking at me like I kicked a puppy, this isn't public humiliation, it's character assassination.
"I'm deeply sorry for being late, Sir."
"No need to apologize, I know you're busy," He said with a smile then addressed the other agents in the room. "this is agent Bob, I've been appointed as his direct supervisor for the time being. Make sure to treat him well and show him the ropes."
"Thank you, Sir." Hale patted my back saying I didn't need to be so formal. I'm absolutely going to die.
From an outside perspective it may seem like he was gentle with me. He didn't make a fuss when I came late, addressed me politely in front of everyone and even patted my back. But that's not what really happened.
He singled me out in front of everyone when he could have just made the announcement with me on the back row. I'm well versed in office politics and see his 'treat him well' was ironic and I also know that 'showing me the ropes' means hazing. The worst part, though, is the pat on the back. By making us look familiar in front of everyone he's condemning me to a hard time.
The briefing resumed despite me feeling awfully self conscious. Agent Hale proceeded to explain that after the returnee escaped from the scene we lost track of him. He didn't return to his apartment and that field agents needed to do some footwork which is code for roaming around the city with his picture and wish for a miracle to happen.
Agents were paired and assigned different areas, but since I was new to the team it seemed like nobody wanted to work with me. Just like the weird kid in highschool no one wanted on their team. Now that I think about it, that weird kid was Peter as he preferred to play videogames instead of sports. So now I was a Peter in a room filled with jocks.
"Agent Morrison, you're with Bob." Hale commanded.
"The new guy!?" A woman almost my height scoffed, arms crossed like she was asked to clean toilets. It took but a glare from Hale to make her straighten her posture and nod. I wish I had that commanding aura, maybe I could get Thompson to leave me some paperwork instead of doing it all by himself.
"Sir, I would like to take the suspect's neighborhood." I ask as politely as I can.
"That's stupid. The suspect knows we're onto him and there's no chance he'll be coming back." Morrison scoffed once more. I would feel offended, but she's right. The only reason why I choose that area is because the chances of meeting the equivalent of a walking bomb were nigh zero.
"Don't punish Bob for having initiative. Besides, if he says he might be there then you should listen to him. He comes from the missing person division." No, she's right. It really is unlikely to find him, but he just used the chance to tell my partner I come from a desk. Hale still pretended to caution us against engaging the suspect in case we encountered him before we left. What a charade.
"I'm driving." Declared Morrison. I didn't challenge it, she's my senior after all, but the way she drove made me regret not fighting it. We arrived at the neighborhood and it was just as peaceful as I remembered it. It's not precisely a white picket fence kind of place, just a residential area in a big city.
First stop was the suspect's favorite grocery shop, then the other places he used to visit. A comic book store, a hardware shop and a coffee shop. The cashiers at every place said the same thing, the suspect was a perfectly polite customer and nothing stood out about him. His direct neighbors claimed they didn't know him too much and just exchanged polite nods in passing. People described him as a quiet guy.
"Something's bothering me." I nibble on my thumb on the way to the farmer market where the suspect used to shop.
"Something's bothering me too and his name is Bob."
"What do you mean?"
"Look at me." I do as she says trying to figure it out, but nothing comes to mind. I notice she's fit and curvaceous, maybe she noticed I'm not in shape.
"I passed the physical test."
"Not that, you idiot! I'm dressed casually but you stand out like a sore thumb. The first thing people think when they see you is FBI." She dragged me to the closest thrift store and chose an attire for me. It's good thinking because second hand clothes stand out less than brand new. The attire she chose for me is just jeans and a T-shirt along with sneakers that pretended to pass as new but felt like they belonged to Moses crossing the desert.
The day was winding down and it was about time to clock out. Agent Morrison refused to drive me home and I just took the bus. I'm not complaining, there's something about public transportation that soothes me. People look so distant despite being close, it makes me feel like I belong to something.
"We need to talk." Patrick walked in with a serious expression, the kind he only makes when he's about to scold me which he did. He said he was disappointed in me and I should break up with Tasha.