Chapter 312
Again, it was seemingly ordinary. Something that wouldn't have caught my eye in regular circumstances. A blank sheet of paper printed at the end of a batch, bookending an otherwise unrelated printout for a person of interest. Miles had a bad habit of not catching those, and there were dozens of similar blank pages at the back of other long documents. But this document was short. It lacked the slight roller line in the margin present on the rest of the pages.
When I held it up to the light, there was a vague outline of typeface. A printed email, with a blank page perfectly glued on top of it. Even squinting, with the brightness of the nearby lamp, it was impossible to make out the address field. But the center text was perfectly readable.
...how unusual this is. A waste of your talents. You're too senior for undercover, and the shit you (allegedly) pulled overseas isn't gonna fly domestic, not in this day and age. Even if I was willing to let the transfer go through—and won't, for obvious fucking reasons—it cannot be overstated how under funded and stagnant the drug enforcement side of the office has become in recent years. It was already fading into irrelevance when you cut your teeth decades ago, and it's a shadow of what it was then. There's a new behavioral unit operating out of Houston that shows promise. Admin at CT&ML in Austin. More commute, but you'll still be closer to family than before. Hell, jump the line, pick up a tweed jacket and take a spot at Quantico full time. It'll piss off the geriatrics, but who gives a fuck. Pick literally anything else.
Ray Chaucer, SAC.
The paragraph, refreshingly absent the never-ending fed legalese, was indented several times, indicating a much longer reply chain. Directly below was the immediate reply.
I get where you're coming from, Ray. The bureau's been good to me. I've enjoyed my time here. But I'll walk if I have to. And if it goes that way, I'm gone. No more audibles. No more supplementary at bats. Ask your boss how many interrogation rooms I get called into over the span of a year involving cases that have nothing to do with me. Then ask him how many of those cases get closed within a quarter. When you're done, really consider whether you want the bother of explaining where I went, and more importantly, why, to everyone who comes looking.
Miles
Ray's next reply was considerably shorter.
Word is, while I was throwing my weight around in good faith, doing my best to get HR to extend your CISM leave, you went behind my back and took what you wanted. Never thought pulling rank was your style, but we all get it wrong sometimes. Best of luck in your future endeavors.