Without a second to lose, Cort removed a tiny thumb drive of pictures from his top side drawer and put it in his pocket with a grim smile. Then he unlocked the top middle drawer of his desk and took out the thin sheaf of papers he’d printed that morning. Holding them under the desk, out of Derrick’s view, he folded the stack in half and quickly slipped them between his sock and his shoe. Not comfortable, buteffective.
The beauty of low-tech, baby. Nobody thinks to lookanymore.
Hestood.
Derrick glanced up in concern, their game forgotten. “Cooksy wants us?” Derrick was on his feet and reaching for the jacket hung over the back of his chair without waiting for Cort to reply, but Cort stopped him with an outstretchedpalm.
“Not us, man.Me.”
Derrick’s eyes narrowed. “You? Just you?” There was a thread of hurt in his voice as he added, “What’s going on,Cort?”
Cort cleared his throat against the niggle of guilt that tried to lodge there. He and Derrick Green had been partners for years, and the man had earned Cort’s trust. Derrick wasn’t an idiot - he knew Cort didn’t share any details about his personal life, but he probably thought Cort had enough team loyalty to share information that would impact their work, theirpartnership.
Corthadn’t.
And yeah, it was partly because making personal connections was sticky as hell – telling people your shit compelled them to get involved in your life and vice versa. But he also reasoned that if he’d told Derrick about Damon’s disappearance, about the lies and the cover-ups, Derrick’s neck would be on the chopping blocktoo.
Cort forced a smile to his face. “I feel like I may be getting some unexpected time off. You behave yourself,Derrick.”
Derrick shook his head, stunned and suspicious. “What’s thisabout?”
But Cort was already on the move, grabbing his gun from the lock box in his desk and sliding it into his holster - temporarily, at least - before snagging his own jacket and his FBI cell phone on his way out of thecubicle.
“Cort?” Natalie called, but Cort didn’t pause. He turned to flash her and Derrick a quick smile and salute as he pulled his jacket on. He wondered what the office rumors would have to say about his departure once it became known. Probably something likeCortland went vigilante and got his ass reamed again.If he were suspended or even fired, they’d likely think nothing of it. Derrick would get a new partner, Nat would find someone else’s love-life to live vicariously through, and that would be that. There was an upside to not putting downroots.
He pulled in a steadying breath. The familiar smell of stale coffee and donuts made his chest inexplicably tight, and he had to mentally roll his eyes at himself.Jesus, Cortland. If they could distill that odor into a candle fragrance, no sane person would buy it, but here he was all wistful because he knew he probably wouldn’t smell itagain.
When he turned around a bank of cubicles and got a direct line of sight into Sean Cook’s glass-fronted office, he saw the man was not alone. Mark Porter, Special Agent in Charge and general boil on the ass of humanity, sat in a chair in front of Cook’s desk. Neither man looked happy, but Sean’s face was flushed and his pale eyes flashed withtemper.
Stick to the plan. Deny, deny, deny, and buy yourself sometime.
As Cort approached the office, Cook glanced up from his desk and the look of disappointment and anger he leveled at Cort could have singed the hair off his head. Cort lifted a hand and ran it through his messy blondish mop.Still there.Barely.
Porter caught the direction of Cook’s glare and turned his head, too, leveling a look of disgust at Cort. He stood as Cort entered the office. “Agent KendrickCortland?”
Cort nodded and responded in kind. “AgentPorter.”
Cort put his hand in the pocket of his suit jacket, and smoothed his thumb over the surface of the lucky quarter Damon had given him a few years back.I knew this was going to happen,he reminded himself.I owe Damon more than I can everrepay.
“Have a seat, Agent Cortland,” Sean said stiffly, gesturing next to AgentPorter.
Cort sat stiffly.Think about Damon. Think about Sebastian Seaver. You’re about more than yourbadge.
“You know why you’re here, I presume,” Portersaid.
It was the kind of bullshit interrogation tactic they were taught on day one in the Academy. Did he think Cort was an idiot? That he’d startbabbling?
“I’m afraid I don’t, sir,” Cort replied, spreading his palms out flat in front of him and attempting asmile.
“Cort, enough with the bullshit,” Sean said. “You started working with me right after you left Quantico. You don’t have any tricks I don’t knowabout.”
But growing up in a house where the very act of breathing was often grounds for punishment meant Cort knew better than to volunteer information. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I’ve done,” hesaid.
Porter leaned forward and grabbed a tablet from thedesk.
“How about unauthorized use of Bureau assets, for starters? This image turned up on a facial recognition scan at the airport in Barbados, but the face isn’t linked to any ongoing investigation in our database. Running a trace using facial recognition software without authorization is a seriousoffense.”
He turned the display towards Cort, who kept his expression blank when he saw the picture on the screen. There, in grainy color, was a man with shaggy, prematurely-gray hair and a beard, his baggy clothing barely concealing his tall, lean frame. It was the very same image Cort had printed out that morning, the one now growing damp inside his shoe, and it finally proved a suspicion that had only grown stronger for the past sixmonths.
