“What about you?” Lachlan smiled, cat-toying-with-a-mouse style.
“When do I get to play out there?” Camden stretched and cracked his neck.
“I kinda like you where you are. You’re good at training the FNGs. You know the clientele—how they think, how they act, what they expect—so you know how to act around them. And except for Kyle, that training’s sunk into the new hires.” Lachlan smirked. “And you’re good with keeping this old dog in line, dammit.”
“Thanks, boss. But, Lach, I’ve been here the better part of a year, brother. I’m thankful for the job, don’t get me wrong, and for you hiring Jake right outta the FBI along with me.”
“I should be thanking you for him, brother. He’s a damn good profiler, just like you’re a damn good trainer.”
Camden leaned forward. “And there’s the difference. Jake fucking loves where he’s at. Me, I wanna get back out there.”
“Really? I had no idea.” Lachlan reached down to his briefcase under the table.
“Come on, Lach, stop yanking my dick.”
“How’s this then?” Lachlan dropped a folder on the table and pushed it toward Camden. “That gonna yank it all better?”
Camden opened the folder. On top was an eight-by-ten photo of Roger Bennett, TV actor and now an up-and-coming politician since he turned his platform toward promoting various social causes near and dear to Californians. Thing was, he appealed to people from all walks of life, something so very needed at such a politicized time. Bennett was damn near a miracle-worker in Camden’s opinion. Even though he was looking at a run at the House of Representatives, he had the support of California’s favorite senator, Rock Higley.
Camden looked up at his boss as he broke into a grin. “You saying I get to watch this dude?”
“You and the team you pick.” Lachlan tilted his chair back. “If you choose to accept.”
“I choose to accept.”
Lachlan lifted his hand, palm out. “Don’t be so quick. Keep reading. There’s a wrinkle.”
“What’s that? Somebody threaten him already? The guy’s universally loved.”
“Just read.”
Camden flipped over the photo to read the first page of the profile—compiled, he noticed, by Jake. It even resembled the reports they used to get with the Bureau. The profile started with the usual background info on Bennett. Current address, age, and physical characteristics—forty-eight, Caucasian, six-foot-one, blue eyes, light brown hair, scar on his left shoulder—where he was born, his education, and his career, both in acting and now in politics. The political career section listed his voting status as an independent, his stint as an alderman, and his potential rise through the ranks to presidential hopeful.Behold the power of the grassroots and the cult of personality, thanks be to social media.
“Nothing I didn’t already know, except for the scar,” Camden said.
Lachlan templed his fingers. “You ever meet him?”
“Been at the same parties a couple of times. Friendly, good with crowds, a natural. Puts people at ease because he comes across as one of them.”
Lachlan nodded. “Jake says the same in the motivation and behavioral section. Says Bennett can talk to anyone about anything.”
“Not seeing a wrinkle yet, boss.”
“Turn the page.”
Camden did. The next page included a background check that showed a parking ticket (paid) and a couple of paragraphs about what motivated Bennett—a desire to listen to and empower people, strengthen relationships with allies, create jobs that didn’t fuck up the environment, root out corruption in damaged systems all over the board.Everyone’s wet dream of a politician, Camden thought. His behavior mirrored what he and Jake had personally observed, backed by other accounts and anecdotes.
And then there it was, the wrinkle—chatter both the FBI and the CIA picked up concerning Bennett.
“Oh.” As Camden read the details, Lachlan spoke.
“They believe an unidentified foreign agent has infiltrated certain circles in our community.”
Camden smiled. “Only one?”
Lachlan returned the smile before continuing. “Said spy will be approaching Bennett soon. We think they want to influence or gain kompromat on our young hopeful before he gets too big. Certainly before he throws his hat into the next election.”
“So, I’m not only guarding him….” Camden let his words hang until Lachlan picked them up.
