“Unit Three,” Darren said.
Kavon graced him with a withering glare, but Darren grinned back, unrepentant. Of course Darren would side with the newbie; it was his nature to protect younger agents. As much as the interference annoyed Kavon, he liked seeing the old pre-Traci Frane Darren making a return.
“Unit Three,” Milton repeated. “Right. Okay. If it’s not our case, I'm not supposed to be getting that information out of the database.” Milton’s fingers twisted around as if he was soldering something. Kavon understood that the man was nervous, but he needed Milton to do the work assigned as Kavon assigned it.
“We’re investigating the appearance of magical sinks. We now have the largest one yet. I need you to find a pattern—someone who appeared at every scene, and don’t leave out any group. Look at the first responders, witnesses, hell... look at FBI agents who responded to the scene. Kavon glanced toward one of their new team members and wondered if Joe had responded to the scenes. He was a shaman and had only outed himself as having Talent when Kavon and Coretta had posted the opening. Kavon wouldn’t have hired him, but Coretta liked him, and she needed someone with shamanic powers to fill out her team. Kavon couldn’t let go of his discomfort around him.
“I understand that. But if you're going all cowboy to investigate the attack, I don't want to be the one caught in the middle. As a Black man, I'm a little paranoid about not being used as a scapegoat when the shit and the fan have a close personal encounter.” Milton swirled his finger in the air.
“Excuse me?” Kavon’s temper frayed at the suggestion that he would ever let one of his team take the blame for his decisions, and the suggestion that he would do that to another Black man made Kavon’s blood pressure rise. All Kavon’s sympathy vanished.
Darren practically leapt between them. “Hey, Kavon would never put you at risk. No paranoia required, buddy.” Darren offered an easy grin as he leaned against the corner of Milton’s desk.
“It’s not paranoia when people are out to get you, and as a young Talented Black man, I am not in favor of sticking my neck out so that somebody can chop it off.”
Rather than argue, Kavon turned his back and headed for the break room. Darren or Anne would have to get Milton in line because Kavon didn’t have the patience. However, his bull must have taken up residency in the bull pen because he could hear the conversation, even when the break room door closed behind him.
Milton sounded as if he was sulking. “Well of course he understands discrimination. That's one of the reasons I wanted to come to this team, because everyone says that bigoted crap doesn’t fly around here, and let me tell you there are entirely too many bigots within the FBI.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Anne said.
“But just because Agent Boucher has reached the point where he has enough political power and respect and authority to be able to get away with things doesn't mean that I can. You know, just because I can hack things and just because I am good at working around systems does not mean that I want to go around breaking rules.”
Rima laughed. “Oh my God, there are two of them.”
“Excuse me,” Milton demanded, his tone rising.
“Come down off Defcon 5, Professor. No one asked you to hack, and if you request the list and don’t get it, no biggie,” Joe Kaslov said.
“Defcon 5 is a state of low readiness. You’re trying to say Defcon 1,” Milton corrected him. “And I assure you that I’m not above a Defcon 3 right now. When I reach Defcon 1, you’ll know it.”
“Knock it off, both of you. All of you,” Anne said. “God help me, I did not take this job to babysit. Agent Ackie, request the damn list. If someone above your pay grade kicks the paperwork back, let me know. Agent Kaslov, kindly mind your own damn business.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Joe agreed quickly. Kavon didn’t hear any response at all from Milton, but hopefully he was getting the information. If he was as good with computers as he claimed, Kavon needed him to start applying search parameters to the people in the area. This was the sort of needle in a haystack operation that Wyatt’s supervisor over in technical support would never approve, so having their own technical expert was important enough to put up with Milton’s timidity. Kavon just needed to let Darren or Anne handle the man because Kavon wanted to kick him off the team already.
Kavon hid in the breakroom and listened to Darren gossip. Coretta was meeting with White and the others to create a plan for magical disasters and was trying to get the team expanded to include a magical version of hazmat. Coretta was more persuasive than Kavon. It had taken him years to get approval for an expanded team. And that was with statistics showing the overwhelming need for more agents.
Between shamans trying to set up their own kingdoms and mafia shamans and magic user human traffickers and mercenaries, the Talent unit had been pushed to an edge. Staring at his cup of black coffee, Kavon wondered if the world would be a kinder place if there weren’t magic.
If the guides had managed to remove all the foreign power, leaving only the more subtle Earth-magics, would people have fewer reasons to hate each other? Would there be less hatred? Less discrimination? Fewer churches that defined themselves by who they hated? The older he got, the fewer answers Kavon had.
When Kavon heard Coretta’s voice, he dumped the last of his coffee into the sink and headed into the bullpen.
Coretta had a laptop and a stack of papers in her arms. Ahtisham was trying to help, but she waved him off and headed for her desk. When Kavon walked over, she graced him with the same withering glare that Kavon’s grandmother used to give him. “Next time blow up a street in someone else’s town. That way we can leave the clean-up to them.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kavon said dryly. “We need to discuss our classified case.”
Coretta nodded. “Joe, Ahtisham, Jen, stay on the background checks.”
Kavon felt the surge of frustration. They couldn’t do more without leads, so the checks were busy work. At best, they were searching for a needle in a stack of needles. Meanwhile, Anzu was threatening the world. Even Ahtisham’s world would be forever changed if everyone with Talent died. The chaos that followed that sort of disaster would upend the world. And Coretta had him sifting through piles of information looking for a lead that might not exist.
Kavon didn’t say anything, but Darren moved to Kavon’s side and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
“I’d rather have Ahtisham in on this meeting,” Kavon said. He trusted Ahtisham, so leaving him out of this conversation because of his mundane status was wrong.
Coretta’s eyes got large and it took a few seconds for her to speak. “You heard him. The rest of you, please have something on our cases when I get back. We’re all going to be buried in cleanup work once forensics finishes with the scene, so I would like some progress before then.”
Ahtisham followed them toward the large conference room next to Salma’s office. She should be back by the afternoon, and Kavon wanted to have some pieces in place before she showed up to advocate for her Egyptian brand of secrecy and seclusion.
