Long pause. “She didn’t say that,” Smalls finally said. “Not really.”
“Look at a C-SPAN rerun.”
“Sounds like one heck of a guilty overreaction to me,” Smalls said.
“Given the context, that’s not what the news analysts are saying,” Lucas said. He was looking at CNN. “They’re saying that you did everything but flatly accuse her of trying to kill you. How would she overreact to that?”
“I can’t say I’m sorry,” Smalls said. “It’s out in the open now. Let’s see what happens.”
“As the ‘pet marshal,’ I wouldn’t be surprised if I got fired,” Lucas said.
“I would,” Smalls said. “Try to remember which party is in the majority right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Tweeter in Chief wades into it.”
“Oh, shit...”
“Keep pushing, Lucas. You’re doing good. If you or anyone at the Marshals Service needs help, call me.”
—
LUCAS CALLED RUSSELL FORTE,and as he finished dialing, he heard a knock at the door. He walked across the room, took the spitball from the peephole, looked out, and saw Rae’s face. He opened the door, waved Bob and Rae inside—they were still dressed in their workout clothes—and when Forte answered the phone, Lucas asked him, “Have you seen Grant?”
“Everybody’s seen Grant,” Forte said. “The shit has hit the fan.”
“That seems to be the general opinion,” Lucas said. “Are we in trouble?”
“Hard to tell,” Forte said. “I’ve got lines out. There’s a rumor that the FBI might want to talk to us.”
“Kick us out? Take over the investigation? That’d be all right with me.”
“Uh... I don’t think so. This is becoming the hottest potato in Washington, and you don’t often see the FBI stepping up to intercept hot potatoes. I have gotten a call from the director’s assistant—our director, not the FBI’s—and I’ll be talking with him later this morning.”
“What should we do here? We were planning to call you about a search warrant for this afternoon.”
“Hold off on that,” Forte said. “Let’s see what the director has to say, see if anybody else gets into it. I’m sure the director will be talking with the attorney general... let’s see what happens.”
“You’re telling me to lay low.”
“For a few hours. Go climb the Washington Monument or something. Be a tourist.”
“All right. Smalls told me if you need some support, to call him.”
“If I need it, I’ll callyouto call him,” Forte said. “I’d rather not talk to him directly, at this point. Not being a director.”
—
LUCAS FILLED INBob and Rae: “It’s not bad,” he said. “It’s a bureaucratic clusterfuck, but it has the effect of chasing these people out in the open.”
“There’s no way Grant or Parrish will do anything now,” Rae said.
“We couldn’t count on them doing anything before,” Lucassaid. “They’re operating through Ritter and Heracles. Once all the newspeople start talking about Whitehead being murdered... maybe we’ll get a little panic. We could use a little panic.”
“So what are we going to do?” Bob asked.
—
NOTHING.
Spend a day or two as tourists, and let the situation cook, as Forte had suggested. Keep an eye on the news.
