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I put on a show of confidence. “What’s he going to do to me in a crowd? At such a big event, there’ll be plenty of security.”
“You love danger, don’t you, Payne?”
It’s hard to tell if Barrel’s kidding, so I joke back, “Danger loves me, sir.”
He has on a not-fooling-me grin. “I see what you’re doing. Sorry, but you’re desked. You running another undercover operation? Not gonna happen anytime soon.”
I refuse to believe my UCO days are over.
“We don’t really have a choice, do we, sir? December twenty-third is in six days. This is no longer a low-credible threat. Forget bombs away—we have to make the bomb go away. Please, sir, let me lead this. You know I can do it.” Before I hear another “no,” I add, “You said it yourself, my name’s on the invite. I’m sure Santa’s checked it twice.”
It’s an argument he can’t fight. My name, for some unknown reason, is right there in swoopy lettering. Santa wants to play games. With me.
Barrel looks torn. “I suppose I can show my boss the invite, and I’m sure by now he’s seen this morning’s news headlines. Getting approval to put a UCO together that fast will be tight.” He rubs his jaw. “This better not be some elaborate ruse to get out in the field, Payne. How do I know you didn’t write that invitation? You did sell me this whole story on how good you are at calligraphy.”
“You think I sent myself… a bomb threat?”
“Well, no.” He frowns. “I see how that sounds.”
“Even if this were me, the Santa Claus Con would’ve been my very last choice of venue.”
“Your desk tinsel says otherwise.”
“I’m trying Christmas on,” I mumble as Barrel decides he’s done with hallway chitchat. I continue following him to his office. “We can get into the Con and get close to the action, try to figure out what Santa’s up to. Or we could shut down the Con, but that won’t necessarily stop Santa, and I know the Bureau loves a city full of panicked citizens.”
Barrel laughs once through his nose. Whew. My sarcasm landed. He seems to deliberate with himself. “Okay, I’ll do everything in my power to get the UCO approved,” he says. “No one messes with my squad.”
Aww!
“But you have to work out the rest,” he adds. “I want an update by end of day tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir!”
Barrel steps into his office and turns around to shoot me a look. “Don’t get too excited. This is your last chance, Payne. This time, you don’t take risks. You wait for written approval. That means you don’t act on feelings, and you work by the book.”
The instinct to defend myself is strong, but instead, I just nod.
Barrel adds, “I want the who and the why well before the end of the Santa Claus Competition Con Thing—whatever the hell it is. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“You pull another stunt like you did on your last op, and your desk will look like paradise. If you’re even still around. You’re too good to lose, but honestly, Payne, right now—hell, this entire year—you’ve been a liability, not an asset.”
I hate that I nod in agreement. Mostly, I hate that he’s right.
Barrel’s nostrils flare. “Now, I’m going to make a few calls. Don’t follow me.”
“I won’t let you down, sir,” I say to the door that closes in my face.
Back at my desk, I finally have a chance to look at my phone. The screen’s cracked but it still functions. My sisters have sent dozens of Mrs. Claus GIFs to our group chat. Guilt gnaws at me as I rip the metaphorical Band-Aid off and respond with a text about the trip and how, surprise, surprise, I won’t be able to make it.
“So, uh, about your undercover Santa situation,” Flores says to me. “I’m already assigned to a case, and I’ve got holiday plans.” On his laptop screen are photos of some of the Santa Claus Con’s competitions from previous years, which tend to focus on physical strength and endurance.
“Don’t worry, you’re free and clear, Flores,” I reassure him. “I’ve already got someone else in mind.”
Chapter 4
NATHAN
