Something About You (FBI/US Attorney #1)(14)

“I do,” Cameron said. She sounded stiff and nervous again, and oddly focused her attention on Joe. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve made a decision. We won’t be filing charges against Roberto Martino. Or anyone else in his organization, for that matter.”

There was a silence in the room.

Jack broke it. “You can’t be serious.”

Cameron still didn’t look at him. “I realize this isn’t the result either of you expected.”

“What do you mean, you’re not going to file any charges?” Joe asked. He had been the liaison between Jack and the Bureau during the two years Jack had been undercover and knew all the dirt they’d dug up on Martino.

“Our office has decided there isn’t enough evidence to take the case to trial,” Cameron said.

Jack was struggling—hard—to keep his anger in check. “Bullshit. Who made this decision? Was it Briggs?”

Joe stood up from his chair and paced. “That f**king guy. All he cares about is his own reputation,” he said disgustedly.

“I want to talk to him,” Jack demanded.

Cameron finally turned to face him. “There’s no need for that. This . . . is my case. It was my call.”

“Screw that—I don’t believe you.”

Joe glanced over, a cautionary note in his voice. “Jack.”

Cameron remained cool. “I realize how frustrating this—”

Jack took a step toward her. “Frustrating? Frustration doesn’t begin to cover what I’m feeling right now. You’ve read the files—at least I assumed you had until about a minute ago—now I’m not so sure what you or anyone else in the U.S. attorney’s office has been doing. You know who Martino is and the things he’s done. What the hell are you guys thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” she said woodenly. “I know how much you put into this investigation. Unfortunately, there’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“Sure there is. You can tell me who the hell Martino paid off in the U.S. attorney’s office to make this miracle happen. If Briggs didn’t make this decision, then . . .” Jack paused to give Cameron a scrutinizing once-over. “What do you think, Joe, should we do a little digging into Ms. Lynde’s accounts? See if she’s had any unusually large deposits lately?”

Cameron walked over and stared him dead in the eyes. “You are way out of line with that, Agent Pallas.”

Joe moved between them. “Okay, I think we all need to take a step back for a moment and cool down.”

Jack ignored him. “I want an explanation,” he said again to Cameron.

She stood her ground, holding his gaze angrily. “Fine. You blew your cover too early. I hope that explanation satisfies you, because it’s the only one I can give you.”

A wave of fury washed over him. And guilt. Her words struck a nerve—although he’d had no choice, he still blamed himself every day for the fact that his cover had been blown.

Jack’s voice was ice-cold. “Get out of my office.”

“I was just leaving,” Cameron said. “But one last thing—if you ever have any concerns about where my loyalties lie, or regarding my dedication to my job, you can just ask me yourself, Agent Pallas. But if you poke around in my bank accounts, you better have either a court order or one hell of a defense attorney.” She nodded at Joe in good-bye. “Agent Dobbs.” Then she turned and left without further word.

Joe watched her go. “I know you’re angry, Jack, and I’m mad as hell, too, but be careful. Cameron Lynde might be new to the office, but she’s still an assistant U.S. attorney. Probably not such a good idea to accuse her of corruption.”

Barely listening, Jack said nothing. All he could think about was one thing.

Two years of his life down the f**king drain.

Joe sprang into action. “All right—I’m going to talk to Davis,” he said, referring to their boss, the special agent in charge. “I’ll see if I can find out what’s really going on.” He walked over and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “In the meantime, you need to calm the hell down. Go home, go get drunk, whatever—just get out of this office before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

Jack nodded.

Two years.

In the elevator on his way out, he stared numbly at the doors, wondering if Cameron Lynde had any clue what he’d gone through to get all that evidence that she had just rendered meaningless. Yes, his cover had been blown, but only because—in a move that was two parts plain stupid and one part a piss-fight over jurisdiction—the DEA had sent in their own undercover agent to make contact with Martino. Jack had figured out who the guy was in all of about five seconds. It took Martino ten.

He’d ordered Jack to kill him.

Now Jack had done a lot of not-so-nice things in order to maintain his cover while working for Martino, but up to that point he’d always managed to avoid actually killing anyone. But this time Martino wanted the agent’s body brought back to him—he planned to send a message to the DEA—and no amount of craftiness could get Jack out of having to produce an actual corpse. So he stalled. He was on his way to meet the DEA agent, warn him, and get them both the hell out of Dodge, when Martino’s men grabbed them.

They killed the DEA agent immediately. Martino stuck to his plan and had his men dump the body on the Chicago DEA office’s doorstep that night.