Solemn Duty (1997)

by Leonard B Scott

  They'll go after you."

  Farrel sank back in his chair and picked up the file before him. "It's a sad goddamn day for the Bureau, Stew. I have to take this asshole, Special Agent Eli Tanner, the son of a bitch who's tarnished all our shields. And now it looks like I have to give in to Special Agent Ashley Sutton. She better be damn glad she wears a skirt or she'd be lookin' for work in the fast food business. They're both trouble, Stew."

  Knowing his job was done, Goddard closed his attache case, stood, and walked toward the door. Stopping, he looked over his shoulder. "Look on the bright side, Don. At least for a while they'll both be together in the one place where nothing ever happens. Fort Benning isn't exactly New York. Maybe they'll drive each other nuts."

  It took ten long minutes before Don Farrel felt calm enough to press his intercom. "Maggie, call our Columbus office and get Agent Sutton on the line for me, please."

  "Sir, Agent Sutton is here in the building. I saw her a few minutes ago down in Supply. She drove up from Columbus to pick up the new computer software and other equipment for their office."

  "Okay, find her and have her come and see me, please."

  "Will do, sir."

  Five minutes later Farrel's intercom buzzed and his secretary's voice came over the speaker. "Sir, Agent Sutton is here."

  Taking a breath for strength, Farrel pressed the button.

  "Send her in, please."

  He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair and told himself to stay in control. Only a couple of seconds passed before the door opened and she strode in. He still couldn't believe that the first time he'd seen her he had actually thought she was cute. Thirty-three years old, strawberry-blond, only five-three or -four and maybe 115 pounds, she looked like one of those retired ice skater types on TV who did the commentary on the young ones, always looked good and never seemed to sweat. She even wore an ice skater's wedge hair style. Some men would have considered her attractive overall just because she had a drop dead figure, but he knew better she was flawed inside and out. Her radiant green eyes were a little too close together, and when they turned cold, watch out. He knew from experience those glossy emeralds could freeze your balls off.

  Her nose had a slight upturn like a ski jump, and when she got angry her nostrils flared in and out like a maddened bull.

  Christ, and I thought the bitch was cute?

  Farrel did not get up. He motioned to a chair beside his desk.

  "Have a seat, Agent Sutton."

  She didn't move. "Thank you, sir, but I'd prefer to stand."

  "As you wish. Agent Sutton, I've just been informed we're getting another agent assigned to us. He reports for duty in one week. I'm telling you this because his sudden assignment affects you. As we both know, we did not have a very pleasant meeting a month ago when you reported for duty. I accept responsibility that it was partially my fault. After some thought on the matter, I realized I was out of line. Agent Sutton, I now apologize to you and assure you that I have the utmost respect for all agents of your gender. My words were inappropriate and I hope you will accept my apology."

  Ashley Sutton dipped her chin, saying nothing. She knew there was some kind of catch. She took in a breath and held it as her boss continued.

  "Because the conversation became heated and got out of hand, I didn't have the opportunity to explain why I assigned you to Columbus. Again that was partially my fault. I was fully aware that you are a computer expert and that your expertise and past experience were in white-collar crime. But you must understand that I have others assigned who are just as qualified as you. I could not and would not reassign one of those agents just because you came on board and wanted to be assigned to a division with no vacancies. I made what I felt was the right decision at the time, and I still feel it was correct; however, things have changed. I am now giving you notice that you will be coming to Atlanta in three months and will be assigned to the white-collar division, just as you desired."

  Ashley slowly exhaled. Her complaint had paid off. The bastard was rolling.

  Farrel saw the gloating look in her green eyes and told himself he could get through this. Tonight he'd have two more martinis than usual and chalk this up as a learning experience.

  Clearing his throat, he tapped a file laying on his desk. "The agent I mentioned will be taking your place as the resident Agent in Charge of the Columbus office. He's a senior agent with a military background, so the transition should be very smooth. I now ask a favor of you. The agent is not aware of his assignment to Columbus, and as it happens, he is on leave and visiting his brother there. I have here a photocopy of his file that I'm going to give you so you'll know more about your replacement. On the first page you'll find his leave address. I would appreciate it if you would please drop by and see him and give him this envelope. In it are his assignment instructions and all the necessary paperwork for him to fill out to bring him on board. He can come to Atlanta at his convenience once he's established, and I'll give him the usual welcoming spiel.

  Assist him any way you can in finding suitable housing and in getting him acquainted with the community. You two can work out the handing off of your case loads and the details of the transition. Well, that's it, Agent Sutton. Do you have any questions?"

  Ashley Sutton was going to say no and leave, but something about all this didn't sound right to her. It was too easy. "Sir, what is the agent's name?" She asked to stall for time and try to figure out the catch.

  "Tanner, Eli J. Tanner. Here's his file, and the envelope I'd like you to give him," Farrel said, holding out his hand. He looked into her eyes to see if she showed any sign of recognition of his name. He was relieved; he didn't want to have to explain the circumstances to her and listen to her bitch.

  She stepped forward and took the documents. "Sir, isn't it unusual for Agent Tanner to be moved so quickly?"

  Farrel forced a smile. "It happens sometimes. By the way, just so you know: Agent Tanner's brother was the SAC of this office before he retired four years ago. His name is Jerome Tanner. You might have met him while you've been in Columbus? I hear he's doing, quite well-he runs a private investigation and security business in town."

  "No sir, I haven't met him. Being there only a month, I haven't had an opportunity to meet hardly anyone but the local police and Benning's Military Police and CID people.

  Sir, there is one more question. I'm in charge until I leave, correct?"

  Farrel braced himself. "No, Agent Sutton, Agent Tanner is senior to you. He takes full responsibility once he starts work."

  She shocked him when she smiled. "Just checking." She said, "It will be too late to see Agent Tanner by the time I get back, sir. I'll see him first thing in the morning and inform him.

  And, sir, thank you."

  Farrel relaxed; she was no longer showing her she-wolf side.

  He returned a smile and rose from his chair. "Now that this has all been resolved, I would hope that you would withdraw the E. O. complaint. It would certainly make things better for both of us."

  Ashley kept her smile. "No, sir, not until you apologize in writing to me. For the record, sir. At your convenience, of course. A faxed copy sent to the office will do just fine. Good day, sir."

  He waited until she was out the door before muttering aloud, "Damn women libbers to hell."

  Chapter 4.

  3:30 P. M. Saturday, June 2, Green Island Country Club, Columbus, Georgia.

  The two sweat-soaked men sank into their chairs and took long pulls from bottles of Gatorade. The bigger of the two men lowered his bottle and looked tiredly at his younger brother.

  "Elly, I'm goin' to kill her for this. This was her idea, you know, playin' together would be fun, she said. Look at me, I'm dyin', it's at least a hundred degrees on this damn court and we've been playin' for over two hours. Fun? She thinks this is fun?"

  Carrying towels, a smiling, attractive middle-age woman walked up behind the two men. "Watch it, buster, I heard that.

  Yo
u two look great. Keep playin' like you are and you'll be the tournament doubles champions."

  Jerome Tanner gave his wife his best scowl. "I'm dyin' here, and you're thinkin' of trophies? You signed us up because you thought I needed the exercise and this would be fun. We were supposed to lose in the first round then sit around and drink beer. That was the plan. Remember?"

  She tossed her husband a towel and motioned to his partner.

  "How was I supposed to know Eli kept his game up?" Shifting her gaze to her brother-in-law, she grinned. "Hang in there, Eli.

  Carry this of-timer through this match and you two will be the champs."

  Eli Tanner gave his brother a glance and shook his head. "I think he's had it, Millie. He can't hang with the big boys anymore."

  Jerome tossed his towel down, gripped his racket and stood up. "Can't hang, huh? Come on, Elly, I'm goin' to show this woman who's been carryin' who."

  Eli stood and gave his sister-in-law a wink before following his brother onto the court.

  The tennis ball seemed to hang in the air as Jerome backed up and jumped for an overhead slam. He swung with all his might but hit only air. The ball hit the court a foot behind him.

  He thought all was lost but out of the corner of his eye saw his brother coming at a full run. The sweet sound of the ball hitting Eli's racket strings gave Jerome hope again. He looked up and smiled, seeing the ball drop over the net into the alley where neither of their opponents had a chance for a return.

  The small crowd applauded politely and the court judge spoke into his microphone. "Tanner and Tanner win game, set, match, for the championship."

  Jerome spun around and threw his arm around his brother's shoulder. "You're somethin' in the clutch, Elly. But next time what'd'ya say we win in two sets and not three? I'm gettin' too old for this shit."

  Millie bounded up to the two men, giving each a kiss on the cheek. "My my my, aren't you two splendid? The Tanner boys sure showed 'em."

  "Beer, woman. Me and Elly need beer, not compliments,"

  Jerome said with a grin.

  Millie's smile wilted. "You can have one, honey, but Eli, you've got the finals single's match to play. I'm so sorry. I had no idea you two would win all your matches. Please forgive me for signing you up for singles, too."

  Eli leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Don't be sorry, Millie, I'm on a roll. Come on, let's get this old-timer a beer and let me get off my feet for a while."

  The threesome had just made it to the steps leading up to the clubhouse when Eli felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and faced a tall, handsome man he judged to be in his late thirties.

  Blond and tanned, the man smiled, but Eli knew it was insincere because the stranger's eyes were measuring him. "Hi, I'm Rod Perkins. We play right here on court one in fifteen minutes."

  "Fifteen minutes?" Jerome growled. "No way, Rod, we just got through playing. Eli needs at least an hour break."

  Blondy raised a bushy golden eyebrow. "The time for the match is posted, Jerome. Your brother can always default if he's too tired to play."

  Millie poked her finger into the blond man's chest. "Rod, if both players agree to a later time, it's okay, and you know it.

  Quit being a jerk and give Eli an hour."

  "Sorry, Millie, but I have other things to do. I promise I'll make it quick, and not too humiliating."

  "You pompous ass!" Millie barked. "I'm going to talk to the tournament committee and we'll see what they have to--"

  Eli patted his sister-in-law's shoulder. "It's all right, Millie.

  I'll play him in fifteen minutes." His eyes settled on Perkins and turned frigid. "After all, this gentleman has said he has things to do and he'd make it quick. Isn't that what you said, sir, 'quick and not too humiliating'?"

  Perkins felt the effect of the icy stare and realized he'd better say nothing more. He just nodded. Eli stepped closer, keeping his hold on the man's eyes. "Get somebody to warm you up. I won't need it. I'll be back in exactly fifteen minutes."

  In the clubhouse, Eli put. On a dry shirt and accepted another bottle of Gatorade from Millie. "Nice folks ya'll have in the club," he said with a mocking grin.

  Jerome handed his brother a pair of dry socks. "Rod's a lawyer, what' d'ya expect. He moved here a couple of years ago from New York. We put up with him 'cause his wife is a local and active in everything--a real class act."

  "She married a Yankee, Jerome. What kind of class is that?"

  Millie said, making a face.

  "She's still class in my book, okay? Look, little brother, he's good. I wish I could tell ya he had a weakness, but he doesn't.

  He's won the singles event for the last two years. He's a baseline player, so don't look for him to come to the net He's got a strong forehand and a sizzlin' two-handed backhand, and he was serious when he said he'd try and make it quick."

  "We'll see about that." Eli stood up.

  Millie groaned and shook her head, seeing the ball pass just beyond Eli's reach for the winner. "It's going to be worse than I thought. Rod's won four straight games."

  Jerome smiled. "Don't count Elly out just yet. I think he's been feeling him out He's had three easy put-sways, but instead put the shots deep in the corners to make Rod run. I think we're about to see Elly drop the hammer on him."

  "Hon, Eli is good, but he's exhausted, there's no way."

  "Watch and see."

  A small woman wearing a stylish light cotton dress and flowered straw hat walked down the steps from the clubhouse toward the stadium court looking for a man she thought she knew all too well. It was all there in the file. Although Agent Ashley Sutton didn't know what Eli Tanner looked like, she knew his type. He was definitely a Rambo. His record reflected a man who had volunteered and successfully completed the Army's and FBI's toughest training courses. He'd jumped out of perfectly good airplanes, eaten snakes, been shot in Vietnam, and shot twice during assignments with Bureau's special tactical units. It was clear he was a man who loved to be in harm's way but didn't know when to duck. He would be tall, heavily muscled, have a crew cut, and be square-jawed. He would be like the jocks at school or the muscle-bound idiots at the Y who spent more time looking at themselves in the mirrors than pumping iron. He'd have that confident strut of all the tactical team agents. And he would most assuredly think he was God's gift to women.

  Stopping on the landing, she began her visual search of the small crowd that was intently watching the tennis match.

  She'd called the number on his leave form, but got an answering machine in his brother's home. The message said the Tanners could be contacted at the country club. The receptionist at the club desk had told her she didn't know Eli Tanner but that a Mr. Jerome Tanner was a member of the club and she thought he would be watching the singles competition finals on court one.

  Ashley finished searching the spectator's faces on the far side of the court and stepped down to continue her search among the chairs on her side of the court. Seeing the two together would clinch it, she thought. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Jerome Tanner had used his influence with his old cronies to have his younger brother assigned to the resident office. It was the only explanation for the sudden move.

  The "good ol' boy" network had worked its voodoo magic again. Despite the rules, the secret society of the "good ol' boys" always managed to make end runs around the system.

  The collective gasp of the spectators broke her train of thought and she looked toward the court. A very tall, handsome blond man was running toward an obviously well-placed ball. With surprising power, the blond hit the sphere like a bullet toward the opposite court in what looked like a clear winner. But his opponent, a short, well-built man positioned close to the net, lunged and hit the ball back to the opposite side of the court. Again the blond put on a burst of speed and managed to get his racket on the ball, but it was a weaker return.

  The short man attacked with a vicious overhead slam and put the ball into the opposite corner for a
winner. The sedate crowd came alive with loud applause.

  Ashley smiled to herself. She liked to see hard work pay off, and it was clear the sweaty, short player, who was obviously older than his opponent, was trying very hard. His looks reminded her of Steve McQueen in his prime; he had that lithe, rangy look of a big-game cat-not a lion or leopard, but more like a cheetah. He was probably five-eight--perhaps -nine-- and like a cheetah, had a thick chest, narrow waist, and heavily muscled legs. She should have used the pause in play to search the crowd for Mr. Macho Rambo, but there was something about the cheetah that intrigued her. He had a definite presence about him. Perhaps it was the unusual premature gray hair that contrasted so starkly with his tanned face. No, that wasn't it, she thought. It undeniably had something to do with his looks, but it was much more, it was his elegance. Yes, she thought, the word was unusual to describe a man, but it matched him perfectly. It was the way he held his head and moved with no wasted motion, and the way his eyes were always steady and focused. He was a man who was in complete control of himself, she thought. Turning, she spoke to the elderly woman seated beside her. "Excuse me, do you know the score?"