Page 82 of Tied Over

“They will,” Becker assured him. “Go now. I’m right behind you with your phone.” There was a silence, only ambient noise, and then, “Still there?”

“Yessir,” I answered.

“Okay, so the SOG team entered the rectory, found nothing, searched the offices, found nothing again, and finally searched downstairs in a basement meeting room and found Ian duct-taped to a chair.”

“And he’s okay?”

“He’s hurt, but he was yelling, so that’s a good sign.”

It was. Anyone who knew Ian Doyle knew it was.

“From what Wes could see, there was enough C-4 to blow the entire church, plus the cemetery in back, sky high.”

“Jesus,” Bodhi husked.

“Wes, of course, went to get Ian out, and as is protocol, turned on a signal jammer in case the bomb was going to be detonated via Wi-Fi.”

“That’s standard operating procedure now?”

“It is,” Becker told us. “The bomb squad was right behind SOG, just in case, because Kage thought that was the most likely scenario. As usual, he was right.”

Kage had to be the most careful man on the planet. He was also exceedingly prepared and didn’t take chances with any of our lives, which was why I really wanted him to forget all about what had happened with me and Crouse and that whole witness removal going sideways.

“So Ian and Wes are both all right?” Bodhi blurted out.

“Yes.”

“And the bomb was deactivated?”

“That’s correct.”

“And Ian? What happened to Ian?”

“He lost quite a bit of blood from several deep lacerations, but he was slashed, not stabbed. Brodie wanted him to bleed, not die.”

Becker didn’t need to add that Brodie hadn’t wanted Ian to die from that; he’d wanted him to die in the blast. We all understood what he meant.

“So Ian’s gonna be fine?”

“Yes. Lots of stitches, and he needs to not move for a few days, which I’m sure will be the worst part of this for him.”

I had no doubt. Ian Doyle was a retired Army Ranger and Green Beret, so the word rest was not in his vocabulary. He was going to be an ass about it too, I was sure. Miro was going to have a bear on his hands. But he got him back, and that was the important part. Knowing he was safe; I could breathe again.

“So what do we think is going on as things stand now, sir?” Bodhi asked Becker.

“We’re not—wait,” he ordered. “Hold the line.”

He was gone then, and we sat there, quiet, waiting, and then there were several beeps.

“Okay, is everyone on?” Kage asked, having taken over from Becker.

We sounded off then, saying our names, Ryan and Dorsey, Ching and Becker, Jer, Sharpe and White, Yamane and Pazzi, Lopez and Cho, and then I said my name and Bodhi his.

“Good,” Kage said on an exhale. “So here’s what we know. For whatever reason, Gabriel Brodie is taking out his anger at being fired from the marshals service on the people who were, he believes, the final straw.”

Bodhi and I were working our first joint task force with the DEA in Chicago the day Brodie was fired. We’d recently worked a second one, but it had been during the first that we heard that Ian and Eli had found a witness that belonged to Brodie and his partner, Leo Rodriguez. Basically, the guy, Shawn Pelham, was walking around unprotected in the world. He was gone now, transferred from Chicago that same day, which looked bad for our district. Normally, you liked to place witnesses once. They were only moved in a crisis situation, and the office that allowed that to happen was considered to have failed that witness. Since Sam Kage ran a well-oiled machine of an office with the most competent people I’d ever worked with, it was a rare blemish on his record.

Brodie had been, by all accounts, a dick from the beginning. He was lazy, surly, had a huge chip on his shoulder, and most importantly, didn’t care. His former boss, Kent Standish, had been fired as well for playing pass the trash with many transfers, not just Brodie. At the moment, though, it was far worse than anyone had anticipated.