Chapter 34
BIG STUFF ? NOW HERE WE GO.
On Friday morning of that week, at a few minutes past nine o’clock, I found myself all alone in the alcove outside Director Ron Burns’s office on the ninth floor of the Hoover Building, FBI headquarters.
The director’s assistant, Tony Woods, peeked his round, deceptively cherubic face out of Burns’s outer office.
“Hey, Alex, there you are. Why don’t you come on in. Good job the other day on Kentucky Avenue. Under the circumstances especially. The director’s been wanting to talk to you about it and some other things he has on his mind. I heard Ned Mahoney’s going to make a full recovery.”
Terrific job ? I almost got myself killed, I thought as I followed Woods into the inner office. Ned Mahoney got shot in the neck. He could have died too.
The director was there waiting for me in his sanctum sanctorum. Ron Burns has a kind of funny way about him: He’s a hard-charging guy, but he’s learned to make meaningless small talk and smile a lot before he gets down to business. That’s pretty much a requirement in Washington, especially if you have to deal with as many sneaky politicians as he does. Like many type-A business-minded men, though, Burns is pretty awful at small talk. But we chatted about local sports and the weather for a good ninety seconds before we got into the real reason for my visit.
“So what’s on your mind these days?” Burns asked. “Tony said you wanted to see me, so I take it this isn’t purely a social call.
“I have a few things to go over with you too. A new assignment for starters: a serial up in Maine and Vermont of all places.”
I nodded and let Burns rattle on. But suddenly I was feeling tense and a little unsure of myself. Finally, I had to cut him off. “There’s no good way to ease into this, Director, so I’ll just say it. I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be leaving the Bureau. This is very difficult, and it’s embarrassing. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve made a decision for my family. It’s final. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Shit,” Burns said, and he hit his desk hard with the palm of his hand. “Damn it all to hell, Alex. Why would you leave us now? It makes no sense to me. You’re on a very fast track at the Bureau. You know that, right? Tell you what, I’m not going to let you do it.”
“Nothing you can do to stop me,” I told him. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. I’ve thought this through a hundred times in the last few days.”
Burns stared into my eyes, and he must have seen something resolute there, because he stood up behind his desk. Then he came around it with his hand outstretched.
“You’re making a terrible mistake, and an atrociously bad career move, but I can tell there’s no point in arguing with you. It’s been a real pleasure, Alex, and an education,” he said as we shook hands. We made some more uncomfortable chitchat for the next couple of minutes. Then I got up to leave his office.
As I reached the door, Burns called, “Alex, I hope I can still call on you from time to time. I can, can’t I?”
I laughed in spite of myself, because the remark was so typical of Burns’s never-say-die attitude. “You can call on me eventually. But why don’t you give it a few months, okay?”
“Couple of days anyway” said Burns, and at least he winked when he said it.
We both laughed, and suddenly it sunk in ? my brief, somewhat illustrious career with the FBI was over and done with.
Also, I was unemployed.