Alek’s smile faded. “I’m still your boss, Curt. You’re still reporting to me. You’ll go to that press conference and you’ll say what ATF needs you to say.”
“On one condition.” Chris had gotten an idea during those endless debriefings with the nameless suits. In fact, it was his own personal Plan B. “If I can’t work undercover anymore, I still won’t work a desk. After the dust settles, I want a different job.”
“What do you want?” Alek asked, his smile back, though he was still ugly.
“I want to start a field-training program for undercover agents, over and above what we had at Glencoe, based on my experience. It could start as a pilot program in Philadelphia and extend to the other divisions around the country.”
Alek hesitated. “A field-experience program? That job doesn’t exist.”
“I know, I want to create it. I want to teach everything I know to undercover agents coming up.”
Alek frowned. “Curt. This is the government. We don’t create jobs willy-nilly, and you won’t get any more money.”
“I don’t want more money. I’ll stay at my pay grade.” Chris was a GS-13, making a little over a hundred grand a year.
The Rabbi interjected, “I think that’s a great idea, Curt. You know so many tricks of the trade, and I think it would be great if you could impart that knowledge to our newer agents.”
“Thanks.” Chris returned his attention to Alek. “If I can look forward to a new job, I’ll be happy to speak at the press conference.”
“Oh, I get it. We’re negotiating.” Alek folded his arms. “You never give up, do you?”
“Lucky for you, no.”
Alek thought a minute, then his grin returned. “Curt, a field-experience program is an excellent idea. I was just thinking the same thing myself!”
Chapter Sixty
Police guarded the doors, and Mindy sat in the waiting room of the emergency department waiting for Evan to come back. He had taken ten stitches through his eyebrow and had bruises on his right cheek, though his orbital bone hadn’t been fractured or his eyesight impaired. He was being X-rayed because they suspected two cracked ribs, but otherwise, he would be physically okay.
Mindy had cried all the tears she could cry. She could never live with herself if more people had been killed. She felt exhausted, sitting next to her new lawyer, Maxwell Todd, Esq., of Logan & Dichter. Todd specialized in the legal problems of the children of their corporate client CEOs. Mindy would never have guessed there were enough spoiled brats to support a law practice, but maybe affluenza was contagious.
Evan was in police custody, and he was going from here to the Federal Detention Center until his arraignment. The charges against him had yet to be decided upon, but Mindy would be there for him, not to excuse him, but to help him deal with whatever sentence they gave him. A mother was a lighthouse in a storm, and she would stand with him always. And even though, if she’d said yes to him before, when she should’ve said no, they both still had time to turn it around. She could change, and so could he.
She glanced at Paul, sitting several rows away from her with his criminal lawyer. They were the only people in the waiting room, which had been cleared by the police. Her phone rested in her lap, but she didn’t look at it. She’d stopped checking Facebook when the posts about Evan started appearing in her feed, mostly horrible and vile. She was ditching Facebook and going back to real books.
Mindy’s gaze found the TV mounted in the corner, playing on mute. There was a car commercial, and the screen returned to the the courthouse and the rescue, above the banner BOMB PLOT FOILED. Then came a shot of Evan’s latest school photo, then photos from his Facebook and Instagram accounts, a continuous slideshow of media coverage.
Mindy watched the coverage, having an out-of-body experience. She couldn’t believe that Evan was on TV, that hers was the family they were talking about, that she was inside the news, even though they were real people. They weren’t a story. It was her, Evan, and Paul.
The screen switched to a photo of Coach Brennan above the title UNDERCOVER HERO CURT ABBOTT. Mindy watched as the video in which Coach Brennan—she still called him that in her mind—flew upside down like a trapeze artist, holding on to Evan as they soared over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge.
Mindy felt tears come to her eyes. Coach Brennan had saved Evan’s life, as well as the lives of thousands of innocent people, and risked his own. Her first impulse had been to call him and she’d gotten his cell phone from the Booster directory, but her lawyer had advised her not to call him.
Mindy picked up her phone, scrolled to the text function, and typed a message, straight from the heart.
Coach Brennan, this is Mindy Kostis. I’m not supposed to be communicating with you, but what’s right is right. Thank you very much for saving Evan’s life. God bless you.
Mindy swallowed hard. Her attention returned to the television, and she found herself watching her own Facebook album, the Kostis Klan in the Kaymans.
“Mrs. Kostis?” said a female voice, and Mindy looked up to see the doctor entering the waiting room, with a professional smile.
“You can see Evan now. He’s asking for you.”
Chapter Sixty-one
Heather tossed the salad, alone with her thoughts while Jordan sat in the living room with the television blaring CNN.
“… this is Wolf Blitzer, welcoming our viewers in the United States and around the world. We’re only five minutes away from our coverage of the press conference, which we will be bringing you live from Philadelphia, regarding the terrorist bomb plot that was thwarted today by federal law enforcement, working in connection with state and municipal law enforcement…”
Heather screened out the TV, trying to process her emotions. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Chris wasn’t who he said he was. She had a crush on a guy that didn’t exist. Worse, Chris, or Curt, had used Jordan to get information. She still didn’t know the details and she didn’t care if she ever found out. The bottom line was that she had been lied to, and so had Jordan.