Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Stafford’s boss called Sam’s to see if the mandate could be amended. All that got her was a call back from Tom Kenwood explaining the proper channels for complaints and the protocol for such. Basically, she would be waiting until the rapture for someone to get back to her.
It turned out that in Chicago, all roads led to Sam, and if you made a mistake, you paid the piper. Sam could wall himself off from the DEA and be well within his mandate. And so he did. Compared to Sam, Calhoun was a by-the-book guy. While my husband was as well, he knew how to get around them to keep witnesses and the community safe. And he would still be the knight he was and protect and serve; he would just not be doing it shoulder-to-shoulder with the DEA. They would have the Feds as a buffer. Lots of cities worked that way; now Chicago did as well.
Lieutenant Gregory Ayers, who thought not telling Sam about the threat to Hannah was a good idea, got to have a lovely long talk with the police commissioner, who put a formal reprimand in his jacket. Ayers was also informed that the marshals service was no longer on his speed dial. He would need to speak to Stafford at the DEA, who would then determine if a request would be sent to Calhoun. Stafford got the double whammy of becoming the new liaison to the Narcotics division, which gave him extra work and more dreaded paperwork. For being an idiot, Ayers got his wings clipped. All the good will which had translated into shortcuts was now gone. Marshals were handy to have on-site, and while Narcotics still got them, maybe when they were ready to make their arrests, the drug dealers were already in custody. The marshals didn’t have to wait. It was all that who-got-the-glory business again.
Lastly, James Kidd at the Fourth District was demoted. And while Sam didn’t have that kind of pull, his complaint turned out to be the final straw. Apparently, Kidd, like his predecessor, Vaughn, was taking bribes. Sam shining a light on him for his unconcern over putting a young woman in harm’s way brought other people forward with similar complaints about being unprotected by the police in that district. Kidd got moved over under Duncan’s command at the Eighteenth, and everyone knew that was the kiss of death. Commander Duncan Stiel ran a squeaky-clean house, and no one expected Kidd to last. It would be interesting to see what happened. Meanwhile, the Fourth District was looking for a new commander for the second time. I hoped, for O’Meara and Hall’s sakes, that they got a new boss who was good.
“How long are you going to make the DEA and Narcotics suffer?” I asked my husband.
Sam shook his head. “No one is suffering. In fact, without the jurisdictional pissing match, things are getting done so much quicker.”
“But there are a lot of investigators working hard to bust people, and then they don’t get the credit. That’s not fair.”
“Oh, I would never do that,” he told me. “All detectives, investigators, patrol officers, everyone working hard, grinding out the work day in and day out—get credited. We put names in all our reports.”
“So individuals share the glory.”
“Of course,” he said magnanimously.
“Just not the agency.”
“Correct,” he said with a smile.
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Why just today, Joshua Medina, a new DEA agent formerly stationed in Guadalajara, Mexico, was credited when we busted the Flint brothers from Liverpool, who wanted to move some product through Chicago.”
“So Medina is a hero, but the DEA not so much.”
“Medina said when and where, and we took care of it.”
“They’re going to hate you.”
“They hated us before. Ian’s the one who built the bridge, Stafford’s the one who tore it down,” he said flatly. “People need to think before they make choices for my family.”
“You better make sure your son doesn’t become a drug dealer, because if Stafford gets his hands on him, you’re going to have to grovel.”
“Kola!” Sam yelled into the kitchen.
My son walked the few feet to where the table was, a pitcher of beeswax in his right hand, wearing a burlap apron that had seen better days. “Yessir?”
“Don’t become a drug dealer. I’ve pissed off the DEA, so it could be bad for you.”
Kola nodded. “Gotcha. No drugs. I’m filing that away.”
I scowled at my husband. “You’re being very glib about this.”
“I talked to Stafford’s boss. She came to my office. I explained what had happened, and she agreed that he was an idiot. She said that for the foreseeable future she would take her wins from Rockford, Springfield, and from the great states of Wisconsin and Indiana while bridges are being rebuilt.”
“And will you let bridges happen?”
“I don’t understand the issue. It all works just as it does in many great cities across the US. The Feds and DEA work hand in hand.”