Page 57 of Resolution

Noah snorted.

“Seriously, though, Noah, I want these guys caught and I really don’t care who does it. What’s the deal with the DEA? The look on Lincoln and Mac’s face when they heard the DEA was involved in all this—” I pointed my chopsticks at him. “That shit was scary.”

Noah laughed. “The DEA is filled with cowboys, and they don’t work well with the FBI,” he said. He seemed to think about it for a minute. “Think of it as surfer boys versus men in black suits. Is that enough of a visual?”

“I get it. The FBI is buttoned up and the DEA boys have lesser wardrobe standards.”

Noah grinned. “It goes far beyond wardrobe. The DEA spend most of their lives undercover unless they’re part of the top brass. They’re cleared to take drugs if that’s what it takes to catch a drug kingpin, and the FBI frowns on all of that except in extreme undercover circumstances. Let’s just say that the FBI, which holds the most power of any federal agency because they operate globally, have the ear of the president, and administer justice in every law enforcement jurisdiction in the country. While the DEA has its own mandate, they are limited to drug offences and offenders, and even though they operate globally as well, they are often forced to coordinate what they do—which means justifying their methods—with the FBI. It’s just a lot of politics, I guess.”

“So, the two agencies basically hate each other,” I said.

“In a nutshell.” He nodded, his beaded braids clicking like castanets.

We paused to continue eating for a few minutes before I spoke up again, pointing to his hair. “How often do you have to have that done?”

“The hair?”

“Yeah. I mean, how often do you have to do the braids and all?”

“Mm…I can go six weeks but four weeks is better.”

“Do they have to unbraid it all and then rebraid it?”

He pursed his lips, nodding as he chewed. “Oh yeah, because they need to get to the roots.”

“Makes sense.”

“Do you have extensions?” I’d noticed the hair fell way down past his shoulders.

He nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He held up one hand showing his thumb and forefinger spread wide open. “Six or eight inches at least. My hair grows fast, but I still need extensions. My hair grows about an inch a month.”

I nodded. “Mine’s about half an inch.” I picked up a carton and pulled a wonton out, popping it in my mouth. The food was delicious.

We waited forty-five minutes after we’d cleared the food away, leaving the conference room door open to air it out while we waited for the big meeting to conclude. I made sure Miguel was doing okay and then excused myself to the breakroom to get coffee for Miguel and myself.

When I came back the entire bullpen was packed with people. There were too many to be in the conference room. I was introduced to FBI SAC, Donovan Bradley, the DEA boss, Hope Bannister, and two of her agents. Lincoln’s entire team joined us with Cassidy, Mike, and Damon. I noticed that the guy from White-Collar Crimes wasn’t there. Maybe he’d decided not to join the taskforce after all. I took a seat beside Miguel, handing him a cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” Miguel smiled, putting a hand on my knee as I was introduced to the newcomers.

“Nice to meet you.” I nodded at the DEA boss who looked like she was in her early thirties. Her two agents had a college student look to them. The SAC, Hope Bannister, was dressed in a pantsuit, but her agents, both male, were in jeans and T-shirts. I had no doubt Noah had been right if they spent most of their time undercover as drug users, pushers, or part of a gang. They were both very young, tatted up, and one of them had a septum piercing with a mop of blue hair. A late teens image but they were probably mid-twenties. FBI SAC Bradley looked directly at me from where he stood at the head of the room with Bannister.

“Sorry for the long wait, folks,” Bradley said. “Snow has fully briefed us on what’s been going on. It’s the failure of the FBI for not looping the DEA in on this investigation until this morning. Now they’re up to speed and we’ve been informed they have an undercover agent connected to this case, we asked that you be brought in so we could discuss how to work together and accomplish all our goals while getting our agent back.”

“As I’ve told SAC Bradley, we need to get Agent Willis out of that house,” Bannister said. “But even more importantly, we need Oscar Castillo and his cartel brought down once and for all. The Sanchez Cartel has been on a murderous rampage for a decade or more, laying waste to whole communities and leaving hundreds of widows, children, and other family members behind. We’re very close to making a case to take down the whole organization—” She turned to frown at Lincoln.

“That was until the FBI stuck their fingers in our pie.” Bradley opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. “We’ll work together going forward, SAC. As you said, the FBI couldn’t have known about SA Trevor Willis, and we admit that we aren’t good at sharing.” She turned back to us. “In any case, that’s where we are. We need to figure out how to insert Huerta, and how to keep him safe while he’s inside.”

Miguel sat forward. “What?”

My gaze went from him to Bradley, to Bannister. “What? Insert Miguel where? Inside what?”

Bannister sagged, shot Bradley a look, then turned back to us. “I’m sorry. I—you—probably should have been in the meeting. Let’s catch you up with what we want to do.”

“That would be good, because I don’t like it,” Lincoln said, crossing his arms.

“And asI’vesaid, Snow, we’ve all heard about your misgivings, but we all agreed that we should talk to Mr. Huerta and get his thoughts on it before dismissing it out of hand.”

“Fine,” Snow said, looking at Mac. The big man looked just as pissed as Lincoln.

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