The People v. Eleanor Warwick
A Grateful Nation

Grey’s contingent is significantly smaller when it returned to House Warwick.

Several uniforms and a couple of her agents had to receive treatment for hellblood-related injuries. Blackwell entirely decimated Team Two with busted noses and concussions. She certainly left quite a bit of destruction in her wake.

Several exasperated sighs followed Grey’s order to block off the street again. She knows the committee will call her off eventually. In fact, she’s surprised she hasn’t already heard from them. Chief McAdams likely exaggerated the Mayor’s sway.

Her people are cold and tired and growing frustrated. She can relate, but until her superiors tell her otherwise, they aren’t going anywhere.

“Ma’am?” Grey casts her agent a sidelong glance. “Raven on the radio for you.”

Ignoring the offered device, she turns her sights back to the House. “Tell them to stand down. They’re relieved.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. Raven, there’s nothing more you can do. Stand down.”

“Roger that. Raven out.”

The chopper blades beat as the aircraft soars over the buildings and sets course for their home base. Grey watches them fly away as the dark of night begins to lighten. Her right-hand returns to her side but says nothing. After a few silent moments, he steels himself and speaks up. “Ma’am, morning rush hour is going to begin soon.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Perhaps we should…consider…clearing the street.”

Grey faces her subordinate with a chilly look. “Wizards aren’t as different from other suspects as you might think. Keep the pressure on them and they will make a mistake.”

“I understand, ma’am, but- .”

“We will not be moving from this spot until- .” The loud ringing of Grey’s cell interrupts her.

She and her agent look down in unison, before bringing their eyes back to each other. With a slight sigh, she slides the phone out of her pocket and checks the number. She stares at it for a moment before looking to her right-hand and offering a confirmative nod.

The agent nods back and immediately turns to the blockade. “All right, people. Listen up.”

Stepping away, Grey brings the phone to her ear. “Grey.”

“Agent Grey. Senator Marshall here.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you can stand down and clear that street, agent.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she sees her agents already in the process of doing so. “Yes, sir. It’ll be clear in a matter of minutes.”

“See that it is. I received a report that you found the Stone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work.”

“Thank you, sir. We will regroup at the station house and plan our next move on Warwick.”

“Not so fast, Agent Grey. We’re changing your mission parameters.”

Grey freezes. “Sir?”

“Eleanor Warwick is more trouble than she’s worth. The longer you two ‘Tom & Jerry’ all over Carmadie, the greater chance of exposure. You’ve already made quite a bit of national news.”

“I understand, sir, but- .”

“People are looking for answers. The Mayor and the CPD Commissioner want to know what agency you represent. We obviously can’t tell anyone anything. We’re going to quit while we’re ahead. We got the Stone. Let’s just get it back to DC and figure out where to go from there.”

Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, Grey taps a single finger on her lips. She’s speaking to the chair of the intelligence committee and her subordinates are in earshot. She must keep her cool.

“Sir…with all due respect, I think this is a mistake. This was supposed to be when we took a stand. Making an example of Warwick was supposed to put the others on notice.”

“I understand, Agent Grey. And that notice will come, but- .”

“But when they make things difficult for us, we’ll back down.”

“Careful now, Grey. Nobody is backing down. We just have to pick our spots. We always have. You know that.”

“Yes, sir, but- .”

“Enough. Just clear that street, get the Stone into evidence, and get yourself on a plane home.”

She goes silent. She comes to the sudden realization of what this change in agency priority meant for her, her career, and her family. “Am I to understand that I am relieved of my post, sir?”

“In accordance with the resignation letter you yourself put in, yes.”

“I thought I would at least get a chance to see this through, sir.”

“Not necessary. Agent Henderson is more than qualified to oversee the team’s withdrawal and bring the Stone back here.”

“Henderson is- .”

“Facing a hearing, I know. One that I’m sure will find that he handled things as well as most superiors could have expected.” Grey has to bite her tongue at the accusation in his voice. “Your job is done, Agent Grey. On behalf of a grateful nation, I thank you for your service.”

“Yes, sir,” she answers, her voice hollow. “Thank you, sir.”

As the voice in the phone fades away, she lowered the device and stares at the pavement. This isn’t how it was supposed to end for her, for a proud career that stretches back almost two decades.

The idea was for her to go out on her own terms, a job well done. A mission accomplished. To have it all end because the politicians lost their nerve is infuriating.

And yet, she doesn’t yell or scream or profane. Instead, she stands, still as stone, staring at the street. If her subordinate hadn’t interjected, there’s no telling how long she would have stood there.

“Ma’am?”

Grey looks up and turns toward her right-hand. What she sees brings a scowl to her face.

Agents and uniforms alike face the stoop of House Warwick, weapons drawn. There, at the top step, is Warwick herself.

Eleanor casually waves at the armed crowd. Grey slowly passes through the throng of officers, stepping to the front of the group. The wizard stares at her without a hint of apprehension. “Who was that on the phone?”

The agent’s eyes flares at the question. Her tone is free of implication, but Grey can do the math.

What she assumed was political nonsense is, in fact, a checkmate from her adversary. She feels a strong temptation to draw her pistol and take the wizard down regardless of her orders. She even places a hand on her gun without even noticing.

After a moment, her hand drifts away from the weapon as inevitability set in. If she takes Warwick down, she would be in serious trouble. It would accomplish nothing.

“Stand down,” she finally says, her frustration carefully masked. “Clear this street.”

Eleanor only watches as Grey turns on her heels and heads toward her vehicle. As her SUV revs up and drives down the street, Eleanor smiles before returning to the House.

As the agents load up and depart, Carmadie’s finest relax considerably. The Feds are out of their hair and they’re finally able to get out of the cold. Two bits of good news to the tired locals. Officers jump into their cars and peel away, desperate to be anywhere else.

Before heading for his cruiser Officer Bailey enjoys a quick smoke.

“Mind if I wait with you?” a female colleague asks.

“Not at all.”

As the rest of the cruisers fled the scene, Bailey sighs a heavy sigh as he blows smoke into the air. “Can you believe they kept us out here all damn night?”

His fellow officer says nothing. She only stares at him with deep, brown eyes. Bailey squirms a bit under her gaze. He doesn’t recognize her, but the CPD is a large police force. Not knowing a comrade-in-arms is common.

“E. Brinkman?” he wonders, reading her nameplate. “I know an Erin Brinkman. She was here earlier.”

Dropping his cigarette and freeing his sidearm, Bailey points the weapon at his colleague. “And you aren’t her. Who are you?”

“Put that down,” she commands, her brown eyes burning.

The officer doesn’t comply immediately, but his eyes widen and his hands tremble. His free will begins to numb and his body ignores his instructions. After a moment, he drops his arms to his side.

Cassandra steps up to him, never breaking eye contact. “That woman. The one in charge. Who is she?”

“Agent Grey,” he answers with an empty voice. “I don’t know her first name.”

“Where is she taking that Stone?”

“The 8th Precinct station house. It’s where they’re headquartered.”

“What will she do with it?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I would think she would enter it into evidence. It’s standard procedure.”

Cassandra considers her next move. “Was this Brinkman woman from that station?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We were both from the 11th.”

“So, no one will know I’m not her?”

“No.”

“Good. Give me your keys.”

Bailey complies.

“Now, go find a dark alley and put a bullet in your head.”

With only an absent nod, Bailey turns and sets about his task. Cassandra takes her place behind the wheel of the police cruiser. She adjusts her grip on the wheel a few times before taking a breath and turning the ignition. She has done very little driving in the last hundred years. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she carefully tucks her copper hair up under her police hat.

Confident she looks every bit the consummate law enforcement professional, she cautiously applies the gas pedal and heads for the 8th Precinct station house to reclaim what’s her’s.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.