Chapter 43: Candidate 777
What does having a flexible attitude mean?
Meeting Chuck's gaze, Jane suddenly understood this concept more deeply.
She hadn't expected her stern and intimidating supervisor to have this side.
"Dr. Wolfe, what do you think we should do about this case?"
the older white supervisor said with a smile.
Since he was a consultant from their own department, he must have undergone a background check and was trustworthy.
Besides, while the Bureau liked to hire consultants for cases, not everyone was eligible. Only the most elite field offices had that privilege, and he clearly didn't have those credentials.
Now, with the help of his new subordinate, it seemed he could also experience how the real elite handled cases.
Perfect.
The consultants were responsible for all the thinking. When muscle was needed, he would lead the team when he was confident of overwhelming firepower, and call in a professional SWAT team when facing uncertain dangers.
He would take all the credit afterward, and if anything went wrong, he could shift most of the blame to the consultant. If things really went south, he could publicly fire the consultant to appease any backlash.
The consultant didn't have an FBI badge, so he could be terminated at will without worrying about the FBI Union causing trouble.
Now that's professional management.
The older white supervisor's smile grew more genuine at this thought, revealing a set of white teeth with the fresh scent of mint.
"The confrontation was captured on body cameras,"
Chuck said calmly. "The case is becoming increasingly clear. As long as we find the fugitive Pete Thompson (the security captain) and follow his lead, we'll get to the bottom of this."
"This is connected to Matt Olson,"
Jane couldn't help but add.
"Ahem."
The older white supervisor was polite to Chuck, but very authoritative with Jane, the rookie. He interrupted with a light cough, "Agent Banner, that's still unconfirmed. As FBI agents, we need to rely on evidence when we speak and handle cases."
Jane couldn't help but look at Chuck.
Now she was completely convinced that her supervisor hadn't come here because she and the Tribal Police Department were nearly killed, but to control the situation.
Edward Olson was a billionaire and an oil tycoon with close ties to the U.S. Department of Energy. In a state like Wyoming, a major exporter of fossil fuels, he wielded considerable influence.
In the eyes of her superiors, how could such a person be considered a threat?
Even if his kid was young and reckless, he was still just a kid who could turn his life around. What kind of evil intentions could a teenager, barely out of diapers, possibly harbor?
Unless there was absolutely ironclad evidence, a billionaire of his stature should not be investigated carelessly.
At the very least, he and his people should not be responsible for this potential political minefield.
"I'm only responsible for finding the truth. It's your job to handle the case,"
Chuck said calmly. "I've booked a flight back to New Jersey tomorrow night, and I have classes the day after tomorrow."
"A Bureau consultant is a Bureau consultant."
His older white supervisor, seeing Chuck's clear understanding of their respective roles, praised him enthusiastically. "Many people don't understand our case-handling procedures and have many misconceptions about us. I've heard some consultants are the same way.
They don't consider the principle of staying within their lane.
Take, for example, our Bureau's most elite investigation unit, the BAU. Their principle is to intervene only at the invitation of local law enforcement.
Failure to do so would infringe upon local jurisdiction. Not only would that prevent them from being contacted by other departments, but even if they were to forcibly take over a case, without local cooperation—or worse, facing strong resistance—many cases would remain unsolved, and the only victims would be the people who need justice."
Chuck listened without expression.
Jane hung her head in shame.
When the white supervisor, still not satisfied, stopped his lengthy exposition and went to the ward to visit the seriously injured tribal police officer, Jane gave Chuck a rueful smile. "Is this what you want me to learn?"
She had originally thought her FBI career would be about helping people in need, but now it seemed more like it was about helping the powerful.
"Being street-smart without losing your soul—a flexible attitude ultimately depends on how flexible you choose to be,"
Chuck said, feeling the slight vibration in his pocket and taking out his phone to check.
Jane's dejected expression brightened again.
That's right.
As long as she had the will and the ability, she could always help those who truly needed it.
Seeing Chuck checking his phone, she couldn't help but ask, "Who's texting? Any news?"
"It's from Monica, asking when I'll be back,"
Chuck said casually, looking at the screen.
"Monica?"
Jane's expression was unreadable. "Isn't that your girlfriend?"
Although she had always complained about Aunt Helen setting her up with someone like Chuck, after actually meeting him and discovering that he showed absolutely no interest in her, she felt something odd stirring.
Chuck was, at the very least, different from any man she'd ever met.
Not that it was necessarily good—after all, someone that blunt wouldn't exactly sweep a girl off her feet.
But after the gunfight earlier, her mindset had subtly shifted.
The cliché of the hero saving the damsel in distress, despite its underlying psychology being quite predictable, had ultimately influenced her attitude toward Chuck.
It was understandable that a man of exceptional ability might be a little arrogant.
Then she heard the name Monica. The more casually Chuck mentioned it, the more it bothered her. She couldn't help but feel annoyed internally—her aunt hadn't mentioned this woman.
"No,"
Chuck shook his head.
"Oh,"
Jane couldn't help but smile. "Is she a relative or friend? Aunt Helen hasn't mentioned her."
"No, she's candidate 777."
Chuck continued looking at his phone.
"Candidate 777?"
Jane was confused.
She knew from Aunt Helen that Chuck was methodical about everything, but what could the number 777 represent?
"Number 7, and candidate for the 77th practice session."
Chuck, sensing Jane's confusion, briefly shifted his gaze from his phone to look at her and explained matter-of-factly.
"..."
Jane was stunned.
What had she just heard?
Her blind date had just told her, right to her face, that another woman was his 7th practice partner, the candidate for his 77th training session?
And he was so calm and composed about it.
Was she hallucinating?
Chuck explained and turned his attention back to his phone.
The screen wasn't showing Monica's text message at all, but a real-time online video feed from a four-panel security camera.
This wasn't Chuck lying to Jane.
Monica had indeed sent a text asking about his return, but he had already replied. Now his focus had shifted to watching the live stream.
The video showed a revenge operation unfolding at a villa.
Obviously, his brother Frank, who had the build of a comic book anti-hero and a short fuse, couldn't wait for his injuries to heal completely. He had gone straight after his enemies, fully armed and channeling his inner vigilante.
(End of chapter)
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