Chapter 159. The Wheels of Justice

Lieutenant Dillon’s personnel file was open on my monitor. Directly beneath the mouse cursor, an interactive field glowed, ready for operational notes. These notes were automatically uploaded to the Corps’ secure cloud, directly affected the utility’s scoring system, and landed on the desks of the highest-ranking generals. I could feel a faint tingling in my fingertips. I had not forgotten, and never would forget, how that degenerate alcoholic had turned my brand-new sport bike into a heap of mangled scrap metal, then strolled into his office as if nothing had happened to adjust his online poker bets, as though Corps regulations did not apply to him. I had already come up with a couple of legally devastating arguments against the man.

I drew a deep breath of cool, conditioned air and slowly exhaled, letting go of the last of my negative emotions and clearing my mind of useless emotional noise. I had not forgiven Dillon, and I never would. He would have to pay for the damage, every last cent. But as an analyst, I understood perfectly well that no matter how satisfying it might feel to enter the whole ugly truth into his file right now, acting on impulse could ultimately hurt me more than it hurt him.

Technically, I was not violating a single regulation. As an active FBA agent, I had full authorization to add professional assessments to the personnel files of any Awakened individual. The program’s built-in legal reference guide explicitly confirmed that. Still, despite my extensive theoretical knowledge of courtroom procedure, acquired through hundreds of legal dramas, movies, and television shows about the judicial system, I recognized that there was a potential risk. Such aggressive, hasty action by a newly arrived Bureau employee could give Dillon, or more likely his unscrupulous attorney, the perfect procedural loophole to challenge my morning report. They would immediately play the bias card and claim I was abusing my new position for personal revenge. Scenarios like that played out all the time, both onscreen and in real courtrooms: every piece of evidence pointed to the defendant’s guilt, only for some expensive, cynical lawyer to dig up a seemingly trivial detail, such as the fact that the arresting officer had been slightly intoxicated when he signed the report. And just like that, the jury would let a murderer walk free on the strength of a single technicality.

Of course, I knew perfectly well that the Corps preferred to handle its internal problems without dragging public courts or the press into the picture, so I had little reason to worry about a direct confrontation with Washington’s elite attorneys. But I also knew better than to assume I understood all the hidden mechanisms of the Corps. My rule in life had always been simple: whenever I spotted a potentially dangerous situation, I preferred to give it a wide berth and take every possible precaution rather than make a reckless leap into the unknown while telling myself, Maybe I’ll get lucky. Risks had to be reduced to zero.

According to the system, the investigation into Dillon had been assigned to my direct colleague, Captain James Hawk. The very same Hawk who had shown such deep respect for my Bronze Star with a V device from the moment we first met at the Pentagon, and who had already bent the rules for my sake that morning by keeping my hour-and-a-half tardiness from our superiors. If this young agent was already so well disposed toward me, why not make full use of that goodwill? Especially since I was not about to ask him to do anything illegal. My request was perfectly legitimate: I simply wanted to persuade him to reshuffle his priorities and take up Dillon’s case without delay. The program interface needed just one confirmation click from the lead agent to move the case I had prepared straight to the top of the Corps’ chain of command and make sure one hungover bastard got the punishment he deserved.

Of course, I could have simply waited and let things take their course. Hawk struck me as a diligent guy who always saw his paperwork through to the end. But given how slowly he had handled my personnel file in the training Portal, he needed a little nudge. I was not just looking to punish Dillon for wrecking my bike. My main objective was to get that degenerate out of the driver’s seat at P-SWAT as quickly as possible, before his inaction led to actual teenage casualties during the next Portal deployment. Every hour counted.

I strode out of my gray box of an office into the Bureau’s empty corridor, then stopped short when I ran into a basic navigational problem. Where was I supposed to find Hawk?

Ten identical gray composite doors stretched in a row before me, each securely locked. In the morning’s rush, Jimmy had somehow completely forgotten to tell me where his office was, and the usual metal nameplates were conspicuously absent from FBA doors. So how was I supposed to find him?

I had missed the general lunch break altogether because of the taxi fiasco. Besides, there was no guarantee that the few agents working here even ate in the same cafeteria. Judging by how thoroughly isolated their offices were, I suspected that everyone preferred to slip away to a nearby café alone or simply order delivery and eat quietly at their desks.

I could have taken the most primitive approach and started knocking on every office door, one by one. The odds of guessing correctly on the first try were just one in ten.

There was an even easier option: pull out my smartphone and call Hawk directly. But that seemed almost too easy, somehow... unprofessional. After all, was I a special agent or just some ordinary clerk? It was time to start putting my new investigative abilities to use, even in little things like this.

[Special Command: Determine Hawk’s office location using only internal computational resources.]

The world around me contracted, as it always did, until nothing remained but the task at hand. I watched from a first-person perspective as my body, guided by the activated algorithms, moved down the long corridor, methodically scanning each closed door. The subconscious filter eliminated three of the ten offices within the first few seconds. My newly heightened hearing easily picked up the muffled voices of men and women behind the panels, and their pitch and frequency made it clear that none of them belonged to Hawk.

The remaining offices were silent, but my accelerated brain eliminated five more doors almost instantly. All it took was a quick visual assessment of the grease smudges and fresh fingerprints on the matte door handles. Five of them showed no signs of recent contact. That meant the offices were either empty or their occupants had been sitting inside without leaving since early morning. Neither possibility made sense. I had said goodbye to Jimmy barely forty minutes ago.

That left exactly two possibilities. At that moment, my body, following the instructions of the active program, simply drew a short breath. The first door reeked of cigarette smoke. My brain immediately compared the evidence against Hawk’s physical profile and ruled him out. Jimmy had no telltale nicotine stains on his teeth, no characteristic smoker’s breath, and none of the other signs of a heavy smoking habit. My feet stopped in front of the last door.

A nanosecond later, I snapped out of the trance and returned to reality. I glanced at my watch. The entire investigation, conducted with my brain running at accelerated speed, had taken exactly six seconds. Remarkably efficient. It even made me wonder whether my brain would come up with an equally flawless answer if I ever asked myself who had really orchestrated the Kennedy assassination.

Captain Jimmy Hawk was indeed sitting at his desk in front of his monitor. Judging by his calm expression, the young agent was not particularly surprised to see me in his office.

"Something wrong, Tom?" He clicked the left mouse button to save a text file. "Having trouble figuring out the software?"

"I figured out all the program's functions on my own. I'm not some retiree from the sticks who can't even sign up for Facebook without help," I said with a snort as I walked farther into the office. "Actually, I've got a few questions about the specifics of your work at the Bureau."

I remained standing by the wall because Hawk's office had no visitor chair. My own office, incidentally, was just as bare-bones. Apparently, people rarely visited the FBA in person. The agents here conducted all their investigations through their computer screens.

"What exactly do you want to know, Tom?" Jimmy rested his cheek against one hand and turned his chair toward me, looking tired.

"First of all, what exactly do you do here every day?"

"I review everything that happens inside the Portals," the captain explained calmly. "Sometimes I investigate conflicts within the Corps."

"So, to put it simply, if one Awakened deliberately trashes another Awakened's personal vehicle, you're the one who handles the case?"

"That's right, Tom. But that kind of petty dispute is pretty rare within the organization." Jimmy yawned briefly, covering his mouth with one hand. "Most of my workday goes toward reviewing what happens inside the Portals during a sweep. You have to understand, there are no security cameras on the other side, in those alien jungles. And some seriously messed-up things happen out there."

"Are we talking about deliberate killings?" I asked cautiously, lowering my voice. "Shooting an enemy in the back during a firefight, then claiming it was an accident in the heat of battle?"

"That too, though I'm much more likely to catch soldiers stealing things," Hawk said with an ironic smile, shaking his head. "A lot of naive recruits genuinely believe that if they sneak rare alien technology or minerals out of a Portal in their backpacks and sell them on the European black market, they'll make millions overnight and never have to risk their necks on the front lines again. It's ridiculous. They have no idea that my abilities let me reconstruct an entire Portal sweep frame by frame, down to the millisecond. Nothing escapes my scrutiny, not even the smallest detail. For example, Tom, when I reviewed your training Portal expedition, I clearly saw you sneaking off with Danny Kim and the other rookies to pick and eat those alien berries."

"So what now? Am I going to prison for having a snack?" I raised an eyebrow, remaining perfectly composed.

"No, relax. Corps leadership usually turns a blind eye to minor violations like that. But take it from me, as a friend: don't push your luck again," Jimmy warned me seriously. "What else did you want to know about my job?"

"How does your investigation queue work? Which cases are you required to handle first, and which ones can wait until the end of the month?"

"It's pretty straightforward. The reports are sorted by the date they come in, oldest first." Hawk shrugged. "On a normal workday, I can review about three Portal expeditions. That's my limit."

"What about internal cases that aren't directly related to expeditions?"

"You mean those rare disputes between Awakened?" Jimmy checked the calendar on his monitor. "I open those files about once a week, usually on Fridays, or whenever I have a gap in my schedule. The brass at the Pentagon has made it crystal clear that my top priority is making sure no otherworldly technology goes missing. Portal investigations come first."

"Got it." I took a small step forward. "Listen, Jimmy. I know I still owe you for covering up my tardiness this morning. But could you take on one particular case right now? I'll make it worth your while."

"Has the case been officially registered in our shared system?" Captain Hawk narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied my face.

"Yeah. It's been there for several hours."

"Well, if it's already in the system and I'm going to have to deal with it eventually anyway..." Jimmy visibly relaxed, leaned back in his chair, and clicked the program icon blinking on his screen. "Might as well get it over with now."

At that moment, his queue contained only three active cases involving disputes between Awakened, and one of them had my name on it. As Jimmy read through the report, his face grew longer and longer. His eyebrows shot up as he reached the details of the outrageous misconduct, deliberate sabotage, and drunken vandalism that Base Commandant Dillon had been getting away with for years at my main base.

"Holy crap... Tom, if even half of these allegations and video recordings turn out to be true..."

"Every word in that report is true," I cut in sharply, leaving no room for doubt. "I've attached the security footage from the main gate."

"All right. Give me exactly two hours to use my ability to verify your claims frame by frame." Hawk decisively clicked the button to accept the case. "Once I'm done, I'll send the report straight to the top myself. After that, the bureaucratic machinery will start turning."

"Thanks for your help, Jimmy," I replied calmly, then headed for the exit and quietly closed the office door behind me.

All I could do now was hope Hawk was right and the Corps' system would work as intended. Lieutenant Dillon should have been forced to vacate his command office at P-SWAT in disgrace a long time ago.