Free Collateral Damage by Fern Michaels Page A

your pension, big guy! You’ll be up to your ass in political bullshit till those retirement papers are moldy. That means no monthly income. So, asshole, take your best shot!”
    “You think this is a joke, don’t you? It’s not. I asked you nicely. I’m going to ask you nicely one more time. If you refuse to accompany me, I’m going to have to call for backup.”
    “Dead or alive, is that it? Someone to lie for you when you shoot me. You guys suck, you know that? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t break any laws. I’m an officer of the court. You now, you’re a different story. You might think you’re the eight-hundred-pound gorilla, but you’re not. What are you waiting for? I thought you were going to shoot me.”
    “Shut the hell up,” Akers said as he reviewed his options, which weren’t looking too good at the moment. All he could think about were the words Emery said about his pension and the eleven o’clock news. Hell could freeze over before they’d turn over his pension money to him. He knew all about bureaucracy.
    Did he really want to call for backup? Emery was right, the Bureau would look at him as a wuss. His colleagues would whisper and snicker behind their hands that he was playing it safe till retirement. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.
    Emery was looking at him like a cat who’d just licked up a whole bowl of cream. A shudder rippled up and down Akers’s spine. The son of a bitch was up to something. He saw that Emery was about to close the door when he shouted, “Okay, okay, get back here. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t that much. My boss, my temporary boss, Erin Powell, has been appointed to head up a special task force created by the director himself to bring the vigilantes to justice once and for all. She asked me to bring you in for a chat. A chat, Mr. Emery. You are not under arrest. But in about five minutes if you do not accompany me quietly into this car, you will be under arrest. Obstructing a federal agent is not going to look good on your record, just as not bringing you in won’t look good on mine. We’re both reasonable people, so let’s cooperate with one another. And, no, working for a woman who is PMS-ing isn’t a fun thing for me, either. I take orders just like you do.”
    Jack pointedly looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes had elapsed. With travel time to the Bureau, Maddy should have her people in place. He turned around and locked the door for a second time. “Okay,” he said agreeably.
    Akers blinked. Just like that, the jerk was agreeing to go with him. It hit him then like a lightning bolt. Emery had been stalling. “Fuck!”
    Powell was going to crucify him.
     
    Akers drove like the Hounds of Hell were on his tail. Jack bellowed and snarled for him to slow down, but Akers ignored him. “You’re going eighty miles an hour. That’s against the law. This is the goddamn District. We have laws here! And as an officer of the court I may just have to file an official report on this,” Jack bellowed as he grasped the handgrip above the door.
    “Shut the fuck up. I’m wise to you. You’ve been stalling me. Well, that’s going to get you exactly nowhere.”
    Eight minutes later, the dark sedan pulled to the curb in front of the Hoover Building. The crowd of people jostling one another looked to be in the hundreds. It was all Jack could do not to laugh out loud.
    “Wow! Thanks, Akers, this is a hell of a welcome! You guys go all-out, don’t you?” Jack asked as he climbed out of the car.
    “Get back in this damn car, do you hear me?” Akers sputtered.
    There were print reporters, Ted Robinson and his partner Joe Espinosa at the head of the pack. There were anchors from all the news channels. And then there were the lawyers lined up three deep. Jack looked around as though he was a movie star. “I am Deputy District Attorney Jack Emery. E-m-e-r-y. This guy who brought me here is Special Agent Charles Akers. A-k-e-r-s. Get my