Read Online Midnight come again by Dana Stabenow - Free Book Online
Authors: Dana Stabenow
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Private Investigators, Detective and Mystery Stories, Hard-Boiled, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Women Private Investigators, Women Detectives, Fiction - Mystery, Police Procedural, Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural, alaska, Mystery & Detective - Series, Shugak; Kate (Fictitious character), Shugak; Kate (Fictitious chara, Women private investigators - Alaska, smuggling
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don't you send in some little Fibbie who speaks seven different Russian dialects, and who is probably hardwired in to D.C. through his belly button besides?"
"Because we don't have someone like that who knows the Alaskan Bush, too," Gamble said flatly, "or we would. You were assigned to Dillingham your first year of Bush rotation, you've lived around the Yupik, you aren't going to put your foot in it and offend some tribal law that will get you tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail."
"And using a honeybucket won't throw my sensibilities into an uproar,"
Jim observed sardonically. "How long is this assignment?"
"Depends on how quick you are on the uptake," Gamble said, and smiled when Jim's eyes narrowed.
The voice on the speaker phone jumped in for the first time. "We've got you cleared for a month's TDY, Jim." "Do you actually want me to do this, boss?" Jim demanded.
"It's up to you."
"Who'll look after the post while I'm gone?"
"Janine Shook."
"Well, at least she's had some Bush experience." Plus, she was close enough to retirement that she wouldn't get proprietary about his post.
And though he hated to admit it, this special assignment wasn't a bad career move, especially if, however unlikely it sounded to him now, there turned out to be an actual case and he broke it.
Besides, he was getting damn sick and tired of sitting around wondering where the hell Kate Shugak was. If she'd wanted to be found, she would have been by now. In his memory she had never spent an entire summer out of the Park, except for the five years she'd worked in Anchorage, and even then she'd spent most weekends, every day of her vacation and, truth be told, sick leave on her homestead, or tendering with Old Sam.
Where the hell was she?
Gamble leaned forward. "Look, Jim, we lean on the troopers, I know that.
We just don't have the manpower to reach out to all the Bush communities--" "Oh, and we do," Jim said.
"--especially in a situation like this--"
"Yeah, I can see why you'd come to me. I put down half a dozen Russian gangsters dealing in small automatic arms before breakfast every morning. And I ramrod one of the slower districts, at that."
"They didn't steal a nuclear bomb, they stole something from which someone with the know-how could make a bomb." "Nuclear bombs," Jim said pointedly.
"Yes. Providing they had all the other ingredients to go along with it.
But there's more to the story, Jim."
There was an old Damon Runyon horse player who would listen to any tip on a race if a story went with it. What was his name? Jim couldn't remember, so he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Talk."
Gamble raised his voice enough to be heard in the outer office.
"Carroll! Casanare!"
The door to Jim's office opened so promptly that a suspicious person might think whoever was on the other side had been standing with their ears pressed against it. It swung wide, revealing a man and a woman, both with that chronic tendency toward blue-suited neatness displayed by all FBI agents. They must teach a class in neat at Quantico, Jim thought. Right after forensics and law.
Gamble waved them forward. "Special Agent Maxine Carroll. Special Agent Alberto Casanare. First Sergeant Jim Chopin of the Alaska State Troopers. Sit."
Carroll had a long, cool stare, and she used it to look Jim over as the silence stretched out.
"Tell him," Gamble said.
Casanare made a business out of dragging two chairs forward, and lounged back in his to examine the ceiling for cracks.
Jim met Carroll's stare head on. She was a looker, all right, a goddess even, tall, blond, blue-eyed, but his response to her challenge was more of a reflex than actual interest. He would have found the realization alarming if he'd allowed himself to think it over.
Gamble fidgeted some more, and finally gave. "Oh, come on, for crissake, he's not exactly a civilian. And we are asking him to go in undercover for us."
Carroll's eyes
"Because we don't have someone like that who knows the Alaskan Bush, too," Gamble said flatly, "or we would. You were assigned to Dillingham your first year of Bush rotation, you've lived around the Yupik, you aren't going to put your foot in it and offend some tribal law that will get you tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail."
"And using a honeybucket won't throw my sensibilities into an uproar,"
Jim observed sardonically. "How long is this assignment?"
"Depends on how quick you are on the uptake," Gamble said, and smiled when Jim's eyes narrowed.
The voice on the speaker phone jumped in for the first time. "We've got you cleared for a month's TDY, Jim." "Do you actually want me to do this, boss?" Jim demanded.
"It's up to you."
"Who'll look after the post while I'm gone?"
"Janine Shook."
"Well, at least she's had some Bush experience." Plus, she was close enough to retirement that she wouldn't get proprietary about his post.
And though he hated to admit it, this special assignment wasn't a bad career move, especially if, however unlikely it sounded to him now, there turned out to be an actual case and he broke it.
Besides, he was getting damn sick and tired of sitting around wondering where the hell Kate Shugak was. If she'd wanted to be found, she would have been by now. In his memory she had never spent an entire summer out of the Park, except for the five years she'd worked in Anchorage, and even then she'd spent most weekends, every day of her vacation and, truth be told, sick leave on her homestead, or tendering with Old Sam.
Where the hell was she?
Gamble leaned forward. "Look, Jim, we lean on the troopers, I know that.
We just don't have the manpower to reach out to all the Bush communities--" "Oh, and we do," Jim said.
"--especially in a situation like this--"
"Yeah, I can see why you'd come to me. I put down half a dozen Russian gangsters dealing in small automatic arms before breakfast every morning. And I ramrod one of the slower districts, at that."
"They didn't steal a nuclear bomb, they stole something from which someone with the know-how could make a bomb." "Nuclear bombs," Jim said pointedly.
"Yes. Providing they had all the other ingredients to go along with it.
But there's more to the story, Jim."
There was an old Damon Runyon horse player who would listen to any tip on a race if a story went with it. What was his name? Jim couldn't remember, so he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Talk."
Gamble raised his voice enough to be heard in the outer office.
"Carroll! Casanare!"
The door to Jim's office opened so promptly that a suspicious person might think whoever was on the other side had been standing with their ears pressed against it. It swung wide, revealing a man and a woman, both with that chronic tendency toward blue-suited neatness displayed by all FBI agents. They must teach a class in neat at Quantico, Jim thought. Right after forensics and law.
Gamble waved them forward. "Special Agent Maxine Carroll. Special Agent Alberto Casanare. First Sergeant Jim Chopin of the Alaska State Troopers. Sit."
Carroll had a long, cool stare, and she used it to look Jim over as the silence stretched out.
"Tell him," Gamble said.
Casanare made a business out of dragging two chairs forward, and lounged back in his to examine the ceiling for cracks.
Jim met Carroll's stare head on. She was a looker, all right, a goddess even, tall, blond, blue-eyed, but his response to her challenge was more of a reflex than actual interest. He would have found the realization alarming if he'd allowed himself to think it over.
Gamble fidgeted some more, and finally gave. "Oh, come on, for crissake, he's not exactly a civilian. And we are asking him to go in undercover for us."
Carroll's eyes
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