Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Thursday, Early Evening
FBI Deputy Director Sam Cullen walked the departing agents conducting the 'interview' out into the hall. He'd insisted on being personally present because this interrogation was so sensitive. The whole mess already had all the markings of turning into a real witch hunt. Once the men were well on their way to the bank of elevators he ducked his head back through the doorway.
"Thanks guys." The techs nodded and continued packing up their A/V recording gear.
His next words were for the uniformed Bureau security guard on the door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes. I've got to make a few calls, and I'm going to stretch my legs for a bit."
"Yes, sir," the guard acknowledged.
Cullen was all to glad to be up and about as the last hour and a half had been pretty grueling. Additionally, his left knee had been starting to ache as was its wont when immobile too long, and the borrowed and inadequately cushioned cheap government-issue waiting room chairs were making his ass sore. At least security was a helluva lot tighter in a federal facility.
He took a fairly leisurely stroll to the waiting room at the far end of the floor, enjoying the flexing of his stiff joints as he headed toward the coffee machine. Before he made himself a cup he called his administrative assistant, Alice, on his cell phone.
After having her update him on some of the other irons he currently had in the fire with respect to the multiple investigations, he gave her one more task.
"Oh, one more thing… Go ahead and call over to Goodman's office at the Jeffersonian and let 'im know we're ready for Doctor Brennan… That's right, thanks." He closed the flip phone and slipped it into the holster on his belt.
He poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup and added a single sugar. Normally he took cream but he absolutely could not abide the powdered "non-dairy" crap which was the only thing available. Back in his own office he splurged on the real thing out of his own pocket, but here it was straight-up lowest bidder Uncle Sam institutional.
As he'd expected, about the only thing positive about the damned coffee was that it was hot.
Instead of immediately returning he decided to take a lap around the floor to further work his knee and glutes. His thoughts turned again to Doctor Temperance Brennan. Of course his opinion of her had started to turn around after her assistance with the tainted bone graft that killed Amy, but now he was really starting to see why Booth had ultimately come to like working with her.
She was smart, loyal, and tough.
He'd always known she was smart, at least book smart, very talented albeit a pain in the ass. But she went beyond that…
Exhausted and injured as she was from the events earlier in the week, she'd still been a real trouper. She'd been under doctor's, and Miss Montenegro's, orders to get some rest on Tuesday. Then Wednesday, after an initial interview first thing, she'd gone with a team over to the still sealed off Museum and done a complete walk through multiple times of what she'd done on Monday for the reconstruction of the crime, including what had happened in the exit of the IMAX which was unfortunately one of the few blind spots of the security cameras. Then this morning she'd come back to the Hoover Building for a more in depth interview to help the CSI guys integrate everything.
An excellent observer by training, the lawyers at Justice were already licking their chops over her future role as one of their star witnesses. Her memory was killer, much better than the usual eye witness's, and she'd both had a glimpse of the two bombers and a front row seat to the murder of Office Travis and a couple visitors. And she was the survivor closest to the original blast, at least who had remained conscious. Between her testimony and the mountains of video from the cameras the prosecution case against the two surviving wounded terrorists was going to be a slam dunk. Once their wounds had been patched up and they'd been wrung dry of any intel, the bastards were going to get the needle under the federal death penalty, even the one in the van who was not known to have directly killed anyone. Conspiracy was covered in the anti-terrorism statutes.
As to loyal, he had to chuckle at that one. Disgusted himself, he'd apparently aired a little too much of the Bureau's dirty laundry in front of her with respect to that asshole Gregory. When he'd escorted her back down to the lobby before lunch earlier today he'd been distracted by one of his assistants, and the next thing he knew she was accosting Gregory himself as he came in the front door, reading him the riot act.
It was a damned good thing he'd caught up to her when he had because he could swear she was on the verge of hitting him with one of her crutches. That was absolutely the last damned thing he needed, but he could sure as hell understand the sentiment. After all, on Tuesday he'd had to fight off the nearly overwhelming urge to deck that SOB himself right there in Director Mueller's office for his "I told you so" about Booth.
Finally, as to tough… well in that hallway outside the IMAX she'd proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt, for all time as far as he was concerned. In keeping her head, together with the dead guard Travis she'd easily saved more than twenty people. He was already having paperwork drawn up for an FBI commendation. It wasn't exactly "service to the Bureau", but, dammit, he could pull the strings. After all being a Director should be worth something, and being able to award one that wasn't posthumous was a nice change.
As was inevitable, the news that an unarmed woman had taken out one of the terrorists had leaked. And the media were all over it, champing at the bit to find out who it was. Fortunately the Pollards had kept their mouths shut so far. So far she'd resisted his offer of a ride to the memorial service arranged by the Jeffersonian for Saturday, but it was just a matter of time before reporters were all over her. He'd just have to try again. He was going himself because an FBI representative had been requested and he'd be damned if that shit stain Gregory went.
Furthermore, when she'd caught wind of the video footage from the security cameras and tourists and audio from the radio transmissions that the Bureau's in-house CSI guys had synced up and assembled, there was no stopping her. She'd twisted his arm into showing it to her. All of it.
She really was tough. The only time he'd seen her cry was when Booth went down on the security cam video. Being black and white together with the crazy camera angle from high up near the ceiling, when Booth fell and only his legs were in the frame it looked like a Hitchcock film. Cullen wanted to kick himself because no one had prepared her for what she was about to see. He'd mistakenly assumed someone somewhere had explained that Booth had deliberately stood up to draw fire to give the SWAT team a shot. And he absolutely could not handle a crying woman.
He had to give her credit, though… she dried it up and quickly got back to business. He didn't even see her cry when he'd been able to duck into the ER at GWU late Monday afternoon.
But now, as he entered the last leg of his lap around the floor, he realized that perhaps it was too quickly, that she was wound too tight. After all there was a fine line between tough and brittle. He made a mental note to check with Goodman and see what kind of services the Jeffersonian was providing their employees. Surely they had grief counselors lined up, but the Bureau either employed or had on retainer the best shrinks in the country when it came to post-traumatic stress and survivor's guilt, not to mention dealing with the aftermath of having killed someone for the first time. The general public would be surprised if they knew how few agents had ever fired their weapons in anger, much less killed anyone. He was going to offer their services to Dr. Brennan.
Now only if she wouldn't be too damned stubborn to take advantage of them.
His lap finished, Cullen was now back where he'd started, in front of the guarded door. He had some more business to attend to before Dr. Brennan arrived and it wasn't all going to be pleasant. He nodded at the guard who opened the door for him. It was the first real chance he and Booth had to talk alone.