The Big Bad Wolf

I RETURNED TO my orientation classes that day after the lunch break, and just in time for another of SSA Horowitz's awful jokes. He held up a clipboard for us to see his material. "The official list of David Koresh's theme songs. 'You Light Up My Life,' 'I'm Burning Up,' 'Great Balls of Fire.' My personal favorite: 'Burning Down the House.' Love the Talking Heads." Dr. Horowitz seemed to know that his jokes were bad, but black humor works with police officers, and his deadpan delivery was decent. Plus, he knew who had recorded "Burning Down the House." We had an hour session on "Management of Integrated Cases," followed by "Law Enforcement Communication," then "Dynamics of the Pattern Killer." In the last course we were told that serial killers change, that they are "dynamic." In other words, they get smarter and better at killing. Only the "ritual characteristics" remain the same. I didn't bother to take notes. The next class took place outdoors. We were all dressed in sport jackets, but with padded throat and face protectors for a "practical" at Hogans Alley. The exercise involved three cars in hot pursuit of a fourth. Sirens blared and echoed. Loudspeakers barked commands: "Stop! Pull over! Come out of the car with your hands up." Our ammo, Simunition, consisted of cartridges with pink-paint-infused tips. It was five o'clock by the time we finished the exercise. I showered and dressed, and as I was leaving the training building to go over to the dining hall building, where I had a cubicle, I saw SSA Nooney. He motioned for me to come over. What if I don't want to? "You headed back to D.C.?" he asked. I nodded and bit down on my tongue. "In a while. I have some reports to read first. The abduction in Atlanta." "Big stuff. I'm impressed. The rest of your classmates spend their nights here. Some of them think it helps build camaraderie. I think so too. Are you an agent of change?" I shook my head, then tried a smile on Nooney. Didn't work. "I was told from the start that I could go home nights. That isn't possible for most of the others." Then Nooney began to push hard, trying to stir up old anger. "I heard you had some problems with your chief of detectives in D.C. too," he said. "Everybody had problems with Chief of Detectives Pittman," I said. Nooney's eyes appeared glazed. It was obvious he didn't see it that way. "Just about everybody has problems with me too. Doesn't mean I'm wrong about the importance of building a team here. I'm not wrong, Cross." I resisted saying anything more. Nooney was coming down on me again. Why? I had attended the classes I could make; I still had work to do on White Girl. Like it or not, I was part of the case. And this wasn't another practical - it was real. It was important. "I have to get my work done," I finally said. Then I walked away from Nooney. I was pretty sure I'd made my first enemy in the FBI. An important one too. No sense starting small.