Special Agent Melvin Purvis slowly hung up the telephone and looked up at the man standing in thedoorway to his office. “That was Hoover,” he said unnecessarily as he sat down.
“What did he say?”
“That Mr. Tolson would call me back.” He rubbed his tired eyes, wanting nothing more than to put his head down on his desk and sleep for a week.
Between the biting Chicago cold and the recent fiasco at the apartment house, he was rapidly reaching the last of his energy.
Carter Baum’s dark eyes widened. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Purvis let out an exhausted little sigh as he leaned back in his desk chair. “He did not sound pleased.”
An annoyed look crossed the younger agent’s face. “Doesn’t he know what we’re up against up here?”
“Apparently he does not. Or he doesn’t care.” There was a pause. “I’m not sure which.”
“If he wants results, he’s going to have to give us the tools to get them,” Carter said, his voice flat.
He had little patience for Hoover’s way of doing things, especially since the man had no field experience. “Doing this his way…”
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