Bill did as he was told. The other one stayed at Starks’ side. Maybe that was part of the problem . . . Myers had never had a security detail, but he’d only been acting director. Stark was important, so he rated guards, a driver, functionaries, and perks. That’s just how it was when you reached the pinnacle.

No, he knew that the real problem was that Myers was sabotaging him. Very few people in the MCB were cleared to know about STFU, but enough people knew that something shadier than normal was afoot, and they suspected that their new director was working with the mysterious Task Force. Some would even go so far as to call him a puppet. It had to be Myers with his crazy conspiracy theories about Stricken and his bunch taking over the MCB . . . Myers was poisoning the well, saying that the only reason Stark had gotten the job was because Stricken had greased the skids. Hell, just today one of Myers’ people had screwed up Franks’ hearing just to embarrass him.

The night shift didn’t rate real food, so Stark picked a bagel out of the plastic bin and a packet of cream cheese, which was when he spied Agent Radabaugh trying to slip from the room unnoticed. Radabaugh was one of Myers’ loyalists. It was too bad, since he had a reputation for being a solid man in the field. He’d love nothing more than to fire every agent who liked Myers better than him, but it was almost impossible to fire government employees, so Stark played it cool. “Hey, Greg. Hold on for a second.”

Radabaugh paused. “Good evening, Director Stark.” He had a coffee cup in each hand.

“Is one of those for Franks?”

“Yes, sir.” The agent appeared to be very uncomfortable.

“I should order you to spit in it.” Stark walked over to him. “Ha. I’m only kidding. So, babysitting Franks? I had to do that assignment once. It was like following a tornado around and having to clean up trailer parks. I bet you’re having a terrible time.”

“I don’t mind.” Radabaugh looked like he wanted nothing more than to escape. The other people in the room were doing their best to appear disinterested in the conversation. “Somebody needs to do it.”

“Of course. It’s all about duty.” Once he had the Bureau locked down tight and this Las Vegas thing was taken care of and Franks was gone, every man that had been loyal to Myers was getting their ass transferred to North Dakota, but until then Stark intended to be the friendliest director ever. “I’ve got to wonder, is Franks . . . upset? Is he worried? Nervous about tomorrow’s hearing maybe?”

“Not that I can tell.” Radabaugh answered in the most noncommittal way possible. “He’s very private like that.”