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those tapes were leaked to the press."
    "If you ask me, yes I will."
    The group stared down at him and he just stared back. Finally, one of the men Beamon hadn't yet heard from spoke up.
    "I think we're asking, Mr. Beamon."
    "As your colleague pointed out, I'm on suspension," Beamon started again, satisfied with his minor triumph.
    "I was on suspension prior to turning over those tapes and I am still on suspension. I would have no way of knowing what happened after the FBI took possession of the wire taps."
    "Illegal wiretaps," Congresswoman Gregory interjected.
    Beamon leaned back in his chair in silence. There it was. The direction all this nonsense was headed.
    The tapes he'd delivered, and that had subsequently been leaked by parties unknown to him, consisted of activities by the political elite so heinous that they wouldn't have been overlooked even at the peak of America's prosperity and the voter apathy that an economy flush with cash could buy. Now, though, with unemployment hovering in the low to mid-teens, the public was out for blood. And it seemed that the men and women in front of him were going to do everything they could to see that it was Beamon, and not they, who bled.
    If they could convince the American people that Beamon himself was morally bankrupt if they could make him out to be a rogue agent, using the power the government had entrusted to him to look through public keyholes that might be enough to divert the public's attention.
    Powerful politicians today, they would say to the American people, but tomorrow it might be you.
    "The taps were illegal," Beamon said, leaning forward again.
    "But certainly not perpetrated by me or the FBI."
    Congresswoman Gregory nodded and let silence once again fall over the large room. She was obviously trying to get him to say more, but years of dealing with the press had clued him in to that little trick.
    Finally, she reached out and pulled a few loose sheets of paper from a folder in front of her.
    "These are memos and performance reviews relating to you." Her tone had changed to that of a disappointed mother.
    "They span a number of years." She perched a pair of reading glasses dramatically on her nose.
    "Allow me to quote from them.
    "Disregard for chain of command."" She flipped a page. ""Possible illegal activity."" Another page. ""Excessive drinking."" She held up a form of some kind.
    "This is a physical you failed bringing into question your ability to do your job."
    Beamon once again wasn't sure how to respond. Frankly, his admittedly questionable ability to run two miles without having a heart attack and his unfortunate history with alcohol seemed to have very little to do with the tapes he had uncovered.
    He was working out a way to say that in as respectful a way as possible when the young congressman on the far left cleared his throat. Beamon had never met him, but recognized him as a member of David Hallorin's Reconstruction Party.
    "I'd like to say something, if I may," the man said to a uniform rolling of eyes on the panel.
    "I've read the same documents you have and they made me uncomfortable.
    I asked myself why it was that Mr. Beamon had been called in to consult on so many high-profile cases if he's the disaster he looks like on paper." He shot Beamon a conspiratorial glance and continued.
    "I personally know a number of FBI officials and last night I called them. I gave them the following scenario: Your child has been kidnapped and the kidnappers are threatening to kill her. Who in the FBI do you call? I talked to eight men and one woman. Seven of the nine named Mr. remarkable is that six of those seven had an obvious and violent dislike for Mr. Beamon." He leaned back and pointed to the rest of the panel with his pencil as he continued.
    "Interesting? Yes. Important? Not in the least. The tapes exist and, unfortunately, they're public. The question isn't how they were obtained, it's how the men and women we heard on those tapes managed to attain