The Big Fear Read Online Free PDF

the meeting could take all day, and often deep into the night. It was the glum duty of the commissioner, that one day a month, to sit and take it. If the commissioner is going to quit, it’s best to do it on the morning of the monthly meeting. Spare yourself one wretched afternoon with the general public. Davenport felt a little sorry for Leonard. His dinner plans were shot, and the workday wasn’t half an hour old. But not sorry enough to change her mind. If he wanted to be the boss, he would have to stomach it.
    Leonard looked up as the crowd wheeled around to stare at him. A dozen sets of passive eyes. Tony Licata gave him a small mean wink. Davenport could see the pity behind the looks. Most probably figured that the promotion wouldn’t last. She had been untouchable herself. She had come in with too many accomplishments for the new administration to simply abandon her. But with her out of the picture, her staff was fair game. Even the plug she’d given for Leonard at the end of the speech was likely to backfire. In a week or two he’d be out of a job. Maybe he’d show up at her firm, asking if he could be a paralegal or something. Maybe she’d even let him.
    As the crowd turned back to her, she was already thinking of the next morning, when she would begin to read all of the dirty secrets of EHA Investments, a little player in a big market. For weeks the documents had been culled and processed, and they already were waiting for her on the desk of a Midtown tower. She wasn’t leaving the corruption business. But finding corruption in the private sector was valuable; people would pay you plenty for it. She didn’t care whether she was looking for bad guys who hit kids over the head with sticks or whether she was looking for bad guys who had pried out information about the takeover of a Brazilian valve manufacturer. She had always been born to prosecute, and she had timed her move perfectly.
    The reporters lapped up the coda of Davenport’s farewell address. “I want to tell you all how grateful I am for your time, and for the patience of the people of New York. I have had a great time serving you. I won’t be taking any questions.”
    As she left the podium, she felt like she was actually floating. Her hard shoulders were rolled back and her chin was high. She had spent twenty years grinding it out for the general public, and she was walking out on them while she still could, dodging a run in the miserable carpet on her way out the door and back toward her office.

    Leonard found himself leaning back against the wall as she finished, and pressed himself up again as the reporters turned toward him. Despite the crowd, once Davenport left the podium, the room felt empty and a little cold. Someone had to go talk to them about the business of the day. Whatever questions wouldn’t get answered about his boss’s sudden career change, there were still a thousand questions about the agency. The case closure rate had ticked down last month. The number of days to complete a full investigation was on the rise. And oh, yeah—there was a shooting last night.
    Leonard could feel the thin suit pinch his shoulders again. The thing about working for the city is that you have to dress up just enough: You have to wear a suit so that when you walk into a bodega or a precinct or a taxi dispatch station the people inside recognize that you’re important and feel they have to talk to you. But it has to be kind of a cheap suit, not just because you can’t afford any better but because if you start walking around Highbridge in Paul Stuart people might suspect that their taxes are being wasted on you. Or worse, that you’re on the take. But now, facing the wide crowd of reporters and activists, Leonard felt weak and underdressed. He realized why Davenport always broke out serious suits for these presentations. The air conditioning wasn’t strong enough to keep him from starting to sweat.
    He walked to the podium, swallowed, and