The Ferryman Institute by Colin Gigl Page B

Smalling—she’s a rookie, Mr. Dawson. I spoke to her on the phone and she’s in bad shape. She’s panicking and Ithink she’s barely keeping it together. If someone doesn’t go in there, we’re going to lose her and the assignment. We’ve got an ETD in five minutes and—”
    â€œNo,” Dirkley interrupted. “Absolutely not. No way. Get your Ferryman out of there, but please leave Charlie out of this. We’ve got assignments of our own to take care of. Someone dropped the ball somewhere, and shame on them, but there’s no way we can pull this one out of the hat. I’m sorry, but no.”
    Charlie glanced over his shoulder in moderate shock. Five minutes ago, he would have classified Dirkley being curt to someone in the same realm of impossibility occupied by the Cubs winning the World Series and honest politicians, but now he’d done it twice.
    Campbell frowned but gave a surprisingly even-tempered reply. “I understand what I’m doing is out of line. I’m not proud of this. But the Ferryman in there is my friend. Maybe slightly more than a friend. I convinced her she should take this case, and right now, the fact that she’s completely in the shit—that’s on me. But more importantly, there’s a spirit who’s about to be denied her chance at the afterlife unless someone does something. So with all due respect, Mr. Dupine, if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you ask the only person in this entire Institute who’s never failed an assignment to try and rescue yours?”
    Dirkley said nothing. Charlie, however, had already made up his mind. He knew who Jen Smalling was, had talked to her a bit about random things recently in one of his better moods—welcomed her to the Institute, gotten a sense of her past, that sort of thing. She was a pleasant girl, had only been a Ferryman for a year or two, which was almost nothing in Ferryman time. Not that it mattered. Even if she’d hated his guts, it wouldn’t have changed Charlie’s decision.
    â€œGive me the form.”
    Both Dirkley and Campbell immediately turned to Charlie. “I’m sorry?” the agent said, clearly not anticipating that request.
    â€œThe form, the form,” Charlie said, waving his hand toward himself. “That’s the form for the case, right? I need it.” As soon as Campbell offered it halfway, Charlie whisked it from his grasp. “Here’s what I need from you, Campbell. Call in the code and tell them I’ll be assisting. Get someone to cover my next assignment. Also, get medical on standby, particularly someone who can do a psych eval. Got that? Jen’s probably going to be shaken up when she comes back.”
    â€œHey, Charlie—” Dirkley began, rising out of his seat now.
    â€œCall the code in, Campbell,” Charlie said. The agent scrambled to get his headset mic back over his mouth. Scurrying a few steps away from Team Dawson’s area, he began speaking at a rapid clip.
    Dirkley, however, wasn’t having it. “Charlie. Charlie! Hey, stop!” People turned to look, and realizing that, Dirkley quickly lowered his voice. The sharp tone, however, remained. “What the hell are you doing? There are other Ferrymen here—ones certainly more than capable of taking this on, might I add.”
    Charlie, meanwhile, was stuffing the form into his jacket. No time for a clipboard on this one. “He didn’t ask other Ferrymen , Dirkley—he asked me. It’s a little crazy, I know, but how could I say no to that?”
    â€œGreat, it’s crazy—glad we can agree on something. As for saying no, it’s easy: you just say no! Why are you doing this?” Dirkley demanded in the same hushed but increasingly strident voice.
    â€œAny information you can get, I need it relayed to me. I know you’re working in a nearly nonexistent time frame, but anything atthis