Chapter 6: Phone Only

On Thursday morning Alan Abercrombie was standing at my cubicle with a printout in his hand.

"Seven violations in ten days," he said.

"Six, sir. One was reduced."

"Fifty-seven points. You are ten days into the Morvath case and he has climbed nineteen points."

"They're minor, sir. A peeled window. A late log. He crossed a street for bread."

"You've seen the dawn-band entry."

"Yes. I was there."

"At seven-thirty on a Sunday, I saw." Abercrombie set the paper down so it landed square. "I want your recommendation by Friday. Revocation review."

"No."

I had not planned to say it.

The whole floor went quiet.

"Excuse me?" said Abercrombie.

"I'm not recommending revocation for a man who peels his own window film. I want to understand why he's doing it first."

"There's nothing to understand. He is escalating. At this rate he'll hit seventy by Christmas."

"Then it's a pattern, and I want to find the pattern."

Abercrombie looked at me for a long moment.

"You have until Friday, Novak. Then I make my own recommendation."

He walked off, and the floor started to breathe again.

Kyle rolled his chair over and handed me half a donut.

"That was the bravest thing I've ever seen," he said. "Also the stupidest."

"He's not dangerous, Kyle."

"I didn't say he was."

"You said it for seven weeks."

"I said it for seven weeks about a man whose file I hadn't read. Have you finished the file?"

"I'm on page forty."

"Page forty is the photo."

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