It was late, the office was empty. The rest of the boys were out celebrating a job well done, I was on my way to join them but I could still hear the sound of a type writer from down the hall.
It was coming from Jack’s office. We’d been transferred to this branch of the FBI together, worked a lot of the same cases, our jackets were pretty similar.
His love of paperwork was something we did not share, however.
“Can’t you leave that ‘til the morning?” I asked.
“We blew through most this year’s budget on just this operation. All those fingerprints…Hell, I’m just glad the Brits didn’t put up any kind of any extradition fight and that the crazy bastard didn’t decide to go to some place that looks less favorably on capital punishment. That could’ve been a real legal scrape, let me tell you.”
“We got James Earl Ray, got him cold. We did our job. Come get a drink and let the guys in Washington worry about paying for it.”
I flipped the light off to his office, leaving him in the dark.
He joined us at the bar not much later.
The manhunt for James Earl Ray was, at that point, the largest and most expensive investigation the FBI had ever run. Tens of thousands of fingerprints were examined, hundreds of thousands of passport were scrutinized and over three thousand agents were involved. For the Memphis branch, the hunt for Ray has never been topped.