THEY DROVE IN silence for five minutes.
She glanced at him. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“You said you wanted to talk to me. I’m waiting.”
She smiled and looked ahead.
Brown’s ride was a late-model BMW 7 Series sedan. He looked at the car’s interior. “Nice car. This would be like almost two years’ salary for me.”
“I lease. It’s a lot less financially onerous.”
“I guess.”
“And I tend to get tired of things after a few years.”
“Then never get married.”
“Are you still working the Dabney/Berkshire case?”
“You mean you haven’t cracked it yet? What’s taking DIA so long?”
She pulled to the curb and put the car in park. She turned to look at him.
“One of my assignments was to liaison with the Bureau. I’m trying my best to do that.”
“I was under the impression that being a liaison involved more than kicking a ‘sister’ agency off a case.”
“Is that what Agent Bogart thinks?”
“I don’t know because I haven’t asked him. I’m just telling you what I think.”
“These are very delicate matters, Decker. We all must tread extremely carefully.”
“Well, according to you, we can’t tread any longer.”
“I was speaking generally.”
“Then let me speak specifically. Does DIA use guys who can shoot long-distance?”
She looked puzzled. “Out of all the possible questions I thought I might get from you, that was not one of them. Why in the world would you want to know that?”
“Let’s chalk it up to my being a very curious guy. So does it?”
“We’re a military support organization.”
“So I’ll take that as a yes.”
She gazed at him curiously for a few moments. “I’ve read your file.”
“I didn’t know I had one.”
“The moment you step on the federal playing field, you have a file. You have a fascinating background, what with the hyperthymesia and synesthesia.”
“Some might call it fascinating, I wouldn’t.”
“What would you call it?”
“Different. Painfully different.”
Brown’s features lost some of their cocksure manner. “I know about your family. I’m very sorry. I’ve never been married or had children, so I could only imagine how devastating that had to have been for you.”
Decker looked out the window. “All of this is pretty far afield from the matter at hand.”
“Granted. But you still haven’t answered my question about working on the case or not.”
“And if I refuse to answer? Which I guess I’m entitled to do.”
“Then I may take that as an answer in the affirmative.”
“I wasn’t aware that the DIA could tell the FBI to stop work on a case. Maybe I’m wrong.”
“No, I doubt that you are wrong. At least technically. But other channels can be employed to make the directive more authoritative.”
“You’re speaking a different language. What the hell does that mean?”
“SecDef is cabinet-level. He makes a call to someone, and that party leans hard on the FBI director.”
“So that’s how it works in D.C.?”
“Pretty much. You’re from Ohio.”
“I know I am. The flyover land between the coasts.”
“The land of deep mistrust in government.”
“Well, can you blame us, when you pull shit like you’re pulling now?”
“Don’t think that we don’t want to get to the truth, Decker. We do.”
“So in order to do that you kick out an agency when they’re trying to solve a murder right on their doorstep? And you’re the one who said the outcome could be far worse than 9/11. What did you expect us to do with that? Sit on our hands and play nice?”
“I see your argument, I really do.”
“But that’s as far as you’ll go?”
“Orders are orders. Don’t you have to follow orders?”
“No,” Decker said bluntly. “Not if it goes against my instincts or my ethics.”
“Then I don’t see you having a long career in the federal space.”
“Then I’ll take that as a good thing.”
“Are you always so cavalier about things?”
“I do my job and let the chips fall.”
“So you’re not into CYA?”
“My butt is way too big to cover,” Decker replied.
“You just want to get to the truth?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“I already told you that we do.”
“So what progress have you made?”
She seemed surprised by the question. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”
“It sure as shit is, which is why I’m asking.”
“I mean I can’t discuss it with you.”
“Okay, then I’ll discuss it from my end. Berkshire has a secret past. A past where she came into a great deal of money. She bought a fancy-ass condo and car but she drove an old Honda to work. She used an old farmhouse as a switching spot for the cars. And maybe for other things too.”
“I’m finding this highly interesting.”
“So we have mystery behind Berkshire, or whoever she really is. And on the Dabney end we have a woman helping him clean out his safe deposit box after he sent a key to his daughter, presumably so she would open it after his death and the contents would provide answers. And you told us that Dabney allegedly sold secrets to pay for an alleged gambling habit. So we have mystery at that end. And a few mornings ago those twin mysteries met in the middle of Washington, D.C. with the result that two people died. So the question becomes why?”
“Neatly summed up.”
“Summaries are for idiots. Anybody can do them.”
“You said ‘allegedly’ just now in referring to Dabney’s espionage and gambling habit.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s nothing alleged about it.”
“Maybe to you, but not to me. All I have is your word for it. Not good enough.”
She put the car back into drive and they pulled off. “You always this cooperative with a sister agency?”
“Ironic, since I’ve seen zero cooperation from yours.”
“Look, you’ve actually given me some valuable information. How can I return the favor?”
“By making no objection to our working on the case.”
She kept driving, turning down one road and then another. “How exactly would that work?” she asked.
“That would exactly work with us investigating the case and finding the truth.”
“You mean a joint investigation?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“I’ll have to think about it, talk to my superiors.”
“Great. You can give me your answer tomorrow morning.”
“You have no authority to give me directives.”
“I see you do know where I live,” said Decker, as they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. “I can’t say that’s comforting.”
“Friends close, enemies closer.”
“I wouldn’t imagine I was either. Yet.”
“You like this area? It’s still a little dicey.”
“It’s growing on—”
Brown had pulled her pistol and killed the engine. It was then that Decker saw what she already had seen. Two men were stuffing another man into the trunk of a car.
Brown was out and sprinting toward them before Decker even got his car door open.
“Federal agent, hands in the air!” she barked, her pistol pointed at the men.
One ducked down behind the car. The other pulled a gun. Before he could turn and fire, Brown had dropped him with two bursts of her pistol.
The next instant she was bowled over and pinned to the pavement by a huge weight.
“What the—” she gasped.
The rounds ripped through the air right above her.
The man who had ducked down was firing from behind the car with an AK-47 assault rifle.
Decker, who’d knocked Brown down when he saw the AK pointing her way, rolled off her, sprawled on his belly, took aim, and fired at various spots under the car. The scream told him that at least one of his rounds had hit the shooter in the ankle or foot.
As the man fell beside the car grabbing his leg and screaming, Decker emptied his mag at the same narrow space separating the bottom of the car from the asphalt.
The screams stopped.
Brown and Decker leapt up. When they raced over and peered around the rear of the car, the man was no longer moving. There was blood all around him and the AK was lying next to him. As Decker knelt down next to him, the man remained still.
Brown pointed to the entry wound on the side of the man’s head. “You got him in the leg, but this was the kill shot. Good aim,” she added coolly.
“I wasn’t aiming, I was just trying to hit something on him,” said a pale Decker.
“Well, better to be lucky than dead.”
Decker rose and hurried to the open trunk of the car, where a bound Tomas Amaya was struggling to free himself. There was a gag over his mouth. Decker untied him and helped him out of the trunk.
Amaya, breathing hard, swayed on his feet. Decker observed the purplish knot on the man’s forehead and said, “Sit down before you pass out.”
At first Amaya seemed about to protest, but then he followed Decker’s instruction and sat down on the asphalt.
Then something occurred to Decker. “Danny! Where’s Danny?”
“He’s at a friend’s casa,” murmured Amaya. “He is…my hijo is okay.”
“Who’s Danny?” asked Brown.
“His eleven-year-old son.”
Brown nodded and said, “You want to call this in?”
Decker pulled out his phone and called Bogart. In one efficient minute he conveyed what had happened. “Can you call the locals in?”
Bogart said, “Doing it right now. I’ll see you in thirty minutes. You sure you’re okay?”
“We’re fine.”
“We? You mean Jamison?”
“No. Agent Brown is here with me.”
“Right,” said a clearly puzzled Bogart. “Well, you can explain that all to me later.”
Decker clicked off and looked at Brown. “Thanks for the assist.”
“Jesus, Decker, you saved my life. I never saw the AK coming my way. If you hadn’t pushed me down, I’d be heading to the morgue too.”
Decker looked down at Amaya. “Mr. Amaya, the police are on their way. You’re going to have to be prepared to tell them what’s going on.”
Amaya said nothing, and he would not look at Decker.
Frustrated, Decker glanced at Brown. “He’s not been very cooperative. Seems to be my lot in life,” he added.
Before Brown could respond, Jamison, who had walked back from the restaurant, turned into the parking lot. When she saw what was going on, she raced forward and said, “Decker, what the hell is going on?”
“Just another day in the neighborhood,” he said, becoming even paler. Then he abruptly started off toward the building.
“Wait a minute, where are you going?” said Brown.
Without turning around he said, “To throw up a cheeseburger.”