Uzi led her to their table in front of a large window that overlooked 20th Avenue NW. Karen Vail was seated with her back to them. When she felt Uzi’s tap on her back, she rose and gave Leila a quick once-over. She squinted confusion, glanced at Uzi, and asked Leila, “You always wear your finest dress to a business meeting? Or did I miss the memo?”
Leila unfurled her cape and said, “This isn’t my finest dress. But thank you for the compliment.”
Vail crumpled her brow again. “Right.”
Uzi cleared his throat, unsure what to make of their verbal sparring. Where the hell’s Santa? “Leila Harel, meet Karen Vail. Karen’s with the BAU.”
Leila nodded acknowledgment. “Are you on the task force?”
“Hell yeah,” Uzi said. “Karen’s the best profiler we’ve got.”
Vail stifled a laugh. “I am very good — but not the best. And I’m not on the task force. I’m just filling in for a colleague. As a favor.”
“And what can you offer us as a profiler? This seems a bit out of your league.”
Before Vail could fire off a barb in reply, a waiter greeted them.
“Clarence,” Uzi said. “Good to see you.” And just in the nick of time.
“Been a while,” the middle-aged man said. They made small talk for a moment, then Clarence conveyed their specials, which featured roasted chicken salad with Trixie’s mayonnaise, dried blueberries, Bibb lettuce, and golden beets. “I’ll be back to take your order in a bit. No rush.”
“We’re waiting for one more, actually,” Uzi said.
By the time Clarence walked off, Vail had clearly decided to let Leila’s comment pass, and instead provided her with a professional, though concise, overview of the information she had discussed with Uzi.
“You people are known for serial killers,” Leila said. “Just how is this going to help us find the bomber?”
“We people,” Vail said between clenched teeth, “handle a variety of cases, from threat assessment to serial killers, rapists, arsonists, child abductors, and, yes, even those pillars of society, bombers.”
Uzi inched forward uncomfortably in his chair. “Having an accurate profile will help us narrow down our suspect pool and tell us where to focus our investigation.”
Leila hiked her brow. “No offense, but I don’t see it. We don’t even have the devices. They’re in a million pieces scattered across how may square miles?”
“That definitely makes it more difficult,” Vail said, “but not impossible. It just means we need to be more creative.”
“Creative?” Leila turned to Uzi. “We need facts, not guesswork. Because if our guesses are wrong—”
“That’s not what Karen meant.”
“Uzi,” Vail said, “I’m capable of speaking for myself. And yes, I meant creative. We don’t always have the necessary forensics to identify our offender. So we have to use our heads to find the information other ways.” Vail’s BlackBerry buzzed. She pulled it from her belt, glanced at the screen, and then rose from her chair. “Gotta run. But thanks — it’s been lovely. I’m sure dinner would’ve been better than the company.” She forced a smile and gathered up her black sweater.
Uzi rose awkwardly from his chair. “Wait— You really have to go?”
“A case I was tricked into taking, for lack of a better term. Some football player. He was bludgeoned and his dick was cut off. We’ve got another vic.”
Uzi winced. “Couldn’t you have left out the part about the severed penis?”
“I can brief Hector on my own,” Vail said, then turned to Leila. “Nice meeting you. Let’s not do it again real soon.”
Vail walked off toward the staircase.
Uzi sat down hard in his seat. “She’s working this case as a favor to me, Leila. You didn’t have to antagonize her.”
Leila pursed her moist, glossed lips. “Sorry if I wasn’t more accepting of her… theories. I just think it’s going to be of limited value. I hope she didn’t take it personally.”
Uzi snorted. “Don’t worry about it. Karen doesn’t get mad. She gets even.”
Clarence returned with a wine list in hand. “May I suggest something, or would you like to take a look for yourself?”
“Just a glass for me,” Uzi said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do after dinner.”
Clarence raised a brow and glanced at Leila. “Indeed.”
“No,” Uzi said with a grin. “Real work, Clarence.”
“I’m sure it will be, Mr. Uzi. But we have your favorite Cabernet — Galil Mountain, from the Golan.”
Uzi twisted his mouth into a mock frown. “You’re like the serpent, Clarence. Tempting me.” He gestured toward Leila. “Okay by you?”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
As Clarence headed off, Uzi’s Nokia buzzed. He checked the screen and groaned. “Gotta be kidding.”
“Problem?” Leila asked.
“Hector cancelled. Has to put out a fire.”
“Hector?”
Uzi placed his phone on the table. “The other task force member who was joining us.”
“So, Agent Uzi,” she said, leaning forward on her elbows and tilting her head. “It’s down to you and me.”
“Please, just call me ‘Uzi.’”
“Do you always pick up women at crash sites… Uzi?”
Uzi glanced from side to side. “Did I miss something?”
“I’m with the CIA. I’m trained to smell a setup better than most dogs sniff bombs.”
“No setup, Leila. This was supposed to be a working dinner. I’d no idea Karen would catch a case and that Hector would cancel. But to answer your question about picking up women at crash sites, it’s been at least a couple of years since I’ve done that.” He smiled, then moved back to allow the busboy to place a plate of bread on the table. “Homemade cornbread with honey butter. Try some. It’s to die for.”
“Look at the facts,” Leila said, ignoring Uzi’s comment. “Here we are, just you and me, having dinner at a trendy restaurant. A romantic atmosphere. With wine on the way.”
“Actually, the wine is served,” Clarence said, turning the bottle to display the label for Uzi’s inspection. Uzi indicated that Clarence should show it instead to Leila, and the server complied.
Leila, whose gaze was still locked on Uzi, diverted her eyes to the wine and nodded.
Clarence produced a polished chrome corkscrew, and with three twists and a pull, the Cabernet was breathing. He poured a small amount into Leila’s glass and waited while she swirled it, then watched as she took a satisfying sniff before swishing a mouthful across her palate.
She glanced up at Clarence and said, “Very earthy. And a hint of dark chocolate. Excellent.”
Uzi raised an eyebrow.
“I have an affinity for Cabs.”
Clarence poured the two glasses, set the bottle down, and melted into the background.
Uzi reached for his glass and took a sip. He knew the vintage well and Leila was right about the flavors. Like Leila, Dena’s palate could differentiate between coveted and lesser desirable vintages. The parallels between the women hijacked his thoughts for a brief moment and he saw Dena sitting across from him, the neckline of her red dress plunging a bit lower than Leila’s, displaying a tantalizing hint of cleavage.
Uzi set down his glass. “Where did you acquire your taste for wine?” he asked.
Leila took another sip and let her eyes roam the room.
After a prolonged silence, Uzi said, “You don’t like personal questions.”
“Not really, no.”
“Then we’ll keep it to business for now. CIA. Counterintelligence?”