“So you want me to—”
“I want you to keep it quiet. This is not to be discussed with anyone. Including Shepard and the rest of the task force. Can you do that?”
Hoshi’s face scrunched in confusion. “We’re the JTTF and Sahmoud is a major terrorist on our Ten Most Wanted who’s about to launch suicide bombings on the United States. And you don’t want anyone on the task force to know about it? Or our boss?”
“That’s right.”
Vail had to laugh. “I’m sorry. It sounds just as bad when you say it.”
“You’re not helping,” Uzi said to Vail.
“We’ll eventually lift the veil on what’s going on,” DeSantos said. “We just need some time.”
Hoshi thought a moment, then nodded. “Just don’t get me fired, okay?”
Uzi gave her what looked to be a strained, almost pained smile. “Of course.”
After she left, Vail turned to DeSantos. “Lift the veil? You trying to be funny?”
He shrugged. “Best I had at the moment. It was awkward.”
“Whole thing’s awkward. She’s right — that’s why we have a JTTF. We should be using every member on that task force — and dozens more.”
“Leave it be,” DeSantos said. “If that’s what the president wants, that’s what we do. We’re just soldiers in a bigger war. There’s stuff we don’t know. There always is.”
“Nice digs you got here.” Vail glanced around the room. “You said you wanted us to come to your office so you could give us something.”
“Right.” Uzi rose from his chair and went over to a bookcase against the wall. It was filled with a number of objects including a couple of framed photos of a woman and a young girl.
His slain wife and daughter. A pang of pain struck Vail deep in her stomach.
To the left of the pictures sat a Lucite block encasing what looked like a computer chip and an Intel logo above an inscription recognizing Uzi for his work on the Pentium 4 processor. A bullet-holed canteen lay on its side, a worn olive military canvas pouch covering its bottom half.
Uzi moved a couple of other items aside and revealed a very dangerous-looking knife.
“I know what that is,” DeSantos said. “You kept it.”
“You told me to put it on my bookshelf.”
DeSantos winked. “That I did.”
“I don’t know what it is.” Vail looked from DeSantos to Uzi.
“The Tanto I used to kill the piece of shit who murdered Dena and Maya.” He handed it to Vail, who hesitated. “Go ahead. I had Tim Meadows get the blood off for me. He used some kind of industrial crime scene cleaner.”
“That’s okay. I’m good just looking at it.”
“Take it,” he said, holding it closer in front of her. “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” Vail reached out and wrapped her fingers around the handle. She had to admit, it was beautifully balanced. It felt powerful.
Uzi took the leather case and slipped it over her head.
“Boychick. You can’t give Karen a knife like that without teaching her how to use it.”
“Way ahead of you. After London, Cooper and I gave her some private lessons.”
“Cooper’s the best,” DeSantos said. “Do you remember what they taught you?”
Vail turned the knife, examining its edge, the walnut handle and inlaid chrome design. “More or less. I sparred a few times with an instructor at the academy.”
DeSantos snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s like training drills in the shooting house. You need to become so comfortable with the knife it’s like an extension of your arm.”
“Very Zen of you, Hector. Who would’ve thought.”
“I’m not joking. Knife fighting is close quarters combat. There’s very little room for error. One cut and you’re dead. But forget the knife. If you’re in close quarters combat, unless you know who you’re up against, you don’t know his skill level. And the really skilled fighters are so good, they’re so lethal, don’t even need a knife. Their hands are their weapons.”
“Most important thing?” Uzi asked, playing the role of teacher.
“Not getting killed?” Vail said.
DeSantos reached over and took the Tanto from her. “I don’t think you should give this to her, Uzi.”
“Hey.” Vail slapped DeSantos’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. I know the most important thing: not having it taken from you.”
DeSantos bowed his head. “Yes, just like your Glock. Same principle.”
Uzi took the Tanto from DeSantos and placed it back in Vail’s hand.
Robby is not going to like this. She slipped it into the leather sheath — but because of her anatomy it did not fit as well as it did on Uzi. She would have to wear it elsewhere.
The door opened and a tan-suited Marshall Shepard stepped in. He paused in the entry, eyed Vail, Uzi — and then DeSantos. His gaze lingered on DeSantos.
“Shep. You remember Karen Vail of the BAU and Hector DeSan—”
“Oh, yeah, I remember Mr. DeSantos.” His expression twisted into a frown as the two made eye contact. But when his gaze settled on the Tanto around Vail’s neck, he tilted his head and said, “Mind explaining what’s going on here?”
Vail gestured to the bookshelf. “Uzi was showing us his collection of—”
“Tchotchkes,” DeSantos said. He glanced at Uzi and lifted his brow.
Shepard stood there working it through, then folded both arms across his chest. “You people take me for a fool? Uzi, I expected more of you.”
DeSantos’s phone rumbled again.
“Shep, please. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Let’s step back for a second. There’s an explosion downtown that no one at DC Metro seems to know anything about. And District Gas has no reports of a gas main explosion. That doesn’t add up. You don’t seem to be particularly concerned — and we both know with your background, you should be all over this like peanut butter on bread. But you’re pretty laid back about it. That doesn’t add up, either.”
“I can see why you’re—”
“Shut up. I’m not done.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry to be boring you, Mr. DeSantos. Put the phone away while I’m talking.”
DeSantos squinted as he slipped the handset back in his pocket.
“Koh looks like she’s on pins and needles,” Shepard said, “and when I ask her to check on something for me, she says she’s in the middle of something for you, Uzi, and she’ll get to it ASAP. Excuse me? I say. You’re talking to your ASAC. She apologizes, then says to give her a few minutes. So I do that — and when I come back, she says she can’t talk about it, that I need to talk to you. Then I walk in here and I see Hector DeSantos, a man who works God knows where, whose cover with the Department of Defense is as shady as a Mulberry tree in the middle of the White House lawn. Oh — and let’s not forget the call from the director’s office.”
“That call,” DeSantos said, “should be enough for you to back off.”
Shepard took a couple of steps toward DeSantos. “You will address me appropriately, Mr. DeSantos, or you can get the hell out of my building.”
DeSantos’s right eye twitched.
Defuse this, Karen. Now. Even if playing mediator is not your strength.
“Look,” Vail said, raising both hands. “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. We all have jobs to do and we’re just trying to do them.”
“Really?” Shepard said, stepping closer to the circle. “Uzi has a job — working for me. You have a job too — but I bet if I call your ASAC, Agent Gifford will tell me you’re not working for him right now, that the director told him you were on special assignment.”