“Ever been there?”
“Nope. But Robby and I have talked about Paris for our honeymoon.”
“Too clichéd, if you ask me.”
Vail touched his forearm. “Actually, I wasn’t.”
“Ow.”
Vail noted that Uzi was quiet, scanning the park, presumably looking for his father. He stopped and studied the fountain ahead of him, which was spewing water a few dozen feet into the air. Tourists were gathered around the periphery taking photos. In the warm weather kids would be in the surrounding pond, playing and finding refuge from the oppressive humidity.
Uzi turned left and led them down a paved path alongside the barren trees and a row of benches. He headed toward a brass statue on a stone pedestal and stopped twenty feet short of two men seated at a folding table, a chess board between them. Only a queen and two bishops remained.
They stood there a moment, Vail and DeSantos slightly behind Uzi’s right shoulder, until Roey Uziel leaned forward, moved his queen, and said, “Checkmate.”
Roey, wearing a full facial grin, sat back and caught sight of Uzi. His smile faded instantly, his lips parting in surprise.
The other man — presumably Sal — turned and saw the three of them standing there. It was clear to Vail that Sal did not know who they were, but identified them as law enforcement. “Everything okay?” he said to Roey.
“Yeah. This is my — it’s nothing, it’s all good. But would you mind if I left you to pack everything up?”
Roey walked toward his son, who just stood there, voiceless and stiff.
“Mr. Uziel, I’m Karen Vail and this is Hector DeSantos. We’re friends of Aaron’s.”
He sidestepped Uzi and shook their hands. “Has my son lost his tongue? You know, I haven’t heard from him in seven years. A lot can happen to a person. And I’d never know.”
Vail wanted to nudge Uzi, shove him, stick him with a stun gun — something to get him talking.
Roey turned to face Uzi. “Have you lost your ability to speak?”
“We’re here on business.”
“I can see that,” Roey said. “I’m a pretty perceptive guy.”
“We’ve got some questions.”
Jesus, Uzi. You’re making this painful for all of us.
“So do I,” Roey said, his gaze steady, fixed on Uzi’s.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have to answer yours. But federal law says you have to answer mine.”
“All right,” Vail said. “Enough. Father and son, I realize you’ve had a disagreement over something. That’s your business. But for now, we need to put aside whatever problem you have with each other and get to why we’re here.”
“We need your help,” DeSantos said.
Roey’s eyes narrowed. “You FBI?”
“Department of Defense. Karen’s FBI.”
Roey nodded slowly. “Why don’t we head back to my place. I assume this is something that requires some discretion.”
Perceptive guy indeed. “That’d be a good idea.”
“Aaron, that sit well with you?”
Uzi licked his lips. “Yeah.”
As they walked out of the park and toward the arch, Roey said, “You been okay? Healthy?”
Uzi nodded.
“How’s your head? Mental stuff, I mean.”
“Better.” Uzi glanced at Vail. “I’m doing okay.”
“I heard you were with the FBI.”
“He runs the Bureau’s DC Joint Terrorism Task Force,” Vail said.
“Where’d you hear I was with the FBI?” Uzi asked.
Roey continued walking a few steps before answering. “I googled you. There was an article two or three years ago about you working the case of the vice president’s helicopter — Marine Two. The crash. That was your case, no?”
“Me and about three hundred others.”
“Yes, it was his case,” Vail said.
Uzi gave her a look.
They reached the apartment building and climbed the stairs.
“So, how well do you know Helen?” Uzi asked.
Roey paused before he passed through the door. Without turning around, he said, “We’re dating.”
“Serious?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“Hey, Boychick. She could end up being your stepmother. Not bad.”
Vail elbowed DeSantos.
Roey entered his apartment and tossed his keys on the bureau to his right. The place was well kept. Ahead on a large wall in the living room there were two dozen frames: photos that showed a younger Uzi, a woman that was undoubtedly his mother and one who looked to be a sister — slightly junior to Uzi — and a dark haired, handsome Roey, from years past. Vail saw the resemblance: square jaw, olive complexion, penetrating eyes.
Vail’s gaze settled on an 11x14 photo of Uzi and his wife and daughter. They were laughing, seated at a picnic table. She pulled her eyes away from it and noticed that Uzi was fixated on the same picture.
DeSantos saw it too, because he nudged Uzi and said, “We’ve got some things to square away.”
Uzi faced them, his eyes glazed with tears, and nodded. “Dad, we’re working a sensitive case that we’re told relates to something you know about.”
“Coffee?” He asked as he stepped into the adjacent kitchen.
They all accepted.
Roey reached into the cabinet and pulled out a coffee maker. “Who told you I know something?”
Uzi scratched his head. “Well, this may sound strange, but the FBI director.” He exchanged a look with Vail and DeSantos then faced his father and chuckled slightly. “Like I said.”
Roey stopped, a coffee scoop in his right hand, and considered this a moment. “Okay.”
Uzi cricked his neck. “What do you mean, ‘okay’? I just told you the FBI director doesn’t just have knowledge about you, but he knows that you know something.”
“Yes,” Roey said with a nod. “I understand the conversation, Uzi.”
“Well I don’t understand. Why would the FBI director know anything at all about you?”
Roey dug into the Starbucks Arabica bag. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the room. “That’s a story with a longer explanation. And I believe one of you said your case was time sensitive.”
“Actually,” Vail said, “we didn’t.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it. Hmm?”
“Yes.”
Roey dumped the heaping scoops into the machine. “I make it strong. Is that okay?”
“Dad,” Uzi said a bit too firmly, “we don’t care about the coffee. Get to the point.”
“They used to say coffee was bad for you. But turns out, it’s actually good for you.”
“Dad—”
“My point, Aaron, is that things aren’t always what they seem.”
DeSantos stepped closer to the kitchen. “Care to explain that, Mr. Uziel?”
“Call me Roey. And I think it speaks for itself. Doing what you do, Hector, I don’t need to explain that to you, now, do I?”
Something tells me we’re going to find out, anyway.
Uzi’s eyes were narrowed, studying his father. “Dad, what’s going on here?”
Roey lifted his chin and whistled. A compact, powerfully built seal-and-white Boston Terrier ran into the room. “Good boy, Benny. Sit.” The dog sat.
“When did you get a dog?”
“Tell me something, Uzi. Did I ever do anything wrong to you? To hurt you?”
Uzi looked at Roey out of the corner of his eyes. “No. Why?”
Roey stopped, his finger paused over the coffeemaker’s start button. “I want to know why you stopped talking to me. Why you wouldn’t take my calls, why you made believe you weren’t home when I stopped by to see you.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“You want your answers, I want mine. I don’t see you for seven years, then suddenly you show up. I want to know if I’m responsible.”