Without Howard Fensterman in the room, the dynamic had shifted, and it was now two against one. But which two? And which one? Brodie had no doubt that Maggie Taylor was on Team Brodie, but he also had no doubt that she was still somehow under the influence of her former lover, the sociopathic Trent Chilcott.
Chilcott, playing host in his company’s safe house, asked, “Anyone want a drink? Coffee?”
Brodie and Taylor declined.
“Okay,” said Chilcott. “What I am going to share with you now is highly privileged information. Within hours, German federal and local law enforcement will be conducting a series of raids against NordFaust and related groups in Berlin and other cities in Germany. The Germans are conducting these operations in part thanks to intelligence shared by American Intel agencies, and we have a degree of involvement in what is going to take place.” Chilcott looked between Brodie and Taylor. “I’m offering you the opportunity to assist in this law enforcement operation, as American military advisers to American civilian intelligence officers in Germany.”
Brodie replied, “We already have a job. And it’s not with you.”
Chilcott ignored that and asked Brodie, “If either of the men who tried to abduct you today is among those detained tonight, would you be able to identify him?”
“You can ID them. One has a broken nose, and the other has swollen nuts.”
Chilcott looked at Brodie with some interest. “I’m impressed, Mr. Brodie.”
“Coming from you, that don’t mean a thing.”
Chilcott kept his cool. “You both got screwed on this case despite being closer to the truth than anyone else. Scott, you set yourself on fire, which according to your reputation is something you do—or try to do—pretty often. It must work well on the ladies, who I imagine are always trying to fix you.” Chilcott looked at Taylor and smiled.
Taylor stared at him, and his smile faded. Whatever game these two had played, Brodie could see that it was still playing out in the nonverbal language of ex-lovers.
Chilcott continued, “And you, Maggie, tried to tell yourself you were doing the right thing by following orders and leaving your findings with the FBI, despite knowing that nothing would come of it and that the wrong people—Muslims—would be implicated in the murder of Harry Vance. And that doesn’t say much for your commitment to justice. I am now offering you both a chance to redeem yourselves.”
Taylor said, “If anyone needs redemption, it’s you, Trent. And as for justice, it’s being delayed right now with your stupid offer. So, unless there’s something else, I’m leaving here, calling my boss in Quantico, and making a very good argument for why he needs to get Scott and me back on this case. And we don’t need your help in doing that.”
Brodie added, “Based on past history, I’m sure you can understand why we might not completely trust you. In fact, every time the Army sleeps with the CIA, the CIA gets a good lay, and the Army gets fucked.”
Chilcott stared at him. “Keep going down this road, Mr. Brodie, and you’ll be lucky if you only end up in jail.”
“Wherever I go—Leavenworth or Arlington—I’ll be sure to take you and others with me.”
Chilcott smiled. “There it is, that rogue spirit. You’re like one of those little bottle rockets where you break off the stick before lighting the fuse. A hot flame shooting out your ass, going nowhere.”
Brodie said, “We’re done here.”
Chilcott had a plan, but it didn’t include Brodie having a gun, and clearly this was throwing him off. In fact, Brodie would not have been surprised to learn that it was the CIA station chief in the embassy who’d blocked himand Taylor from being issued sidearms. But Brodie had one now, so he didn’t have to kick Chilcott in the balls to get out of there. “Good luck with the Nazi roundup.”
Chilcott walked to one of the street-facing windows. “Before you both leave, come here and take a look.”
Brodie and Taylor exchanged glances, then walked to the window where Chilcott was standing and looked down into the street.
A white-and-blue SUV labeledPOLIZEIsat idling at the curb. A police officer in full tactical gear and holding an assault rifle stood next to the SUV, looking up at them.
Chilcott said, “Those are agents of the Bundespolizei. Federal Police.” He eyed Brodie and Taylor. “They are here to ensure your safety. You two will remain in this apartment until the raids are concluded. We will require your participation in IDing any of the perps we sweep up in the raids, and in reviewing any evidence we obtain that might connect NordFaust to Mr. Vance’s murder. And in return my agency will help you unfuck your lives. Get your careers back, or get better ones.”
Neither Brodie nor Taylor responded.
Chilcott said, “Plus I have my own man in the lobby who will be up here shortly.” He added, “You’re not going anywhere. Unless or until I let you go.”
Taylor said, “I’ll be filing charges of kidnapping against you.”
“You’re under the protective custody of the German police. Don’t make them bring charges againstyou.”
Brodie was thinking less legally, and more along the lines of punching Chilcott in the nuts and shoving his gun up his ass. But that was an option he could exercise later. He said, “Okay, we’ll stay awhile. Do you know how to make a Negroni?”
Chilcott smiled and started to reply, but Brodie felt Taylor’s hand on his coat, and quick as a cat she snatched his gun out of his pocket, and backpedaled as she brought the gun up and pointed it at Chilcott’s chest, shouting, “Don’t move, Trent! You move, you’re dead. Hands up!”
Chilcott seemed incredulous; then, as he made eye contact with her, he slowly raised his hands.
