Agent Whitmore did not smile.
Taylor said, “We’re cops. We want to know our beat.”
Whitmore nodded, then looked at them and said, “I’m not going to insult you with a description of the limits of our jurisdiction and authority because you are both accomplished professionals who already understand that. But I will ask, are you willing to accept these limitations?”
Brodie made eye contact with Ms. Whitmore. She could obviously smell trouble from these two out-of-town CID agents and she wanted to nip any problems in the bud, which was admirable but also futile. Brodie usually dealt with these kinds of people by saying annoying and stupid things untilthey left him alone, and he was about to tell her that limitations only inspire creativity, but before he could say anything Taylor chimed in: “We do understand. And we will follow your lead. We don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. But we are eager to help and are highly motivated to find our colleague’s killer.”
Ms. Whitmore nodded. “Of course.”
Taylor was better at the bullshit than Brodie. Sometimes he worried that she actually believed her own bullshit.
David Kim approached and extended his hand to Brodie and Taylor. “Scott, Maggie. Good to be working with you both.”
They all shook. Taylor said, “Nice to meet you.”
Brodie and David Kim made eye contact. Kim had short black hair and a steady, confident stare. He was a few inches shorter than Brodie, and solidly built. His suit, dress shirt, and topcoat looked tailored and a little high-end, definitely a cut above standard-issue Fed wear. And unlike every male FBI agent Brodie had ever encountered, he didn’t wear a tie. He was a man with his own style, probably in more ways than one.
Kim said, “I’m told an embassy driver is waiting on you guys so I hope I can bum a ride.”
Brodie said, “Sure.”
Kim looked at Sharon Whitmore, his FBI colleague. “Captain Soliman seemed up-front and all right. Herr Schröder could have walked off the set of Stalag 17.”
Whitmore gave him a deadpan look, then turned to Brodie and Taylor and said, “Agent Kim only alluded to his background, but he is one of the New York field office’s premiere counterterrorism experts, and has been a valuable asset to us on past cases.” As if to say,And that’s the only reason we put up with him.
Brodie asked Kim, “How confident are you that your particular expertise will be required?”
Kim shrugged. “I’m not sure at all. Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow that Mr. Vance was mistaken for a rival gang member or something. Wrong place, wrong time. But in my experience, if they bother to send me, then that means I have a job to do.”
Should Brodie tell him that when all you have is a hammer, everyproblem looks like a nail? He’d probably heard that line a few times. David Kim seemed like a sharp and motivated agent and—for now, at least—was probably a good ally to have.
Brodie, Taylor, and Kim wished Ms. Whitmore a good day, left the briefing room, and headed for the elevator.
Brodie asked Taylor, “Thoughts? Impressions?”
“The Germans cooperated as much as they needed to and no more,” said Taylor. “They don’t want to come to us with anything half-baked because they don’t trust us to keep that information to ourselves, or to avoid the temptation to act.”
“Agreed.”
Kim nodded. “That’s their playbook. They’re control freaks. Then again, so are we, so can’t really fault them for it. The problem arises when their caginess starts to affect their work product.”
Taylor said to Kim, “It sounds like you’ve worked with Agent Whitmore in the past.”
“Indirectly.”
“In Berlin?”
“Yes. And that’s about all I can say about that.” He asked, “You folks been here before?”
Brodie said, “I was here twenty years ago. During college. Researching a paper on monkey business.”
Kim laughed. “Where was college?”
“NYU.”
“My adopted city. Great town.”
“Where were you before New York?”
