you.”
Agent Clemons pecked her on the cheek, a gesture she allotted to no other guy in her life.
“Thanks Kyle. You look fantastic.”
“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
They walked together through a labyrinth of fluorescent lit cubicles until they reached Agent Clemons’ office, a sort of landfill with a desk and computer buried somewhere beneath an avalanche of case files. Agent Clemons said how happy he was to hear she was okay after the bridge attack and got her a cup of English breakfast tea. Bollier sipped the scalding tea and looked sheepishly at Clemons.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“And here I thought you would be visiting just for my company. So shoot. What is it?”
“That too of course. I need you to kill this Brooklyn manhunt for the ex-army guy.”
Agent Clemons raised an eyebrow at the detective.
“That would be the ex-army guy Jordan Ross who wasted an entire Russian hit squad at his home and then fled the scene?”
“That would be the one.”
“Not going to be easy to call that off. What’s your connection?”
“Are you really asking?”
“Just trying to cover my ass Leslie, t he district attorney is not going to be happy. They want Ross found and brought in, like yesterday.”
“I can’t say. I need you to trust me. He may be just the link we’ve been looking for…”
“For our… side project?”
“The side project, yes.”
Agent Clemons and Detective Bollier exchanged a mischievous glance and held it long enough that a casual observer wouldn’t be blamed for thinking they were flirting and would tear each other’s clothes off the moment they got alone together. When it was through Bollier drank her tea and watched the fed expectantly.
“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
“Yes actually. I hate to ask for anything on top of that but I’m starting to think there’s a leak in my precinct. Shirokov may have his hooks in somebody. There has been one too many coincidences lately. Could you look into it?”
For some reason Agent Clemons found this request to be a subject of great amusement. He laughed long and hard, slapping the knee of his slacks several times before he stopped.
“Is something funny?”
“A leak in your precinct? No! Perish the thought. You’re not exactly Ms. Current Events are you? Let me show you something.”
The federal agent must have worked out a system to the impenetrable clutter in his office. After rooting around the seemingly random heaps of information, he came up clutching a folder that was stamped in red ink FOR SENIOR PERSONNEL ONLY. Agent Clemons stood up and closed the door to his office then he opened the folder.
Glossy black and white pictures were inside. Surveillance photos taken from a coffee shop on 14 th street that Bollier knew to be a hangout for the Russians. The FBI must have been sitting on the location for weeks, snapping pictures and collecting audio samples. Agent Clemons flipped through the pictures. Bollier recognized several of the individuals; Roman Dhokorin, one of Shirokov’s top men, Boris Maslov, killed in action, the big bodyguard Vitaly Krupin, a few brief shots of Vladimir Shirokov himself wearing a gray suit and blue button down shirt, silver hair coiffed at shoulder length and a wicked smile playing on his lips while he read from a heavy book.
Agent Clemons stopped the slideshow for a moment and intoned in a serious voice.
“Now. Stop me when you see something disturbing.”
The next photo showed two uniformed policemen at the coffee shop, handing off an envelope to Krupin. Another had what looked like a customs agent doing the same. Then there were several pictures of two plainclothes detectives sitting and chatting with Shirokov. Leslie swallowed a lump in her throat when she recognized Casings and Castillo.
“Who else knows about this?”
“The director, the agent photographers, yours truly, and now yourself.” There were still two photos left in the bunch but
Agent Clemons pecked her on the cheek, a gesture she allotted to no other guy in her life.
“Thanks Kyle. You look fantastic.”
“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
They walked together through a labyrinth of fluorescent lit cubicles until they reached Agent Clemons’ office, a sort of landfill with a desk and computer buried somewhere beneath an avalanche of case files. Agent Clemons said how happy he was to hear she was okay after the bridge attack and got her a cup of English breakfast tea. Bollier sipped the scalding tea and looked sheepishly at Clemons.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“And here I thought you would be visiting just for my company. So shoot. What is it?”
“That too of course. I need you to kill this Brooklyn manhunt for the ex-army guy.”
Agent Clemons raised an eyebrow at the detective.
“That would be the ex-army guy Jordan Ross who wasted an entire Russian hit squad at his home and then fled the scene?”
“That would be the one.”
“Not going to be easy to call that off. What’s your connection?”
“Are you really asking?”
“Just trying to cover my ass Leslie, t he district attorney is not going to be happy. They want Ross found and brought in, like yesterday.”
“I can’t say. I need you to trust me. He may be just the link we’ve been looking for…”
“For our… side project?”
“The side project, yes.”
Agent Clemons and Detective Bollier exchanged a mischievous glance and held it long enough that a casual observer wouldn’t be blamed for thinking they were flirting and would tear each other’s clothes off the moment they got alone together. When it was through Bollier drank her tea and watched the fed expectantly.
“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
“Yes actually. I hate to ask for anything on top of that but I’m starting to think there’s a leak in my precinct. Shirokov may have his hooks in somebody. There has been one too many coincidences lately. Could you look into it?”
For some reason Agent Clemons found this request to be a subject of great amusement. He laughed long and hard, slapping the knee of his slacks several times before he stopped.
“Is something funny?”
“A leak in your precinct? No! Perish the thought. You’re not exactly Ms. Current Events are you? Let me show you something.”
The federal agent must have worked out a system to the impenetrable clutter in his office. After rooting around the seemingly random heaps of information, he came up clutching a folder that was stamped in red ink FOR SENIOR PERSONNEL ONLY. Agent Clemons stood up and closed the door to his office then he opened the folder.
Glossy black and white pictures were inside. Surveillance photos taken from a coffee shop on 14 th street that Bollier knew to be a hangout for the Russians. The FBI must have been sitting on the location for weeks, snapping pictures and collecting audio samples. Agent Clemons flipped through the pictures. Bollier recognized several of the individuals; Roman Dhokorin, one of Shirokov’s top men, Boris Maslov, killed in action, the big bodyguard Vitaly Krupin, a few brief shots of Vladimir Shirokov himself wearing a gray suit and blue button down shirt, silver hair coiffed at shoulder length and a wicked smile playing on his lips while he read from a heavy book.
Agent Clemons stopped the slideshow for a moment and intoned in a serious voice.
“Now. Stop me when you see something disturbing.”
The next photo showed two uniformed policemen at the coffee shop, handing off an envelope to Krupin. Another had what looked like a customs agent doing the same. Then there were several pictures of two plainclothes detectives sitting and chatting with Shirokov. Leslie swallowed a lump in her throat when she recognized Casings and Castillo.
“Who else knows about this?”
“The director, the agent photographers, yours truly, and now yourself.” There were still two photos left in the bunch but
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