CHAPTER TWO
1556 Words
CHAPTER TWO
Daniel Walker smiled to himself as he walked into Keiko Ochiai’s office. It was good to see Remi again. He’d been keeping tabs on her ever since she had started training. All her instructors said she was coming along nicely. Even Agent Herrero, although the martial artist had told him in no uncertain terms that in any physical conflict, Daniel should take the lead.
Easier said than done. She went off on her own so much that Daniel sometimes felt like he was taking care of one of his friends’ kids.
As he passed into his boss’s office, he switched his focus to the here and now. Assistant Director Ochiai didn’t call people in for routine stuff like tracking down stolen stamp collections.
The office interior was modern, with ergonomic chairs and one wall entirely of glass, overlooking the D.C. skyline. The other walls were decorated with excellent black and white photos of Japanese-American cowboys and farmers, taken by the assistant director herself, mostly on her father’s ranch and those in the surrounding community of west Texas. She had won several agency photo competitions.
“Good afternoon, Agent Walker, please sit,” Assistant Director Ochiai said in her Texas drawl.
“Good to see you again, assistant director.”
Good to see you because this probably means I’m getting a real assignment.
“We have a case I’d like you to look into.”
Bingo.
She slipped over a file from a stack on her desk. One of the thin ones. That meant a new case with a lot of legwork. Ah well, legwork was part of the job. Most of the job, as a matter of fact.
“Professor Edward Hale was murdered last night at his house in Richmond. He taught history and theology at the University of Virginia. Unknown assailant, unknown motive.”
“I see,” Daniel said, taking the file and opening it. “Why involve the Antiquities Division?”
“Because three years ago Professor Hale was found innocent of antiquities smuggling.”
“Oh.” Now it’s getting interesting.
“Information on the trial is all in there. To summarize, he was accused of trafficking Biblical-era objects stolen from archaeological sites in Israel, Syria, and Jordan.”
“How did he get off?”
“A good lawyer and lack of evidence. You see, no money changed hands.”
Daniel looked up. “I beg your pardon?”
“He traded. At least on this end. He might have bought the items from dealers in the Middle East with cash, but as far as the prosecutors could make out, he traded the artifacts for different artifacts.”
“Such as?”
“Rare books, mostly, including some quite early manuscripts. While some are in a safety deposit box, others were apparently at the home.”
“Gone now.”
“Yes.”
“But that’s not the motive?”
“The thief picked an evening of a school night when Hale was likely to be home. Indeed, most of the lights were on.”
“Forced entry?”
“No.”
So Hale knew his assailant, or at least didn’t suspect he came with murder on his mind.
“Can I call in Agent Laurent on this?” he asked. It would be good to have her in on this.
“Of course. The accelerated training program allows for fieldwork. Indeed, fieldwork is the best training.”
“I agree. I’ll grab her and head down to Richmond immediately.”
He rose, already excited for the chase. Assistant Director Ochiai raised a hand.
“Agent Walker.”
“Yes?”
“Agent Laurent is still in training. And according to the reports from her instructors and your own comments she is impulsive. It is your duty to keep her in line and keep her safe.”
Daniel paused, then nodded.
“I will, ma’am.”
Easier said than done.
* * *
“What’s the matter?” Remi asked her lover quietly, a sense of dread growing in her chest.
Lunch had not gone well. Cyril had been strangely quiet and physically distant. They had sat in one of their favorite Italian restaurants, eating quietly. Cyril had ordered a carafe of wine and drank it almost by himself. Dessert had come and gone, and over their coffee Cyril had squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. It was the first time he had done so for the entire meal.
He put his coffee cup down with a loud clink.
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words came out hard, accusatory.
Remi blinked. “What do you mean?”
Cyril gestured at her impatiently. “You. Running off to join the FBI. Giving up your career. Giving up on Georgetown.”
Remi leaned forward and put a hand on his. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on us.”
He pulled his hand away. It took a moment longer than it should have if his anger was entirely genuine.
“Yes, you have. You’ve put off our wedding date ever since I proposed. You keep disappearing on cases at a moment’s notice, and you come back bruised and exhausted. When you sleep over, a rare thing these days, you toss and turn and mutter in your sleep. When you’re awake you look like you’re a million miles away. And you never talk about our future anymore. Hell, I found a house for us, and you let it slip through our fingers because you were on a case in Europe!”
That wasn’t fair. He had already admitted that she couldn’t buy a house sight unseen. He couldn’t use that as ammunition now.
“I’m still serious about us, Cyril, I—”
“This is the first time we’ve had lunch in more than a week. Remember how we used to have lunch nearly every day?”
She remembered. It seemed like a long, long time ago.
“I’m very busy with training. I told you how intense it is.”
“Yes, and then you’ll be busy with cases, and what if they want to transfer you?”
“The Antiquities Division is based here in D.C.”
“Sure, it is now. But what about six months from now? What if they decide to base it in New York since that’s where so much of the art smuggling is based? Or what if they want you on a long-term assignment in another country? What happens to us then?”
Remi leaned forward, feeling a growing sense of panic and trying to get him to look her in the eye again. “We can work through all that. We had a long-distance relationship before and—”
Even before Cyril interrupted her, she knew she had said the wrong thing.
“Oh great, we go back to having a long-distance relationship. Don’t you remember how agonizing that was? We hated it. Both of us. That’s why I arranged for you to come to Georgetown. I thought we were going to make this permanent.”
Remi bit her lip. Of course she knew all this, and knew the hurt he was feeling even if it hadn’t been apparent in every word he spoke; and yet she couldn’t say what he wanted to hear.
He wanted to hear that she’d cast aside this silly new career before it was too late, go back to academia, and marry him.
But she couldn’t cast aside this career. It made her feel more alive than she had felt in years. And she couldn’t go back to academia. Her status at the Sorbonne had been canceled the instant that stuffy Parisian institution had heard of her career change, and she knew that the old men who ran the university had only ever accepted her on sufferance and would never take her back.
And marrying Cyril?
She could. She might. She had assumed that one day she would.
And now it was him who was calling it off.
“Look, Cyril, just give me a few weeks. I know I haven’t been spending enough time with you and I’m sorry. But once things settle down, we can work it out.”
Cyril shook his head sadly. “No. It’s not going to work. You made your decision when you left Georgetown. I can see you wanted another way to stay in the United States without having to marry me. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I rushed you too much. But I did it because I loved you. I still love you. But I can’t go on like this. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
He got up, squeezed her shoulder, and walked off.
And Remi realized this conversation had never had the chance to end any other way. Much of what he said had sounded rehearsed. He had made his decision before they had even sat down to eat.
She was so stunned by what had just occurred that by the time she turned around to call after him, he had already stepped out of the restaurant …
… and out of her life.
Just then, her phone rang.
Daniel.
“Oh God, not now,” she muttered.
It kept ringing. Wiping her eyes, she cleared her throat and answered it.
- Writer
