Keiko Ochiai, Assistant Director of the Antiquities Division, was not what Remi had expected.
She had imagined Daniel’s boss to be some square-jawed older man who looked like a marine and swore like a sailor.
Instead she found herself talking to an immaculately dressed Japanese-American woman. She didn’t look any older than Remi, which meant that she was just as devoted to, and successful in, her line of work as Remi was to hers.
They sat in comfortable chairs in a spacious corner office. A large window overlooked a garden. Artful black and white photos on the walls showed horses and cattle and Asian ranch hands.
“I want to congratulate you on your fine work with the Cryptex Killer case,” Assistant Director Ochiai said in a surprising Texas drawl. “And thank you for helping with this one too. Montgomery Dyson isn’t your usual murder victim. He was on the Fortune 500. His cousin is the senior senator from Pennsylvania.”
“I see,” Remi said. “I’ll be available for the entire case if you need me.”
“Agent Walker is flying to New York this afternoon. I can approve travel funds for you to go with him. I’m sure you have already packed a suitcase.”
Remi blinked. This woman was a good judge of character.
“I have.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Daniel turn to stare at her.
“Excellent,” Assistant Director Ochiai said. “You’ll be a great asset to Agent Walker.”
“So you want me to be on the case for more than an initial consultation?” She hadn’t even had the chance to ask. This was going better than she had hoped.
“Certainly. If you have the time.”
“I can make the time.” Remi licked her lips, cleared her throat, and went on. “I was thinking that I could be more of an asset to Agent Walker, and to Antiquities Division, if I was a consultant on a more permanent basis.”
Assistant Director Ochiai cocked her head. “Meaning?”
“If I could be brought on board as a long-term civilian consultant, I would be on hand to help Agent Walker with cases, as well as other problems that come across your desk. My father was a police officer in Paris, and he always complained there were far more leads to follow up than personnel to handle them. I don’t suppose it’s any different in America.”
“It sure isn’t. But wouldn’t your obligations at Georgetown University keep you too busy for this sort of work?”
“My visa expires in nine months. After that I will have to return to France.”
“Are you suggesting you stay on in the United States longer than that?”
“I’d be willing, as long as my wage was sufficient.”
Assistant Director Ochiai studied her for a long moment. Remi tensed. She would not want to be under that piercing gaze in an interrogation room.
“Eager for a change of career, eh? Taking you on board on a semi-permanent basis would be no simple matter. It has to go through channels and get approval from people higher up the chain of command. Doing well on one single case might not be enough to convince them.”
Probably not. But is this even what I want? This would be such a big change. All that work in graduate school, all that climbing up the academic ladder …
I can decide later, assuming they even make the offer.
Remi looked her in the eye. It was no easy thing to do. “I’ll do well on this case too.”
Was that a spark of approval she saw in the assistant director’s eyes?
If so, it didn’t come out in her voice.
“We’ll see. And even then, it’s no guarantee. But we do appreciate your help, Professor Laurent.”
Remi felt uncertain about her next request but decided to plunge ahead.
“There’s a certain amount of danger in these cases. The little bottle of pepper spray I carry in my purse isn’t enough to protect me. Could I get a permit to carry a concealed firearm?”
Beside her, Daniel sputtered.
Assistant Director Ochiai shook her head. “No.”
“I need—”
“No. You’re on an H1 visa. You’re not allowed to bear arms. Not even the director of the FBI could clear that with Customs and Immigration, unless you were a foreign police officer working on a special case on U.S. soil. Which you’re not. Even then it’s difficult.”
“But last time—”
“No. If you become a permanent resident, it’s possible, but not with your current status. You are a civilian consultant, Professor Laurent, not an officer of the law. Now I’m sure you and Agent Walker have a lot to do before your flight.”
Having been essentially told the meeting was over, Remi and Daniel stood.
Remi didn’t want to leave the office on a sour note, though. She smiled and pointed to the photos.
“These are well done,” Remi said. “Who took them?”
Assistant Director Ochiai smiled. “I did. A hobby of mine.”
“She won the FBI photography contest three years in a row,” Daniel told her.
“And Agent Walker won the marksmanship award two years running. You won’t need a gun with him at your side, Professor Laurent.”
* * *
Daniel let out a gust of relief as they left the building. That had gone better than any meeting he had ever had with Assistant Director Ochiai. Maybe she gave Remi the benefit of the doubt because she was a woman. Ochiai sure as hell didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt.
“What’s this about wanting a gun?” Daniel asked, slightly irritated that she hadn’t told him that before. It made them both look ridiculous.
“I nearly got killed by the Cryptex Killer.”
“Because you didn’t listen to me when I told you to hang back.”
“What if this killer springs on us by surprise? I need to be able to defend myself.”
“You can’t just pick up a gun and expect to be able to handle it. That takes training. Practice.”
Remi shrugged. “Show me, then.”
Daniel stared at her. “Show you?”
“Doesn’t the FBI have a firing range?”
He clicked his tongue. “I can’t take you there. Members only.”
“You make it sound like an exclusive country club.”
“Yeah, except with no golf course and no waiters. There’s nothing exclusive about the FBI. Except for the fact that they don’t allow civilians onto the firing range. Way too much liability.”
Remi got on her phone.
“Did you get an answer from your Belgian friend?” Daniel asked.
“No, I’m looking for shooting ranges.”
“Huh?”
“I need to practice.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my! So many.”
“Welcome to America. We don’t have time for this. How about we solve the case and then I take you shooting.”
Remi gave him that slightly superior, slightly amused look she used way too often. “How about I take myself shooting?”
“Because I can give you good advice. Anyway, back to the job. We’re taking the next flight to New York, so I’m glad you have your bags packed and ready. We need to speak to a number of art dealers, at least one of whom is probably dealing in stolen art.”
“Probably more than one. It’s far too common.”
“So I’ve heard. We need to trace the paintings. I think the best thing to do is for me to pretend to be a buyer and you’re my assistant.”
Remi arched an eyebrow. “Assistant?”
“Come on, it’s just playacting. And it’s for the case. You’re my hired expert. Sound better?”
“Sounds accurate. But I don’t think you would be convincing as a billionaire.”
“No, perhaps not. We’ll have to think of some other role.” Daniel turned and looked her in the eye. “But we’re playing in earnest, Remi. One of these art dealers may very well be the murderer. I need you to promise to stay close where I can protect you. You’re not getting a gun, not now and probably not ever. You need to stick with me, work with me. Law enforcement uses the partner system for a reason. We guard each other’s backs.”
Still that arrogant smile. “All right, Daniel. I’ll guard your back.”
Daniel groaned inwardly. This woman was going to get them in trouble. Again.
He just knew it.