The Backup Asset

…67

“Gotta hand it to you,” Jeremy said as they were arriving at the Botanical Gardens, where surveillance had told them they could find Smolin, “you got some serious skills.”

“Thanks,” Alex said modestly, then decided to take advantage of Jeremy’s state of mind. “That means you’ll let me interrogate Smolin?”

“You know I can’t do that,” he said apologetically. “Nothing changed in our procedure book since the last time we had this argument.”

They walked silently for a few yards, then he continued, “Oh, and you need to stay here. You can’t come any closer to where he is.”

“The hell I can’t,” she snapped at him. “Yesterday I was able to come within fifty feet of him, today I can’t?”

“It’s procedure. In case he pulls a gun, or fires it. You could get caught in the crossfire or get hurt. You haven’t gone through our gun proficiency. You’re a civilian, after all. How about you start behaving like one?”

“We’re supposed to be partners; for Christ’s sake, Jeremy, don’t be such an ass. Can’t you just bend the rules a little? There’s enough manpower here to arrest a dozen Russians.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t risk it; it’s not worth it. You either stay here, or I’ll lock you in the back of the car.”

“Fine, whatever,” she grumbled angrily, splitting the word in half as to make it more powerful.

She watched the three men approach Smolin’s backgammon table. He was alone, reading a newspaper. He sensed their arrival and put the newspaper down on the table, then stood slowly, assessing his options. He knew what the three men wanted even before they spoke.

She felt her hair stand on end; there was something about Smolin, something feral. She started walking toward him in a brisk pace, almost running, discreetly clasping the handle of her gun under her jacket.

“Evgheni Smolin?” Jeremy said, wielding his badge. “I’m Agent Weber with the FBI. We’d like to speak with you, ask you a few questions.”

As if in slow motion, Alex saw Smolin check his surroundings quickly, looking left, then right, making an assessment of the environment. Then he pulled his gun, lightning fast, and pulled the trigger, aiming for Jeremy’s head. But Alex had already fired her PPK, and her bullet hit Smolin in the right shoulder, causing him to swerve his gun and miss the target.

Smolin’s bullet whistled past Jeremy’s head, missing it by less than a foot and hitting the old oak tree behind him. The other two agents approached Smolin and disarmed him, then started reading him his rights.

“Whew,” Jeremy said, wiping his sweaty forehead, “what kind of consultant are you?”

She smiled and holstered her weapon. “You’re welcome.”