Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

If I were at Police Plaza instead of Federal Plaza, I would have answered a sarcastic question like that by saying, "Can you imagine how much worse it could have been if the perp wasn't cuffed?" But this was not the time, place, or occasion for flippancy. A lot of innocent people were dead, and it was the job of the living to explain why. Nevertheless, King Jack was not getting off to a good start with his subjects.

Needless to say, no one answered the question, which seemed.to be rhetorical. It's a good idea to let the boss vent awhile. To his credit, he vented only for another minute or so, then sat down and stared off out the window. His view was toward the financial district, so there were no unhappy associations attached to that scene, unless he happened to own Trans-Continental stock.

Jack Koenig, by the way, was FBI, and I'm sure that Ted Nash did not like being spoken to in such a manner by an FBI guy. I, as a quasi-civilian, didn't like it either, but Koenig was the boss, and we were all part of the Task Force. The Team. Kate, being FBI, was in a career-threatening position, and so was George Foster, but George had chosen the easy job and stayed behind with the bodies.

King Jack seemed to be trying to get himself under control. Finally, he looked at Ted Nash and said, "I'm sorry about Peter Gorman. Did you know him?"

Nash nodded.

Koenig looked at Kate and said, "You were a friend of Phil Hundry."

"Yes."

Koenig looked at me and said, "I'm sure you've lost friends on the job. You know how hard that is."

"I do. Nick Monti had become my friend."

Jack Koenig stared off into space again, contemplating many things, I'm sure. It was a time for respectful silence, and we gave it about a minute, but everyone knew that we had to get back to business quickly.

I asked, perhaps undiplomatically, "Will Captain Stein be joining us?"

Koenig looked at me a moment and finally said, "He's taken direct charge of the stakeout and surveillance teams and has no time for meetings."

You never know what the bosses are actually up to, or what kind of palace struggle is going on, and it's best not to give a shit. I yawned to indicate that I just lost interest in both my question and Koenig's answer.

Koenig turned to Kate and said, "Okay, tell me what happened. From the top."

Kate seemed prepared for the question and went through the events of the day, chronologically, objectively, and quickly, but without rushing.

Koenig listened without interrupting. Roberts took notes. Somewhere an audiotape was spinning.

Kate mentioned my insistence on going out to the aircraft, and the fact that neither she nor Foster thought it was necessary.

Koenig's face remained impassive, neither approving nor disapproving throughout the narrative. He didn't raise an eyebrow, didn't frown, didn't wince, didn't nod or shake his head, and for sure never smiled. He was an expert listener and nothing in his manner or demeanor encouraged or discouraged his witness.

Kate got to the part where I went back into the dome of the 747 and discovered that Hundry's and Gorman's thumbs were missing. She stopped there and collected herself. Koenig glanced at me, and though he didn't give me any sign of approval, I knew that I was going to stay on the case.

Kate moved on with the sequence of events, giving only the facts, leaving the speculation and theories for later, if and when Koenig asked for them. Kate Mayfield had an amazing memory for detail, and an astonishing ability to refrain from coloring and slanting facts. I mean, in similar situations when I was on the carpet in front of the bosses, I would try not to color or slant, unless I was protecting a bud, but I have been known to have memory lapses.

Kate concluded with, "George decided to stay and take charge of the scene. We all concurred, and we asked Officer Simpson to drive us here."

I glanced at my watch. Kate's narrative had taken forty minutes. It was now nearly 8:00 P.M., the time when my brain usually needs alcohol.

Jack Koenig sat back in his chair, and I could see he was processing the facts. He said, "It seems as though Khalil was just a step or two ahead of us."

I decided to reply and said, "That's all it takes in a race. Second place is just the first loser."

Mr. Koenig regarded me a moment and repeated, "Second place is the first loser. Where did you get that?"

"I think the Bible."

Koenig said to Roberts, "Take a break," and Mr. Roberts put down his pencil.

Koenig said to me, "I understand you've put in a transfer request for the IRA section."

I cleared my throat and replied, "Well, I did, but-"

"Do you have some personal grudge against the Irish Republican Army?"

"No, actually, I-"

Kate spoke up and said, "John and I discussed this earlier, and he has withdrawn the request."

That's not exactly what I said to her, but it sounded better than my racist and sexist remarks regarding Muslims. I glanced at Kate and our eyes met.

Koenig informed me, "I reviewed the Plum Island case last fall."

I didn't reply.

"I read the case report prepared by Ted Nash and George Foster, and the report that was written by a Detective Beth Penrose of the Suffolk County Homicide Division." He added, "There seemed to be some differences of opinion and fact between the ATTF report and the Suffolk County Police report. Most of the differences had to do with your role in the case."

"I had no official role in the case."

"Nevertheless, you solved the case."

"I had a lot of time on my hands. Maybe I need a hobby."

He didn't smile. He said, "Detective Penrose's report was perhaps colored by your relationship with her."

"I had no relationship with her at the time."

"But you did when she wrote her final report."

"Excuse me, Mr. Koenig, I've been through this with the NYPD Internal Affairs-"

"Oh, they have people who investigate affairs?"

This, I realized, was a joke and I chuckled, a second or two late.

"Also," he continued, "Ted and George's report may have been colored by the fact that you pissed them off."

I glanced at Nash, who seemed totally aloof, as usual, as though Koenig was talking about another Ted Nash.

Koenig said, "I was fascinated by your ability to get to the heart of a very complex case that had eluded everyone else."

"It was standard detective work," I said modestly, hoping that Mr. Koenig would say, "No, my boy, you're brilliant."

But he didn't say that. He said, "That's why we hire NYPD detectives. They bring something different to the table."

"Like donuts," I suggested.

Mr. Koenig was neither amused nor annoyed. He said, "They bring to the table a degree of common sense, street smarts, and an insight into the criminal mind that is slightly different from that of an FBI or CIA agent. Do you agree?"

"Absolutely."

"It is an article of faith in the ATTF that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Synergy. Right?"

"Right. "

"This is only possible through mutual respect and cooperation."

"I was just about to say that."

He regarded me a moment and asked, "Do you want to stay on this case?"

"Yes. I do."

He leaned toward me and looked in my eyes. He said, "I don't want to see any grandstanding, I don't want to hear about any shitty attitudes, and I want complete loyalty from you, Mr. Corey, or so help me God, I'll have your head stuffed and mounted on my desk. Agreed?"

My goodness. The guy sounded like my ex-bosses. There must be something about me that brings out the nasties in people. Anyway, I mulled over the contract amendment. Could I be a loyal and cooperative team player? No, but I wanted the job. I realized that Mr. Koenig hadn't demanded that I cease my sarcasm or dull my rapier wit, and I took this as either approval or an oversight on his part. I crossed my fingers and said, "Agreed."