Up went a black brow.
“Nick, you’ve got talent, and insight, and let’s be honest here, you take crazy, stupid chances and you’re a bit uncaring about your own hide. I also think you’ve got the luck of the Devil, and that’s never something to discount. However, the important thing is you get results.”
The brow was still up. “You’re very kind.”
Savich grinned. “No, I’m not kind at all. I’m being entirely selfish here. I want you, Nick. Would you consider leaving New Scotland Yard and joining the FBI?”
Nicholas nearly spewed out the coffee he’d just drunk. “What? You want me to join the American FBI?”
“Yes. You’d have to go through the proper channels to apply, but with your spook and cop experience, your facility with languages, and your computer skills, you’re a match with what we’re looking for. You’re thirty-one, only a year over the average age for our entrants.
“You work well with our agents, and you’ve scored a big win recovering the Koh-i-Noor. I’ll even put in a good word for you. You’ll have to go through the academy at Quantico like all the other agents. It won’t be easy, and I can’t guarantee you won’t wash out.”
Nicholas said, “After all that, it would be a shame to blow the landing, wouldn’t it?”
Savich laughed. “I can’t promise, but I think I could get you assigned to the New York Field Office. It seems to me you’d be a good fit there, and from all the signs, Zachery thinks you’re a pretty handy guy to have around. I’d want you to work with my teams in Washington, D.C., as well, on a case-by-case basis.”
It was finally sinking in. The FBI. Nicholas Drummond, a cop with New Scotland Yard—the American FBI. He said slowly, “I hadn’t thought about another life-changing move, Savich. I really appreciate what you’ve said, but I’ll have to think about it, long and hard.” Only he didn’t, he realized, he really didn’t.
“All I can ask. Hurry, though. The new academy class starts soon. Now, you and Mike get home safe. And again, congratulations.”
Call ended, Nicholas sat back on the sofa, staring out at the Parisian sky. Rain had begun to fall. He hoped it would help put out the warehouse fire.
The American FBI.
Mike came into the living room. “Yeah? So will you be the first Brit in the FBI?”
“Agent Caine, were you eavesdropping?”
“Sure. Did you know he was going to ask you to come aboard?”
He shook his head.
“Will you? Will you come join us?”
He laid his arm along the back of the sofa. “What do you think, Mike? Do you want me to join you?”
She gave him a long look. He looked like he’d been in a major-league brawl and he’d won, just barely. He didn’t look at all like Mr. Aren’t I Great. What he looked was tough and dangerous and tired, and beneath it all was a deep well of excitement, and perhaps a dollop of uncertainty.
She said slowly, “Well, Dillon is right. All in all, you’re not a bad cop. You’ve got a pretty good brain. Trust the academy to train you up, make you into a real agent. Then yeah, maybe I could deal with having you in New York.”
“I’m blushing. You and Savich, both of you heaping all these compliments on my head.”
She joined him on the sofa and took one of his battered hands in hers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the queen makes you a knight or something.”
He felt the warmth of her flesh as she cradled his hand. It felt good. He realized she smelled like jasmine and wild grass again. He said, “Well, fact is, even though I hate to admit it, I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
She cocked her head to the side and regarded him thoughtfully. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we? If you come to New York, I wouldn’t say no to having you as a partner.”
“You’re saying if I join the FBI, you’d have my back?”
She patted his bruised cheek. “Stitches and all.”
99
Farrow-on-Grey, England
Old Farrow Hall, Drummond estate