“This building isn’t precisely a ghost town on August Fridays, but a lot of people clear out—especially the businesses on the other floors. Don’t even try and schedule a meeting after lunch on a Friday in August,” she told Cassie.
“We’re getting so Parisian in the two-one-two,” Cassie murmured. She was distracted. She hadn’t fallen asleep until, almost in desperation near midnight, she had done a couple shots of vodka, popped a pair of Advil PMs, and swallowed a few tabs of melatonin. Normally she didn’t need melatonin on this side of the Atlantic. But normally she wasn’t meeting with lawyers and then the FBI. She’d been fine—a little fuzzy maybe, but fine—when she had first crawled out of bed and walked to the Rite-Aid for the newspapers.
Ani smiled at her small joke, but Cassie could see concern in her eyes. “You look tired,” she said.
“I am.” She stared at the falafel and sauce in its pita. The wrap in its wax paper. She had no appetite today, and tried to decide if she was any less hungry than usual.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I think so.”
Ani wiped her fingers on her napkin and reached over and took Cassie’s hands. “Try not to worry. You’re not in Dubai. No one is going to prosecute you for committing an act that may lure a person to sin.”
“That’s a thing in the Emirates?”
“It is. So is having consensual sex outside of wedlock.”
She looked down at her hands in Ani’s. Her skin was so pale compared to the lawyer’s. It was August. Why hadn’t she been to the beach? Or a lake? Or even, for God’s sake, a tanning salon and gotten sprayed? She took back her hands, hoping Ani wouldn’t think it was an unfriendly gesture. “We should eat,” she added quickly, trying to give a concrete reason for her discomfort with Ani’s kindness. With her touch.
“Yes,” the lawyer agreed.
“I went by Unisphere yesterday. After you and I spoke.”
“You what?”
“I wanted to learn more about Alex,” she said, aware of how sheepish she sounded.
“Had you been drinking?”
“No! I think I should be a little insulted you even asked that.”
“God. Tell me precisely what happened,” Ani commanded, and so Cassie did, sharing her exchange with the woman from personnel and the little she’d gleaned from the encounter.
“They’re going to know it’s you—if they don’t already,” the lawyer said when she’d finished.
“I suspected as much. But I had to try.”
“Please promise me that you won’t do that sort of thing again.”
“I promise,” she agreed. “Did you find out anything more about Alex at your end?” she asked.
“No. But I called my investigator friend again last night,” Ani said. “Did you read Alex’s obituary?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t it scream spy to you?”
Ani took a small bite of the wrap and seemed to think carefully before answering. “It doesn’t scream that. Maybe it hints at that. I picked up on how brief it was.”
“And the cities.”
“Lots of people work in Moscow and Dubai who have nothing to do with espionage.”
“When will the investigator know something?”
“Next week,” Ani answered. “Maybe even early next week.”
“Okay.”
“Now, this afternoon, the case agent—this Frank Hammond—is going to be sneaky. It’s possible you’re going to think he’s a freaking dunce. But he’s not, I assure you. An FBI knife goes in very slowly. FBI agents are trained to get someone to unwittingly tell the truth. Also? I’m sure he knows a lot more than the newspapers do. He knows everything the FBI’s legal attaché in the Emirates knows, and they’re eight hours ahead of us. There were probably developments today that we know absolutely nothing about.”
“God…”
“Don’t feel that way. A lot depends on whether the Emirates feels like playing ball with the U.S. They may not. It’s their country. And while they might be worried about some kind of tourism backlash, the rest of the Muslim Middle East is a hell of a lot scarier to most Americans than Dubai. Besides, it’s not like there’s a pattern of violent crime against tourists there. The truth is, there’s really no reason why Dubai will care all that much about the murder of some money manager in their fair city.”
“Unless they actually want to make it clear that he was killed by another American: a drunk flight attendant from New York.”
“I guess. But assuming he was just some MBA with Unisphere Asset Management, I really can’t understand why the FBI would give a damn. And yet it’s clear that they do.”
“Do you believe they’re still looking for an American woman who lives in Dubai?”
“Nope.”
“No?” She heard the fear in her voice.
“I mean, I don’t know that for a fact. But by now they’ve talked to the people Alex knew or might have known. Everyone who was supposed to be in that meeting, everyone with Unisphere. Everyone at the hotel. They’re working their way backward. By now every American woman he spoke with on that flight from Paris to Dubai—especially the flight attendant—is under suspicion.”
“I see.”
Ani put down her wrap and took a breath. “Now, this meeting with the FBI isn’t precisely a situation where you can perjure yourself. This isn’t a sworn deposition. But they will try and catch you in a lie, and it is a federal offense to lie to an FBI agent. You may not even feel the knife going in until they begin to twist it.”
“I had been planning to lie like crazy when we landed. But they never asked me anything that demanded a lie.”
“That’s good.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Well, first of all, don’t lie. Just don’t. But you can take the Fifth Amendment. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes. But then, of course, I sound like a Mafia wife.”
“That is the problem with the Fifth. The FBI may still be fishing—they might in fact have nothing concrete—and if you take the Fifth, that’s a pretty serious nibble. So, I want you to look at me before you answer any question. If I nod, tell the truth. If I shake my head, take the Fifth.”
Cassie watched a plane flying silently high overhead. Even now, despite her years at thirty-five thousand feet, the miracle of flight continued to move her. “Won’t you be sitting next me?”
“Probably. But I don’t care if they see me coaching you. That doesn’t matter. Good God, if necessary, I will jump in for you and say you’re taking the Fifth. The thing is…” Ani’s voice trailed off.
“Go on.”
“I wanted to tell you this in person. You may not be extraditable for murder, but you aren’t out of the woods. There are other reasons why you could be prosecuted in the U.S. for Sokolov’s death. Terrorism, for instance.”
“What?”
“It’s unlikely. But here’s the chain. The Department of Justice and the OVT: the Office of Justice for Victims of Overseas Terrorism. The OVT reports to National Security. The OVT director meets weekly with the folks in counterterrorism and counterespionage. Alex Sokolov is an American citizen who was murdered abroad, and his death could be handed over to them—especially if he was someone important to the government.”
“That’s absurd. Once in a while I may drink too much, but I’m not a terrorist.”
“I get it. I just want to be sure you understand the stakes before we go downtown. Now, you should eat. You really should. If you don’t like falafel, don’t be polite. Tell me. We’ll find you something else. I want to coach you for a few minutes, and I want to be sure you have some sustenance inside you before we meet with the FBI.”
She nodded and started to eat, and tried to pay attention. Suddenly, she was feeling like a victim herself, and that only made her feel worse. It shamed her to feel that way. After all, she wasn’t the body left behind in the bed.
* * *