They had barely sat down at their desks, having finished their salads and gotten apple tart to take out, when Goren's phone rang again. "Hello? That was quick. Thanks." He dashed across to the office, calling across his shoulder. "That was Whitefield."
Eames noticed he'd left the phone off the hook. She picked it up, and heard Whitefield's voice squawking out of it. "Goren?"
"He's just gone to pick up your fax. Sorry. He gets a little over-excited sometimes."
"Huh. Well, good hunch on his part. Your killer isn't Ahmed Nissar. His real name's Mikhail Andropov, and he's ex-Russian Special Forces, a mercenary for hire. He's half-Asian – his father was Russian, don't know much about the mother. Your dead guy made some very nasty enemies. Andropov doesn't sell his skills cheap, and he's hard to find, let alone hire."
"Thanks. Thanks a lot."
"Not a problem. Tell Goren thanks from me. Andropov has been off the radar for a while, and he's wanted in at least five countries for assassination and arms dealing. I'll see if I can't send some guys over to help you find him."
"That's not-"
"Believe me, it is necessary. No offence to you and your partner, but this guy's a real pro. If your paths are going to cross his, you're going to want to check yourself out some bulletproof armour. He's killed cops before."
"Thanks for the warning."
"No problem." She hung up as Goren returned, clutching a sheaf of papers. They began reading through them, then Deakins called them into his office for an update.
"So, Elahi was killed by a professional assassin? Nasty. Do you have any idea why?" Deakins asked at the end of her explanation of what they'd found so far.
Goren rubbed his face tiredly. "We can't find anything so far. He'd been over here barely a day. The answer's almost certainly in England."
"Hmm." Deakins thought for a few minutes. Eames noticed he seemed particularly interested in this case. Normally, he was happy to sit back a little and let them get on with it. This pressure for regular updates so early on in the case was new, and she suspected someone somewhere was leaning on him. She was grateful that he wasn't passing that pressure on to them – yet.
"Well," he said, turning back to them. "I'll see what I can do about getting the two of you over there."
The department will pay for that? she thought. Not that she wasn't excited to be going. Even if it was for work, not pleasure, a change of scene would be a welcome break from the routine. She glanced at Bobby to see how he was taking this. He looked… thoughtful, and perhaps not in a good way, she thought with a small stir of concern. Even so, she thought, disregarding that for a minute, this had all the hallmarks of a case that was important to someone somewhere who had to have big political connections, if they were able to get Major Case assigned to a homicide. She did not want to find herself and Bobby being made scapegoats, and there were few things she disliked more than being kept in the dark.
She decided to risk it. "Captain? Can I ask why this case was assigned to Major Case, not Homicide?"
Deakins smiled wryly. "You can ask, but unfortunately, I can't give you much of an answer. I was asked to assign it to you by the Chief of Detectives. As for who asked him – I can't tell you." Can't or won't? she thought.
"Thanks, sir," she replied. Interesting, if not very informative. They left the captain's office, and returned to their desk.
"So, we're off to London," she said. "Better see if we can get an upgrade to Business Class."
"Huh?"
"You fancy sitting in economy all the way across the Atlantic?" The lack of legroom wouldn't bother her all that much, but sitting next to a fidgety, cramped Bobby Goren for eight hours would probably drive her up the wall.
"No," he replied. He seemed distracted. Oh, damn, she thought, as the reason why occurred to her. They were coming up to the anniversary of Sienna's departure, and here they were, being assigned to go to the city she'd moved to. What was he thinking? She couldn't help wondering if perhaps he was speculating on the possibility of trying to find her… it surely wouldn't be that hard, if she was working with the Metropolitan police… no, Eames, she told herself, you're being a romantic. Stay out of Bobby's private life.
She looked up to see Logan and Barek standing by the desk. "Couldn't help overhearing," the other woman said by way of answering her questioning gaze. "You're being sent to London?"
"Yes, as soon as Deakins can get the flights arranged," she replied, noticing that Goren had gone off into one of his reveries and probably was only vaguely aware of some humanoid shapes in his field of vision. "You'll have to mind the office. And Logan, don't think I won't notice if you steal the stapler from my desk again."
He grinned in reply. "Who, me? Have yourselves a good time, and don't worry. We can run things just fine without you for a few days."
"It's only going to be a few days, remember that. We'll be back before you know it."
Twenty-four hours later, they were somewhere over the mid-Atlantic, reviewing their case notes and trying to decide whether to go for the chicken or the beef. It would all taste the same anyway, she thought, then shook her head to herself in some amazement. Whoever was pulling the strings here was pulling hard; Deakins had had the flight details for her before they left work the previous day, barely giving them time to pack, secure their apartments, tell their families and get ready to go.
One clue they did have; they had the name of the Scotland Yard officer who would be their contact over in London. Bobby had found time to do a little background detecting, and come up with a very interesting discovery. DS James Hood was not part of a regular detective squad. Exactly what squad he was attached to, even Goren hadn't been able to discover, which in itself told them something. As his source over in London had told them, "when you don't know where they work, that means one of two things; Ghost Squad or Special Branch". This wasn't an internal investigation, so that meant that Hood was, almost certainly, part of the branch of the UK police tasked with collecting intelligence on terrorist activities. She glanced across at Bobby, who was staring out of the window at the darkening sky, a thoughtful expression on his face. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she was suddenly and deeply glad for his presence beside her. Whatever this case threw at them, they could cope with as long as they were together.
