7. Avery
AVERY
PLAYLIST: MOVE LIKE U STOLE IT – ZZ WARD
“So tell me, what are your longest open cases?” I ask Shaw to steer the conversation elsewhere because I can see she is close to losing her mind.
I am testing how far I can go right now, because this here is a whole new level of fun.
I planned to cut the ankle monitor, but I might play this game for a little while.
Out of one reason. It keeps me close to the investigations and therefore gives me access to information and seized art, but that’s not what interests me most. It’s the thrill.
The thrill of fooling the entire FBI right under their nose.
And if I am able to make her trust me enough to give me access to information, I might be able to get not only the hat after but all else I need with much less effort than I originally thought.
Meaning I will point the FBI to every artifact I need and snatch it from right under their noses.
A grin wants to fight its way onto my lips because my plan is absolute genius.
“There is a list in my office,” she says.
“I want it now,” I say.
“Well, you don’t always get what you want because you say so,” she snaps at me. I laugh. Because the thing is, I do. I get everything that I want, whenever I want it.
I take my phone.
“Rossi,” I say, a grin cracking on my face because I will make Shaw so mad with what I am about to do. “I need a list of all cold cases our friends from the FBI have.”
Shaw rolls her eyes and stares at me in utter disbelief.
“The full in print or digital?” asks Rossi.
“Print.”
“Got it.” Rossi has always been very efficient.
“Thanks, I’m at Antonio’s,” I say.
“Sweetheart, I know. I’m there in five.”
I laugh and hang up.
“Who’s Rossi?” asks Reid.
“Rossi,” I say. Because there is no way to describe Rossi. He’s the gay bestie everyone needs, an epic tracker, a master of distraction, and the reason why I haven’t been caught before.
Shaw opens her mouth and closes it again. She apparently understood she won’t get anything out of me.
Five minutes later, a courier walks into the restaurant. I recognize Rossi, though disguised, of course. He hands an envelope to Antonio, who brings it to me.
“Your delivery, belle,”
“Grazie,” I tell him, take the envelope and open it.
“So,” I say without giving Shaw a glance as I go through the list Rossi has printed out for me. “174 open cases of high public interest, and—589 of minor relevance.”
“You know,” Shaw says. “Technically, you committed a crime having this list.”
“Technically, I didn’t do anything wrong, because Rossi acquired this list, and it’s the same list you offered me in your office, so let’s not start with being picky.”
She groans.
I chuckle.
This is actually fun.
“Pick your food,” I tell her.
“I don’t—really, not hungry,” she says.
“Pick something or I will,” I say without looking at her as my eyes scan over the list.
“I—“ she stammers, groans, takes the menu again, sighs, and starts twitching with her leg.
It annoys me.
“Antonio,” I call, and he arrives momentarily.
“The Risotto al Nero di Seppia con Tartufo Bianco e Burrata Affumicata for her, and for me the Risotto al Tartufo Nero con Porcini e Olio di Basilico, please.”
Antonio nods, and I steal the pen from his belt without his notice.
“I don’t like risotto,” she says like a stubborn child.
“You will love this one. Also, it’s a lie; you eat that risotto from that horrible place around the corner on 7th twice a week,” I say dismissively.
“Have you been watching me?”
“Of course I have,” I say and glance at her. “How else could I evade capture that long?”
“Wonderful,” she says.
“You wanted honesty; I can lie if you want,” I offer casually.
She only shakes her head, and I dive back to the list.
“Yep, this was me,” I say and strike out the jade burial suit. “This too. And this. And—“
Fifteen minutes later, I struck out half of the cases on the public-interest list. Shaw has her arm resting on the table, her forehead resting on her fingers in complete disbelief as she comes to understand the extent of my activities.
“You are kidding,” she says as I hand her the list.
“Do you see me laughing? I am quite proud of that list.”
“You were twelve when the Book of Horus disappeared!” she says loudly.
“Learned from the best,” I say smugly.
Our food arrives.
Shaw stares at her plate and pokes it.
“Not a fan of things you don’t know?” I ask her.
“Not at all,” she says through gritted teeth.
“You would probably have caught me years ago if not for your rigidity,” I say. “Eat and overcome.”
She stares at me.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re following the rules like an Evangelical follows the bible. Do you think every agent sticks to the protocol? They don’t. That’s how they close their cases.”
“I have the highest closure rate in decades,” she says defiantly.
“Yes, quantity sounds good, but the quality matters, doesn’t it?”
“I got you in the end.”
“True, because I let it happen. I am here because I want to be. You wouldn’t have caught me otherwise. Well, or rather kept me locked up.”
“Gods, your arrogance is staggering. Do you ever slip on it?”
“Not that I am aware of,” I say, taking a bite of my food. I chew it and add, “The thing is, I know what I can do and how handsome I am; the arrogance comes as a default setting.”
“You know,” Shaw says after a moment's pause, “I almost pity you. What horrible thing you must have gone through to become such a cold-hearted bitch.”
I touch her. She is reacting emotionally.
The corners of my mouth tug into a smirk as I say, “I’m not a project, Shaw. I love being one for those who don’t know me.”
She takes a bite from her risotto out of pure spite—exactly what I counted on.
“Okay,” she says, “That's actually pretty good.”
“It is,” I say. “You can trust me with taste.”
She snorts and chokes on her food, and when her coughing has calmed down, she hisses something that sounds like “I wouldn’t trust you with a hairpin.”
“I wouldn’t either,” I say and take another bite of my lunch, before I add sardonically, “I could pick a lock with it, obstruct justice, or stab someone’s carotid.”
“Have you?” she asks.
“Have I what?”
“Stabbed someone’s carotid.”
“I thought you know me so well, you should know.”
“Have you?” she asks more intensely. I know I am driving her crazy, which makes it so fun.
“If I had, you were the last person I’d tell about it.”
She breathes out heavily and takes another spoonful of her risotto. She loathes it when I don’t answer her questions directly. I let her sit with it.
We eat in silence.
She is annoyed.
I have the time of my life.
I hand Antonio my black Amex when we are done and notice her gaze very well as she tries to read the name on it.
“Won’t bring you anywhere,” I tell her. “It’s registered to a trust that sits in a shell corp that is managed by people that don’t exist.”
I can’t keep myself from smirking. Her emotions show so raw on her face, first and foremost, her annoyance.
“I hate people like you,” she says.
“I know,” I say and get up. “Something I can live with. And if you wouldn’t suck government dick every day and broaden your horizon, you’d understand the players aren’t the problem; the game makers are.
And those are the ones that deep throat you every day.
Don’t hate on me for choosing the freedom pussy over government dick. ”
She stares at me as if I have told her Santa isn’t real. As she should. She needs clear words.
I lean in on her.
“And no, I haven’t stabbed anyone’s carotid yet,” I tell her in a whisper. “But I would, without hesitation.”
Like I said, so much fun.