Page 54 of Grave Danger
Chapter 19
Andie took the Metro back into the district and reached the J. Edgar Hoover Building just after dark. She had several friends at FBI headquarters, none better than her very first supervisory agent in the Seattle field office.
Isaac Underwood had gone out on a limb for an agent just two years out of the Academy, entrusting Andie with an undercover assignment that would change the trajectory of her career. Her infiltration of a cult in Washington’s Yakima Valley led to the apprehension of a serial killer, earning her accolades throughout the bureau. Leaving Isaac had been the hardest part about her transfer to Miami. Soon after, Isaac was bound for headquarters, though some said he would never have left Seattle if Andie hadn’t transferred. Rumors. In any event, it had worked out well for him. He became section chief in the international operations division, overseeing operational units covering Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. Several promotions followed, most recently to assistant director of the counterterrorism division.
Andie didn’t consider her visit official FBI business, so they met at a bar across the street and found a booth in the back where they could talk in private. It was after hours, so Isaac ordered a draft beer. Andie had a glass of chardonnay.
“So, you’re a big shot now,” said Andie. “Assistant director.”
“You make it sound like there’s only one assistant director.”
“Not all assistant directors are created equal. What side of the building is your office on?”
“West.”
“Wow, Isaac. A view of Judiciary Square.”
“Meh. It’s not Puget Sound or Mount Rainier, but I can’t complain.”
Andie recalled their “definitely not a date” goodbye dinner for her at Restaurant San Michele in Pike Place Market, when the other agents on their team were a no-show. It ended up just Andie and Isaac on the terrace, enjoying steamed mussels and a breathtaking sunset view of Puget Sound with the Olympic Mountains in the distance. Andie still wondered if it was a no-show by design.
“How’s Jack?” Isaac asked.
“Jack’s good.”
“How are you and Jack?”
“Jack’s good,” she said, not sure why she’d repeated herself.
“Oh? Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing we can’t handle. It’s not easy being an FBI agent married to a criminal lawyer.”
Criminal defense lawyer, she could almost hear Jack saying.
“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m around.”
“Thank you.”
“So,” he said, shifting gears. “You didn’t come all the way to Washington to talk about old times. You said you’ve hit a brick wall with the State Department?”
Andie had called Isaac after tea with Irene Guthrie in Takoma Park. She’d been purposely vague.
“I need some advice. From someone I trust.” She leveled her gaze. “From someone who would never acknowledge that this conversation ever happened, let alone what was said.”
“I’m sure I owe you one of those.”
Jack’s representation of Zahra Bazzi and the Ava Bazzi angle were public knowledge. The only part she needed to fill in was the woman in the taxi on Key Biscayne and her talk with Brian Guthrie’s mother in Takoma Park. Isaac listened as Andie talked, and then he had a few questions.
“Has the State Department told you that the US government is negotiating for the release of a political prisoner?” he asked.
“No.”
“But his wife and mother told you that’s the case?”
“Yes. His name is Brian Guthrie. But here’s the rub. I’ve checked everywhere. I can’t find any record or mention of an American prisoner in Iran named Brian Guthrie.”
“That’s not unusual, Andie. Remember the last time the United States and Iran swapped prisoners?”