"My actions were entirely well-intentioned, you ungrateful, rude man," Joyner declared indignantly, her slightly upturned head giving the impression that she was attempting to glare at Danny through her nostrils.
"Hah! Elegant British lady? At least I can use chopsticks for fish and chips. All you've got are those clumsy three fingers," Danny shot back, refusing to back down.
Jack sighed. Serving tea seemed less like a peace offering and more like fueling their verbal sparring. Deciding to end the spectacle, he shut the door to block out the curious glances from passersby and leaned against it, arms crossed, ready to piece together the root of their argument.
After a few minutes of listening, he finally understood. The conflict stemmed from four shootings over the past week in Murray Hill, the Lower East Side, Chinatown, and East Harlem.
With over a thousand shootings in New York City annually—some days seeing ten or more victims—Danny, swamped with work, wouldn't have noticed a few incidents scattered across precincts unless they were reported up the chain.
But Joyner, with her sharp eye for patterns, had noticed something unusual in the daily internal briefings. She approached Danny, NYPD's liaison officer to the FBI, and requested the case files. After reviewing them, she bypassed him entirely and contacted his superiors directly.
Word quickly reached Commissioner Reagan, who relayed the message to his son. According to the Commissioner, the FBI believed these incidents were the work of a serial killer and that NYPD detectives were insufficient to handle the case alone, necessitating FBI intervention.
Danny was bewildered. He had simply compiled case files from various precincts—how had he suddenly been labeled an incompetent detective incapable of solving crimes?
His father's cryptic tone only fueled Danny's frustration, and he stormed into the FBI office early that morning to confront Joyner.
As the argument continued, Jack thumbed through the case files Danny had handed him. All the shootings were executed in broad daylight, with a single precise shot killing the victim instantly. The perpetrator melted into the crowd after each attack, leaving behind almost no reliable witnesses.
To Jack, Joyner's assessment seemed plausible. The two-to-three-day intervals between attacks, combined with the lack of robbery or clear motive and the seemingly random locations, pointed to the work of a serial killer.
However, Jack couldn't quite grasp why Joyner had bypassed Danny. Technically, her actions followed protocol, but skipping over him displayed a lack of social tact.
Perhaps this was typical FBI behavior in other regions. Regular agents often earned less than seasoned NYPD or LAPD detectives but carried themselves with an air of superiority when issuing orders.
Local police departments often resented FBI involvement, cooperating only out of obligation. NYPD's decision to appoint a dedicated liaison officer was uncommon—LAPD didn't even have such a role.
Jack doubted Jubal hadn't warned Joyner about these nuances. She had likely ignored or dismissed them, sticking to her usual approach.
Listening further, Jack realized their argument had veered off course, devolving into a chicken-and-duck squabble where neither addressed the actual issue.
"Enough," Jack interrupted, raising a hand. He turned to Joyner. "Do you know the name of NYPD's Commissioner?"
"Frank Reagan," Joyner replied, her chin slightly raised in her usual haughty posture, though her expression now carried a hint of confusion.
Jack suppressed a laugh and continued, "And do you know the name of this NYPD liaison officer?"
"Danny Rea—" Joyner froze mid-sentence, her face alternating between red and white as realization dawned. Even her typically charming British accent became stammered and uneven.
"I… I didn't realize… I never thought…"
Jack kept his tone polite but firm. "Detective Danny Reagan's appointment as liaison reflects NYPD's commitment to working closely with the FBI. In return, we typically show them the same respect."
Jack's diplomatic phrasing aimed to ease the tension without humiliating Joyner. As someone she regarded as competent, he felt obligated to maintain neutrality. After all, their units were parallel and bound to intersect frequently. If Joyner had extended an olive branch, Jack wasn't about to alienate her entirely.
Joyner wasn't oblivious, just a bit proud in that quintessentially British way. She hadn't climbed to her position through incompetence, and the redness of her face from the argument conveniently masked any embarrassment she might have felt from her misstep.
Danny, meanwhile, appeared conflicted. He despised being treated differently because of his father's position, but now that he realized Joyner's disdain wasn't due to his nepotistic ties but rather her viewing him as an ordinary detective, he didn't know whether to feel insulted or vindicated.
"So, she thinks I'm useless, not because I'm a legacy cop, but just because I'm plain useless?" Danny thought bitterly. The distinction didn't make him feel any better.
Draining his tea in one scalding gulp, he muttered, "Fine. If Her Majesty has summoned her loyal knights, I'm sure they'll solve the case with ease. NYPD will fully cooperate."
Jack saw through Danny's baiting attempt to drag him into the fray. Instead of taking offense, Jack grew curious about the "knight" in question.
Joyner, not one to miss subtext, picked up on Danny's barb. Although Jack's records were sealed, she had access to his recent cases in New York, and that alone was impressive enough.
Despite not caring much about others' opinions, Joyner understood the importance of not making unnecessary enemies. She quickly clarified, "I respect Jack's abilities. He's the most skilled field agent I've seen in terms of physical and tactical capabilities. But I believe this case requires specialized expertise, so I reached out to the BAU team. Aaron and his team are experts in handling serial killers."
"BAU? Aaron and his team?" Jack's mind blanked momentarily before realization hit. He placed a hand on Danny's shoulder to stop him from speaking further and grinned at Joyner, his teeth gleaming.
"You mean Aaron Hotchner and the Behavioral Analysis Unit?"
Jack couldn't help but find it amusing. Aside from David Rossi and Hotchner's wife, few called him "Aaron" so casually. Hearing Joyner do so was, in its own way, delightfully entertaining.
(End of Chapter)
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