"I did it with good intentions, you rude, ungrateful man." Joyna's face was filled with indignation, and her slightly raised head gave the illusion that she was trying to glare at Danny.
"Ahaha, elegant British lady, at least I use chopsticks when eating fish and chips, while you only use your three clumsy fingers," Danny retorted, equally unyielding.
Feeling that making tea for them seemed to be providing ammunition for their verbal battle, Jack simply closed the door, blocking out the overly curious gazes of some idlers outside, and leaned against the door with his arms folded, trying to listen to what they were arguing about.
After a few minutes, he finally understood the cause of the matter. It all stemmed from the four consecutive shootings that had occurred in Murray Hill, the Lower East Side, Chinatown, and East Harlem since last week.
New York City sees over a thousand shootings a year, with peak figures reaching over ten victims a day, and only one every two or three days. These shootings, often in different precincts, would go unnoticed by the constantly busy Danny if they hadn't been reported.
However, Joyner, sensing something unusual through daily internal briefings, contacted Danny, a part-time NYPD liaison, to retrieve the case files. Last night, after reviewing the files, she contacted Danny's superiors.
Word quickly reached the Commissioner. According to a father's retelling to his son, the FBI determined this was a serial murder case, one or two NYPD detectives insufficient to handle, requiring FBI intervention.
Danny was baffled. He'd been incredibly busy lately, simply cooperating by gathering a few case files from various precincts. How could he suddenly be labeled an incompetent detective?
The profound tone in his old man's voice as he spoke these words was a thorn in his throat. He was so angry that he rushed to the FBI early in the morning to confront Joyner.
While the argument continued in the office, Jack took the opportunity to flip through the case file Danny had handed him. The shootings were fatal, all committed in broad daylight. The killer had quickly disappeared into the crowd, and the police had not even found a few reliable witnesses.
His judgment was similar to Joyner's. The crimes were committed two to three days apart, with no commonality other than the method. There was no robbery, no obvious motive, and the locations seemed completely random. A serial killer was indeed possible.
It was just Joyner's approach that Jack didn't understand. Technically, her approach was fine from a procedural point of view, but skipping Danny was somewhat unconventional.
Of course, this was probably the FBI's usual practice in other regions. Some rank-and-file FBI agents might earn less in a month than a senior detective in the NYPD or LAPD, but their attitude when assigning tasks to them was truly condescending.
Therefore, local police departments generally resented FBI involvement, and when pressured by superiors, they simply cooperated in a businesslike manner. It was unusual for the NYPD to have a dedicated liaison officer to communicate with the FBI; for example, the LAPD didn't have such a role.
Jack doubted that Jubal hadn't explained these points to Joyner, but it was likely she had ignored them, or perhaps she simply didn't care, remaining accustomed to the old ways.
He listened to their argument for a while longer, finding it completely lost, essentially a miscommunication.
"Stop," Jack gestured, gesturing to Joyner. "Do you know the NYPD's chief's name?"
"Frank Reagan." Joyner tilted her head slightly, maintaining her usual haughty demeanor, a hint of confusion on her face, clearly still simmering.
Jack suppressed his laughter and asked, "Do you know the name of this NYPD liaison officer?"
"Danny Ray" was no longer worldly-wise, but Joyner realized it now. Her face turned red and white, and her British accent, which was particularly charming to some Americans, became stammering.
"I don't know them. I didn't even think..."
"Detective Danny Reagan's assignment as liaison between the NYPD and the FBI fully demonstrates the importance the NYPD places on cooperating with us, the FBI, so we generally treat him with the same respect,"
Jack said tactfully. As one of the few "capable" individuals whom the proud Assistant Director "regarded," he could only strive to maintain a neutral stance and avoid embarrassing him unduly.
The Most Wanted Squad and the Operations Center were independent and parallel units, but they would likely overlap significantly in the future. Since such a proud individual was willing to extend goodwill to him, Jack couldn't favor Danny, an "outsider," too much; just enough was enough.
Joyner had a bit of that natural British arrogance, not a complete detachment from the real world. A fool wouldn't have gotten to her current position. Fortunately, her previous argument with Danny had already made her blush, so it was hard to tell what had caused the blush.
Jack hadn't expected this British lady to be so out of touch. While Jubal might command everyone in a frenzy at the operations center, he was usually quite approachable, and analysts and technicians loved chatting with him privately.
It was clear that, aside from her female superior, Dana Moger, Georgina's only two admirers in the New York office were Jubal and Jack.
Before anyone else had the chance to demonstrate their abilities, let alone become friends with her, they likely hadn't even chatted with her outside of official business. She was a pure paratrooper, completely detached from office gossip.
No wonder, after nearly two weeks, she hadn't even figured out Danny's true identity, treating him like just another NYPD detective.
Danny's expression was a bit awkward. He'd always disliked being treated differently because of his status as the chief's son, but now, realizing they were truly unaware, he was suddenly overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.
So, Georgina looked down on him not because she thought he was a worthless second-generation rich kid, but simply because she thought he was worthless? It didn't seem to make much of a difference.
The thought intensified his anger, and he downed the tea in his cup in one gulp, unbothered by the heat. "Whatever. Her Majesty has already summoned her loyal knights, so they'll surely solve this case easily. The NYPD will fully cooperate."
Jack knew this guy was deliberately fanning the flames, trying to drag him into the situation, implying that the assistant director had simply left him alone and called for outside assistance. He didn't care, and instead became interested in the knight Danny was talking about.
Joyna, no fool, also heard the fanning of the flames in Danny's words. Although Jack's file was sealed, her access only allowed her to see a few of his cases since arriving in New York, but that was more than enough.
She truly didn't care what others thought of her, believing that capable people would naturally be respected. But that didn't mean she would make enemies for no reason, she quickly explained.
"I highly recognize Jack's abilities. His skills and ability to act are the best of any agent I've ever met. However, I believe this case requires a more professional mindset, so I contacted the BAU. Aaron and his team are the experts in dealing with serial killers."
BAU? Aaron and his team?
Jack's mind froze for a moment, and it took him a long time to react. He put a hand on Danny's shoulder, who was about to speak again, and bared his eight white teeth at Joyner.
"Are you talking about Aaron Hotchner and his famous Behavioral Analysis Team?"
Aside from his predecessors, Rossi and Hotchner's wife, Harley, this was the first time he'd heard someone so affectionately call someone with a poker face "Aaron." It was truly amusing.
(End of this chapter)