“Even I know that’s an insensitive comment,” said Jacob.

              “Aren’t you supposed to be eating popcorn or something?” said Craig. He was still hunched over his computer, furiously trying to trace the source of the email.

              “And what? Watch a tired romantic comedy when I could be on the front lines catching a killer? This is essential training for my future role. I’m a man committed to my craft, Officer. A little danger can’t dissuade me.”

              “With your lack of training and considerable disregard for personal safety, it probably should,” Jacob said matter-of-factly. “You’ll probably be shot.”

              “Or stabbed,” Craig said absentmindedly. “I can’t trace this email for the life of me. This man is a real professional. I’d feel admiration for him if he wasn’t knifing innocent women in the back.”

              Alex took a deep swig of his coffee and checked his watch. The briefing was set to start in five minutes. Just then, the elevator chimed, and the doors swung open. Out stepped a tall woman in a short sundress and strappy high-heeled sandals. She strode purposefully through the room towards them.

              “Well, hello,” said Alex, ears pricked. “Who is this lovely creature?”

              The woman stopped in front of them, her hands on her hips, a look of exasperation on her face. “All right, don’t get worked up. I’m going undercover, after all. I can’t exactly wear a pantsuit.”

              The men simply stared at her, dumbfounded. Kim’s long red hair had been let loose from its usual bun, and coupled with the flowered sundress and minimal make-up, she looked much younger.

              “Outside says innocent country girl. Actions and voice say bossy dominatrix. I’m confused and aroused,” whispered Alex.

              “Snap out of it, Kane. We’ve got a briefing to attend. Come on.”

              The officers gathered in the conference room were just as bewildered by Kim’s get-up. As it turned out, she could command a room even in a sundress. The recon team briefed the room on the location, and Kim gave detailed instructions for how to approach once she’d given the signal.

              “Just remember,” she said, teetering in her heels. “Don’t make the arrest until you’re sure you can make a clean entry. We don’t want any of these dirt bags getting away. OK, let’s go.”

              Alex was hot on Kim’s (very high) heels. “You are not riding with me, pal,” she called over her shoulder.

              “Detective Daniels,” he said pleadingly. “Take pity on a man. I’m not going to learn a thing twiddling my thumbs back at the precinct.”

              The detective exhaled loudly. “Fine, Kane. As long as you signed a release, I don’t give a damn. Get Detective Newport to lend you a bulletproof vest.”

              “Yessss!” Alex pumped his fist. “Hey wait, one more question.”

              “Kane, I’m a little busy going undercover and all the jazz. What is it?” She stopped abruptly and glared at him.

              “Yeah, uh, so what are you doing later? You know, after the undercover stuff. I know a great little Italian place not too far from here. You’re welcome to wear that sundress, it doesn’t bother me…”

              Kim gave him a withering look and marched off towards the elevator. “Is that a yes?” Alex called after her. Jacob smacked him the chest with the bulletproof vest. The actor grunted. “Was that necessary, Newport?”

              “I would like you to know that I absolutely don’t approve of civilians tagging along on police business. That said, put this on and hurry up.”

**

Kim parked outside of a non-descript brick building that fronted right onto the sidewalk. A wooden cross floated in a round window over the central door. No lights were on. Wrought iron fire escapes crawled up the front to the tiny upper windows. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car.

The first thing she noticed was a warm voice floating on top of a mellow saxophone line.

Why not use your mentality - step up, wake up to reality?

But each time I do just the thought of you

Makes me stop just before I begin

'Cause I've got you under my skin

              Kim shivered. Something felt wrong. What was she doing? She should have just let the team take care of things. She tried to tamp down her fears. It’s normal to be nervous, she thought. But I know what I’m doing.

              She sashayed towards the front door, which was slightly ajar, trying to behave like an ordinary 20-something. She wondered if anyone was watching, and the thought made her shiver.

              She carefully opened the door. It led into a small and shadowy lobby. A small door off to the side was similarly ajar. Sinatra’s smooth voice filtered through. Kim took a deep breath, wishing she had her trusty 9mm. All she was kitted out with was a tiny microphone in her ear. It would record the future conversation, plus transmit her code words to the team.

              The second door led to a narrow flight of wooden stairs that descended into a dark space. What was it with killers and windowless basements? It was really getting all a bit clichéd. Kim carefully navigated her teetering heels down the stairs and through a long, dimly lit hallway. Eventually the hall opened into a mid-sized room with a low ceiling. In it, six men were seated around a circular table. Each was completely ordinary looking – balding and paunchy with heavy jowls and tired-looking eyes. A stack of poker chips sat in front of each. One chair was empty.

              “Oh hi,” Kim said. “Is this the poker tournament? I’m so sorry I’m late. I totally got lost trying to find 16th street. Kind of out of the way, right?” The men greeted this chipper speech with painful silence. “Uh, OK, well, I guess this is my seat.”

              Kim sat in the empty place and surveyed her company. Each man was almost perfectly still, as if carved from stone. Their eyes stared straight ahead. She would have thought they were dead except for the rise and fall of their breathing. They were expressionless, though the tension in their faces betrayed that they were purposefully concealing their emotions. Kim felt deeply unnerved and had to fight to control herself.

              “Uh, yeah, so who wants to go first?” she asked brightly.

              Two of the faceless men to Kim’s left carefully placed a stack of chips into the center of the table, as if on cue. Another shuffled the deck and dealt out five cards to each player.

              “Oh gee, I’m first? OK, here goes!”

Kim bid conservatively, flashing an idiotic smile at the group. Her efforts were met with further silence. Each player either folded or bid higher, and those left placed their cards on the table. Kim lost out, as she expected, and the portly, flushed man across from her took the pot.

              They continued like this for a few more rounds. The windowless room was dark and unnerving, but Kim tried her hardest to stay focused. She deliberately folded or bid low on each round, losing out every time. It wasn’t hard – these guys were exceptional players, true masters of the game.

They didn’t seem pleased about their easy victory, quite the opposite. In fact, the group grew noticeably more nervous, despite their best efforts to tamp down emotion. Kim was confused. She was pulling out all the stops on her innocent lamb act. Instead, she was just putting them on edge. She needed a new strategy and quickly.

              It was time to take it up a notch. The truth was that Kim was no newbie to poker. Her dad was an avid player, and he’d schooled her on the ins-and-outs of the game whenever she hadn’t been neck-deep in homework. She was the queen of strategy, and she wasted no time in letting her fellow players know. She took every opportunity to either screw or trump them. To her disbelief, the men began to relax in their seats, wiping sweat from their faces and slumping down. They still played a strong game, but they did so with a lot more ease.