There are never any surprises like this in the court room, or there isn't supposed to be, anyway: the discovery process, evidence submissions, mountains of paperwork. She'd say a solid eighty percent of her job is just that, and that's always been fine. It suits her. But it's also the place where everything can be turned on its head by the right agent, whoever is willing to flip the script on how things are supposed to go, and that's what makes Jimmy such a delight to watch in the court room. The clues are there –– the cartel, past precedent –– but you never quite know where it's going until you're there.

Kim is an intelligent woman, and while her face does little more than pinch into concern, this information leads to difficult places.

"Okay," she says. This is her workshopping voice, serious but interested. Jimmy being involved in something like that and all the assumptions that go with it makes her feel something deep and ugly under the numbness of problem-solving, but it's the future. If there's anything she's learned here, it's that the tide can be changed on near impossible situations.

She taps the ash off her cigarette and takes a long drag, looking at him dead in the eye, as if she could reach right into him and pull out a full picture of the state of things. He doesn't look like he's on stable ground.

"How long has that been going on?"