Justice for All (17 page)

“So what are you gonna do, big man,” Watts goaded. “Fuck her until she’s brainless and begs to give you anything you want?”

“Watts,” Rebecca said in a steely voice.

“Well, for Christ’s sakes, Loo,” Watts snapped. “The girl’s a criminal, but instead of getting her sweet little ass shipped back to Mother Russia, she’s walking around here free as a bird. Telling us what she’ll do and what she won’t.”

“She’s scared,” Dell said.

Watts muttered something about bleeding hearts.

“What do you suggest, Detective,” Rebecca said, giving Mitchell her head. Mitchell was the one closest to Irina, and it was her ass on the line. They had to trust Mitchell’s take on the situation. Rebecca didn’t like it, not because she didn’t trust Mitchell, but because she was never comfortable being forced to make decisions based on other people’s judgments.

“If we’re going to get her to cooperate, I think we have to help her find her sister. And the only way we’re going to do that is to promise her sister will be safe.”

“Promise her Witsec, for both of them.” Sloan stood, coffee cup in hand. “Anybody need a refill?”

“I’ll get it,” Jason said, rising as well. “And I agree. Offer her protection—for both of them. Offer them a new life. It might buy Mitch a safety net.”

Dell looked at Frye. “Can we?”

“I don’t know. Technically, she belongs to Clark.”

“Fucking Clark,” Watts muttered. “I say we do it.”

Rebecca swiveled on her chair and regarded him sharply. “Why the sudden change?”

Watts shrugged. “Because it will burn Clark’s ass.” He shot a look at Jason and Sloan. “And because it’s more likely to put Irina firmly on our side, and that’s good for Mitch.”

“She might not be an easy sell,” Sloan said. “I’ve seen plenty of girls sold into the sex trade in Southeast Asia. All they know is lies and abuse. How much do you think she trusts you, Dell?”

“I don’t know. Some.”

“Are you banging her?” Watts asked.

Rebecca said, “Jesus, Watts.”

“No, I’m not,” Dell said stiffly.

“Well maybe you should. Then, when she’s all softened up, you can—”

Dell shot to her feet and strode out of the room.

Rebecca rubbed her eyes. She’d slept soundly, but only for a few hours. Her head throbbed dully. Better than the day before, but still there. She pushed away from the table and stood. “Watts, go down to the port with Jason. Then see if you can get a line on the Zamoras’ lieutenants from OC. They’re probably the ones playing messenger with the Russians. Somebody get me some names.”

Watts looked in the direction Mitchell had gone, his expression confused. “I was just saying—”

“Dell likes her,” Jason said softly to Watts. “And when Dell likes a woman, she wants her treated right.”

“Oh. Well hell, that complicates things.”

Jason laughed. “So what else is new?”

*

“Sloan. Talk to you a minute?” Rebecca said as the conference room began to clear.

“Sure.” Sloan hiked a hip onto the edge of the conference table. When they were alone, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“A little rough around the edges, but I’m getting there.”

“You and Watts can’t cover Mitch every night. I can take some shifts. I’ve got a badge again, remember?” Sloan still couldn’t believe Clark had given her official agent status when she began working with Rebecca’s team. She wasn’t exactly a fed again, because she answered to Rebecca, which suited her just fine. Rebecca she trusted.

“I can’t get departmental authorization for the manpower to cover him twenty-four/seven,” Rebecca said. “No undercover agent gets that kind of backup.”

“I’m not asking to get paid,” Sloan said.

“I appreciate your volunteering. I can use you.” Rebecca shrugged into her wool blazer, as close as she ever came to a winter coat. “I want to cover the two of them as tightly as we can for the first week or so, until we get a feel for how things are working out with Irina. Then, other than critical meets, we’ll have to rely on Mitch to call for backup if he gets in a tight position.

“I’m good for it any time.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca considered the more pressing matter they needed to square away. “About this fund-raiser—”

“Michael is going,” Sloan cut in. “She already had it scheduled—a business thing. I forgot she told me. I’m still hoping to talk her out of it.”

“She doesn’t have to get anywhere near Zamora,” Rebecca said evenly. “If it comes to that.”

Sloan hesitated, then looked out into the main room, checking that no one was around. “Something doesn’t feel right about this, Rebecca. Not any of it. I don’t trust Clark. He’s always working the angles for himself, and he doesn’t care who pays the price.”

“I’ve got the same feeling, but I can’t put my finger on the reason. I’m going to talk to Clark today about Witsec, and I’ll see if I can get a better feel for what he’s not telling us.”

“Call me. I’m heading over to Police Plaza for a while and check on my boys. Make sure they haven’t fried the system while I’ve been gone.”

“Thanks for lending me your car yesterday.” Rebecca grinned. “Nice ride.”

Sloan sketched a salute. “Just don’t let Watts drive.”

Rebecca watched her walk away. Sloan was volatile at the best of times and she’d been wrapped tight since Michael was injured. Still, Rebecca trusted her. Whatever it was Sloan had done for the Justice Department, she’d been good at it or Clark wouldn’t have pulled her back in. And Rebecca needed someone with that kind of experience. Sloan would keep her head, as long as Michael didn’t get drawn in.

Scanning the work area, Rebecca headed for the huge bank of windows at the far end. As she expected, Mitchell was waiting there, slouched with her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, rocking back and forth in her heavy motorcycle boots.

“You want to finish your report?” Rebecca asked.

Dell continued to stare down at the choppy gray surface of the river. “I’m sorry I lost it. I know he doesn’t mean half the things he says.”

“He probably means the other half. But I promise you he’ll always have your back.”

“I know.” Dell faced Rebecca. “Irina is used to protecting herself. She handled the bartender at Ziggie’s last night really well. I think she can get me inside.”

“You think the Russians will contact her again?”

“Once the word gets out that she’s been spotted at Ziggie’s, yeah, I think so. Especially since she’s reaching out, like she wants to get back to work.”

“You’re going back tonight, right?”

Dell nodded. “I’m taking her to the Troc first to meet the guys. And Jasmine.”

“Good.” Rebecca studied the young detective. She looked calm, despite the enormity of the operation and her position on point. She looked solid. “How’s Sandy doing?”

“She’s good.” Dell took a breath. “I don’t think she should stay at her apartment if Irina’s going to be down the hall.”

“I don’t imagine Sandy’s too happy about that.”

“She’s okay. But if trouble follows us home, I don’t want her around. Besides, with Sandy working the streets for you, I think it would be better to put some distance between us.”

“You’re right, but she’s not going to like it.”

“I can put her up in my condo for a while.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t think so. Too isolated. I know their security is tight, but none of us are close enough if there’s trouble.” She watched a tugboat push a huge oil barge up to one of the refinery docks. “She can probably stay here with Michael and Sloan.”

“Oh, man, you think so? This place is like a fortress. And Sandy really likes Michael.”

“I’ll check it out. In the meantime, how are you doing with Irina?”

“Okay, no problem,” Dell said, flushing.

“You need to keep some objectivity there,” Rebecca said. “You can’t let yourself get attached.”

“I know.”

Rebecca had run cops undercover before, but usually sting operations on porn dealers or pimps. Nothing this long term or at such a distance. She needed to know what might shake Mitchell up. She needed to know what might get Mitchell killed. “Are you going to be all right with her and the physical situation?”

“I don’t feel that way about her. I mean, she’s attractive and…” Dell looked away, then squared her shoulders and met Rebecca’s gaze. “I can’t help getting turned on sometimes. It’s not like I mean to, or even want to. I…I’m keeping my focus, though.”

“I think it would be tough getting up close to her and not feeling anything at all.” Rebecca was proud of Mitchell for admitting something that a lot of cops wouldn’t. Whether it was drugs or girls or easy money, temptation was everywhere, and no one wanted to admit to being tempted, even when they managed to resist. “But you need to keep your head clear. And that includes not feeling bad about reactions out of your control.”

“I’m trying. I’m good.”

“I want you to talk to Catherine about it.”

Dell stiffened. “I don’t—”

“Not a request, Detective.” Rebecca gripped Mitchell’s shoulder. “I trust you, okay? But you’ve got to be completely on top of things. For your own safety. For Irina’s. And for Sandy’s. You read me?”

“Yes ma’am, Lieutenant.”

“Good. I’ll tell her you’ll be by today.” Rebecca touched her knuckles briefly to the edge of Mitchell’s jaw. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Thank you,” Dell whispered as Rebecca walked away, the praise running through her like a warm caress. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

*

“Of course I’ll make time to see her,” Catherine said when Rebecca phoned her. “I’ll tell Joyce to fit her in whenever she calls. What about Irina?”

“I’m on my way to see Clark right now,” Rebecca said. “Hopefully we’ll be able to put her with you in the next day or so.”

“All right, darling. Are you driving?”

“Yes, but not very far. Just—”

“How’s your vision?”

“Perfect. A little headache,” Rebecca volunteered, “but otherwise no problems at all.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Yes.”

“Go home for a few hours this afternoon. Take a nap.”

Rebecca did some quick mental calculations. She wanted to shadow Mitchell when she took Irina to the Troc and Ziggie’s, and that meant being out on surveillance most of the night. In fact, almost everything that was going on in the operation was going to happen at night. She could take a few hours’ downtime during the day. She wouldn’t ordinarily, but Catherine asked so little of her. “All right. I will. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Thank you, darling. I love you. I’ve got to go. Patients.”

“I’ll call you later. Love you.” Rebecca disconnected and pulled into the underground parking lot below the federal building at Sixth and Market. With any luck, she’d be able to track Clark down.

*

Kratos Zamora touched the edge of the linen napkin to his mouth, then deposited it next to the china plate in front of him. He placed the heavy silver knife and fork engraved with the crest of the Union Club together on the plate and smiled at Talia. Seated across from him, she wore a red dress in a style appropriate for a business meeting, but even the subdued lines and conservative cut couldn’t hide her inherent sensuality. He enjoyed the persistent arousal her presence always instilled. He always found the unattainable exciting.

“How was the lamb?” he asked.

“Delicious.” Talia sipped her wine, aware of the glances from the mostly male diners. Only a few years ago, women had not been welcome as members of the elite business club, and she wagered that Kratos had not been welcome either. At one time his lineage would have been enough to deny him entry, but now, money was the main requirement. Money legitimized everyone and abolished social divides, at least on the surface.

“Might I hope that the reason for your lunch invitation was simply that you wanted my company?” Kratos inquired, reaching across the table to stroke Talia’s hand.

Carefully, she shifted her hand to her wineglass, not wanting to make the movement appear as a rejection to him or anyone who might be watching. Swirling the claret before sipping, she allowed the wine to linger on her tongue, inhaling slowly, savoring the bouquet. She knew he was watching. His eyes were hungry. “I’ll need some time to breach Sloan’s system.”

“But you can do it.”

Talia smiled. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Talia was silent as the waiter glided up to the table. When he inquired if there was anything else she needed, she replied, “Espresso, please.”

“Very good, madam. And for you, sir?”

“Just coffee.”

When he disappeared as soundlessly as he had arrived, Talia said, “Someone like her could be very valuable.”

“What do you mean?” Kratos asked.

“She could do anything she wanted and no one would have the expertise to detect it. And she has direct access.” Talia shrugged. “Interviews, files, evidence—all of it.”

“Can’t you do the same thing?”