Justice for All (9 page)

*

“Talk to you a minute, Loo?” Watts said as the others filed out of the room.

Rebecca nodded, mentally reviewing her hastily thrown together operation. Mitchell might end up chasing a dead lead. With the girls Irina had been supervising out of the picture, Irina’s conduit to the crime organization might have closed. If that was the case, they’d waste a few weeks of surveillance time. But if Mitchell actually did get inside, she’d be there on her own. Because there was no way backup was going to be able to follow her where she needed to go. Rebecca had lost one partner. She wasn’t losing a member of her team.

“…my ass.”

“What?” Rebecca said sharply. “Nobody likes surveillance, Watts, but it’s necessary—”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to freeze my ass off out in the cold while Mitch is inside a titty bar getting his crank pulled,” Watts shot back. “Hell, what guy wouldn’t want to be the one freezing his nuts off in the car? All I’m saying is, you can’t go.”

“
What?
” Rebecca straightened. “I don’t think I heard you right, Detective.”

“Excuse me, Loo, but you’re supposed to be on desk duty. And excuse me again, but I don’t feel like having my ass chewed out by your…woman. Whatever.”

“My woman?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

Watts shrugged. “The doc. I sort of promised her.”

Rebecca turned around and strode to the opposite end of the room. She braced both hands on the counter and closed her eyes. She’d promised her too. Except that she hadn’t known at the time that Henry planned to put the team back out on the street so fast. Units like hers typically spent months building cases through surveillance and wiretaps and gathering street intel. They tapped their confidential informants, they followed midlevel drug dealers, they rousted street pushers and pimps. They toiled at their desks and spent endless hours cruising the streets, until maybe they got lucky and could put a case together. But this was different. They were going hunting, and they were sending their youngest, their least experienced, into the jungle alone.

“God damn it,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Yeah, it blows,” Watts said from behind her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Rebecca said without turning around.

“Sure thing, Loo.”

Rebecca listened to Watts’s fading footsteps, then went to find Sloan. She needed a car.

*

Kratos Zamora ended his conference call with his European business associates, finished his coffee in a single swallow, and pushed the ceramic mug to the front of his desk where his secretary would pick it up and refill it upon his return. Then he stood, donned his silk and wool blended double-breasted charcoal suit jacket, checked the knot in his tie, and walked to the double mahogany doors separating his office from the adjoining conference room. When he stepped through, his brother Gregor was already seated near Vincent. On the opposite side of the room, a matching pair of double doors led to Gregor’s office. Kratos sat down at the head of the polished walnut table. Another cup of coffee awaited him. He sipped it and regarded the other two men steadily.

“Well? What have we learned?”

Gregor clicked a remote to lower the room lights, then activated an LCD projector. “JT Sloan’s business address is a matter of record, and Angelo has been shooting everyone going in and out. Mostly women, one guy who is definitely a cop, and another young guy who we figure is Sloan’s partner. There’s a Jason McBride listed on their corporate holdings.”

“Let’s see them,” Kratos said.

Angelo had done a good job, shooting multiple photos of people coming and going. Two were clearly cops—a beefy middle-aged man and a tall, thin blonde who looked to be all business. Probably the detective lieutenant in charge. She looked like she could be a lesbian.

Kratos leaned forward. “Stop right there.”

Angelo had caught a full-face view of another blonde, this one elegant and sleekly beautiful. In her thirties, smooth-skinned and slender. The face of an artist’s model.

“Who is that?” Kratos asked.

“No name yet, but she’s a looker,” Vincent said.

Kratos shot him a steely glare and Vincent averted his gaze. Another shot came up, this one showing the beautiful woman holding hands with a thin, wild-looking girl. A friend, maybe, because a woman as sensual and feminine as that one couldn’t possibly be a lesbian.

“I want her name,” Kratos said.

“Sure thing, boss,” Vincent said.

Gregor clicked off the slides. “Angelo has a straight sight line right down to their front door. He could take one out, probably two or three, and still get away clean.”

“And we’d have police in our lobby before the bodies hit the ground,” Kratos murmured, still thinking about the beautiful blonde. “For now, we watch.”

“Papa would never have let
puttanas
like that interfere with our business,” Gregor grumbled.

“Papa was a great man,” Kratos said softly as he stood, turning his back on his brother to address Vincent. “Have Angelo print out head shots of all of them. And I want names to go with them.”

*

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ali Torveau greeted Rebecca as she stepped into the examining room and closed the door.

“No need to apologize,” Rebecca said, already regretting her unscheduled visit. Ali’s wrinkled, faded green surgical scrubs looked about as worn out as she did. The shadows under her eyes, which already seemed a permanent fixture, were darker today than Rebecca remembered them. “I’m the one interrupting your day when you’re probably due to go home. Sorry.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be here awhile.” Ali pulled the stainless steel stool out from under the tiny shelf that served as a writing table and instrument stand and sat down, leaning her back against the shelf. “Just finished a fifteen-hour marathoner. A couple of rival gangs went to war last night. Three dead. Two others may be joining them soon. Just kids.”

“Rough.”

“Stupid waste.” Ali shook her head, then focused on Rebecca, her fatigue appearing to vanish. “So what’s wrong?”

Rebecca hadn’t bothered to undress even though the nurse had instructed her to when she ushered her into the room. She sat on the examining table, the white paper covering crinkling beneath her. She detested being in a position where she had to ask someone else to empower her to do her job, even when that someone was a friend. “I need you to clear me for active duty. Today.”

Ali was silent for a long moment. “And how is today different than yesterday morning when I said two weeks of desk duty?”

“Yesterday morning I didn’t have a new street operation about to kick off.”

“What’s so important that someone else can’t pinch-hit for you?”

Despite Ali’s conversational tone, Rebecca felt her temper rising. If it hadn’t been for her promise to Catherine, she wouldn’t be here at all. She didn’t need medical clearance because she’d only been admitted to the hospital for observation. Her discharge sufficed to clear her for duty. No one actually knew about the restrictions that Ali had imposed. Except Catherine. And Watts, who couldn’t keep his nose out of her goddamn business all of a sudden. She bit back a sharp reply because Ali looked like hell and it wasn’t her fault that Rebecca hadn’t been fast enough to dive out of the line of fire. If Sloan hadn’t been so quick to back her up, she’d be dead and Catherine’s pain would be on her head. The wave of remorse was enough to cool her frustration.

“This isn’t something I would ordinarily tell anyone.” Rebecca hesitated. This was not something she wanted Catherine to hear, and Ali’s quick nod confirmed that their discussion was confidential. “I’ve got a young detective going undercover tonight. It’s dangerous. Anything could happen, and I need to be there. Me. No one else. But I’m just going to be sitting in a car to coordinate.”

Ali made a face. “Don’t give me that, Rebecca. You just told me anything could happen.”

“I won’t be alone. Watts will be with me.” Rebecca took a breath. “I don’t expect anything to happen, at least not right away. But that doesn’t mean I can sit at home with my feet up.”

“What happens if I don’t clear you?” When Rebecca said nothing, Ali stood up. “If I wanted to play hardball, I could call your captain. Get you sidelined for as long as I wanted. The city is very antsy about lawsuits, and an impaired cop on the streets is a liability.”

“You won’t do that,” Rebecca said with confidence.

“You’re right. I won’t. I could call Catherine.”

Rebecca stiffened. “Catherine has enough to worry about.”

“No, Catherine worries about
you,
and she’s not going to worry any less if I give my blessing for you to head straight back out into the same jungle that almost got you killed.”

“I’m a cop. That’s what I do.”

“I know that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here.” Ali pulled an ophthalmoscope out of the charger next to the examining table. “Look over my left shoulder.”

Rebecca complied while Ali shone a bright light into first one eye, then the other. She felt like an ice pick was piercing her brain, and her eyes watered. “Jesus.”

“Sorry,” Ali said, not sounding particularly remorseful. “You understand that there’s a small but definite risk that you could have an intracranial bleed?”

“That could happen if I were sitting at my desk, too, right?”

“It could, that’s true. But every day that passes without an incident makes the risk less likely. The first seven to ten days after the injury are the high risk period.” Ali put the ophthalmoscope away, and then took Rebecca’s blood pressure.

“I’m not going to do anything crazy,” Rebecca said. “If it weren’t for Catherine, I’d never say that. But I’m not going to do anything else to hurt her.”

“You’re cutting that line pretty thin just by going back on duty,” Ali said.

“I know. But it’s the best I can do.”

Ali removed the cuff from Rebecca’s arm. “All right, Detective, I’m taking you at your word. Be careful.”

“I’ll try.” Rebecca shook Ali’s hand, thanked her, and headed out the door. She had one more stop to make.

*

“Rebecca?” Catherine dropped the file she was reviewing onto her desk and stood. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rebecca said hurriedly. “I’m sorry. Joyce said you were free.”

“I am. I don’t have another patient for almost an hour. What are you doing here?” Catherine came around the front of her desk and met Rebecca in the center of the Oriental rug that covered most of her office floor.

“I’m not allowed to visit you?”

“You’re welcome here anytime, darling, but you generally only drop by if you’re worried, upset, or have something serious to tell me.”

Rebecca tossed her blazer onto one of the two leather club chairs in front of Catherine’s desk. She’d sat in one of those chairs the first night she’d come to interview Catherine, six months ago. She’d been sure that Catherine would not help her. Certain, too, that Catherine would never be able to understand how badly she needed to catch the man who was violating the city’s women, because no one had ever understood what drove her to put an end to violence and abuse no matter the cost. She’d been wrong about Catherine’s willingness to help, wrong about pretty much everything where Catherine was concerned. She winced, trying to remember the last time she’d sent Catherine flowers or just called her to ask after her day. “I’m a crappy lover, aren’t I?”

“No.” Catherine clasped Rebecca’s waist but resisted embracing her, which she would have done on any other day. Lightly tracing the sharp line of Rebecca’s jaw with her fingertips, she said, “You’re a wonderful lover. This is about whatever Captain Henry wanted to see you for this morning, isn’t it?”

“You’re starting to sound like a cop’s wife.”

“That must be because I am.” Catherine kissed Rebecca’s cheek and led her to the moss green upholstered sofa opposite the windows. A small coffee table stood in front of it. They’d eaten takeout off that table more than once. They’d made love on that sofa one night when they’d been barely more than strangers, desperate to banish the terrors of the night with the heat of passion. Thinking about it now made Catherine flush, not with embarrassment at something so out of character for her, but with desire.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked quietly.

“Not anything I want to talk about just now.”

Rebecca laughed as she settled onto the sofa. “Later, then?”

“Most definitely later.” Catherine angled away from Rebecca so she could see her face and not be tempted to touch her. “Tell me what Henry wanted.”

“He laid out a new operation for us this morning. Starting tonight.”

Catherine drew a sharp breath. “What kind of operation?”

“Pretty much what we’re planning to do anyway, although on an accelerated schedule.” Rebecca hesitated.

“Don’t censor it, Rebecca.”

“The plan is a little more aggressive than I might like.”

“Define aggressive,” Catherine said carefully, locking down her emotional responses. Rebecca was here, sharing the kinds of things that were difficult for her to share, and Catherine needed to hear them, no matter how hard.

“Clark wants someone undercover. Mitchell.”