Justice Served Part 28

"Except no one could've known how much we had on him," Jason said reasonably.

"It would seem that way on the surface of things." Rebecca settled into her seat at the head of the table. "We've been careful not to circulate our reports." She queried Sloan with a raised eyebrow. "What are the chances that whoever was using Beecher's computer to access the law enforcement network would know you were onto him?"

* 189 *

RADCLY fFE "If they were good, which they are," Sloan answered, "they'd know I've been looking. h.e.l.l. They've known all along we were looking, because we reported it all to Henry before we knew how widespread a leak we really had." She grimaced and shook her head.

"They may not know just how close I've gotten, but they have to know it's only a matter of time. It's impossible even for the best cracker to hide their tracks from someone just as good." Her smile was vulpine.

"Or better."

"There's one more thing," Jason said. "I just got a hit on the deep-level nancial search we ran on Beecher's accounts. Until eighteen months ago, he made sizable cash withdrawals from his personal account on a regular basis, extending back over a period of three years.

Then they stopped."

"What's your take on that?" Rebecca asked, leaning forward with interest.

"I'd say he was being blackmailed."

"And then," Rebecca thought out loud, "someone thought he would be more useful as a source of information. Once they started using him to in ltrate the department, they stopped blackmailing him.

Probably an incentive for him to cooperate. Any idea what they had on him?"

Jason shook his head. "Not yet, but I'm willing to bet it has something to do with his taste in young girls. Remember, he had a previous s.e.xual a.s.sault charge that was dismissed."

"So someone knew about his...proclivities...and used it as leverage- rst to blackmail him and then to set him up as their inside man."

"That's the way I see it," Jason said.

"When he became a liability, they cut their losses," Watts noted.

Rebecca turned to another page in her notebook. "I'm going to hand off Beecher's case to the homicide team that caught it. They can follow up on the routine leads and forensics. I'm having his personal and work computers brought here." She looked at Sloan. "That's yours."

Her eyes glinted. "Got it."

"Watts," Rebecca said, moving on. "Anything from Port Authority?"

"You mean other than a big, fat headache?"

Rebecca suppressed a smile.

* 190 *

Justice Served Watts gave an eloquent grimace. "You know how many pieces of paper it takes to move a crate of overpriced sh eggs from some Commie factory on the Caspian Sea to America?"

"Are you telling me that Jimmy Hogan had developed an interest in caviar?"

"I don't know what the h.e.l.l he was interested in," Watts said grumpily. "The only thing I know right now is that all three s.h.i.+ps he asked about originated from the same port in Russia."

"Whoa," Mitch.e.l.l said, unable to restrain her excitement. "That has to be something, right?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know, kid. Carla...uh, Captain Reiser...says that 30 percent of the s.h.i.+ps coming into this port start out somewhere over there. The big question is why those three s.h.i.+ps."

"You need to track down everything about them," Rebecca said, making another notation in her pad. "Check the s.h.i.+pping companies, the cargo manifests, the origination and nal destination points, the crew-anything that they might have in common. Jimmy picked up on something. We have to know what it was."

"Reiser is already on it. I'll have more information for you to feed into your computers in a day or so."

"Good," Rebecca said. "You run with that for now."

"No problem." Watts's tone suggested that he did not mind the a.s.signment.

"Mitch.e.l.l, what's your duty status?"

"Dr. Torveau cleared me today," Mitch.e.l.l said, unconsciously sitting up straighter in her seat. "All I need is my psych clearance."

"I don't know, kid," Watts muttered. "You could wait a long time for that."

Mitch.e.l.l grinned.

"Get it. I want Mitch and Jasmine back in the clubs. With Beecher dead and nothing solid from Port Authority, the only place to shake out a new lead is there." Rebecca folded her notebook and slid it into the inside pocket of her blazer. "My street sources are coming up empty.

The bust at the video studio has sent people underground, and with the hit on Beecher, it's not safe for my CIs to do much digging. I don't want them calling attention to themselves."

No one at the table looked at Mitch.e.l.l; everyone knew that Sandy * 191 *

RADCLY fFE was one of Rebecca's CIs. Mitch.e.l.l pressed her palms hard into her thighs to prevent herself from curling her ngers into sts.

"Sat.u.r.day night is always a big night at Ziggie's," Jason said into the void. "Mitch and Jasmine and the Kings could hit it tomorrow night.

There ought to be enough after-hours activity that no one would notice us asking a few questions."

"Do it. It's time to make something happen."

v "Just think about it," Mitch.e.l.l heard Michael say as she stepped off the elevator.

"Yeah, okay," Sandy replied hesitantly.

"I mean it. You'd do ne." Michael turned to the sound of Mitch.e.l.l approaching. "Hi, Dell. Is the meeting over?"

Mitch.e.l.l nodded, looking curiously from Sandy to Michael.

Sandy appeared uncomfortable, a distinctly unusual condition for her.

Mitch.e.l.l had seen her angry, stubborn, even hurt. But almost never uneasy. "What's up?"

Sandy popped up and hurried down the hall in the direction of the guest room. "Nothing."

"Something's going on," Mitch.e.l.l insisted as she hustled to catch up.

"I think we should go home," Sandy said, walking directly to the closet and lifting out her suitcase.

"Me too." Mitch.e.l.l sat on the side of the bed, her arms out to either side, watching Sandy pack. "I'm pretty much healed, and it's time for me to get back to work."

"Don't you have to see Cath-Dr. Rawlings too?"

"Yep- rst thing tomorrow."

"Huh." Sandy folded one of Mitch.e.l.l's white T-s.h.i.+rts and laid it next to a camisole in her suitcase.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then how come you won't look at me?" Mitch.e.l.l frowned. "Did Michael say something to upset you?"

"No," Sandy snapped.

"Well, it's something," Mitch.e.l.l persisted.

* 192 *

Justice Served Sandy slammed the dresser drawer hard enough to knock over several bottles of perfume that stood on its top. She whirled in Mitch.e.l.l's direction, her eyes glinting with irritation. "If I wanted you to know something, I'd tell you. So stop with the questions."

Mitch.e.l.l blinked at the unantic.i.p.ated a.s.sault. Then, in an extraordinarily quiet voice, she said, "I want to know what Michael said that bothered you. If you don't tell me, I'm going to go ask her."

"You can be a real pain in the a.s.s, Dell. Once in a while you should just mind your own business." Despite her words, Sandy's voice had lost most of its edge.

"You are my business."

Sandy sighed and joined Mitch.e.l.l on the bed, her thigh their only point of contact where it lightly touched Mitch.e.l.l's. Staring straight ahead, she said in a subdued tone, "She offered me a job."

"Yeah?" Mitch.e.l.l said, carefully hiding her surge of excitement.

"How did that happen?"

"She had to drop some papers off at her of ce the other day when we went shopping for my new out t. While we were there, she showed me around. Innova takes up the whole twentieth oor, and you can see everything-all the way to New Jersey-from up there."

"Cool."

"Yeah," Sandy said quietly. "You can tell everyone thought Michael was like...a queen or something. And she was nice to everybody."

"She's like that," Mitch.e.l.l observed, her hand creeping across the s.p.a.ce between them to grasp Sandy's. "She pays attention to everyone."

Sandy nodded silently.

"So?" Mitch.e.l.l asked nally. "What about the job?"

"The guy who runs the supply room-you know, orders all the stuff that everyone needs, like paper and les and even cell phones-is leaving soon. Moving out of state. They want to train a replacement before he goes."

"So that's the job?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I've never done anything like that before." Sandy unconsciously squeezed Mitch.e.l.l's hand. "What if I messed it all up?"

"Like how?"

* 193 *

RADCLY fFE "I don't know-ordered the wrong stuff. Or forgot to order something."

"Well, I suppose you'd just return the wrong stuff and order the right stuff." Mitch.e.l.l shrugged. "I bet that happens a lot."

"There's computers."

Sandy said the word as if it were a life-threatening disease.

Mitch.e.l.l couldn't help herself. She laughed.

"Shut up," Sandy snapped, slapping Mitch.e.l.l's arm and trying desperately not to smile.

"Honey, look at what I do every day. You don't think maybe I could teach you what you needed to know?"

"I've never had a job. I don't how how to do it."

"Well," Mitch.e.l.l said softly and kissed Sandy gently on the cheek.

"We'll just have to teach you. There's nothing you can't do, San. I promise."

"I don't want to disappoint you."

Mitch.e.l.l gaped. "You're kidding, right?" She tugged Sandy upright and framed her face with both hands. Leaning close, she said very distinctly, "I love you. If you want to try this job, then you should.

You'll be great. If you don't want it, then forget it."

"But you'd like it if I did, wouldn't you?"

"It's too dangerous out there, doing what you're doing for Frye.

I want you to stop. Job or not, I want you to stop." Mitch.e.l.l kissed Sandy's forehead, then her mouth. "If you had another job, you'd feel better about quitting this one."

"I have some things to nish for Frye, Dell." Sandy drew away, antic.i.p.ating Mitch.e.l.l's protests.

"Look," Mitch.e.l.l said, trying hard to contain both her temper and her fear. "Frye said just this afternoon that the heat is on around this whole Internet p.o.r.n thing, and that it's too dangerous for the CIs. She's going to pull you anyway."

"Well, she hasn't yet." Sandy stood, thinking about her upcoming meeting with Trudy. She had to at least see her, warn her to keep her head down. She resumed packing, pretending not to hear Mitch.e.l.l's teeth grinding.