by Radclyffe
“I say we keep going,” Sloan said, a cold hard rage filling her chest. “It’s my lover they put in the hospital. I want them.”
“I agree,” Rebecca added. “If we don’t move now, eventually they’ll get word to all their people to lay low, including these Internet entry men. We’ll never have a better shot at it than tonight.”
“They may be waiting for you,” Clark pointed out. “They missed Sloan. They might try again at the meet. With McBride inside, you’ll have a potential hostage situation.”
Rebecca’s face was unreadable. “That was always a possibility. We’ll be prepared for that.”
“You’re running the ground show, Frye. It’s your call.”
“Then I say we go.”
“I want my people on board for the arrest,” Clark stated.
“They can ride backup,” Rebecca countered flatly. “We have to go in fast to protect Jason and secure the computers before this guy has a chance to destroy the evidence. That means a small strike force. I’ll run it with my people.” People I can trust at my back.
“You should bring in the TAC squad and a hostage negotiator. Just in case it goes bad.”
“No,” Rebecca objected. “You know those guys would bring in two dozen men and a half dozen armored vans, and we’d lose the element of surprise. We go small and quiet.”
He looked for a moment like he would argue; then, seeming to relent, he replied, “At least bring your team shrink. You’ll have a negotiator present.”
Rebecca’s jaw clenched. “No way.”
Sloan regarded her steadily, suspecting that she knew the reason for Frye’s resistance. When Catherine Rawlings was in the room, something softened in the detective’s hard eyes. She said quietly, “Jason could be at risk.”
Rebecca hesitated a heartbeat, then blew out a breath. “Okay. But she rides backup with you, Clark. And she stays in the vehicle.”
“Fine,” he said, rising. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
“We’ll brief at 4:30 at Sloan’s,” Rebecca said tightly as he made for the door. When he’d closed it behind him, she turned to Sloan. “How’s Michael?”
“In and out. She…” Sloan faltered, her voice breaking. “Ah, fuck…” After a minute, she continued, “She opens her eyes for a second every now and then, but she doesn’t seem to recognize me.”
“That’s to be expected at this point, I guess.” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would help. Had it been Catherine…even contemplating that made her stomach roll with dread. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Sloan.”
Sloan looked away, swallowed once, then found her voice. “Thanks.”
“Is there anyone you can call in to help Jason tonight? I’ll need Mitchell for the strike force, and I don’t know if she’s computer savvy enough to handle your job anyhow.”
“I’ll be there,” Sloan said sharply.
“Look, Sloan,” Rebecca said evenly. “Things have changed. This operation is hot now, and we don’t know what we’re walking into tonight. You’re in no shape—”
“I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are. You haven’t even been to bed for almost two days.”
“They tried to kill me. They nearly killed Michael instead,” Sloan seethed. “I’m owed, Frye.”
“I need to be able to count on you. You’ve got…” She glanced at her watch. It was 3:50 a.m. Sunday morning. “You’ve got fifteen hours until this goes down. If you don’t sleep most of it, you’ll be a danger to all of us.”
Sloan rubbed her face with both hands and sighed. “I’ll sleep here. You have my word.”
“I need you sharp tonight, Sloan.”
“I know what I need to do. I’ll do it.”
Rebecca took a chance and took her at her word.
*
“I just reviewed your chest x-ray with the radiology resident. It’s normal.” Relief clearly evident in her voice, Catherine informed Rebecca of the good news as she emerged from the conference room.
“Good,” Rebecca replied. “How do you feel? You look beat.”
“I feel about how I look,” Catherine said with a wry smile. “How’s Sloan?”
“Ragged, but calmed down a bit.”
Catherine sensed an uneasiness in Rebecca’s voice. “What is it?”
“Clark thinks it would be a good idea if you came along on the operation tonight. A precautionary thing.” Just saying the words made her chest tighten with anxiety.
“What do you think?” Catherine asked carefully.
“I think he’s right, and it’s exactly what I did not want to have happen,” Rebecca said sharply. A glimpse of Blake, his gun to Catherine’s head, flashed through her mind. “God damn it.”
“It will be fine, Rebecca. It’s nothing like the last time.” When her lover merely nodded curtly, she commented gently, “We’re both tired. Let’s talk about it later.” Again Rebecca nodded silently, and Catherine asked, “What are you going to do now?”
“Drive back to Old City and check in with Watts and Mitchell.” As if anticipating Catherine’s next words, Rebecca added quietly, “Just for a few minutes. Then I’m sending Mitchell home and leaving the follow-up to Watts for the time being. I’ll meet you at your place in less than an hour.”
“All right.” Catherine understood that Rebecca couldn’t rest until she had taken care of these last details. She understood it, and she tried hard to accept it. It wasn’t easy, seeing the deep shadows under her lover’s eyes and remembering the pain on her face just hours before. Then again, she doubted that any of them looked fit for public presentation at the moment. “I’m going to leave in just a few minutes, too. I just want to check on Michael one more time.”
Rebecca grasped her hand and drew her around the corner into the deserted alcove in front the elevators. Then she pulled her into her arms and kissed her, hard. Finally releasing her, she said fervently, “You were incredible tonight. None of us would’ve gotten through this without you.”
“If things keep up this way,” Catherine said with a shaky laugh, “I’m going to have to take an emergency room medicine residency.”
“It’s not always like this,” Rebecca assured her swiftly.
“So you’ve said,” Catherine murmured softly, laying her head against Rebecca’s chest, just enjoying the solid comfort of her. “Come home soon. I want to hold you.”
Rebecca kissed her forehead, then held her tightly, refusing to think about anything beyond the moment when they could be together. “Sounds like just what I need.”
She wondered if Catherine had any idea how very true those words were.
Chapter Twenty
Sarah Martin quietly pushed open the door to room 614 and stepped inside. The vertical blinds over the one window had been closed and the room was suffused in the pale yellow light of late afternoon. A steady beep from the monitor above the bed and the faint rasp of breathing were the only sounds. She walked to the figure slumped in a chair by the bedside and whispered softly, “Sloan.” When she got no response, she leaned down and gently shook the other woman’s shoulder.
Sloan’s eyes flew open, and she straightened with a start. Immediately, she looked toward the bed and then sagged slightly in disappointment. Michael had not regained consciousness since the one brief moment with Catherine nearly twelve hours before. Turning to her companion, she rubbed her face with both hands and asked, “What time is it?”
“It’s 3:30. Jason is on his way to the office for the briefing.”
“Right,” Sloan rejoined wearily, rising slowly. “Show time.”
Sarah stilled her friend’s motion with a hand on her arm. Quietly, she whispered, “Maybe you should call it off.”
“No. We might not get another chance.” Sloan moved to the bedside and ran her fingers lightly over Michael’s cheek. After leaning down, she threaded the fingers of her left hand through her lover’s and murmured close to her ear, “I won’t be long. I love you.” She kissed her fingers, then, g
ently, her lips.
With a determined gait, she walked out of the room and didn’t look back. Outside in the hall, she turned to Sarah, who had followed. “If Jason doesn’t make contact with this guy tonight, he’ll get spooked and suspect we’re on to him. We don’t know how closely he’s in contact with other members of this organization. He might not know anything; he might be a central player. We can’t afford to tip them off at this point.”
“Jason said the same thing,” Sarah said with a sigh, remembering their strained conversation only an hour before. She hadn’t wanted him to be the one to make contact, and he’d insisted it would be fine. “Look, go home and take a shower. If Jason’s going through with it, I’ll feel better if you’re there with him. The three of you mean more to me than anyone in the world. Having Michael hurt is all I can take.”
Sloan glanced at the closed hospital door, knowing that everything that mattered in her life was on the other side. “I don’t want her to be alone.”
“I’ll stay with Michael, and you’ll be back soon—right?”
“If she wakes up…” Sloan swallowed hard and continued, “When she wakes up, if I’m not here, tell her I’ll be right back. Tell her I lo—”
Smiling faintly, Sarah took Sloan’s hand. “Sloan, believe me, Michael knows that. Go get this thing done.”
Sloan nodded, a hard glint in her eyes. “Jason and I will see you in a few hours.”
*
Catherine and Rebecca dressed silently on opposite sides of Catherine’s bedroom. Catherine pulled on navy cotton chinos and a short-sleeved polo shirt, topping it off with a blue blazer. Rebecca slipped into jeans and a button-down-collar shirt, strapped on her shoulder harness, and covered it with a dark blazer of her own. They had slept most of the day and had said very little after rising and showering together.
“Be sure you stay with Clark,” Rebecca said quietly, her back to Catherine. From her gym bag on the floor, she pulled two extra magazines for her automatic and slipped one into each of the front pockets of her jacket. “We’ll all be miked, and you should be able to hear everything that’s going on. Even if things get…chaotic…stay in the car. Don’t come forward until I personally call for you.”
“How likely is this to turn into some kind of standoff?” Catherine registered Rebecca’s anxiety for her safety, but considered it unfounded. Of much greater concern to her was the possibility that Rebecca would be in the middle of a firefight. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re in no condition—”
“We have no reason to believe that this guy will resort to violence,” Rebecca said immediately, facing her lover now. “I just want to be prepared for any contingency. On the off chance the situation does heat up, I don’t want you at risk.”
“If someone has to go through a door,” Catherine said persistently, “let it be Watts. Not you. Not this time.”
Rebecca looked past Catherine out the bedroom window, struggling to find some balance between who she knew herself to be and who she needed to be if she was to keep Catherine in her life. “If we have to go through the door, I’ll let Watts go through first today—but I can’t promise you that I won’t be right behind him.” She met Catherine’s eyes. “That’s the best I can do.”
“All right.”
Rebecca’s piercing gaze intensified. “And what about you? Will I have to worry about you while I’m trying to control the scene?”
“I’ll stay with Clark until I’m summoned. I promise.”
They both moved at once and met each other in the middle of the room. Simultaneously, each slipped her arms around the other’s waist as they pressed together for a fierce kiss. A minute became two until finally each drew back a fraction with a regretful smile.
“Time to roll,” Rebecca said softly, gently releasing her.
*
Mitchell ran through her mental checklist. Automatic loaded. Backup .32 in her right ankle holster. Extra ammo in the right front pocket of her jeans. Badge in the opposite front pocket. Cuffs in her left rear pocket where she could reach them while holding her gun on a suspect with her dominant right hand.
She stopped by the front door of her apartment and snagged her black leather jacket off the clothes tree. She was in jeans, sneakers, and a short-sleeved football jersey. She couldn’t think of anything else she needed—or needed to do. Fleetingly, she thought about making a phone call, but then thought better of it. It seemed as if there should be someone, but there never really had been.
Her family had never understood her reasons for wanting to go to West Point and had understood even less her reasons for leaving the Army. Of course, it hadn’t helped that she couldn’t tell them why she had resigned, because she would have been betraying secrets that were not hers to reveal. Now she was a cop, something else that no one in her family of business executives and investment brokers could fathom. The only person she could think of, in fact, the only person she really wanted to call, was someone who considered the police her enemy. In the end, as it had always been, she was alone.
She stepped through her door and went down the two flights of stairs out onto the sidewalk. A car was idling at the curb, and she slid into the front seat.
“You all set, kid?” Watts asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
*
When Rebecca and Catherine arrived at Sloan’s shortly after 4:00 p.m., they found Sloan, Jason, and Mitchell waiting for them in the conference room. Avery Clark, along with two men who were apparently DOJ agents, joined them soon thereafter. Once they had all gathered around the table, Sloan and Jason flanking Rebecca at one end and Clark at the opposite end, the detective and the federal agent regarded each other expressionlessly, as if a silent debate was taking place as to who would speak first.
Finally, Clark said, “Why don’t you go ahead and lay it out for us, Detective Sergeant.”
“Okay. Mr. McBride is to make contact with the subject at the Upstairs Connection, a cybercafé at 17th and Market at 7:00 p.m. tonight.” As Rebecca spoke, none of her surprise at the fact that Clark had allowed her to take control of the operation so easily showed in her face. It wasn’t her experience that federal agents ever relinquished the lead to local law enforcement. It might simply indicate that Clark was the straightforward agent he represented himself to be, one whose only interest was in breaking the case. Only time would tell.
She continued speaking, letting every thought except those of the upcoming engagement fade from her mind. “As instructed, he will log on as BigMac10, his Internet persona, in the usual chat room and wait for contact. Presumably, he will be given further instructions at that point. Sloan will be monitoring from a wireless unit in the lead trace car, both there and at the final destination. At this point, we have no reason to assume that the subject, LongJohnXXX, suspects Mr. McBride to be anything other than someone interested in viewing live sex with minors and a potential customer for future live broadcasts.”
She threw Jason a quick glance and received a slight nod. “Therefore, we don’t expect resistance. Nevertheless, the exact location on this subject within the hierarchy of the organization is unknown, and he’s considered a potential threat risk.”
“Are you going to wire him?” one of Clark’s agents interrupted, indicating Jason dismissively. This drew a quick flicker of disapproval from Clark.
“No,” Rebecca answered calmly. “We considered it, but that’s the one thing we think that the subject might check for, given even a normal level of suspicion. We don’t want to blow McBride’s cover before he gets inside the subject’s house and we have access to the most recent downloads.”
As Rebecca continued to outline the upcoming maneuver, Catherine watched her and the others at the table. She loved to watch Rebecca work. When Rebecca was in charge of an operation, every ounce of her considerable personal presence emerged—her strength and confidence and skill were undeniable. There was something both comforting and exciting in the unshakable certainty she exuded a
s she enumerated each detail—the order and positioning of the stakeout vehicles, each team’s role in the apprehension of the subject, and the contingency plans if the subject deviated from the scenario they predicted him to follow.
It was fascinating and terrifying to listen to the individuals, seated around the table, discuss the upcoming maneuver, which could potentially result in injury or death to any one of them. All in a day’s work, it seemed. To be able to confront that reality and ignore it required tremendous powers of both denial and self-assuredness. It also required a tremendous amount of trust. She began to understand the bond between police officers in a completely different way. It was more than just the connection that grew between two people who worked together. When you relied on someone for your very life day in and day out, the allegiance and commitment formed a bond that very little could break.
She wondered what it would be like to have to work within that tight community and not have the support of one’s fellows. For an instant, she thought of Mitchell and her experience that night in a dark alley when she had called for backup and no one had come. She glanced at the young officer and saw dedication and determination etched in each intense line of her face. Then her lover’s voice penetrated her consciousness again, and she saw only her.
“So,” Rebecca said, her tone shifting as she wrapped things up. “Once we have the subject in custody, the crime scene team will be standing by to oversee evidence documentation.”
She looked around the room, assessing each individual. Clark seemed calm; his two agents fidgeted slightly as if impatient to get on with things. Jason had listened intently, but she had a feeling that he and Sloan had already had their own briefing. They appeared far less interested in the tactical maneuverings of the police than they probably were in their own plans for information assessment and transmission during the operation. Watts slouched next to Jason, looking bored as usual. Mitchell, next to him, had never moved her eyes from Rebecca’s face during the entire briefing, as if she were memorizing each word. To her left, Sloan had not moved during the entire time either, and Rebecca detected a faint tremor in her hand where it rested on the table. On the far side of the security consultant, Catherine sat composed as always, quietly watching, absorbing, and evaluating.
