Justice Served (37 page)

“I know, baby. I know.”

Monday – 7:20 a.m., Sloan Security Offices

Rebecca handed Mitchell a cup of coffee. “You did good work last night, Detective.”

They were alone in the conference room, waiting for Jason and Sloan to gather the preliminary data from Sandy’s review of the videotapes. Mitchell rested her hips against the counter and stared into her coffee.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Undercover work is one of the most difficult things a police officer can do,” Rebecca said conversationally as she leaned next to Mitchell. She sipped her coffee and gazed through the windows opposite them at the crisp blue sky. “A good undercover officer is an invaluable asset to a team like this.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Never doubted it.” Rebecca angled her body and studied Mitchell’s face. “Mitch is unique. He gets us in places that no one else could. I also appreciate that his assignments, especially this one, put added pressure on you.”

“It’s all so new,” Mitchell admitted quietly. “Mitch, the work, how it all fits together. Me and Sandy.”

Rebecca nodded. “It’s a lot to handle, and you’re doing just fine. I wouldn’t put you out there if I didn’t trust you to deal with whatever comes up. No arrest is worth one of my people.”

“I just don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t. Not if you keep your head on straight.” Rebecca took a sip of coffee. “How’s Sandy doing?”

Mitchell colored. “She’s good. Okay.” She turned the coffee cup in her hands and finally tasted the contents. It was hot, and that was about all she could tell. “I think she understands what I’m doing. On the job, I mean.”

“Then you’re luckier than you know.”

“No,” Mitchell said softly. “I know how lucky I am.”

“You have a problem—on the job, at home—you come to me. We’ll work it out.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Rebecca straightened as Sloan and Jason came in. “Okay. Let’s get to work.” She took her seat and the others followed suit. “Tell me you have something for me.”

Jason passed copies of a printout to both Rebecca and Mitchell. “Not everything, not yet. But we’ve got a start.”

Rebecca perused the list of dates, mentally counting off the intervals between them. “It’s a loose pattern, but it’s a pattern.” She looked from Jason to Sloan. “Can we get the rest of this today?”

“Sandy’s on her way,” Jason affirmed. “I think we’ll have the rest of the dates for you in a couple of hours.”

“I want to get a look at the central computers at Port Authority,” Sloan said.

“I’ll make some calls,” Rebecca replied. “The captain down there is a good officer. I think she’ll be willing to let us work outside channels a little bit. Watts is meeting with her this morning, so the two of you can coordinate at that end.”

Sloan nodded.

“When are we going to bring Captain Henry in on this?” Mitchell inquired.

Rebecca shrugged. “When I can bring him a solid package of evidence and enough of a plan to convince him that we don’t need the feds to run this operation.”

“Fucking-A,” Sloan muttered.

“At some point,” Rebecca advised, her eyes on Sloan, “Clark is going to get involved. The international human smuggling, trafficking these girls across state lines, the Internet angle—it’s all federal. But before they grab up the perps like they did last time, I want the guy who did Hogan and Cruz. And I know he’s part of this.”

“Got to be,” Mitchell said. “He’s probably the enforcer for this arm of the organized crime network. I’m willing to bet he oversees the transfer of the girls from the port to the stash houses and probably runs all the guys who guard them too. That means he’s got rank in the organization.”

“I agree.” Rebecca appeared pleased with Mitchell’s assessment. “Which means he’s just the kind of guy that Clark is going to want to try to turn—someone high enough up in the organization to name names. And I want him first for the murder of two cops, a bent ADA, and an innocent young girl.”

“Then let’s move fast,” Sloan said, eyes gleaming. “I need to stop by Police Plaza to see how my new guys are doing with the work on retooling the computer system. Then I’ll head down to Port Authority.”

“I expect that Irina will move on Mitch tonight,” Rebecca said. “We’ve got fifteen hours to put this together.”

Sloan grinned. “Plenty of time.”

Monday 8:45 a.m. Port of Philadelphia

Captain Carla Reiser passed Watts a pastry on a paper plate as she sat down next to him on the worn plaid sofa in one corner of her office. She gestured with her coffee cup to the stack of printouts in front of him. “These are the most likely ships to fit the profile and dates you’ve given me so far.”

Watts rifled through the stack, softly humming a refrain that approximated “We’re in the money.”
“Can we get duty rosters for the shifts when these ships came into port and also for the time they were being off-loaded?”

“I’ve already got the computers working on that.”

“That so?” Watts gave her an appreciative glance as he took a huge bite from the cheese Danish. He chewed, swallowed, and shook his head approvingly. “It’s nice you’re not busting my balls over sharing this info.”

Carla took a healthy bite of her own Danish and regarded him thoughtfully. “Why should I?”

Watts lifted one beefy shoulder. “Interagency cooperation is more of a pipe dream than a reality.”

“This is a big port, Detective. Tons of merchandise move through here annually. I could tell you that no one could keep track of it all, and that would be the truth.” She lifted the stack of papers and let it fall to the table in front of them with a thump. “If there’s evidence in here that large-scale—no, scratch that—if
any
kind of smuggling is going on at this port under my watch, I want to know about it. And if it
is,
it’s not happening without inside help.” Her chocolate eyes grew even darker with fury. “I want to see the son of a bitch who’s been using my turf like his own personal playground strung up by
his
balls.”

“Now that’s my kind of police,” Watts said with a happy smile.

“The shift lists will need to be cross-referenced, drivers checked, a lot of background info run—Lieutenant Frye says she’s sending over a computer expert to sort through it and nail down how the transfers are being made.”

“That would be Sloan,” Watts said. “If anyone can put it together, she can. She’ll need a secure place to work because we don’t want to tip our hand.”

“She can use my office.” Carla stood. “Let me take a quick tour around the docks before she arrives. Assuming we get a chance for lunch, I’m buying.”

“Nah, let me get it.” Watts cleared his throat. “I, uh…like working with you.”

“Good. Same here.” As she reached the door, she looked back. “But lunch is off the clock. And on me this time.”

Watts stared after her, grinning, and was still grinning when Sloan walked in a few minutes later.

“Please tell me what there is to be happy about,” Sloan said by way of greeting.

“I finally ran into a woman on this job who likes guys with
real
dicks.”

“Yeah?” Sloan’s attention was already riveted on the computer on Reiser’s desk, and she headed for it. As she settled into the captain’s swivel chair, she muttered offhandedly, “Rumor has it there’s one or two of them still left around.”

Watts picked up the shipping manifests and schedules, his smile still in place. “It only takes one.”

Thinking of Michael, Sloan nodded, her fingers already racing over the keyboard. “As long as it’s the right one.”

Monday 1:00 p.m. Sloan Security Offices

Mitchell rested her hands lightly on Sandy’s shoulders and bent down to kiss her cheek. “How’s it going?”

Sandy tilted her head back and sighed. “We’re almost done.”

“We picked up the first one that Trudy did,” Jason informed her. “You should take a look at the one right before it.”

“Why?”

Wordlessly, Jason scanned the disk and, finding the file he wanted, played the image. Mitchell hunkered down next to Sandy, resting her hand on her girlfriend’s knee as she stared at the monitor. The setting was generic—a nondescript bedroom, very little in the way of decoration, harsh studio lighting. Two naked women and a man lay tangled together on rumpled sheets. As she watched, Mitchell saw the two women get to their knees and then straddle the man. While facing each other, one lowered herself onto his erect penis and the other settled over his face. Then, they leaned toward one another and kissed. The woman who rocked rhythmically above his mouth was Irina.

“Fuck,” Mitchell said.

“Looks like she came up through the ranks,” Jason remarked. “Probably supervising the girls looks like a lot better job to her than this did.”

“Is that her?” Sandy asked quietly. She looked at Mitchell. “The one you’re hooked up with?”

Mitchell didn’t see any point in correcting her terminology. “Yeah. That’s her.”

Sandy narrowed her eyes and studied the images. “Nice body.”

“Turn it off, Jason, will you,” Mitchell said curtly. She took a breath, struggling to clear her head, but the anger kept pushing back. “Can we use this somehow?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “Maybe. It’s more circumstantial evidence to tie the girls at Ziggie’s to the porn ring. By itself, it probably doesn’t mean much. But it’s one more piece of the puzzle.”

“Yeah.” Mitchell stood and tried to shake the tension from her shoulders. “What about the ones Trudy and her friends did? Do they fall out at the times Hogan was investigating those ships?”

“Yep. Right on target.”

“You think this will be enough for the lieutenant to go to Captain Henry?”

“If Watts and Sloan come up with something for us at Port Authority, I think so.”

A muscle in Mitchell’s jaw jumped. “Good. ’Cause I’m ready to end this.” She turned and stalked the length of the building to the windows that overlooked the river. She braced both hands against the steel frame and stared out, but she wasn’t seeing the water or the ships or the arch of bridge that dwarfed it all. She was remembering the vacant look on the women’s faces as the cameras captured their pantomime of passion. She barely moved when she felt Sandy’s arms come around her from behind. She knew her lover’s touch so well that no words of recognition were necessary.

“What you thinkin’?” Sandy asked, resting her cheek between Mitchell’s shoulder blades.

“I was thinking that I’m no better than that guy in the video. Just using her—only because I’m doing it in the name of justice, it’s somehow supposed to be better.” Her tone was bitter, her body stiff and unyielding.

“Somehow I don’t see
that
guy feeling guilty about getting off,” Sandy said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the back of Mitchell’s neck, her arms crossed around Mitchell’s middle. “And because he never gave it a thought and you’re standing here feeling bad about giving her what I’m willing to bet she
wants
, that shoots your argument full of holes, rookie.”

“The lieutenant said this morning that it takes somebody special to be undercover.” Mitchell’s voice wavered. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Sandy angled her hips and spun Mitchell around to face her, then planted her palms flat against Mitchell’s chest. “Let’s just get clear on what’s really going on, okay? Do you feel bad because you’re lying to Irina or lying to yourself?”

Mitchell frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What do you feel worse about?” Sandy said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “That Irina doesn’t know you’re a cop, or because deep down inside, you really want to fuck her?”

“What I feel bad about,” Mitchell said quietly, “is that deep down inside, I really don’t.”

Sandy cupped her fingers around the edge of Mitchell’s jaw and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “I knew it had to be something twisted like that, because only you could get yourself all worked up over
not
wanting something.”

Despite herself, Mitchell grinned. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you.”

Solemnly, Sandy shook her head. “Uh-uh.” She moved her hand over Mitchell’s heart. “The only thing I know for sure is that you’re good.
Really
good, inside. I love that about you.”

Mitchell swept her up into a hug, lifting her off her feet with the force of the embrace. She kissed her, holding her off the ground, lost inside her. Only Sandy’s fist in her hair tugging her head back brought her back to awareness.

“Jesus, baby, cut it out,” Sandy ordered. “We’re supposed to be working here.”

Chest heaving, Mitchell set her down but kept her arms loosely around Sandy’s waist. “I love you. You make everything inside of me feel right.”

Sandy smiled. “Ditto, rookie. Ditto.”

Monday 5:20 p.m. Police Plaza

“You think we’ll be able to get this by Clark?” Watts asked as he and Rebecca stepped off the elevators.

“Not indefinitely, but maybe just long enough.”

“You think maybe we should wait on telling Henry, then?”