Jo Robertson - The Traitor

"Hell, no, let's talk over lunch," he answered, standing and grabbing his jacket where it lay on the file cabinet.

Torres glanced at her watch and frowned. "Breakfast's barely over."

Rafe's cell rang again and he flipped it open to look at the caller ID. Damn, he was popular today. DHS Agent McNally, the bastard, probably going to horn in on his case. "I have to take this," he said. "I'll come down to your office in a few minutes."

Torres simply raised those lovely dark brows and flashed an enigmatic smile. "Sure, but I'll expect a full report on that call." She nodded toward the phone he clutched in his hand. "No holding back, Hashemi. Remember our agreement." She exited the room gracefully, her slender hips swaying beneath the gray skirt.

Moeder van God! Rafe's Dutch was pretty damn good too.

"Agent McNally, no secret-agent codes from Homeland Security today?"

"Stuff it, Hashemi," McNally said. "What's new on your case?"

Rafe was pretty sure DHS already knew about the interception of the girls outside Reno, the human trafficking angle to the case, but he was certain McNally wouldn't be as interested in poor Mexican girls as the kilos of dope they'd found in the van. "You heard about the girls?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, so what?" McNally's attitude confirmed Rafe's suspicions. "That doesn't fund terrorists. Drug money does. What'd you find?"

Slater had kept the information on the girls as tight as possible so apparently McNally didn't know about the drugs yet. "Just the girls," he lied. "Were you expecting something else?"

Silence wafted through the phone like a deadly virus. "No, just wondered," McNally said, his voice sounding like someone who'd swallowed a fish bone. "Doesn't matter anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Because there was a hit on the girls. They're dead."

Rafe didn't care much for McNally or his bulldog tactics, but the shock in the agent's voice was genuine. "Jesus Christ! All of them? What about the drivers?"

"Yeah, all of them." After a long moment, McNally rallied. "Thought you were Muslim, Hashemi."

"Yeah, that's why Homeland Security shouldn't do their own thinking," Rafe said quietly, snapping the phone shut.

Shit! This was a disaster. How could Vargas possibly have gotten the intelligence in time to make a hit on nine girls and their Mexican drivers? And how was he going to break the news to Isabella?

Bella paused outside Hashemi's office, not at all ashamed that she wasn't above eavesdropping. When she heard the click of his phone, she hurried back to her office. Hashemi was playing footsies with Homeland Security and something had happened. The reference to the drivers meant a snafu in the system.

At her desk she reached for her phone. "Slater, anything new on the girls?"

She knew something was wrong by the prolonged silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll be right up," he said. "Wait for me."

"Slater, what the -?" The line went dead.

What was going on? And how did the Department of Homeland Security learn something before the D.A.'s office did? Damn, she should be the first contact person on any new development, but she knew DHS had their sneaky little spies everywhere. Slater had better have a good reason for keeping information from her.

By the look on his face a few minutes later, Bella knew he did. He shut the office door behind him, but remained standing, his arms dangling at his side. He looked tired, spent, and worried. A worried Slater was not something Bella was accustomed to seeing.

"What?" she said, rising from her chair, leaning her fingertips on the desk blotter. "What's going on?" She heard the rising panic in her voice, felt a strange buzzing in her ears as her fingers and toes went deathly cold.

"Sit down, Bella."

"Damn you, Slater! I'm not some fragile doll that breaks under the pressure of bad news."

Slater sank into the arm chair opposite her. "Nevada County assisted in arresting the van drivers and taking the girls into protective custody." That he avoided her eyes was a bad sign. "During the transport from the hospital to the jail this morning, a van forced the transporting vehicles off the road. There were six of them armed with semi-automatics. Very quick, very professional."

Bella dropped into her chair and buried her face in her hands. My god, how could this have happened? After a moment, she raised her head. "How did they know? How could they possibly get to them so fast?"

Slater shook his head and rounded the desk to put his large hands on her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "It's not your fault, Bella. Hell, no one's to blame."

At that moment Hashemi strode into the room, his face a grim reflection of Slater's. "You heard?" He sat carefully in the chair Slater had just vacated and scrubbed his hands down his face. "Christ, it was a bloodbath."

Bella winced and felt her shoulders start to shake.

"A little tact, Hashemi, all right?" Behind her Slater's voice sounded harsh.

Rafe's eyes met hers across the desk. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

He shifted restlessly in the chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. "At least there's some good news. God knows how, but one of the girls escaped the attack. I didn't get that from DHS. They think everyone's dead. My agents have her under guard at a local hospital. No one knows about her." He paused meaningfully. "And no one knows about the heroin."

"You don't trust anyone," Slater confirmed. "The department, DEA, DHS, anyone could be dirty."

Rafe nodded.

"How is she?" Bella asked.

"Stable, and she'll survive," Rafe answered. "When she's well enough, we'll transport her to a safe house in Placer Hills, probably tomorrow. I've got two of my best men watching her."

"She'll need round the clock protection," Slater said. "I'll put Harris on it. He can be trusted."

Hashemi nodded. "If Vargas can get to the van like that and take out potential witnesses so fast… hell, he can get to anyone."

"Not to Harris." Slater turned to look out Bella's window, his shoulders set and his face pensive. "You've got a major leak, Hashemi. You need to plug it up before more people get killed."

"Don't you think I know that?" Rafe's face turned dark and an angry blush crept up from his white collar. "God, I want Vargas so bad I can taste it."

Bella rose and walked around the desk, leaning against the edge. "Vargas is a maniac, an insane madman. We'll get him on any charge we can make stick." They all realized it was a kind of truce.

Slater moved across the room and paused at the door. "I've got county business looming ahead of me," he said with a wry smile, "but I'll personally oversee the transport of the girl."

Bella nodded. "We can't let anything happen to her."

"It won't." Slater walked down the hall, his shoes clicking loudly on the linoleum flooring.

Bella and Rafe were silent for long minutes after he'd left. The weight of this latest discovery lay between them like a fog of grief and disappointment.

"Come on, Torres," he finally said. "Let's have that late breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she murmured.

"Early lunch, then," he wisecracked, but she could see his heart wasn't in it.

Last night Bella had started putting together a proposal for using Santos as a wedge against Vargas. Dangerous business, but she was convinced Vargas' only weakness was his reliance on Santos. And she'd seen something in the bodyguard's flat, dark eyes that had spoken to her in some crazy way. She wanted to approach him alone.

Without his boss around. Without anyone knowing what she was doing.

Santos did not mind the intrusion of the attractive Latina ADA into his personal life. He had not completely forgotten how to admire a pretty, young woman. What he minded very much, however, was the uncanny resemblance the woman bore to the dead girl whose picture he carried with him always.