Janie Crouch - Infiltration

Maybe seeing her today was some sort of sign to him. Further proof he needed to finish up this case and take a break. Maybe he would call Sophia, try to repair the damage from five years ago. Explain to her his reasons for leaving.

And tell her that he had never stopped thinking about her.

But right now he had to concentrate on the case at hand. Fin was finally winding down his spiel about the assault rifles, quite a bit of it incorrect information, the buyers had the weapons they wanted and DS-13 had the cash.

Cameron could tell Fin was pleased. As the buyers left, he walked over to Cameron and slapped him on his back.

“Good job, man. Very smooth transaction.”

“As always, Fin. That’s what I do.”

Cameron wanted to demand to meet Fin’s boss, but knew that any request on his part to meet the man would push him that much further away from a meeting. He had been patient up until now. He could be patient awhile longer. Although with the Ghost Shell encoding technology becoming Cameron’s prime mission objective, he couldn’t be patient much longer.

Fin nodded. “It is what you do, Cam. And Mr. Smith, my...um...boss, has become well aware of that.”

Cameron straightened, his interest piqued. He doubted Mr. Smith was the boss’s real name, but this was the first time Fin had ever openly talked about him directly to Cameron. Finally, the slightest progress.

“Well, I’d like to meet Mr. Smith someday.”

Fin slapped him on the back again. “And you will, buddy. Soon, in fact. Mr. Smith may need your help in setting up some meetings for some new stuff.”

Cameron hoped that by new stuff Fin meant the Ghost Shell technology. Fin didn’t have an expansive vocabulary, unless it came to dirty jokes.

“But now, let’s get back to the house so we can see that weight lifting you were talking so much trash about on the way here.”

Cameron followed Fin down the stairs. Two of the other three minions were already at the car. The third, Marco—the one sent to patrol the inside of the warehouse—wasn’t there.

Dread pooled in Cameron’s stomach.

“Where the hell is Marco?” Fin demanded of the other two. Neither knew.

“He’s probably in there smoking or on the can. I’ll go find him,” Cameron offered. He had a bad feeling.

“Fine.” Fin shooed Cameron annoyingly with his hand again. But again Cameron didn’t care. “Hurry up.”

Cameron made it to the warehouse door, just as it opened. Through it came Marco, dragging a terrified Sophia behind him.

Chapter Three

Cameron knew he had to think fast. A single word from Sophia, any sort of gesture that she knew him, would mean both their lives. In a split second, Cameron made a decision.

But he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He stormed up to Marco and grabbed Sophia out of his grasp. “What the hell, Marco? Is this a cop?”

Cameron pushed Sophia, probably a little rougher than necessary, face-first up against the warehouse wall. He heard her indrawn breath, but steeled himself against any thought of her pain or fear.

It was going to get much worse.

Cameron kept his hand pressed against Sophia’s back, keeping her forced against the wall. Behind him he heard Fin and the other guys draw their weapons.

He willed Sophia to keep quiet.

Marco, a little shocked by Cameron’s aggressive behavior, stuttered, “I just found her inside. She said she was an artist and was taking pictures of the warehouse.”

“Did you check to see if she was wearing a wire or anything?” Cameron demanded.

Marco looked sheepish and shook his head. Cameron made a big show of running his hands all over Sophia’s body, as if looking for surveillance equipment. Behind him the guys made a couple of catcalls. Sophia shuddered.

When his body search led to her hands, he could feel Sophia press some sort of card into his palm—he wasn’t sure what. He moved so he more clearly blocked her from Fin and the men’s view, and palmed whatever she had given him without looking at it. As he turned, he slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.

“She’s clean,” Cameron said as he spun her around. Sophia attempted to straighten the clothes Cameron had lifted and moved during his search, her face burning.

“Listen...” Sophia began.

Cameron backhanded her.

Oh, God. He pulled the slap as much as he could without making it obvious, but he knew it still had to hurt. Her head flew to the side. He watched as a bit of blood began to ooze from a split in her lip. Cameron thought he might vomit.

But if she had said his name, they would both be dead, or at the very least his undercover work would be blown. He couldn’t take the chance.

He stuck his finger in her face. “You shut the hell up unless I ask you a specific question, got it?”

Cameron prayed as he had never prayed before that Sophia would keep quiet. He felt a bit of relief when she nodded slowly, staring at the ground.

“Whoa, Cam. I didn’t think you had that in you.” Fin chuckled.

Cameron smiled a little bit and rolled his shoulders as if he was getting rid of tension. “Yeah. Well, I hate cops. But it doesn’t look like she is one.”

Cameron took Sophia’s digital camera and brought it over to Fin. Together they looked through the pictures. Cameron relaxed a little when they were all shots of the doorway of the warehouse.

“What are you, a photographer?” Cameron asked her. He hoped she wouldn’t bring up the Bureau.

“Yeah. A graphic artist.” The answer came out as little more than a whisper from Sophia. She was still looking at the ground.

“What were you doing here?” Fin asked.

“Taking pictures for a computer drawing I’m doing of old warehouses.”

Cameron breathed another sigh of relief when she didn’t mention law enforcement. Good girl; smart thinking.

Cameron walked back over to her. “Did you know we’d be here?”

Sophia shook her head, staring at the ground. Cameron grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him—more theatrics for Fin and the guys’ benefit, but Sophia was paying the price. “You had no idea we were here?”

“No,” Sophia spat out. “I thought all these buildings were abandoned. I just needed some pictures.” She was glaring at him, but Cameron could see the terror lurking just behind the anger.

“Yeah, I’m all for woman’s lib, but I guess nobody would be stupid enough to send one tiny female with no backup or weapons to arrest all of us.” Cameron leered at her. “No offense, sweetheart.”

“Marco, did you find any ID on her?” Fin asked.

“Her purse was in her car, which was sitting out front. I moved the car inside the building just in case someone else drove by,” Marco informed them.

Well, that answered the question about why Sophia’s car hadn’t been out front when Cameron had looked the second time.

Marco brought the purse to Fin. Fin glanced inside the bag, evidently finding nothing of interest, pulled out her wallet and let the purse fall to the ground. Fin took her driver’s license out.

“Sophia Reardon. Twenty-seven years old. Alexandria address.” Fin looked through the rest of her wallet. Cameron held his breath, knowing Sophia must have some sort of FBI identification, even if she wasn’t an agent. But Fin didn’t say anything, just dropped her wallet into the purse on the ground.

Cameron thought of the card Sophia had slipped to him when he was searching her. Feigning as if he was looking around, Cameron slipped the card out of his pocket and glanced at it. Sure enough, Sophia’s FBI credentials.

A smart and gutsy move on her part—one that had just saved her life. If Fin had seen FBI anywhere on her or in her possessions, they wouldn’t have cared if she was just a graphic artist and not an agent. As far as they were concerned, anybody employed by the Bureau was their enemy.