Неизвестный - 3. In Pursuit Of Justice

“So you’ve got a leak,” Sloan said through gritted teeth, frustrated with the typical circumspect vagaries she thought she’d left behind when she’d left Justice. “Or else you’re the problem.”

“It’s not our leak.” Clark sagged slightly, looking suddenly drained. “We were close to getting names a few months ago. We had a good pipeline to inside information—an undercover agent who was putting together the links we needed to go right to the top.” His expression darkened. “And then someone took him out.”

“Someone was cleaning house,” Rebecca said grimly. “We lost cops then, too. My partner was one of them.”

“That’s something we have in common, Detective,” Clark said with a frustrated sighed. “Jimmy Hogan was one of mine.”

“What?” Rebecca said sharply, body tensing. “Hogan was an undercover narcotics agent for the Philadelphia PD.”

“He was also a United States Justice Department investigator.”

For a moment, the room was silent, and then Rebecca said quietly, “So Hogan was doing double duty, and he was going to help you make a federal case against the Zamora crime family. That was his ultimate agenda, and the narcotics angle was just a cover. Did you know he was going to give us the Intel on the kiddie prostitution ring?”

“It was important for his cover that he function as a cop as well, and it seemed fair to feed you some information on that. We were only interested in the guys at the top.”

“But someone found out about it,” Rebecca said. “And took him down. My partner just happened to be with him.”

“That’s how we read it,” Clark acknowledged. “When we set up this task force, I wanted to keep it small so that something like what happened to Jimmy wouldn’t happen again. The fewer people who know what we’re doing, the safer I figured we’d be.”

“Any ideas who the leak is?” Sloan asked grimly, her attention on Rebecca now. Apparently Clark had convinced her of his veracity.

“Theories, nothing more at this point,” the detective replied with a shrug. First and foremost, she was a cop. She didn’t indict other cops without evidence, and she had none. Avery Clark might be telling the truth; in fact she thought that he probably was. But that didn’t mean he was telling all the truth, and it didn’t mean he could be trusted. Until she had something concrete, and maybe not even then, she didn’t intend to share what she knew. Or even what she suspected.

“It looks like we’ll need to shelve tonight’s operation,” Clark said.

Sloan’s head snapped around to him. “Why?”

“We’re compromised,” he pointed out. “Someone clearly felt threatened—and they know your name.”

“I don’t think that means the operation is blown,” Rebecca disagreed. “If the leak is inside the department somewhere, they don’t know the details of the meet or who it’s with, just the general plan. Since they only know we’re getting close to someone, they’d go after the individual who was the greatest threat to exposing the Internet connection, which would eventually lead right up the ladder to the procurers and distributors—and finally to the money men. And right now that person is Sloan.”

“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’ll want my people on board for the arrest,” Clark stated.

“They can ride back up,” 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, then. Just in case it goes bad.”

“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, “Then at least bring your team shrink. You’ll have a negotiator present.”

Rebecca’s jaw clenched. “No.”

Sloan regarded her steadily, suspecting that she knew the reason for Frye’s resistance. When Catherine 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 back-up with you, Clark.”

“Fine,” he said, rising. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“We’ll brief at four-thirty 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 it 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.”

“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 ten minutes to four 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,” Catherine informed her after Rebecca emerged from the conference room, the relief in her voice clear.

“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, the gun to Catherine’s head flashed through her mind. “Goddamn it.”