Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

Despite the fact that, in the last few years, all branches of government

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and industry had stressed computer security, local law enforcement agencies lagged far behind in developing electronic surveillance units, mostly because they lacked personnel with the necessary skills. Sloan said nothing.

“The mayor and the chief and the head of City Council are very grateful that you and Detective Lieutenant Frye were able to uncover this pornography ring.” Captain Henry’s expression remained neutral, but the barest undercurrent of sarcasm edged his tone. “They were also, however, deeply embarrassed by the fact that such a thing existed in our city. They want to be sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

Sloan took a quick look at Rebecca. Detective lieutenant, huh?

I guess a lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours. Frye stared straight ahead, her expression completely unreadable. Sloan was momentarily irritated, wishing that Frye had given her a heads-up as to what the hell this meeting was all about, because she still didn’t have any idea. Then her mind focused on what Henry was saying, although she couldn’t really believe what she was hearing.

“…been authorized to hire a civilian consultant to set up the unit.

We’d like you to do it.”

“I’m not available, but I can recommend several well-qualiÞ ed security experts who could handle the job,” Sloan said immediately.

“City Hall wants to see immediate action on this,” Henry countered evenly. “You’re already cleared. Security screening on the others would take too long.”

Sloan couldn’t help but laugh—a short, humorless sound.

“Obviously, your system does need help. I wouldn’t pass a decent security screen.”

“You’ve already demonstrated your considerable abilities, and Lieutenant Frye vouches for you personally.” Henry’s expression never changed. “In addition to that, you’ve already been cleared at the highest level.”

“Highest level?”

“Agent Clark from the Justice Department.”

“Clark,” Sloan whispered.

“While overseeing the development of the ESU,” Henry continued smoothly, “you’ll be assigned to Lieutenant Frye’s unit.”

Sloan was still trying to absorb the fact that Clark had vouched for her. He should know that her arrest and subsequent dismissal from the

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Justice Department disqualiÞ ed her from a position such as this. The fact that he had paved the way made the entire offer suspect.

“I need to think about it.”

Henry stood. “Of course.” He extended his hand. When Sloan took it, he squeezed gently. “Just remember, we have two dead police ofÞ cers whose murderer is unaccounted for, an unsolved attempted vehicular homicide—I believe you’re familiar with that incident—

and”—he glanced at Rebecca—“a mole somewhere with direct access to our personnel and case Þ les. The identities of those individuals is probably somewhere in here.” He rested his hand on his computer. “I’d like you to Þ nd them, if you can.”

Sloan stared at the blank computer monitor, but what she saw was Michael lying in the street in front of their building, her face pale, her body battered and bruised, a maroon river streaming from beneath her head. Her hands closed into Þ sts.

“Oh,” Sloan murmured softly, “I can.”

v

Michael Lassiter stared at the computer screen, willing her eyes to focus. A dull throb reverberated at the base of her skull, impeding her ability to concentrate. Queasiness simmered in the pit of her stomach.

With effort, she settled her trembling Þ ngers on the keyboard and began a memo to the division heads of Innova Design Consultants, the company she had founded with her ex-husband and now headed.

Fifteen minutes later, she had completed one paragraph, and her head threatened to explode. Sporadic ß ashes of light streaked across her Þ eld of vision, and the queasiness had swelled to a surging tide of nausea.

She closed her eyes, hoping to Þ ght down the sickness.

“Michael?” Sloan crossed the loft in long strides, her face creased with concern. She knelt by Michael’s chair while cupping her hand at the base of Michael’s neck. “Baby?”

Comforted by the cool touch of her lover’s Þ ngers, Michael leaned into Sloan’s caress. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Missed you,” Sloan murmured, her eyes riveted to Michael’s pale face. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get a little work done myself.”

Sloan struggled not to let her apprehension show. Michael looked

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so frail, and her obvious pain knifed Sloan’s heart. “Rushing things a little, aren’t you?” She lifted Michael’s hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Ali said you should take it easy for a few weeks. Not to expect too much.”

Michael turned her head, resting her cheek in Sloan’s palm. “I didn’t think that reading my e-mail qualiÞ ed as a major endeavor.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a little while.” Sloan slid her hand beneath Michael’s elbow. “Come on, I’ll walk you into the bedroom.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Michael asked, remaining motionless, searching Sloan’s face. “Something about what happened to me?”

“No.” Sloan crouched again until their eyes were at the same level.

She held Michael’s gaze as she lightly stroked her cheek. “No. You had a really bad concussion. Remember Ali said it might be a few weeks before the symptoms cleared up? Headaches especially. It’s probably just too soon to work at the computer.”

“Sloan,” Michael said fervently, “that’s where I do most of my work. I’m a design consultant.”

“I know, baby, I know.” The edge of anxiety in Michael’s voice was unmistakable, and Sloan ached to reassure her. “But you’ve only been out of the hospital a week. This is normal.”

“I hate this.” Michael wrapped her arms around Sloan’s neck and leaned into her, resting her cheek on Sloan’s shoulder. “I hate feeling so weak, and I hate feeling useless. And I hate being apart from you most of all.”

“Oh no, baby. No.” Sloan rose slowly, enfolding Michael in her arms, and kissed her forehead, then her lips. “You’re getting better, and that’s the most important thing to me. Lying with you at night, holding you, waking up with you beside me. That’s everything.”

Michael pressed against her, needing her solid strength. “Not quite everything.”

Sloan’s pulse skyrocketed as Michael’s breath caressed her neck and the soft curves of Michael’s body melded to her own. The rush of arousal was entirely beyond her control, and she tried valiantly not to let her desire show. They had made love brieß y several days before, despite Sloan’s protests. Michael had seemed to need the connection, and Sloan could refuse her nothing. But despite her body’s acute response to her lover’s nearness, sex was the last thing on Sloan’s mind. All she wanted

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was for Michael to be well. “No, deÞ nitely not everything, but those other things can wait.”

“No choice.” Michael sighed, brushing her lips over Sloan’s.

“Damn—I’m sorry. I need to lie down.” She mustered a smile. “Then I want you to tell me what you’ve been doing since last night.”

Once they were settled in the bedroom, Michael curled against Sloan’s side with her head on her lover’s shoulder. While Sloan recounted the details of the meeting at Police Plaza, Michael listened without comment, her arm curved around Sloan’s waist.

“So you agreed?” Michael asked when Sloan fell silent.