Неизвестный - 6. Justice For All

“Clark thinks you’d have a chance at getting close to Zamora if you were with Michael, because she’s one of the wealthiest businesswomen—”

Sloan shot to her feet. “Clark can go fuck himself. Michael’s not going anywhere near Zamora.”

“All right,” Rebecca said. “I understand.”

“Are you planning on taking Catherine?” Sloan asked angrily.

“Catherine’s already going.” Rebecca would have preferred Catherine stay far away from anything even remotely connected to the case, but she couldn’t ask her to skip the event. “She’s on the board of the city’s AIDS/HIV commission. She attends a lot of fund-raisers.”

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“Michael is out of it.” Sloan sat back down, her eyes stormy. “I’ll go stag. Sloan Security does business with all the big firms in the city.

We’re not without resources, so I’d have a reason to be there.”

“What about the rest of us?” Dell asked.

Rebecca shook her head. “You need to stay away from Zamora for the time being.”

“Sandy’s going to be pissed she missed it.”

“No doubt.” Rebecca grinned fleetingly.

Dell would have laughed, except she was thinking that Sandy was going to be pissed about a lot of things.

v

“Talk to you a minute, Loo?” Watts said as the others filed out of the room.

Rebecca nodded, mentally reviewing her hastily thrown together operation. Mitchell might end up chasing a dead lead. With the girls Irina had been supervising out of the picture, Irina’s conduit to the crime organization might have closed. If that was the case, they’d waste a few weeks of surveillance time. But if Mitchell actually did get inside, she’d be there on her own. Because there was no way backup was going to be able to follow her where she needed to go. Rebecca had lost one partner. She wasn’t losing a member of her team.

“…my ass.”

“What?” Rebecca said sharply. “Nobody likes surveillance, Watts, but it’s necessary—”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to freeze my ass off out in the cold while Mitch is inside a titty bar getting his crank pulled,” Watts shot back. “Hell, what guy wouldn’t want to be the one freezing his nuts off in the car? All I’m saying is, you can’t go.”

“What?” Rebecca straightened. “I don’t think I heard you right, Detective.”

“Excuse me, Loo, but you’re supposed to be on desk duty. And excuse me again, but I don’t feel like having my ass chewed out by your…woman. Whatever.”

“My woman?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

Watts shrugged. “The doc. I sort of promised her.”

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Justice for All

Rebecca turned around and strode to the opposite end of the room. She braced both hands on the counter and closed her eyes. She’d promised her too. Except that she hadn’t known at the time that Henry planned to put the team back out on the street so fast. Units like hers typically spent months building cases through surveillance and wiretaps and gathering street intel. They tapped their confidential informants, they followed midlevel drug dealers, they rousted street pushers and pimps. They toiled at their desks and spent endless hours cruising the streets, until maybe they got lucky and could put a case together. But this was different. They were going hunting, and they were sending their youngest, their least experienced, into the jungle alone.

“God damn it,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Yeah, it blows,” Watts said from behind her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Rebecca said without turning around.

“Sure thing, Loo.”

Rebecca listened to Watts’s fading footsteps, then went to find Sloan. She needed a car.

v

Kratos Zamora ended his conference call with his European business associates, finished his coffee in a single swallow, and pushed the ceramic mug to the front of his desk where his secretary would pick it up and refill it upon his return. Then he stood, donned his silk and wool blended double-breasted charcoal suit jacket, checked the knot in his tie, and walked to the double mahogany doors separating his office from the adjoining conference room. When he stepped through, his brother Gregor was already seated near Vincent. On the opposite side of the room, a matching pair of double doors led to Gregor’s office.

Kratos sat down at the head of the polished walnut table. Another cup of coffee awaited him. He sipped it and regarded the other two men steadily.

“Well? What have we learned?”

Gregor clicked a remote to lower the room lights, then activated an LCD projector. “JT Sloan’s business address is a matter of record, and Angelo has been shooting everyone going in and out. Mostly women,

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one guy who is definitely a cop, and another young guy who we figure is Sloan’s partner. There’s a Jason McBride listed on their corporate holdings.”

“Let’s see them,” Kratos said.

Angelo had done a good job, shooting multiple photos of people coming and going. Two were clearly cops—a beefy middle-aged man and a tall, thin blonde who looked to be all business. Probably the detective lieutenant in charge. She looked like she could be a lesbian.

Kratos leaned forward. “Stop right there.”

Angelo had caught a full-face view of another blonde, this one elegant and sleekly beautiful. In her thirties, smooth-skinned and slender. The face of an artist’s model.

“Who is that?” Kratos asked.

“No name yet, but she’s a looker,” Vincent said.

Kratos shot him a steely glare and Vincent averted his gaze.

Another shot came up, this one showing the beautiful woman holding hands with a thin, wild-looking girl. A friend, maybe, because a woman as sensual and feminine as that one couldn’t possibly be a lesbian.

“I want her name,” Kratos said.

“Sure thing, boss,” Vincent said.

Gregor clicked off the slides. “Angelo has a straight sight line right down to their front door. He could take one out, probably two or three, and still get away clean.”

“And we’d have police in our lobby before the bodies hit the ground,” Kratos murmured, still thinking about the beautiful blonde.

“For now, we watch.”

“Papa would never have let puttanas like that interfere with our business,” Gregor grumbled.

“Papa was a great man,” Kratos said softly as he stood, turning his back on his brother to address Vincent. “Have Angelo print out head shots of all of them. And I want names to go with them.”

v

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ali Torveau greeted Rebecca as she stepped into the examining room and closed the door.

“No need to apologize,” Rebecca said, already regretting her

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Justice for All

unscheduled visit. Ali’s wrinkled, faded green surgical scrubs looked about as worn out as she did. The shadows under her eyes, which already seemed a permanent fixture, were darker today than Rebecca remembered them. “I’m the one interrupting your day when you’re probably due to go home. Sorry.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be here awhile.” Ali pulled the stainless steel stool out from under the tiny shelf that served as a writing table and instrument stand and sat down, leaning her back against the shelf. “Just finished a fifteen-hour marathoner. A couple of rival gangs went to war last night. Three dead. Two others may be joining them soon. Just kids.”

“Rough.”

“Stupid waste.” Ali shook her head, then focused on Rebecca, her fatigue appearing to vanish. “So what’s wrong?”

Rebecca hadn’t bothered to undress even though the nurse had instructed her to when she ushered her into the room. She sat on the examining table, the white paper covering crinkling beneath her. She detested being in a position where she had to ask someone else to empower her to do her job, even when that someone was a friend. “I need you to clear me for active duty. Today.”