Читаем без скачивания 6. Justice For All - Неизвестный

“Yes,” Sloan gasped. “I say yes.”

v

“Why offer her Witsec when we can get what we need without it?”

Clark drained the glass of bourbon and gestured to the hotel bartender for a refill.

Rebecca sipped her coffee, wondering if Clark actually had a house or if he just moved from one hotel to another. She thought about going home to Catherine that morning, of crawling into bed and having Catherine join her. Falling asleep with Catherine’s arms around her, just holding her. Just being there. For a fraction of a millisecond she almost felt sorry for Clark. And then she thought about Irina and the other girls who were nothing but pawns to him. Players on a game board.

She realized in that instant that appealing to his better instincts was pointless. She knew how he saw the world. His was the righteous path, and the end always justified any means. Collateral losses were simply the cost of doing business.

“She has a picture of her sister, but she won’t give it up to us because she doesn’t trust us. If we find the sister, we’ll have more leverage on Irina and we’ll also have another girl on the inside.” Rebecca drank more coffee but it tasted like acid as she said what she knew she needed to say. “New identities and protection for both of them. The cost is nothing compared to how big this will be if we make the case against the Russians. And if we connect them to someone bigger.” Rebecca shrugged. She didn’t need to tell Clark it was a career-making case.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll need to have her meet with the federal marshals to convince her.” Rebecca pushed the coffee away. “She’s not your biggest fan.”

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Clark snorted. “You’re breaking my heart.” He finished off his bourbon. “I’ll set it up.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca walked out of the bar, the scent of bourbon lingering in her consciousness. She opened her phone and punched in a number. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes. Can you throw some things in a bag—enough for overnight.”

“Where are we going?” Catherine asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere not here. Just us.”

“That’s just what I need.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Rebecca closed the phone and took a deep breath of the chill night air. “Me too.”

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Justice for All

ChAPTER TwENTy-FOUR

Dell put the pizza box on the counter next to the six-pack of beer she’d picked up at the corner deli. The television was turned to a nature show. Irina sat cross-legged on the bed, barefoot in black tights and a cobalt blue sweater. Without makeup and with her dark, wavy hair loose around her shoulders, she looked much younger than Dell had previously thought.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Twenty-three.”

Dell slid a piece of cheese pizza on a paper plate and carried it to Irina, then went back to get extra napkins and a piece for herself. Irina shifted over on the mattress, which she’d covered with a floral print sheet and lime green blanket, and Dell sat on the corner of the bed, her booted feet stretched out in front of her.

“If you had called me, I would have cooked you something to eat,” Irina said.

“You don’t need to do that. But thanks.” Dell took a bite of her pizza as she framed her next question. The topic was sensitive and she didn’t want Irina to close down. “Your sister’s younger, isn’t she?”

“She will be seventeen next month.” Irina crumpled the napkin she was holding.

“Fuck,” Dell muttered, but before she could ask her next question a hand slid along the inside of her thigh and Irina changed the subject.

“You aren’t dressed to go out tonight.”

“No.” Dell methodically chewed her pizza and ignored Irina’s hand. Maybe if she didn’t make a big deal out of it, Irina wouldn’t

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either. “My lieutenant thinks it’s a good idea for you to contact Olik, though. Call him and tell him you feel safer now, as long as you have Mitch, and you want to come back in.” Dell glanced at Irina. “It’s important that I go with you. Olik isn’t going to hurt you with a witness there, Irina.”

The assurance sounded more confident than realistic. Dell was pretty sure Olik wouldn’t want a boyfriend hanging around, seeing too much. He’d have to convince Olik he could be useful.

Irina’s fingers drifted higher, skimming Dell’s crotch. “If I bring Mitch, Olik will be angry.”

“What will he do?” Dell covered Irina’s hand and placed it on the bed between them.

“I don’t know. He will test us.”

Dell thought of the undercover narco detectives who were forced to sample drugs during drug buys to prove they weren’t cops. Some of them developed a taste for the product they were trying to eradicate.

She wasn’t exactly certain what Olik might want, but she couldn’t worry about that. “That’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

“So you say, new boy,” Irina said softly.

Dell pulled the envelope from the inside pocket of her jacket and showed Irina the images Jason had printed. “Do you know any of these men?”

Frowning, Irina took the photos and sorted through them. Once or twice she slowed and Dell noticed her hands trembling.

“What? You recognize someone?” Dell probed.

Irina’s mouth tightened. “I know the big man, Sergei. He is one of Olik’s men.”

“What does he do, exactly?” Dell’s heart raced. This was the kind of information they needed.

“He…” Irina hesitated, as if searching for words. “He makes sure that the girls get to the parties or the movie set or wherever Olik wants them to go. Then he stays to make sure no one bothers them. That the girls behave. That the customers are satisfied.”

“He’s an enforcer—like the guy in the club the other night?”

Irina shook her head. “No. He is more like an officer. Not a regular soldier.” She looked frustrated. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain.”

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“No, I get it. He’s one of Olik’s lieutenants. How high up is Olik?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

Dell thought for a second. “You’ve been to these parties. These movie shoots. That Olik arranges, right?”

Irina nodded.

“Where? Where were they?”

“All over. Here. New York City. Washington, once.”

Dell wanted to shout. The Mid-Atlantic corridor. Moving women, girls, between states for the purpose of prostitution was going to buy someone a lot of years in federal prison. “That’s good. You’re doing great.”

Irina smiled. “I made a mistake, believing men like Olik back in Russia. I have been paying for that ever since.”

“You did what you had to do.” Dell squeezed Irina’s hand. “And you’re doing the right thing now.”

“I will leave a message at Ziggie’s. Olik usually comes around on Wednesday nights. To check on the girls. Collect money, I think. I’ll say I want to meet him.”

“Okay,” Dell said. “Mitch and you. Ziggie’s. Wednesday night.”

v

“Rebecca, darling,” Catherine murmured, stroking Rebecca’s face, “it’s time to get up.”

The night before they’d driven an hour outside the city to a small bed and breakfast in the mountains. After an unhurried, intimate dinner, they’d gone to bed early with a fire burning in the fireplace in their room. Rebecca had fallen asleep in her arms, and Catherine hated to wake her. She studied her lover’s face in the predawn light. The bruises hadn’t completely faded yet and now smudges of fatigue were visible beneath her eyes. If she had her wish, they would stay here for a week, to heal in body and soul. But that was not to be.

“Rebecca,” Catherine whispered.

Usually, even when completely exhausted, Rebecca would awaken at full alert, but not this morning. She murmured something unintelligible and rolled closer, pressing her face to Catherine’s breast.

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Catherine felt her nipples tighten and the familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach, and even though she knew they needed to get up soon if they were going to beat the rush-hour traffic back to the city, she responded to an even greater need. Not for the sex, but for something far more important. Sliding her fingers through the short thick hair at the base of Rebecca’s neck, she cradled Rebecca’s head and guided her nipple into Rebecca’s mouth. She gasped in surprise at the swift tug of teeth against her already turgid flesh.

“You’re awake, you faker.”

Rebecca shifted her hips and pushed her leg between Catherine’s, forcing her onto her back and following her over. “I wanted to see if you were really worried about the traffic.”

“I think you have your answer,” Catherine said, knowing Rebecca must feel the rush of wetness where her thigh was pressed to Catherine’s center. “I do have appointments, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Rebecca murmured, kissing her way down Catherine’s body. “I’ll use the siren.”

v

Six hours later, Catherine leaned back in her office chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself a few minutes to relive the earlier moments of pleasure. The sex had been wonderful, but what lingered with her now was the unique feeling of connection to Rebecca that she shared with no one else in her life. Between clients, she thought about calling her just to hear her voice, but then she remembered that Rebecca had said she would be in court that morning and unavailable. Because the HPCU functioned outside the normal hierarchy of the department, Catherine often forgot that Rebecca still had to perform the routine duties of any other detective. The phone call would have to wait until the afternoon.

Just as she reached for a stack of insurance forms, her secretary rang.

“The special appointment you’re expecting has arrived,” Joyce said with a hint of disapproval. She’d informed Catherine in no uncertain terms earlier that morning that there was no time in her schedule to squeeze in another patient. She’d been very unhappy when Catherine told her she would work through her lunch hour.

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Justice for All

“Thank you. Detective Mitchell is with her?”

“Yes.”

“Send them both in, please.”

“You have clinic at one,” Joyce said curtly.

“I know. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to get you a salad to take with you?” Joyce asked in a conciliatory tone.

“That would be wonderful. You’re a dream.”

“I know.”

Catherine smiled to herself as she waited for Joyce to bring Dellon and Irina back. When the door opened, she walked around her desk to greet them. The beautiful young woman with Dellon was not what she’d expected. In Catherine’s experience, criminals tended to be either extremely guarded, hostile, or psychopathically charming. This woman appeared to be confident and without subterfuge. Her gaze was clear eyed and direct, and she regarded Catherine with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Adjusting her expectations for the interview, Catherine shook hands with her as the introductions were made, then asked, “Do you know why we asked you to come in to talk to me?”

Irina sat on the edge of the armchair as though poised to flee at the first opportunity. “Mitch said if we talked, it might help the police.”

“Ordinarily, I don’t discuss with the police the things I talk about with my clients,” Catherine said, settling back into the chair behind her desk. “Are you comfortable with Mitch being here? Because you do know Mitch is a police officer.”

Irina smiled. “I know who he is. He can hear what we say.”

“Detective Mitchell?” Catherine said. “If at any point Irina wishes you to leave, I’ll ask you to do that and what we discuss after that time will be confidential.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Before we talk about what’s happened to you since you arrived here,” Catherine said, “I wonder if you could tell me a little bit about your life before. Where you grew up. Detective Mitchell said you have a sister. What about the rest of your family?”

“My sister is my only family,” Irina said. After a slight pause, she told them in a dispassionate voice of the small Russian village where she grew up. Of her father who died in an accident when she was too

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young to remember him. Of her mother, uneducated and unskilled, who had barely been able to provide for them. Of the men who offered young girls a way out of poverty, a chance to realize their dreams in a bright and shiny new world.

For the first time, her voice faltered and she looked down at her hands. “I brought my sister here and now I cannot protect her.” Tears glittered on her lashes and she turned to Mitch, reaching out a hand.

“Even if we find her, how can I get her away from these men?”

Dell clasped Irina’s hand. “There might be something we can do about that. I didn’t tell you before, because it’s not totally set up yet, but my lieutenant called me this morning. She’s arranging for you and your sister to go into the witness protection plan. When we find her.”

“Protection?” Irina looked uncertain. “We will have to go away?”

“Yes.” Dell explained the plan, trying to make the legal process sound more straightforward than it really was. “You’ll be sent somewhere secret where you can start fresh. You’ll have people to help you. And you’ll be safe.”

“What if we do not want this? To go away?”

“Irina,” Catherine said gently. “You don’t have to decide that right now. You’ll be able to talk to the federal marshals who are in charge of the program. Then you can decide. But Mitch and the other police officers want to help you and your sister.”

“Not the man who put me in jail,” Irina said. “He does not want to help me.”

“Ah,” Catherine said. “Forgive me. I was speaking of the officers who work with Mitch. You can trust them.”

Irina threaded her fingers through the detective’s. “I trust Mitch.”

Catherine understood the message. Irina believed Mitch and probably no one else. “Tell me about your sister.”

Irina picked up the purse she had placed by her feet. She rummaged in it for a few seconds, then withdrew a photograph and handed it to Catherine. “This is her. She was only thirteen in this picture.” She smiled sadly. “She looks different now.”

“We can have our artist work with the image,” Dell said. “Change it until it looks more like her now.”

“You will not need to,” Irina said. “You already have a better picture of her.”

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Justice for All

Dell frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You showed it to me last night.”

v

“We finally got a bit of a break,” Rebecca told Sloan and Jason when she arrived at the HPCU headquarters. “One of the girls Sandy got a shot of at the party the other night is Irina’s sister.”

“Which one?” Jason said, pulling up the images.

“Give me the full-room shot.” Rebecca leaned down and pointed to one of two girls flanking a distinguished-looking man in his sixties.

He was fondling one girl’s breasts while the other girl worked the erection that jutted through his open fly. She pointed to the girl with her hand on his penis. “That’s her.”