“You all set, kid?” Watts asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

When Rebecca and Catherine arrived at Sloan’s shortly before four p.m., they found Sloan, Jason, and Mitchell waiting for them in the conference room. Avery Clark, along with two men who were apparently DOJ agents, joined them soon thereafter. Once they had all gathered around the table, Sloan and Jason flanking Rebecca at one end and Clark at the opposite end, the detective and the federal agent regarded each other expressionlessly, as if a silent debate were taking place as to who would speak first. Finally, Clark said, “Why don’t you go ahead and lay it out for us, Detective Sergeant.”

“Mr. McBride is to make contact with the subject at the Upstairs Connection, a cybercafe at 17th and Market at seven p.m. tonight.” As she spoke, none of her surprise at the fact that Clark had allowed her to take control of the operation so easily showed in her face. It wasn’t her experience that federal agents ever relinquished the lead to local law enforcement. It might simply indicate that Clark was the straightforward agent he represented himself to be, one whose only interest was in breaking the case. Only time would tell.

Then she continued speaking, letting every thought except those of the upcoming engagement fade from her mind. “As instructed, he will log on as BigMac10, his internet persona, in the usual chat room and wait for contact. Presumably, he will be given further instructions at that point. Sloan will be monitoring from a wireless unit in the lead trace car, both there and at the final destination. At this point, we have no reason to assume that the subject, LongJohnXXX, suspects Mr. McBride to be anything other than someone interested in viewing live sex with minors and a potential customer for future live broadcasts. Therefore, we don’t expect resistance. Nevertheless, the exact location on this subject within the hierarchy of the organization is unknown, and he’s considered a potential threat risk.”

“Are you going to wire him?” one of Clark’s agents interrupted, indicating Jason dismissively and drawing a quick flicker of disapproval from Clark.

“No,” Rebecca answered calmly. “We considered it, but that’s the one thing we think that the subject might check for, given even a normal level of suspicion. We don’t want to blow McBride’s cover before he gets inside the subject’s house and we have access to the most recent downloads.”

As Rebecca continued to outline the upcoming maneuver, Catherine watched her and the others at the table. She loved to watch Rebecca work. When Rebecca was in charge of an operation, every ounce of her considerable personal presence emerged—her strength and confidence and skill were undeniable. There was something both comforting and exciting in the unshakable certainty she exuded as she enumerated each detail—the order and positioning of the stakeout vehicles, each team’s role in the apprehension of the subject, and the contingency plans if the subject deviated from the scenario they predicted him to follow. It was fascinating and terrifying to listen to the individuals seated around the table discuss an upcoming maneuver which could potentially result in injury or death to any one of them. All in a day’s work, it seemed. To be able to confront that reality and ignore it required tremendous powers of both denial and self-assuredness. It also required a tremendous amount of trust. She began to understand the bond between police officers in a completely different way. It was more than just the connection that grew between two people who worked together. When you relied on someone for your very life day in and day out, the allegiance and commitment formed a bond that very little could break. She wondered what it would be like to have to work within that tight community and not have the support of one’s fellows. For an instant, she thought of Mitchell and her experience that night in a dark alley when she had called for backup and no one had come. She glanced at the young officer and saw dedication and determination etched in each intense line of her face. Then her lover’s voice penetrated her consciousness again and she saw only her.

“So,” Rebecca said, her tone shifting as she wrapped things up. “Once we have the subject in custody, the crime scene team will be standing by to oversee evidence documentation.” She looked around the room, assessing each individual. Clark seemed calm; his two agents fidgeted slightly as if impatient to get on with things. Jason had listened intently, but she had a feeling that he and Sloan had already had their own briefing. They appeared far less interested in the tactical maneuverings of the police than they probably were in their own plans for information assessment and transmission during the operation. Watts slouched next to Jason, looking bored as usual. Mitchell, next to him, had never moved her eyes from Rebecca’s face during the entire briefing, as if she were memorizing each word. To her left, Sloan had not moved during the entire time either, and Rebecca detected a faint tremor in her hand where it rested on the table. On the far side of the security consultant, Catherine sat composed as always, quietly watching, absorbing, and evaluating.

“Sloan?” Rebecca asked, “Anything to add?”

Sloan cleared her throat and straightened slightly in her seat. “The success of the operation depends upon us hitting fast with absolutely no warning. Anyone with something to hide who knows anything about computers might program a destruct sequence which can be initiated with a keystroke or two. Depending upon this guy’s level of knowledge and his degree of suspicion, he may very well have something like that in his system. We are going to have almost no time between entry and immobilization if we’re going to preserve the critical evidence on his hard drive.” She glanced to Jason once, an unreadable glance passing between the two of them, and then added, “The most important thing is that LongJohn has absolutely no reason to believe this is anything other than a meeting with a prospective client and fellow connoisseur.”

“What about arming McBride?” Clark suggested. “He would be the logical one to subdue the subject if it seems as if he’s about to destroy critical evidence.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Not advisable. The subject is very likely to search him for evidence of weapons or a wire. We’ll have a front and rear entry team, assuming there are two entrances, or a tandem front strike force. We’ll be moving very quickly. Hopefully the element of surprise will be all that’s necessary. In addition, I don’t want McBride exposed as one of us. I intend to arrest him along with LongJohn and take him in to preserve his cover. Tonight is just the beginning of this sweep.”

Clark nodded, and every law enforcement officer at the table knew that the individual at most risk in the entire operation was Jason, who would be unprotected and unarmed in the middle of a potentially violent situation.

Jason looked relaxed and calm, perfectly at ease. “Once we start receiving the live download, Sloan will be able to pick it up. I’ll be expecting you, and he won’t.” He shrugged as if that settled things.

“All right,” Rebecca said, standing. “We need the surveillance teams to move into position at 1800 hours. Assume that LongJohn is smart enough to check the area before he enters the cafe, so keep an eye out for anyone looking into parked vehicles.”

Everyone rose, then began to separate into separate groups. Rebecca motioned to Catherine with a faint tip of her chin and the two of them stepped out into the corridor.

“If we’re lucky, we won’t need you,” the detective said quietly.

“I think that I should ride with you and Sloan,” Catherine said just as quietly. “Sloan’s going to be monitoring the actual conversations that Jason and Long John are having, isn’t she?”

“That’s the plan,” Rebecca said, beginning to see where Catherine was going and searching for an argument to counter it.

“In that case, I need to know what is being said between them as well. That’s the only way I can judge the tenor of the situation, and it will give me a much better idea of LongJohn’s state of mind. If I can be of any help at all, it’s going to be in evaluating the threat risk. And to do that, I need to know what’s being said.”

“She’s right,” Sloan said from a foot away, having approached without their notice. “I was about to suggest the same thing, but I didn’t want to do it in there.”

Rebecca whirled to face Sloan, her blue eyes sharp as lasers, an acid retort on her lips. Fortunately, she managed to contain her temper, because the professional part of her knew that what Sloan and Catherine said made sense, and had she been thinking more like a cop and less like a lover, she would have suggested the same thing herself. “You’re right,” Rebecca admitted with a sigh.

Sloan, in black jeans and T-shirt, looked worn beyond exhaustion. Her normally vibrant eyes were dull with pain. Directing her next words to Catherine with just a hint of her old charm, she asked, “I assume that you can be trusted to stay in the vehicle if things get crazy?”

“Word of honor,” Catherine agreed, her eyes on Rebecca.

Rebecca rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand, rapidly making mental readjustments. “Okay, Catherine, you’ll ride with us. I’ll advise Clark and meet you two downstairs.” She turned and walked away, leaving Catherine and Sloan alone.

“How are you doing?” Catherine asked gently.

“Okay,” Sloan lied.

“Michael?”

Sloan shook her head. “She hasn’t regained consciousness yet.” Her eyes searched Catherine’s face. “Are you sure she woke up earlier when…”

Catherine placed her hand on Sloan’s arm and squeezed gently. “I’m absolutely positive, Sloan. She’s just healing, and when her body has restored itself enough, she’ll wake up. It’s going to be all right.”

“Thanks.” Sloan sighed, accepting Catherine’s comfort gratefully.

“You don’t need to thank me. Just take care of yourself. Michael will need you strong when she wakes up.”

Sloan nodded again, then squared her shoulders, her eyes clearing and determination hardening in her face. “We have a long way to go before we get to the people behind this. Tonight’s just the opening move.”

“Well, then,” Catherine replied as they moved down the hall toward the elevators, “let’s be sure to win this round.”

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

REBECCA, SLOAN, AND Catherine sat in a nondescript beige Ford sedan half a block down and diagonal to the Upstairs Connection. Rebecca continuously scanned the street, watching for anyone who appeared to be watching for them. They had arrived an hour before Jason’s appointed rendezvous time. At 1845 they had seen him come down the street from the direction of the 15th and Market Street Subway Surface Car stop which he had taken to get there. At 1850 hours he had gone through the street level door that led to the second floor cybercafe and disappeared from their view.

Sloan worked silently, monitoring the connection she had established to the Internet using a sniffer software program that allowed her to hack into a local wireless network. She was completely unaware of anyone else’s presence in the vehicle. Right now, Jason’s safety and apprehending the suspect were her primary objective. As long as she focused on the screen, and the multiple programs she had running, she didn’t think about Michael for at least a few minutes at a time. While she worked, she could almost ignore the constant ache in her chest.

In the back seat, Catherine waited patiently, having learned the ability to separate herself from the anxiety and distractions of others during her hours of therapy sessions. She had also learned to dissociate herself from her own internal issues and concerns. Doing that in the presence of her lover, whose health and wellbeing were of paramount concern to her, was more difficult than she had anticipated, however. She found if she concentrated on trying to understand just what Sloan was doing, it helped. Thus far, from what she could glean from the occasional update that Sloan provided Rebecca, she knew that Sloan was now monitoring the chat room where Jason was to meet LongJohn.

“Anything?” Rebecca asked calmly. She sat behind the wheel of the sedan, as relaxed as she usually got during a stakeout. The long hours of waiting could lull an unsuspecting, inexperienced officer into a state of lassitude which could result in dulled reflexes and impaired powers of perception. That meant you could be taken by surprise, and that could get you killed. She had learned long ago to maintain her level of alertness despite the boredom of inactivity. She constantly surveyed her surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that LongJohn might have brought along an accomplice who would be watching for them just as they were watching for LongJohn and Jason. She needed to be certain that they were not followed when they followed their quarry.