Page 5

F ive days after he’d talked to Livvy, Jake was back in D.C., still waiting to hear about his upcoming undercover job. He’d been listening to chatter at the FBI office and hadn’t heard anything about Russian assets or undercover jobs that had gone south. But it felt as if everyone at the Bureau had heard about Livvy’s disastrous undercover job and was now looking at him. It wasn’t hard to read their expressions. What the hell had happened to Livvy? And was Jake part of the problem? Someone had clearly leaked the fact that he was supposed to have been her backup and hadn’t shown up. Now his fellow agents were holding their breath, waiting for another disaster -- one that wouldn’t have the same happy ending as Livvy’s ordeal.

Which had to be his imagination, because why would anyone be suspicious of him ? When he was supposed to be backing up Livvy, he’d been in Tennessee, testifying at a trial. And more recently, he’d been in Helena to take a deposition from the son of a mobster, which had nothing to do with Russia. He avoided Nelson, other than to nod at him as they passed in the hallway. But Jake was jacked up. Hyperalert. Watching everyone in the building, looking for someone who passed him in the hall too often. Someone he saw more often than he should -- in the hall. The cafeteria. The parking lot. At the deli he went to a couple times a week for a sandwich. Looking for signs someone was watching him.

Wondering if the people who crossed his path a little too often were Russian assets. Which he knew was ridiculous – no one was going to wear a sign that said ‘I’m working for Russia’. Everyone was merely doing their job, which made it almost impossible to sniff out a traitor. As far as he knew, he was the only one who knew what had happened to Livvy -- other than the person or persons who’d betrayed her and set her up.

As Jake finished the paperwork from his most recent assignment, Nelson slid into the chair beside his desk. “How’re you doing, Dunbar?” he asked.

“Good,” Jake said. “I’ll have the paperwork from the Ganson case ready by the end of the day. I’ll leave it on your desk for your signature.”

“Great,” Nelson said, shifting in Jake’s guest chair. He took a deep breath and said, “I have the details for your undercover job,” he said. His gaze slid away from Jake.

“Yeah? What’ll I be doing?”

“You’re gonna meet with a group of Bratva members in Brooklyn,” he said, his gaze darting to Jake’s before quickly looking away. “They’re looking for an enforcer, and I thought you’d be a good candidate to send them. You’re big. Intimidating. And I’ve seen how menacing you can be while you’re working. I think you’ll fit all their requirements.”

“What exactly are they expecting me to do?” Jake asked. He resisted the urge to wipe his damp palms on his thighs. This sounded like a dangerous, likely lethal assignment.

“Collect protection money from store owners. Approach new store owners to coerce them into paying for protection. Rough up any store owners who resist.”

Jake frowned. “We’re the FBI. We don’t actually rough up people who won’t work with us.”

“You just need to make it look like they were roughed up. Give them a black eye. Something everyone will see so they know you’re serious.”

“You expect me to actually hurt people?” Jake asked, disbelief in his voice.

Nelson shrugged. “You wanna make an omelet? You gotta break a few eggs.”

Jake held his boss’s gaze, horrified by what Nelson wanted him to do. Unless the plan was for Jake to die before he could do any enforcing. Or reporting to Nelson’s boss what Nelson expected him to do. The possibility of an early grave was looking more and more likely.

Clearing his throat, Jake said, “When and where is this meeting supposed to take place?”

“I’ll contact my source and get that for you in a few days.”

“Okay. And when are they expecting me to show up?”

“Our source gave them a range of dates, one to two weeks from now.” Nelson smiled. “You’re finishing up a job for your previous employer.”

“Who would be…?” Jake frowned at Nelson. This sounded like the perfect formula for getting whacked by suspicious Russians.

“A rival group in a different part of Brooklyn. Not Brighton Beach. An area the Bratva is trying to expand into.”

“So not only am I roughing up store owners, but I’ll be suspected because I’m not local.”

Nelson shrugged. “Yeah, that’s a downside. The upside? You won’t have any history with these guys. So you can basically be whoever you want to be.”

“And what does the FBI expect to gain from this undercover operation?” Jake asked.

“Information,” Nelson said smoothly. “Insights into how the Bratva operates. And opportunities to flip members and turn them into informants.”

Jake frowned at him. “Has anyone from this group approached the FBI? Offered themselves as an informant in exchange for dismissing charges against them?”

“No, that’s part of your job. Find those guys. Try to flip them.”

Jake’s stomach twisted into a knot. Thank God Livvy would be there to back him up. Because he was definitely going to need it with this shit show. Pretty much everything Nelson said had danger signs flashing in bright red.

“Okay, Nelson. I’m on it.”

Nelson smiled at him. “Good to hear, Dunbar. Check in daily while you’re undercover.”

“Will do, boss,” Jake said, watching Nelson walk out of his office.

Next up on his personal agenda -- figuring out why Nelson wanted him dead.

Jake left the office early. He needed to think through this assignment and figure out how to handle it. How Livvy could best back him up. And he needed to do some research on this new Bratva group.

He went to the library and looked up the name of the Bratva clan he’d be infiltrating. It was an actual group, a small social club in Sheepshead Bay. He dug into them, found they were active in all the usual Bratva niches -- occasional contract killing, loan sharking, prostitution, construction management, money laundering, robbery.

Further research revealed that this group was particularly violent. They were suspected of many murders that had never been solved. And Jake was pretty sure Nelson hoped to add his murder to that list.

Putting all his source material back where he’d found it, Jake headed home. He parked his car and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. He had just touched the first key on his keypad when he heard a sound from inside his place. A floorboard squeaked in the kitchen. He’d never fixed it -- he figured it was an early warning system. And today it had done its job.

Sliding his Glock 17 out of his underarm holster, he held it in his right hand as he typed in the code to unlock the door with his left hand. The door had a small squeak, which he’d also never repaired. Another early warning system.

When he heard the door unlock, he pushed it open and stepped into his apartment. The noises he’d heard before had stopped. His apartment was completely silent.

But Jake could feel the presence of another person. Was it the very faint sound of someone breathing too fast? The soft brush of clothing against a counter or a chair? The slide of a foot over the hardwood floor?

He’d go through the kitchen into the living and dining area. That way he’d be alerted if someone broke for the front door.

Holding his gun in a tight grip, pointed in front of him, he stepped into the kitchen. No one there. So he slid over the floor to the dining area. Was just about to step into the open space when Livvy appeared in the doorway, her own Glock extended in front of her. “Get on the floor,” she yelled. “Right now!”

His shoulders dropped and he lowered his gun. Replaced it in its holster. “Livvy? What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Livvy, her ashen face now bright red, blew out a breath and holstered her own weapon. “Jesus, Dunbar! You scared the crap out of me.”

“Likewise,” Jake said, swallowing hard. “I thought you weren’t coming for two more days.”

“Got away early. Figured we could use the time.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “We’re gonna need it.” He shrugged off his sports coat and hung it in the hall closet. “You want a beer? I sure as hell need one today.”

“Yeah, a beer sounds good.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Sorry I don’t have any Guinness. I was gonna get some tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Canned and bottled Guinness doesn’t taste the same. I’m fine with whatever you’re having.”

Jake pulled two bottles of Yuengling out of the fridge, opened them both and handed one to Livvy. “Let’s sit down,” he said, motioning toward the table in the eating area. Then he held one finger to his lips. Watched Livvy until she signaled she understood.

He pulled his bug detector out of his desk and turned it on. Began running it over every piece of furniture, everything hanging on the wall, every cabinet in the kitchen. When he’d finished checking the apartment, he stowed the device in his desk again and turned to Livvy.

“I started doing that when I got home from Helena,” he said. “Your story was disturbing on so many levels.”

“Good. That’s smart. Glad you thought of it.” Gripping the bottle with her right hand, Livvy studied him for a long moment. “You look… unsettled. Uneasy.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” He took a long pull of his beer and set the bottle on the table. “I talked to Nelson today.” He drew a shuddering breath. “He’s basically sending me on a suicide mission.”

“What the hell?” Livvy frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the Bratva,” he said. “But not in Brighton Beach. This is a group in Sheepshead Bay.”

“Holy shit.” Livvy set her bottle on the table with a thump. “Those guys are all psychopaths. Even the Brighton Beach Bratva are scared of them. What are you supposed to do?”

“Meet with them. Then I’m supposed to go to small businesses. Strong-arm them into paying protection money to the Bratva.” He shook his head. “Nelson suggested that I blacken a few eyes if they didn’t want to pay the protection money.”

“Get out of town!” Livvy stared at him, the bottle lifted halfway to her mouth. “You know that’s expressly forbidden by the Bureau.”

“Oh, yeah. I know. But Nelson didn’t give a damn.” He took another glug of beer. “I figure he expects me to be dead before I can report back to anyone at the Bureau.”

“What did you do to get on Nelson’s shit list?” Livvy asked.

Jake shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he knows I met with you in Montana. That’s the only thing I could think of. Do you even know if Nelson knows where you’re working?”

“I’m sure he does. He’s the kind who does his homework. He knew you were in Helena to talk to Nick and Celia, and he knows Blackhawk Security is there. Maybe that spooked him. Maybe he was afraid you’d talked to me. Or someone else at Blackhawk Security who might know what happened to me.” She set her beer bottle on the table with a hollow thump. “You think he’s just being proactive? Getting rid of anyone who might be a problem for him?” she asked.

“Possible.” Jake took another sip of beer. “Doesn’t make me any less dead if we don’t figure this out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Livvy said. He liked how confident she sounded. How certain she was that they’d suss out Nelson’s strategy and come up with a plan to blow it up.

Livvy shook her head slowly. “There’s nothing even a little subtle about his plan. Nelson is sending you out to be killed.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Jake said, his gut twisting into a knot.

Livvy leaned closer, locking her gaze with his. “We need to talk to Diana Redfield,” she said. “Tell her what Nelson wants you to do, including the stuff about knocking those small business guys around.”

“That’s probably a good idea, but what does that get us?” Jake said. “We don’t want Nelson wrapped up too soon. We want to figure out who his buddies are in the Bureau. And in order to do that, we can’t let him know we’re looking into him. Make sure he thinks I’m on this undercover job. On my way to an early grave.”

“We can come up with a story for Nelson,” Livvy said slowly. “Figure out a way Nelson and the unsubs might signal their plans. And you, being the smart, intuitive agent that you are, smelled a rat. Backed off and watched them. Figured out what their game was. And how to stymie them. When you don’t die, Nelson will freak out. Might even take matters into his own hands. If he does that, we have him. Because from now on, other than when you’re at headquarters, we’re attached at the hip.”

Jake nodded slowly. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Maybe I tell Nelson that I’m doing some surveillance work in Sheepshead Bay. Watching the address I’m supposed to go to. Seeing who goes in and out. Figure out how many people are usually there. The kinds of things any undercover person would want to know before they risk their neck.”

“Do you have the address you’re supposed to go to?” Livvy asked.

“Nelson hasn’t given it to me yet. But he’ll have to do it soon. I’m gonna tell him that I’m going to do surveillance. See what’s what. He wouldn’t’ expect me to go into a job cold, without checking it out first.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Livvy took another gulp of beer. “How about I try to set up a meeting with Diana for tomorrow? Maybe dinner somewhere away from the district? A restaurant where FBI agents wouldn’t usually go?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jake said. This whole ‘assignment’ sat in his stomach like cannonballs. “It’s not that I want to bitch to Diana about what Nelson’s doing. I just want her to know what’s up.” He studied Livvy for a moment, reassured by her calm facade. She wasn’t freaking out, and he liked that in a partner. “I think, with what Nelson said to me today, after what he did to you, Diana’ll realize he’s a problem. A likely Russian asset. And she has the authority to look into his family. See where he was born. Where his parents were born. Check his bank accounts. See if he has unexplained money somewhere.”

Jake swallowed another mouthful of beer. “I like the way you think, Williams. Yeah, see if Diana can meet us somewhere for dinner. Or even lunch. Somewhere that agents don’t usually go.”

Livvy leaned back in her chair. Smiled. “I’ll call her right away. Maybe I can catch her before she leaves tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said. “And it feels like we’re taking away Nelson’s control. I like that. I want to keep him on his back foot. Off balance. Maybe he’ll make a mistake. Give himself away.”

“We can only hope,” Livvy said.

Jake finished his beer and set the bottle on the table. “Go ahead and call Diana. Let’s get the ball rolling.”