returned the favor. She’d been at the Bureau nearly seven useless years and hadn’t recruited a single source—yet Sabinski never missed an opportunity to give her a leg up, so to speak. All of Lana’s cases had been reassigned, clipped from the hard-working agents who’d developed them. All under the guise of requiring Lana’s Russian language skills, a ridiculous notion given Russians serving under diplomatic cover must be proficient in English to be selected for U.S. tours.
Sabinski had once threatened to transfer Karat to Lana, but Plotnikov would hear nothing of the sort. He adamantly refused, arguing he didn’t require a translator. Then he threatened to cease cooperation with the FBI if J.J. didn’t remain his handler. His refusal may have saved his life. Few agents would have lied to protect him the way J.J. had.
“What are you two doing here?” Tony asked. He and J.J. were both surprised to see them in the office. They were scheduled to provide assistance on a joint task force with Coast Guard Intelligence all day. A crap assignment Sabinski had doled out in order to feign fairness. “Thought you were on surveillance today.”
“Yeah, we were on the water this morning,” Chris responded. His awkward glance toward Lana spoke volumes. “But, uhhh, Lana here dropped her weapon in the river.”
“Again?” J.J. and Tony remarked simultaneously. This was the third weapon in three years. Every competent agent in the vicinity rolled their eyes. For a brunette, Lana had blond tendencies.
“It was raining. My hand slipped,” she said, in a lame effort to defend herself, wearing her usual too-tight skirt and boobs seeping out of her too-tight silk blouse. Every day in the office with Lana was akin to a night at the Kitty Kat Club. She’d been ogled and gossiped about since she first sashayed through the entrance, and she couldn’t care less. To her, sex equaled power, and she brandished her feminine wiles more often than her 9-mm.
“Oh yeah. Sabinski’s looking for you,” Lana snapped, a slight hint of arrogance evident. Lana’s self-righteous sneers usually meant trouble. J.J. had landed in the hot seat once again. No surprise given her crap-filled afternoon.
Lana smirked and sauntered off. J.J. rolled her eyes and prepared for his wrath. She grunted and sucked her teeth.
“McCall! Get in here. Right now!” the portly one bellowed from his nearby sty.
Tony pointed the finger-gun at his head and pretended to pull the trigger against his temple. He offered it to J.J.
“Please, don’t tempt me.”
J.J. trudged toward Jack’s office, just a few feet away. She rapped her knuckles against the frame. Jack peered up from a file sitting on his wooden desk, suitably dark enough to hide coffee and Kit Kat stains. He pulled off his glasses and grunted, “Yeah, close the door behind you and have a seat.”
She sat in one of the two guest chairs across from him and peered at the ordered obsessive-compulsive chaos on his desk. Each item in its place. Not neat, just in its place. She scanned the office as he finished flipping through a case file, then glimpsed Plotnikov’s photo just before he closed the jacket. A look of disgust seized her face.
Jack slammed the folder shut.
When the hell did he get Plotnikov’s file? She’d just noticed it missing and his signature wasn’t on the log. Tony had mentioned the comms plan was missing too. The reason was now quite evident. Thankfully, he had a copy of doctored file. No information inside would get Viktor killed.
She struggled to hold his glance.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You got an update on Karat?”
She ran her fingers through the strands of hair dangling over her shoulder, grasped the back of her neck and let out a long frustrated breath.
“I know what you’re gonna say, but understand that the Gs had him…at least until the target made a cover stop and shook them. But KARAT couldn’t make the meet today anyway. He had an
Sabinski had once threatened to transfer Karat to Lana, but Plotnikov would hear nothing of the sort. He adamantly refused, arguing he didn’t require a translator. Then he threatened to cease cooperation with the FBI if J.J. didn’t remain his handler. His refusal may have saved his life. Few agents would have lied to protect him the way J.J. had.
“What are you two doing here?” Tony asked. He and J.J. were both surprised to see them in the office. They were scheduled to provide assistance on a joint task force with Coast Guard Intelligence all day. A crap assignment Sabinski had doled out in order to feign fairness. “Thought you were on surveillance today.”
“Yeah, we were on the water this morning,” Chris responded. His awkward glance toward Lana spoke volumes. “But, uhhh, Lana here dropped her weapon in the river.”
“Again?” J.J. and Tony remarked simultaneously. This was the third weapon in three years. Every competent agent in the vicinity rolled their eyes. For a brunette, Lana had blond tendencies.
“It was raining. My hand slipped,” she said, in a lame effort to defend herself, wearing her usual too-tight skirt and boobs seeping out of her too-tight silk blouse. Every day in the office with Lana was akin to a night at the Kitty Kat Club. She’d been ogled and gossiped about since she first sashayed through the entrance, and she couldn’t care less. To her, sex equaled power, and she brandished her feminine wiles more often than her 9-mm.
“Oh yeah. Sabinski’s looking for you,” Lana snapped, a slight hint of arrogance evident. Lana’s self-righteous sneers usually meant trouble. J.J. had landed in the hot seat once again. No surprise given her crap-filled afternoon.
Lana smirked and sauntered off. J.J. rolled her eyes and prepared for his wrath. She grunted and sucked her teeth.
“McCall! Get in here. Right now!” the portly one bellowed from his nearby sty.
Tony pointed the finger-gun at his head and pretended to pull the trigger against his temple. He offered it to J.J.
“Please, don’t tempt me.”
J.J. trudged toward Jack’s office, just a few feet away. She rapped her knuckles against the frame. Jack peered up from a file sitting on his wooden desk, suitably dark enough to hide coffee and Kit Kat stains. He pulled off his glasses and grunted, “Yeah, close the door behind you and have a seat.”
She sat in one of the two guest chairs across from him and peered at the ordered obsessive-compulsive chaos on his desk. Each item in its place. Not neat, just in its place. She scanned the office as he finished flipping through a case file, then glimpsed Plotnikov’s photo just before he closed the jacket. A look of disgust seized her face.
Jack slammed the folder shut.
When the hell did he get Plotnikov’s file? She’d just noticed it missing and his signature wasn’t on the log. Tony had mentioned the comms plan was missing too. The reason was now quite evident. Thankfully, he had a copy of doctored file. No information inside would get Viktor killed.
She struggled to hold his glance.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You got an update on Karat?”
She ran her fingers through the strands of hair dangling over her shoulder, grasped the back of her neck and let out a long frustrated breath.
“I know what you’re gonna say, but understand that the Gs had him…at least until the target made a cover stop and shook them. But KARAT couldn’t make the meet today anyway. He had an
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