Connections in Death (In Death 48)

Another hint of fang showed now as Reo smiled. “Coincidence?”

Looking away, Cohen tugged at the neck of his jumpsuit. “I only know the witness recanted.”

All three women remained silent, beat after beat.

“Okay, okay. Jones ordered it. He ordered the kid wasn’t to be hurt, just scared. It was only a few hours. That’s an example. I need a deal, in writing, before I give you more. Bigger.”

“Bigger than firebombing, kidnapping, witness intimidation? My, my.”

Reo took a tablet out of her briefcase. “Let the record show I’m bringing in Special Agent Teasdale of the FBI. Let’s see what we can do, Mr. Cohen.”

Eve figured she deserved some acting props for pretending annoyance and disgust. She’d personally requested Teasdale for this part of the game plan. They’d worked together before, and she knew the woman shot straight.

Reo cued up the tablet, brought Teasdale’s image on-screen.

“APA Reo.”

“Special Agent Teasdale, good afternoon. As previously discussed we have Mr. Cohen in Interview, He’s given a verified example of his inside knowledge of the Banger organization and their alleged activities that break state and federal laws.”

“As discussed, the FBI currently has agents reviewing and logging Mr. Cohen’s records. These records document his activities, which break state and federal laws.”

“Understood. However…”

Reo laid it out; Teasdale pushed back. Cohen whined, promised names, dates, locations. As negotiations crept along, Eve lobbed objections.

Why not just give him an all-expenses-paid lifetime vacation in fucking Tahiti?

Peabody tossed in a derisive remark about Club Fed.

At one point, Eve stormed out. When she hit the bullpen, she started barking orders. “Everybody in the conference room in thirty for a two-pronged op briefing.”

“What’s up, Loo?” Baxter asked.

“We’re taking on the Bangers and the Dragons. If you’re on a hot, I need to hear about it. Otherwise, you’re on this until it’s done. Detective Strong, my office.”

She hit the AC for coffee, gestured Strong to do the same.

“Put a team together,” Eve told her. “Ho’s your collar, and you’ll head that op.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You worked it. You’ve got thirty, so move it. I need to update Whitney and get SWAT on board.”

“Did he give you a name? On Lyle.”

“That’s coming, but he’s already given us enough on Jones to lock him up for a nice long stretch. We’ll see who else he flips on. Move it, Strong.”

In fifteen, Eve stalked back into Interview. Cohen, not as pale now, sat with his head bowed while Teasdale and Reo worked out fine details.

“I need to pick where you relocate me.”

“No.” Teasdale’s tone was flat and firm. “Unlike Lieutenant Dallas’s trip to Tahiti, WITSEC is not a vacation. If all terms of the deal are met, if your information proves valid and results in arrests, you will be given a new identity and relocated where the federal government deems. You will then adhere to all terms of the program, or your status will be rescinded.”

“But—”

“If those terms aren’t agreeable to you, Mr. Cohen, I can promise you’ll spend the next ten to twenty in a federal penitentiary—and it won’t be Detective Peabody’s insulting ‘Club Fed.’”

“I need it in writing.”