“Ah,” Kat said. “That would be the same FBI with whom we had a clusterfuck last night before agreeing both sides would stand down?”
Pasco slid down in his chair. “That sounds like the one.”
“At least we’re not the only ones who were caught withour pants down,” Lang said, finally contributing to the conversation.
I appreciated that he said “we”, acknowledging that we were still a team.
“Well, these four asshats got caught with their pants down,” he clarified. “But at least neither agency gets to claim the high ground.”
“Which is why X’s wrath is pointed outward and not at us. Forrester inadvertently saved your asses.” Her bright red color had faded and she’d stopped vibrating. I took that to mean our dressing-down was over.
“Can we talk about the information we collected now?” Pasco asked, also sensing the shift in her energy. “The way I read the warrants, we should be able to keep it. We didn’t violate the letter of the law.”
Lang arched an eyebrow at Kat.
“Yes, we get to keep it,” she said. “This is a good news, bad news, good news story. The good news is you’re all getting undercover training. If you’d had that training, you would have known the importance of locating and distracting the FBI agents for the duration of the operation. X insisted you wouldn’t need the training, given the scope of this team’s missions. Tonight, you proved her wrong, although we will never again mention that to X.”
“That’s thegoodnews?” Hayes asked, voicing what we were all thinking.
We’d done well thus far in avoiding the full-fledged spy experience, but now it looked as though our good luck had run out.
“It’s great news for me,” Kat said. “As for the bad news, the FBI is throwing a hissy fit. They want copies of all that data.”
I clenched my fists, wishing I’d punched that assholeForrester when he’d walked through Riker’s back door. No way in hell would I let him get ahold of the recording of Cami. “Can X block them?”
“No,” Kat said, “but the final piece of good news is that she was able stall them. We have until 1800 hours to determine what files might be related, even tangentially, to the drug case and send those to them. Pasco, what can we do with that time?”
“With all hands on deck, we can review the files and isolate every bit of kompromat. And since those fall under HEAT jurisdiction...”
“Those files don’t have to be turned over to anyone,” I finished for him.
“Possibly not,” Kat said. “And we have first crack at them. Divide and conquer, people. Everyone, grab a laptop. Pasco, start sorting and sending files to us. We’re making electronic piles, so to speak. One for the FBI and a more expanded one for us.
“I’ll take the files that were created during the timeframe when he was dating Dr. Vaughn, and set aside any images or video of her for Pasco to destroy. I know you’re all professionals, but I don’t want Cami to feel embarrassed, worrying about what one of you might have seen.”
“Kat, I need to do it,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow at me. “Rogers, you do not want to see that.”
“I sure as hell don’t, but I promised her that if anyone had to look at the recordings, I’d be the one to do it.”
Pasco held up a thumb drive. “The files that were created during the time they dated are all on here.”
We looked at Kat, awaiting her decision. Finally, she gave me one curt nod. He slid the drive over to me.
“Do not torture yourself with this,” Kat said. “If you seeone compromising frame of video, fast-forward through it to make sure nothing else incriminating got tacked on to it, then mark it so Pasco can delete all copies of it. Do not linger, do not wallow, and do not lose your shit. And then move on and forget you ever saw any of it.”
“Roger that,” I said quietly.
I didn’t need to be told twice, or even once, for that matter. I wouldn’t have been able to linger on a recording of Cami being manhandled by that asshole if someone had held a loaded Glock to my head.
Three recordings.He’d threatened Cami with one file, but he’d filmed her three separate times. For each video, I followed Kat’s instructions to the letter. For each of them, Pasco created a dummy file matching in size and metadata, then remotely zapped the real file off Riker’s computer and planted the fake one, comprised of static, in its place. Then Pasco destroyed the only copy of each file, leaving not so much a trace for other IT experts to find. By the end of our session, there would be no evidence that the files of Cami had ever existed.
And to Riker, it would look like his blackmail material was still there on his air-gap computer, unless and until he opened the files. The thought that he might have watched Cami’s humiliation for his amusement, possibly multiple times, made my stomach roil all over again.
The rest of the team was cataloguing everything from secret recordings of Riker’s meetings with his contacts, whom we assumed worked for Anson, to handwritten notes detailing shipments received, to every other record he’d stupidly kept of his budding criminal career. Brick by brick,file by incriminating file, we were building a case against him that would hold up in court. Next, we just had to catch the slippery fucker.
We’d each taken turns grabbing a couple hours of sleep in the upper floor apartments, but hours staring at computer screens and eating crappy take-out was taking its toll. And as much as I hated to admit it, the night away from Cami made me realize how spoiled I’d become by having her sleep next to me. Soon, the team would be finished reviewing Riker’s files and Cami would get off work, and I’d be able to take her and Bella home with me. But not soon enough.
