CHAPTER 2

Juliet was uncomfortable, in so many ways. She couldn't remember being this uncomfortable since suffering through the results of bringing Lassiter home for Christmas. The thought of Lassiter gave her a quick pang of guilt. She'd been excited and honored when Chief Vick had told her she was needed by the special task force for this sting. But when she'd told Lassiter what details she could, which were very few, she could tell how disappointed he was deep down that he couldn't be involved, even though he'd been smiling and encouraging on the outside. Now, she missed having her partner to rely on and to confide in. For all of his rough edges, she would much rather be sitting in a car with Lassiter than with the man she was accompanying now. She shifted in the front seat of the car, gazing out the windshield while out of the corner of her eye noticing that Jason was staring at her again. She sighed inwardly but made sure to keep her expression neutral.

"You look nervous, Jen. Don't worry, this'll go smooth. You're doing great," said Jason, smiling warmly.

Juliet smiled back and nodded, feeling a tingle down her spine at the compliment being paid her by the nephew of San Francisco's biggest crime lord. She wasn't particularly frightened. The guy had so far proven to be fairly harmless and a rather inept criminal. The sting she was a part of was mostly trying to net him and his cronies in order to gain leverage on his uncle back in San Francisco. The task force was hoping Jason would have dirt on his uncle or would have connections to exploit. The biggest discomfort she was currently suffering was the sudden infatuation Jason had developed for her over the past couple of days. She was only supposed to be playing a minor role in both the crime and the sting on the criminals, but with Jason's extra attention, she was being involved in more of the action than they had planned for. The task force was trying to adjust accordingly.

The operation had begun in San Francisco, where Jason and his two friends Huey and Bob had been showing interest in joining the family business by setting up a jewel theft ring. There had been a lot of news coverage about an international ring of thieves targeting jewelry wholesalers in the L.A area, and Jason and his friends had apparently thought it would be cool and exciting to do something similar. The task force had been monitoring Jason, looking for signs of criminal leanings. When he'd finally shown the inclinations, they'd jumped at the chance to set him up since he was obviously the weakest link in the criminal organization. The three young men had started casing the jewelry store chain of Vernon Barnes Fine Jewelry and following various employees. They were trying to mimic the tactics of the highly disciplined Colombian ring that targeted wholesalers carrying large amounts of jewelry to and from trade shows. The Colombians would follow a wholesaler and spring an ambush in a remote area. Jason and his crew had been trying to figure out the Vernon Barnes wholesalers and their travel patterns. Unfortunately for them, the Vernon Barnes chain didn't actually use wholesalers who carried large amounts of jewelry. They had transferred much of their business to the internet. Except for the chain of storefronts in San Francisco, Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, they didn't show jewelry anywhere except online. Fortunately for the task force, though, that provided a convenient opening for the sting.

Jason had contacted a shady character in San Francisco known for specializing in jewelry fencing. He was also an informant for the San Francisco police department. The police had the informant feed Jason bogus information about a wholesaler who regularly traveled from Santa Barbara to San Francisco, transporting jewelry. One of the task force officers, Frank, was posing as the Vernon Barnes wholesaler. They assumed, correctly, that Jason and friends would follow Frank to Santa Barbara at some point intending to ambush him. They had decided to set up the sting in Santa Barbara to remove Jason from his comfort zone and support system in San Francisco. The informant had given Jason the name of a jewelry store employee in Santa Barbara who worked with the wholesaler regularly, but who was also involved in trafficking stolen jewelry on the side, a woman named Jen. The task force had reviewed the files of the Santa Barbara police, looking for a suitable officer with undercover experience to play the role of Jen, and Juliet had fit the part perfectly.

"The guy should be here any minute, now, right?" asked Jason.

"Um, yeah," said Juliet. "He said he was going to check in with his friend who transports jewelry from San Diego. There's some arriving tomorrow that he's scheduled to pick up for the shipment back to San Francisco."

"Awesome. This is a perfect dry run for us then," said Jason, flashing her yet another smile. "Say, when we get all of this done, you should think about coming to San Francisco. We could use you in our, um, new operations."

"Wow, that sounds really amazing," said Juliet, trying to toe the line of sounding interested and impressed without going overboard. She didn't need this guy getting the idea that he could start pawing at her right here in the car. She wasn't wearing a wire for this excursion since the main action was going to happen the next day, but she still didn't want to deal with an overly amorous criminal in the middle of the operation. She cooled her smile and looked out at the boatyard. "So, do you think this will be the place?"

"Yeah, for sure. It's perfect. There's hardly anyone around. We'll be here and Huey and Bob will come in from the other side," he said, pointing to where the two cronies were sitting in a car on the other side of the street near the boatyard building.

The plan for the next day was to wait for the wholesaler to retrieve the jewels from the small receiving office in the building. When he came out again, Jason would approach from one side while his friends moved in from behind. Then Huey and Bob would surprise him and get the jewelry. They would all retreat and drive away before he had a chance to get help. It wasn't fancy, but it would be effective enough if there wasn't going to be a half dozen law enforcement officers there as well, ready to spring. Juliet was glad that it would all be finished the next day. She was weary of this role and these hoodlums. Jason's attentions were tiresome and discomforting. Huey always seemed jumpy and ultra-suspicious, which had caused her some concern at first, but he was mostly just a coward and not insightful enough to actually suspect her. Bob was the muscle, and that's all there was to Bob. She sighed and thought longingly of filling out reports at the station or riding to a crime scene with Lassiter. She missed her partner and the familiar routine and couldn't wait to bust more bad guys the straightforward way. She'd realized over the past few years that undercover work wasn't her thing.

"Don't worry about it," he said again, mistaking her sigh for nerves. "It's so cool he offered to show you around this place today. We get to scope it all out now and tomorrow it goes smooth as silk." He started to reach out a hand to touch hers, but she caught the motion and pulled her hand away pretending to look at her watch.

"He should be here any minute. Do you see him?"

"Um," Jason looked around. "Yeah, there he is."

Frank, the undercover officer posing as the wholesaler, pulled his car up to the boatyard building. Juliet really had spoken with Frank earlier, but it had been at the station where they had coordinated the activities for the day and checked their stories. Juliet had also nearly forgotten to leave her cell phone in her locker, and she'd run back to do that when Shawn had cornered her. She could tell how confused and curious he was about her case, and she felt bad having to blow him off the way she did. At least it would all be wrapped up soon and she'd be able to talk and joke with Shawn like normal.

"Okay, I'll be back in a little while, I guess," she said as they watched Frank enter the building. She started to get out of the car when Jason put his hand on her arm. Her heartbeat skipped, but she just looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"Just be cool. It's no big deal," he said with an encouraging tone tinged with a warning.

"Yeah, no problem." She gave him a smile of confidence and then crossed the road. As she approached the building, it almost seemed to grow taller, looming over her. It was such a huge structure. For a moment, she wondered if she could get lost in it, but Frank had told her the small office was just inside the front door, so she didn't have to try to find her way through the cavernous, and cluttered, interior. Nonetheless, she felt a small shiver crawl down her spine as she reached the shadow of the building and opened the door.

oOoOoOoOoOoO

Shawn felt a flutter in his stomach and realized wryly that he'd gotten indigestion from imaginary cake. He had really landed himself in the middle of a mess. After leaving the police station, he'd driven his bike straight to the Vernon Barnes Fine Jewelry store. The leather case the man with Juliet had been holding held the initials "VB" and looked like a travel case for jewelry. Putting that together with the way Juliet was dressed, which had been just right for a salesperson in a high-end jewelry store, he'd guessed she was involved in something having to do with jewelry theft, trafficking or counterfeiting. He knew the Vernon Barnes chain was in town. When he'd watched her get dropped off at the jewelry store by the guy from the station, he'd felt that irritating tightness between his shoulder blades disappear in a wave of triumph. To celebrate, and yes, maybe to show off a little bit, he'd decided he was going to go into the store and talk to her. Of course, he would pose as a customer and maintain her cover, but he just couldn't resist the urge to, as Lassiter put it, stick his nose in the pie. Or was it cake? As his thoughts wandered that pleasant route, he was surprised to see Juliet emerge from the store after just a few minutes and get into another car that had pulled up to the front. He'd been able to get back on the road and follow the car, ending up at the boatyards.

When the car had stopped across the road from the largest boatyard building, he'd pulled his bike around to park in back. That was when Lassiter had called the first time. Shawn had rolled his eyes and ignored the call. He'd wanted to walk back to the boatyard access road and try to get a view of Juliet's car, just to see what they could be up to parked in this mostly deserted area. His phone had gone off again as he was reaching the access road. He'd started to walk towards the large building, peering into the distance to try and make out Juliet's car, when he'd noticed another dark sedan, like the one the man from the station had driven, tucked into a shady, recessed area on the other side of the road. He'd paused then to observe it. There were two men inside who seemed to also be watching the large building down the street. He shook his head and wondered why the police always used the same kinds of cars, even during undercover operations. These guys had to be the support escort for Juliet and the other undercover officer. They needed more lessons in inconspicuousness. Or was that inconspicuosity? His phone had started ringing again at that point, and he'd decided to get it over with. He'd stood in the shadows of the structure next to the large boatyard building while watching the two cops and needling Lassiter on the phone. As soon as he'd hung up on Lassiter, his phone battery gave up its last gasp and blinked off. The Gus voice in his head nagged at him about always forgetting to charge it.

He had paused then, admitting to himself that he'd gone as far as he should go with the game. He'd found Juliet and had figured out, at least basically, what she was working on. He really didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the operation. He would've gone into the jewelry store to tease her a bit, because it would've been a safe enough thing to do. But out here in the deserted boatyard he was flirting with disaster. It was time to find something else to do. Gus would be done with enough of his appointments that day, so he'd decided to enlist his help in avoiding Lassiter and the chief for the rest of the day. Maybe they could take a quick trip somewhere outside of SBPD jurisdiction in case Lassie decided to put out a BOLO for him.

Just as he'd decided to leave, he'd seen the other car with Juliet's fellow undercover officer, drive past on its way to the large building. Then, just moments later, two large SUVs had pulled up to the police sedan, one on the side and one right behind, and then several men had jumped out of both trucks. He'd realized with a physical shock that they were attacking the two officers in the car. There were at least six men in the two SUVs, maybe more. He'd sunk himself back into the shadows of the building as much as possible while watching the attackers order the officers out of the car at gun point. They had then cuffed the two men and closed them up in the sedan's trunk. Shawn had shivered at the thought of being closed up in a trunk, memories of such an ordeal still too fresh in his mind. And that's when the panic had finally set in. Something terribly wrong was happening with Juliet's operation, and he might be the only one who knew about it. He'd realized he needed to get help, so he'd backed carefully through the shadows until he could run for his bike. And there, blocking in his bike, was Lassie's Crown Vic. Lassie had been totally right...he couldn't have his cake and eat it too.

Shawn felt the oddest confluence of emotions then. He was angry that his bike was trapped, he was relieved that help was at hand, but he was also irritated that Lassie wasn't right there and had apparently wandered off somewhere. He needed to find the detective and let him know what was happening, and he knew Lassie's phone was working so that they could summon backup. Oddly enough, he also felt slightly chagrined that Lassie had managed to track him down, and that he wasn't even sure how the detective had managed it.

He looked around, feeling the tightness between his shoulder blades returned tenfold. "Dammit, Lassie, where'd you go?" He gazed down the small access road at the back of the building and felt a sinking feeling. "Oh, no."

oOoOoOoOoOoO

Lassiter felt like he'd walked into a marine craft graveyard. It was almost creepy. There was a gutted yacht hull propped up with blocks and supports that dominated the floor space nearest the back door he'd entered. Next to the hull, there was a large crane contraption holding up a 40 foot yacht about 15 feet in the air to accommodate the keel. Beyond that was an expanse of stacked crates and boxes, and then the far wall in the distance to his right held a shelf system holding at least twenty smaller, recreational boats stacked four high. In between everything he could see from where he stood was just a clutter of parts, stacks of wood, crates and other items all crammed into the cavernous space with only a few cleared lanes presumably for vehicles to access. He saw a large forklift near one of the garage doors, and beyond the hull he saw the roof of another forklift or tractor. On the wall to his left was a walkway system raised up about twelve feet that allowed a better view of the whole building. He could see a set of wooden steps that led up to the walkway which then spanned the whole wall and ended at the front corner of the building in a small, enclosed area. He could just make out that the enclosed area also extended to the ground at the front corner of the building. It was probably some kind of two-story interior office. He wandered forward between the hull and the wall, skirting two large boxes sitting on wooden pallets. They were at least twice as big as refrigerator boxes, and he wondered at their contents. Six large shelving units were tucked partly under the raised walkway, holding boxes and parts wrapped in plastic. He paused and looked at the stained, partial 30 foot hull, trying to decide if it was being reconstructed or dismantled.

Now that he was inside the eerily silent, massive space, he started feeling a strong, nagging doubt that he should've entered at all. The building was apparently empty, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was some kind of boatyard holiday. If Spencer was inside, he was being unnaturally quiet. Lassiter had just started considering going back outside to look elsewhere when he heard a noise from the distant front of the building and a murmuring that sounded like voices. One of the voices sounded distinctly higher-pitched, too. If Spencer had been right, then those voices were probably people involved in Juliet's undercover operation, and the one was probably Juliet herself. He felt a jolt of panic at the thought that he could ruin the sting if he was seen. A vision of an angry, and even worse a disappointed, O'Hara flashed in his mind. He turned back to the door, determined to beat a hasty retreat. Whatever Spencer was doing, it wasn't worth sabotaging Juliet's case to find out. He would just go back to the station and face the chief's wrath alone. As he approached the two large mystery boxes he heard the back door open. His heart thudded in his chest painfully a couple of times. Making a split-second decision, he ducked behind one of the large boxes and realized peripherally that his hand had reached under his coat to unclip his weapon. He held his breath.

"Lassie?" came the harsh whisper. "Lassie?"

Lassiter sighed and stepped around the box as Shawn came around the other side of it. "Spencer, what the hell?" rasped Lassiter, keeping his voice to a rough whisper too. "I've been looking for you."

Shawn startled at Lassiter's appearance, throwing his hands out in front of him in a warding gesture for a moment until recognition set in. "Oh, thank goodness, Lassie!"

The relief in Spencer's voice threw him off. "Excuse me?"

"Lassie, there's something really bad going down here."

"My partner's undercover operation is going down here, and I'm not going to let us ruin it," he growled, grabbing hold of Spencer's arm and guiding him towards the back door. "Let's get out of here, now!"

"No!

"What?"

"I mean yes, let's get out of here," said Shawn as he started to move faster than the detective, pulling him along.

Lassiter let go of Shawn's arm and paused, looking at him as if he'd grown another set of eyes.

"What are you waiting for? We need to get out of here!"

Lassiter's face scrunched up in annoyed confusion. "That's kinda of what I'm trying to do," he hissed.

"But, you don't understand! There are some bad guys, with some kind of Spanish accent, attacking the cops!"

Lassiter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding, right? Is this some kind of joke to you?"

Shawn started bouncing on his toes and growled with aggravation. "No, I'm not kidding. I just saw them ambush Juliet's escort. Six or eight guys in two SUVs. Do you want their license numbers?"

Lassiter blinked in confusion, "I don't understand."

"Juliet's doing something with jewel thieves. The sting is probably happening here, I guess. But now there are some other guys crashing the party. Come on, Lassie!"

"Someone just came in the front door," said Lassiter faintly, eyes widened with shock as the implications of what Shawn had said sank in. His brain was trying desperately to process all of the new information, but one concern that was crystal clear for him was his partner's safety. "I think I heard O'Hara's voice."

Shawn gazed towards the front of the building, torn between wanting to escape the building and call in the cavalry and wanting to make sure Juliet didn't get caught in whatever weird crossfire was about to go down.

"You need to call for help," he whispered even more quietly now that he knew others were in the building, even though they were still probably 60 yards away or so.

"You didn't call when you saw what happened?"

"Dead battery. I think you killed it with your nagging."

Lassiter sighed and pulled out his phone, glancing towards the front of the building as well. He opened his phone and started to dial when he froze, a puzzled expression dawning on his face. "No signal. That's weird."

"What?" gasped Shawn, grabbing the phone out of Lassiter's hand. He looked at the phone, then he looked back at Lassiter and they just stared at each other for a moment. "I'm going to see if I can find Juliet," said Shawn, handing the phone back.

"How?"

"I don't know. I'm just going to go up there and see if I can figure out what's happening. Maybe I can signal her somehow," said Shawn turning towards the wooden steps leading up to the walkway.

"Spencer!" he hissed, trying to object. He didn't need a civilian getting mixed up even further in whatever mess they'd both stumbled upon.

"Lassie, I'm just going to look," said Shawn. Lassiter sighed, not sure how he could stop him anyway. When Shawn got something in his head, he was almost impossible to deter. He certainly couldn't afford to get into a wrestling match with him to drag him physically out of the building.

"Just be careful, and stay out of sight, dammit. I'll go try the radio in my car. If you can't see anything from up there, you come outside," he said.

"Yes! Good," said Shawn, waving a hand dismissively as he ran to the steps and started up them.

Lassiter turned to the door and tried to imagine what he would say on the call. "Hey, I'm calling for backup on an operation I'm not involved in and which I'm not even supposed to know anything about, but I happen to be here anyway, and oh by the way some Spanish-speaking mystery men are attacking undercover officers, but no I didn't see it myself because I'm just calling on behalf of our department psychic." He had just started to move around the large box when he heard the door open again. His heart thudded painfully once more as he ducked for cover. His eyes flew up to the walkway. Shawn had heard the door, too, and had dropped to his belly on the walkway. Lassiter's hand went to his gun as before, only this time he pulled it out. Footsteps. He leaned slightly to look around the edge of the box and saw a man walking towards the stairway. He could see a gun in the front of the man's waistband. The guy would see Spencer as soon as he'd climbed the steps.

"Freeze, police!" growled Lassiter as he stepped out from behind the box, gun raised.

The man had reached the base of the steps and jerked almost comically with surprise. He put a hand on the gun in his waistband as he swung around to face Lassiter.

"Don't do it!"

The man stared at him, eyes wide, for a moment, then he let out a bark of frustration and raised his hands. "Who the hell are you?"

"SBPD. Get on the ground," said Lassiter as he started to approach.

"But why are you here?" he whined, looking around suspiciously as if expecting more cops to jump out of the woodwork. Lassiter wished that could be so.

"Just get on the ground," said Lassiter again as he took another step towards the man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Shawn was still lying on his belly and was now at the edge of the walkway, watching the action. That brief moment of inattention cost him, though. The man suddenly lunged for the first set of shelves tucked under the walkway and grabbed a box from it which he flung at Lassiter in one smooth motion. Lassiter dodged the box and it crashed to the floor with a loud clattering, sounding like it was full of small metal parts. The man charged Lassiter and grabbed his right hand, pushing it, and his gun, away. They grappled for a few moments, stumbling across the floor until they were close to the gutted hull as each man tried to get leverage over the other. Lassiter braced himself and surged forward, pushing with all of his might. The man lost his balance and fell backwards, then scrambled quickly between two of the shelves under the walkway before Lassiter could bring his weapon to bear again. He cursed under his breath and tried to peer through the items on the shelves to catch any movement. Once again, he glanced up at the walkway and saw Shawn trying to peer through the boards to see underneath. He looked down at Lassiter and pointed forward, as if asking if he should crawl further along to find the attacker, but Lassiter shook his head. If Shawn started moving around, the guy might hear it and start firing through the walkway boards.

Lassiter moved to stand with his left shoulder to end of the nearest shelf, then with gun raised he leaned quickly to look around the edge, ducking back again just in case. No one was there. He leaned to look around again and realized that the shelves weren't flush with the wall under the walkway. There was enough space for a person to squeeze through to the next opening between shelves. He cursed quietly again. This whole damn thing had turned too hairy, too quick. He held his gun ready and surged around the edge of the shelf and walked slowly down the path, keeping his eyes and his gun forward but using his peripheral vision to try and detect any movement coming from the next pathway over. He reached the end and jumped into the space between the wall and the back edge of the shelves. Still no sign of the man. He felt the familiar slight tremble in his arms as his adrenalin levels started to fluctuate, and he paused for the barest moment to take a steadying breath. He crept forward and glanced quickly down the next pathway. Nothing. He moved to the next and swung around the edge of the shelf in time to catch a hint of movement at the far end that opened into the cavernous room. His brain uttered a stream of curses echoed on his face only by a tight grimace. He glanced upwards, trying to locate Spencer, but the walkway boards were too tightly joined.

He listened for a few moments, hearing only a brief shuffling noise at the end of the shelves. It sounded like he'd flushed the guy back out into the open, but now he was the one stuck in the weeds, so to speak. He stepped sideways into the next pathway, then he crept forward, towards the open room. When he was almost to the end, he suddenly heard a flurry of noises. There was a creak from above, although he couldn't tell if it was Spencer moving on the walkway or the wood just settling. There was a distinct sound of footsteps, but he couldn't tell from which direction or if it was even only one set of footsteps or more than one. He also thought he heard a hiss of speech, and wondered if he suddenly had more than a single bad guy to deal with. Just keeps getting better, he thought grimly, but there was nothing else for it. He took a deep breath and surged out from between the shelves, pivoting to his left. Before he could focus, he saw a figure standing there and aimed his gun center mass as he opened his mouth to yell out his standard police identification. But the words died in his throat and a wave of ice washed through him, leaving him breathless. He was holding his gun on Juliet O'Hara. And she was aiming a gun at him.