John squinted through the field glasses before handing them over to Talbot. "That's it. The shipment customs tagged."

"They'll know we had a hand in it."

"No they won't." John soothed, "It's not even five minutes later than it should have been. Everything about it is as it should be."

"But it's not." Talbot warned, handing the field glasses back "I did do a little research last night."

"You mean when you didn't go home and get a life?"

Talbot ignored John's jab. "I found out that those three they nabbed in the Turkish business last year were patsies."

"I thought we knew that." John raised the glasses again as a car entered but lowered them a moment later when the car turned out to be just security.

"What we didn't know is that the Yorkshire chap they got for it was her cousin, a troubling Armenian, and the Armenian's brother."

"And that was bad how?"

"Well they were responsible for blowing a deal with the Turkish."

"You mean the ones who cocked it all up and then got themselves cuffed?"

"Those are the ones." Talbot hit the dashboard, "Here we go, here we go."

John sat up, holding the field glasses as a black car pulled close to the shipping container. "What is it with black cars? Why does everyone assume no one's going to notice you driving around in black car?"

"It's not like they're going to drive around in a banana. Black slips past the eye. No one notices them unless they're those black SUVs that they drive in American TV shows." Talbot pulled out a camera, taking pictures of the man who exited the car and consulted with the agent by the container. "I don't recognize him."

"He looks like that Irish guy they got six months before the Turkish fiasco." John adjusted the glasses. "Something about him has me feeling like deja vu."

"Me too." Talbot let the shutter click a few times, "But it's more like seeing someone you haven't seen since primary school."

"Like a distant relative?"

"You could say that." Talbot clicked a few more as the crate opened. "Maybe we need another go at our files for his face."

"Really?"

"Yes." Talbot lowered the camera, "There are a few of these that might actually be quite good."

"Maybe you made a mistake in profession Henry."

"A mistake?"

"Maybe you should've been a photographer." John pointed toward the crate. "He's moving."

"Without the guns," Talbot mused, "Maybe they didn't like the shipment?"

"No," John tapped the wheel before shaking his head. "He's not taking them because we've been spotted."

"There's no way they knew we were here." Talbot opened his hands, "We brought my car. It doesn't look anything like what we should be driving as policemen."

"Doesn't matter." John rubbed his eyes. "They've been following you too."

Talbot opened his mouth at John, "How do you know that?"

"Because they've been following me."

"How do you know this?"

"Ms. Smith told me."

Talbot banged his head on the steering wheel before draping his arms across it. "When were you going to tell me that we're being followed by the mafia?"

"It's not like you've got a life for them to know anything about."

"That's not fair and not justification enough to tell me why you thought it best not to mention we're being followed by the mafia."

"I didn't know you would be a point of interest for them." John sat back in the seat, slapping his hand against the dash. "I thought she only liked me."

Talbot twisted in his chair. "What the bloody hell does 'thought she only liked you' mean?"

"I-" John chewed his words carefully. "I had a conversation with her."

"An official conversation or something you did in your afterhours?"

"Afterhours."

"For shitssake John!" Talbot started up the car, "You've got us well and truly buggered haven't you?"

"It didn't do me much good but I did have a conversation with her. So what?"

"So what John?" Talbot wrenched the wheel and drove onto the main road. "So what?"

"Raising your voice while you repeat it does nothing."

"We're going to get thrown over a barrel and then buggered. That's the end of my career, John, and the end of yours. All of it up in smoke in a single move, your move, and I don't want to go down with your ship."

"We won't go down Henry."

"If you keep acting like an idiot we will." Talbot pulled to a stop outside the pub and pointed at the door. "You go in there, right now, and fix this or you won't have to worry about her bullets. You'll have to worry about mine."

John got out of the car and walked through the doors of the pub. The redhead at the bar smiled at him, pointing toward a table in a corner, and John took his seat. Within two minutes Ms. Smith slid into the space across from him, smile on her face.

"I wouldn't look so damn pleased with yourself."

"Why not?"

"Because now my partner's going to make sure I get good and buggered for how I cocked all this up."

"I didn't really see that as Mr. Talbot's style but I guess people surprise you." Ms. Smith grinned but John shook his head.

"I'm not kidding, Ms. Smith."

"You chose to stick your nose in my business, Mr. Bates. This is what happens." She leaned back against the wall, folding her arms over her chest. "You get what you pay for, as they say."

"Fine." John leaned over the table, "You still owe me three questions and I'm going to ask them now."

"I like a man who decides to be in charge." Ms. Smith leaned over the table until she was just an inch from his face. "Fire away but be warned, you only get three and I have a pass on any of my choosing."

"You get a pass on one, choose wisely."

Ms. Smith sucked the inside of her cheek and nodded, "Alright. Do as you will, Mr. Bates."

"What's your connection to the Turkish contingent?"

Ms. Smith's eyes widened with the rise in her eyebrows. "That's your first question?" John nodded and she whistled. "What a way to begin. No prelude or pretense, just right to the core of your investigation."

"If you think that's the core of my investigation you don't understand what we're doing at all." John smirked slightly, "Remember, you've got one pass."

Ms. Smith laughed, "I wouldn't waste it on something as simple as this."

"Then answer it."

"I got into the proverbial bed with the Turkish because I owed a favor to a friend. After the death of Kemal Pamuk I stepped in to keep the peace."

"And the delivery at the docks today?"

"Those are being hidden in a garage owned by someone who works for me because it's part of our deal with the Turkish."

"Then why risk all that by proposing a one-night stand with me?"

"Who said anything about only one night?" Ms. Smith shrugged a shoulder up, "I don't plan to only spend one night getting to know you."

"Answer the question or pass and I'll find another."

Ms. Smith kept her silence a moment before smiling. "I proposed it to you because I need your help, Mr. Bates. It's part of a larger proposal I've got to put to you."

"I won't risk asking a question you won't answer but I'll just assume that you'll explain what that means."

"Here's the plan, Mr. Bates." Ms. Smith sat back slightly. "I turn myself in to you, right now. You take me to your office and I give you a long list of my involvement with the Turkish. You use that to put them away, forever, and I get off clean."

"They'll never let you go."

"They will and you can stop trying to record me on your phone. We've got scramblers in here that won't give you anything but white noise."

John pulled out his phone and deleted the attempted recording. "How long did you know?"

"Since your partner booted your lovely ass in here to get us to stop following him in that obnoxious car of his." Ms. Smith chuckled, "It does suit him though, doesn't it."

"You're dodging the issue."

"No, I'm not." Ms. Smith cleared her throat. "I've got the paperwork to confirm that I was manipulated and the threatened by the Turkish to help them."

"You'll paint yourself the victim."

"It's what I am, Mr. Bates."

"I doubt that."

"Doubt all you want. The proof lies with me and I can put it all on the Turkish. The crate you saw at the docks, the weapons in the garage I'll give you the address to raid, and everything that went to shit after Mr. Pamuk died in the Grantham Hotel."

"Everything?"

"I don't make the offer lightly."

"And what do I get for agreeing to let you get the deal that gets you off scot free?"

"Your own freedom." Ms. Smith drew her finger in the air as if circling him. "For your compliance in this I can get a solicitor to deliver divorce papers to Mrs. Vera Bates that carry an ultimatum."

"She doesn't respond well to those."

"She will to this one."

John scoffed, "What makes you so sure?"

"If she doesn't, she'll lose her job with Mr. Carlisle because we'll publish the picture of the affair she's been having with him behind your back." Ms. Smith stopped as John's face did not fall as she expected. "You knew about it?"

"I'm not an idiot. For marrying her, maybe, but I'm not so blind that I didn't know what she's done since then."

"Then you'll be glad to know that she'll give you a quick divorce. I give it… three months, tops."

"Three months?"

"I've got some friends who can speed it through the system."

John sat back, thumping against the high seat. "Why?"

"That's five questions since you asked your last one."

"You didn't play fair yesterday with yours."

Ms. Smith waved a hand at the air, "I was making a point, Mr. Bates, not an accusation. I'd have thought a policeman like yourself could see the difference."

"Will you answer it?"

"Six, and the answer's simple: I wouldn't mind being your mistress but I think I'd like you better as my bitch instead."

"Excuse me?"

"Mr. Bates, the path after your divorce has two options." Ms. Smith ticked up on her fingers. "The first, we separate forever. You and Talbot get the proper adulations for closing the case. Maybe not how your Super wanted but enough to make them all happy enough to leave it be and close the case. I go on with what I do and nary will these two parties meet."

"Or?" John put his elbows on the table and bent toward her.

"Or," Ms. Smith leaned forward as well, running a finger along his jaw, "You come work for me. Obviously you'd still be a policeman but you'd get compensated for staying away from me and what I do."

"And sex, obviously."

"Obviously." She smiled, "If that's compensation enough for you but that's an individual concern."

"You're asking me to betray everything I swore to defend for sex?"

"If it makes you feel better then I can assure you that I don't run drugs or prostitutes."

"Just guns and crime."

"Mr. Bates." She dropped her hand, using both arms to hold herself up on the table. "There are neighborhoods where you don't go because you've learned to accept a level of crime there, yes?"

"It happens everywhere."

"Statement, not accusation." She wagged a finger at him, "Your wife's trained you to always defend yourself hasn't she?"

"It's definitely a learned habit."

"Well, I could help you unlearn it." She winked, "And yes, it does happen everywhere. But what if I told you that my work is to make that a thing of the past?"

"What, a perfect world?"

"I told you, I see a world of opportunities. Those are forged through passion, determination, and more than a little nerve."

"Which you've got in spades to have this conversation with me."

"I've got other things in spades too but that's contingent on you accepting my offer." Ms. Smith held her hand out, "What'll it be, Mr. Bates?"

John stared at her hand, extended across the table, and took a breath.