7 June
Parking lot of Alfano's Restaurant
Queens, NY

Much as I hate to admit it, Tucker scored us a damn fine surveillance van….

Fin glanced around the interior of the white Dodge Sprinter: A/C, a partition between them and the cab for privacy, a full communications set with a decent chair and two 21-inch flat screen monitors, hidden cameras with a 360 degree view around the van and, best of all, head room.

I can stand up and stretch without leaving the van. Damn, that's a good thing.

Three red lamps lit the interior, one mounted over the comm unit, the other two over the rear door and on the partition above two jump seats on which Tucker and Elliot were sitting. Backlit by ruddy light, they sat and watched the two monitors. The left one showed a split-screen view of the parking lot and the entire front window. This view included the main seating area, the bar behind it, and the hostess stand, although details of these areas were slightly obscured by distance and dim light.

The right-hand monitor showed the two-top where Cragen and Otten were seated. Elliot had reserved them a well-lit table by the window that afforded the van's cameras a perfect view of the couple.

Cragen had left his tie somewhere; his collar was open under his suit coat.

Probably his idea of suave….

Judith had ditched her jacket and shoulder holster and had added a string of amber beads to her beige blouse.

Least she tried….

A speaker overhead in the van let them hear the feed from Judith's wire:

Cragen: What made Tommy Sullivan back down? You don't have that kind of juice."

Otten: "I've sat across his desk as a officer of the Shomrim Society and they have juice in spades. Chief Sullivan probably remembered the last negotiation and pictured every Jewish cop on the force, all of them angry.

Cragen: Like the scene from 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' ? Upset Jewish cops and your face melts….

Otten: Umm…in a mixed-metaphor sort of way, yes.

Fin shook his head at them.

Start actin' like a couple. Rival gangs cuddle more than you two….

Sgt. Tucker voiced the same concern. "Ask them to hold hands or something—pretend they like each other."

Fin glanced at Elliot, who nodded.

The only sign that Judith heard Fin was a slight tightening of her mouth. Without saying a word, she lifted her left hand and rested it on the window sill; Cragen's right hand, his fingers interlaced with hers, moved with it.

"Thanks," Fin said into his microphone. "Tucker is happy now."

"Screw you, Tutuola."

"Try it and I'll bust you."

Otten: whispered How about some deep sighs and soulful stares?

She tipped her head, a sappy smile plastered on her face. Across the table, Cragen matched the gesture and smile. His finger beat three against her wrist, then they drew in simultaneous deep breaths and slowly released them, resuming the sappy smiles once their lungs were empty.

Cragen: whispered Goopy enough for you?

The three in the van muffled guffaws.

"That goes on the tape we play for the squad Christmas party."

"We gonna do a blooper reel?"

Elliot hooked a thumb at the monitor, where Cragen and Judith were laughing hard enough to bring tears to Judith's eyes.

"You want that in evidence?"

Fin grinned. "Depends on the judge."

Tucker straightened in his seat. "Head's up—tonight's fish have arrived."

On the right monitor, they saw two women exiting a blue Miata that had parked close to the front door. Both were in their twenties, the driver a blonde in jeans and a pink tank top, the passenger a henna brunette in jeans and pale green. They entered the restaurant, appearing on the other side of the monitor by the hostess stand. The two women spoke briefly to the hostess then took seats at the bar.

"White wine."

"Naw," Fin told Elliot. "Vodka and fruit juice."

They both looked at Tucker, who aimed a finger at Fin. "Point goes to Tutuola. Schunk drinks rum and Coke and Rankin likes vodka martinis."

A tall glass of dark liquid and a martini were placed before the women. They looked around the room, then spoke together. The blonde took a cell phone from her bag, glanced at it, then showed it to the other woman. They didn't take direct notice of the other patrons.

Elliot jerked his head at the restaurant. Both Tucker and Fin shook their heads.

We'll tell them when the rats are gone. Even the best tense up when the target's in sight.

Fin tuned back to the transmitted conversation.

Hope those rats can't hear Cap'n and Judith….

Cragen: Let me get this straight—we're supposed to pretend we're having sex on the hood of my car?

Otten: Yes.

Cragen: And I'm supposed to discuss this right now while looking completely infatuated with you?

Otten: Yes.

Cragen: Shouldn't your "Yes" be more excited? We are talking sex here.

At the bar, the two women chatted with the bartender, fidgeted with their drinks, and looked around the room, concentrating their concern on the front door.

"How'd you decide on these two, Tucker?" Fin asked. "Why them and not two other ra—field associates?"

Tucker frowned at his substitution.

"Whether you like it or not, Tutuola, it's a honorable job."

Fin kept his eyes on the monitor.

"Yeah, yeah—a few bad cops make it all worthwhile. But I'm asking—you have a list of suspects or you just tanglin' bait in front of everyone?"

Tucker's mouth worked like he was rehearsing his answer, chewing his words as he chose them. Next to him, Elliot leaned forwards as if to urge him to answer.

"We have a guess as to when Delgado and Henry began their affair. It's in the files we gave you—August of last year. It's based on one restaurant charge receipt so it's not very solid. I checked the logs for the FAs active that month and we're working through them."

"How many are on that list?" Elliot asked.

"I can't tell you."

Elliot leaned closer, sliding into Tucker's person space to force a more forthcoming answer.

"Can you tell us how these two knew to come here?"

Tucker held his position just long enough to show he understood Stabler's game. He then glanced at Fin and settled back in his jump seat.

"That I can tell you. We sift through rumors, allegations, and anomalies and hand any that seem likely to the FAs for verification. We're telling our targets on this operation that we have a report of a CO and his subordinate frequenting whatever restaurant Captain Cragen and Detective Otten are dining at."

Fin turned away to hide his smile.

Tucker will go to his deathbed calling Cap'n 'Captain Cragen.' I wonder if Elliot knows that he got to him that bad?

Elliot nodded at Tucker's answer and settled back into his own seat.

"So, now we wait."

The three men watched in silence as the FAs spent another five minutes chatting together then they paid for their drinks and left. At no time did Fin see them pay any attention to Cragen and Otten.

"That's it?" he asked Tucker.

The IAB nodded. "If those two are honest, I'll have a report on my desk tomorrow morning. If not, I won't."

Elliot shifted in his seat to face Tucker.

"What happens to that report?"

"Nothing. We won't act on it."

"Yeah, but what stops IAB from using it down the road? I don't want this hanging over us the next time you guys decide to hound us."

Fin leaned forward, adding his interest in the matter to Stabler's.

"We'll need that report for this operation's files," he noted. "You want to deliver the original to us?"

Tucker looked from Elliot to Fin and back again. He nodded.

"Good point. I'll get it to you tomorrow, if it's filed with me. If it's not, then we better be prepared for the next level."

Elliot turned to Fin. "Tell Judith they can wrap it up and ask if they want to practice their porno moves."

Fin turned on his mic.

"The target has come and gone. You want to finish eating then practice your porno moves?"

Elliot bolted out of his seat. "Fin!"

The speaker cut him off.

Judith: Fin says we're finished here. He wants to know if you're ready to practice your porno moves.

Cragen: pause I'm glad Fin thinks this is funny. I don't".

Elliot grinned. "Sounds like Dad doesn't like you best."

Screw you, Stabler.

Cragen: Where do you suggest? looks directly at surveillance van The courthouse steps? Maybe Elliot can rent Carnegie Hall?

Fin chuckled. "Dad's got you pegged."

Tucker spoke up. "I live over by Queen's College. My wife's out of town and we've got a privacy fence around the back yard. Ask Captain Cragen if that will do."

Fin relayed the suggestion.

Cragen: Might as well get it over with.

7 June
Residence of Sgt. Edward Tucker

The Tucker back yard was as promised—a small yard with single garage at the back and a tall, wood privacy fence surrounding everything. Sodium vapor security lamps mounted on the garage and back corner of the house lit the area. Tucker pulled his gray Camry onto the square of grass and let Cragen park his maroon LaSabre in the driveway before the garage.

Fin parked the surveillance van in the driveway outside the open gate; Judith pulled her blue Altima behind him. Elliot went through the partition door, powered up the comm unit and opened the van's sliding door. Tucker, Cragen, and Judith were outside waiting for him.

"The lights here should match the ones in a parking lot," Tucker told everyone. "What's the plan?"

Elliot said, "Let's stand where we want the agents to be. Judith and Cap can run through their act and we'll see if they're convincing."

He turned to Cragen. "You two ready?"

Cragen rolled his eyes. "It's the high point of my life."

Judith nodded.

"Okay. We'll wave when we're ready."

Elliot, Fin, and Tucker walked across the yard and leaned against the fence even with the hood of Cragen's Buick.

"Old people porn," Fin muttered. "I can't wait."

"Cap hears you, you're dead meat."

"C'mon, Elliot. Don't tell me you want to watch this."

Elliot shook his head. "I'm more afraid they'll stink and we'll be here all night."

Tucker snorted. "They'll get it right the first time."

Fin stared at Tucker through squinted eyes. "What makes you think that?"

"I looked up Otten's jacket. She knows what she's doing. Captain Cragen knows, if things go well tonight, he only has to do this once more. That's real motivation."

"I hope you're right." Elliot waved at Cragen and Otten. "It's show time."

Across the yard, Cragen turned to Judith.

"They're ready. Are we ready?"

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Doesn't matter. It's show time."

She slid her arm around his waist and squeezed.

"C'mon, Don. Don't tell me you've never made love in public before. Look around; there's no one to see us. It will be fun."

"Yeah," he whispered back. "Like a hundred paper cuts."

She grinned. "I knew you'd love the idea."

Her hand moved from his back to his chest, then she reached behind his neck and pulled him down to place her lips on his.

Wooden, unexciting—she wasn't kidding. We are only going through the motions.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"Like this?"

"Right," she whispered. "The closer together we are, the less they can see but the more it looks like what they want to see."

He looked over her head to the men by the fence.

"Okay," he whispered in her ear. "Let's give them a show to remember."

He dropped his hands to her hips. "How about the hood of my car?"

She pulled back just enough to see his face. "Sounds wonderful. How about a kiss first?

He leaned close to her face, keeping her between him and their audience. He held the pose a few seconds while she pressed against him, her hands at his waist, her thumbs hooked inside his belt. She then took a step back, pulling him toward the car. He followed, keeping his gaze locked on her face and his hands on her back. They moved in tandem the few feet to his car; when they were even with its fender, Judith leaned back against it. He stopped in front of her and drew close to fake another kiss.

"Great," she told him. "Now, we slide along the car while you unbutton my shirt and I pretend to unfasten you."

His hands froze on her back. "Can't I pretend to do that?"

"No, they need to see the fabric moving. Don't worry; I'm wearing a tank top under this and I'll do the same next time."

That's not the part I'm worried about….

"Okay." He fumbled her top button; the rest parted easily, revealing nothing but beige fabric. Judith kept her eyes averted, giving him as much privacy as possible while her elbows moved as though she were opening his fly.

"Now, act as though that felt really good."

He closed his eyes, letting his mouth sag open, and pushed forward with his hips.

"Like this?"

"That should do. Help me up on the hood."

He clasped her waist and lifted as she jumped. When she was seated, she moved her knees apart and pulled him between them.

"When we do this for real," she whispered, "I'll wear a full skirt. It will give us even more cover for what we're not doing."

This really is all play-acting….

He placed his hands on her hips, curling his fingers behind her rump.

"If I'd know faking sex was this much fun…."

She gasped then started to laugh. She quickly muffled the noise but couldn't stop the spasms that accompanied her guffaws. He pressed against her, his hands on her hips, and tightened his grip as though he were thrusting into her. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he slumped against her, his face nuzzling her neck.

"Think that did it?" he whispered.

"What's our audience doing?"

He opened his eyes and looked.

"Staring at us with their mouths open."

She wriggled from his embrace and twisted around to see for herself.

"Well?" she called out to them. "Will that do?"

The three men glanced among themselves. Finally Fin said, "Damn. I feel like I should be sitting in the Harem Theater with a hand inside my trench coat."

Judith quickly twisted away to face Cragen's chest and shuddered.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I need to scrub that one from my brain."

He blinked, trying to wipe that image away, then asked, "How'd it look to you, Elliot? Tucker?"

"Looked good to me, Cap."

Tucker nodded. "You nailed it…uh, no pun intended, sir."

Cragen stepped away from Judith. She quickly did her buttons, slid down from the LaSabre, and turned to face them.

"I want to thank IAB," she said, "the Chief of Department, the Chief of Detectives…."

"Thank" isn't the word I'd use, but it ends in the right letter….

Cragen tapped Judith on the shoulder.

"This is only the dress rehearsal. We still have to wow a real audience."

At the fence, Elliot was speaking with Tucker.

"Judith," he called over to Otten. "Tucker's going to return the van. Can we get a lift to my our cars from you?"

She turned to Cragen.

"Sir, are we finished?"

I wish we were….

Cragen pulled his keys from his pocket. "Tucker, let Elliot know as soon as that report hits your desk. Fin, Elliot, Judith—I'll see you in the morning."

8 June
Captain Cragen's office

"I'm beginning to think all the rats are honest."

Elliot stretched in the office side chair, his feet stuck under Cragen's desk, his hands high in the air. Two nights of sitting in that jump seat watching Cragen and Otten eat and flirt was doing nothing for his back. The night before had been at a small café in North Brooklyn. Two uniforms in a RMP cruised by while Cragen and Otten were eating their salads; they drove past again twenty minutes later. After the second pass, Tucker called the evening a success.

Fin, who was in the other side chair, snickered.

"Honest rats. Next we'll be talking about innocent perps."

"Or loveable defense lawyers," Cragen said. "Elliot, you hear from Tucker?"

"Yeah, Cap—right before you called us in here. The report was on his desk when he came in this morning. That's two sets of field associates who aren't blackmailers."

"Did Tucker say how many suspects we have?"

"No, Cap. We could be doing this for weeks."

Cragen sighed. "I don't want spend the rest of my life on this."

"Same here," Elliot said. "Tucker wants you at Sierra's Restaurant, Amsterdam and 83rd Street at eight tonight. He's reserved an outside table for then."

"Great," Cragen told him. "Let Judith know. Maybe the third time will be the one that hooks us a rat."

8 June
SVU Squad Room
End of shift

"Benson."

Olivia cradled the phone between ear and shoulder. "He is? Good. I'll be right there."

She hung up the phone then glanced around the room. Elliot was gone already; Judith had left two hours ago with her son and his wife—something about a death in Janet Otten's family—and Couch and Fin had taken off an hour after her. Although John's chair was empty, his computer still was on.

Cragen isn't keen on us interviewing witnesses alone—not enough chain of evidence or corroboration in one person's remembering. If I can't find John, I'll have to grab someone from Howie's shift or a uniform….

She checked the hall and spotted John exiting the elevator, a sheaf of file folders under his arm. She waited for him to reach the squad room then she pounced.

"John, you heading home?"

"After I drop these files on my partner's desk. He took off as soon as we got back from Riker's. He's stranded me here two days in a row; the least he can do is my paperwork."

Olivia grabbed the folders and tossed them on Fin's desk.

"Never mind that. I need to interview a witness; he's working the night shift at Alton Towing on Amsterdam. I'll drive you home afterward."

Munch glanced from the scattered folders to her.

"Hmm…you sound desperate. Suppose you also buy me dinner? I know a place near 83rd Street."

I don't have time for this….

"Cop bar?"

"No. Street side café with great meatloaf—the kind I wish my mother had made."

If that's what it takes….

"Okay—dinner it is, but you buy your own meatloaf."

8 June
Sierra's Restaurant

Sierra's was busy for a week night, but a table in the center of the room opened just after they arrived. Olivia took the chair facing the street, leaving Munch the view of the interior.

Good thing this came open—only other table available is that reserved one outside. I hate waiting, but John seems to be in Zen mode…maybe he's happy not being home alone….

The trip had been a fruitful one. Ted Samms at Alton's Towing remembered seeing three males—one white, two brown—running past his apartment building the night before his vacation trip to Ohio. His descriptions matched those given by the victim and Samms was willing to try to pick them out of a line-up.

Olivia closed her phone and smiled at John.

"Riker's will send Al Vargas over in the morning; let's hope Samms picks him out. Then Elliot and I can lean on him and find the other two."

"Sounds good," John said. He placed his menu by his napkin. "I'll have a Cobb salad and the mushroom ravioli. You?"

Olivia glanced over her menu and shrugged.

"You said the meatloaf was good so I'll have—wait a minute. You ordered something else."

John was peering at her over his lenses, one eyebrow raised. He said nothing.

"I told you that you had to buy your own meatloaf so you're assuming I'll pay for your ravioli."

He smiled. "I never said you were stupid."

Olivia gave him her best "I want your balls in a blender" stare. John's smile did not waver. Finally, she gave in.

"I don't know how you stayed married long enough to get divorced. Okay—but you owe me next time we're on stakeout."

"Deal."

"I also don't know how Fin puts up with you."

"The same can be said of you and Elliot, Couch and Otten, Fred and Tammy, Howie and Susan…."

"Okay—I got it."

They ordered then chatted about things not work-related. Olivia tried to avoid anything remotely resembling a conspiracy theory, but when she mentioned alligator attacks in Florida, John was off and running.

"The facile explanation is that uncontrolled urban sprawl is encroaching on the alligator's habitat, which forces their prey to die or move away. When there is nothing natural to eat, gators hunt for pet poodles, small children, golfers, whatever wanders by their ponds. However, it's well-known that runoff from Florida's power plants….

Olivia kept a smile on her face while her gaze darted about looking something to occupy her mind while she pretended to listen.

A couple arguing at the bar, a darling toddler in a high chair, that server almost dropped a tray on that fussy woman—damn, that would have been justice, there's a couple walking a husky….

"Son of a bitch!"

John stiffened, his fork poised between plate and mouth.

"Olivia? What?"

"Turn around very slowly—don't look like you're looking—and check out that reserved table by the sidewalk."

He placed his fork down and tugged his lapel, confirming access to his service weapon, then bent over as if picking up a dropped napkin. He turned back and let out a long, slow breath through pursed lips.

"Tell me that isn't our captain with Detective Otten."

"Wish I could."

She moved her chair to her left so Munch blocked their view of her then she looked again at the table. Cragen was seated by the street; Judith on his right. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder; her hand was placed high on his thigh.

John hunched over in an attempt to disguise his height and appearance.

"We should leave before they see us."

"Yeah." Olivia waved at their server. "The bill, please and could you wrap this for us?"

I just lost my appetite….