Thanks once again to my readers and reviewers... You're much appreciated!

Chapter 11

Dean Porter was working hard to keep his temper in check… mostly for the sake of Olivia. He knew he'd acted like a prick when she first came on, and he deserved any misgivings she had about him. Once she understood his reasons for it, she might forgive him. But Stabler would never forgive him after the incident with Rojas… or the fact there'd been a mutual attraction between him and Olivia—even though they'd never acted on it. But he was tired of being treated like the enemy—it was starting to annoy him. "I'm just saying it would've been nice to have had some of this information!"

"All right… Everyone settle down and let's try to remember we're on the same team here." ADIC Putnam looked as exhausted as she felt, and she was in no mood to play moderator to her bickering agents. "We need to focus on the problem at hand. John Lamb hasn't responded to any of my efforts to reach him. We don't know if he's willfully ignoring us or if he's in trouble… So until we figure it out—I suggest you put your differences aside and work together."

Porter sat down, and Elliot leaned back in his chair, while Olivia gave a sideways glance at Frank and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Huang had been unavailable, but the four of them had been meeting with ADIC Putnam for the past forty-five minutes.

"We've already gone over a lot of information… What you may not know is how this whole thing came about: Agent Porter received an anonymous telephone call containing enough viable information that he brought it to my attention; I made the decision to launch this op. And that's where we'll start. What I now need to understand, Dean, is the driving force behind some of your actions since receiving that call."

"I'll tell you what I know, Connie—but I suspect there are factors I wasn't made aware of…" He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table, and looked down at the pencil he was lightly tapping on the piece of paper in front of him. He cleared his throat and looked back at Putnam. "It didn't make sense to me that I'd received that call instead of you or John Lamb… or somebody who'd worked these cases—I'm homeland security. But the information was detailed—and viable. So I brought it to your attention." He briefly acknowledged everyone sitting around the table. "I expected that would be the extent of my involvement."

ADIC Putnam picked up the conversation. "I took the information to Agent Lamb. We agreed it needed to be treated as viable intel—and we discussed the parameters for setting up a sting." She looked over at Olivia. "I made a call to an old friend of mine—Agent Dana Lewis. I knew she'd had some dealings with Manhattan's Sexual Victim's Unit, and I asked her if there was anyone she'd recommend for the role of Jennifer Randolph. She recommended you—without hesitation. She also told me you'd done a UC op with Dean Porter in the past, and you and Agent Stabler had worked with him on some SVU cases."

"I'll be sure to thank her." Olivia's tongue in cheek comment gathered a few chuckles and lightened the mood—if only for a moment.

Putnam smiled. "I gave all the information to Agent Lamb, and he wanted to do some research of his own: From what you've told me, Frank, he went to Sergeant Tucker. When he got back to me he told me he owned property in Hempstead. He would loan Crestview to the FBI, and provide access to the Country Club for the op—but he'd need to keep a low profile because he was known in the community. He'd continue to advise me, and I was to be the only contact he'd have for the duration of the sting. In return—he would choose the UC team. He wanted Dean Porter to act as handler. Olivia Benson was to be recruited as Jennifer Randolph, and Agent Stabler would be assigned—by me—as Jason Randolph. He told me it was non-negotiable… Unless those conditions were met, he'd walk away."

The intake of breath around the table was audible, and Frank was the first to comment. "Jesus Christ, Connie… Since when did you start taking orders from a subordinate?"

"Since I went out on a limb to run an op that I knew in the end might prove to be bogus, Frank… I needed John Lamb, and he knew it."

Porter had grown quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. After a moment he looked up at ADIC Putnam. "Connie… Why the hell didn't you tell me this?"

There was a pained expression on her face, but she maintained eye contact with him. "Dean, John was concerned about the manner in which the intel came to us… He wanted to keep you close. He felt it was no accident that it came to you—or through you."

Porter's jaw clenched and the pencil in his hand snapped, but he kept his cool. "So in other words, he thought I'd manufactured the intel. To what end, Connie?"

"He didn't discuss it with me, Dean."

"But you bought into it." His eyes were hooded and his voice accusing.

"No… No I didn't. Not until you fought so hard to go under with Detective Benson, and turned your position over to Frank." Her voice was quiet. "Then I had some misgivings…"

"You know I didn't want to be involved in this from the start. It wasn't until you crammed it down my throat, and insisted that Benson and Stabler go under as the Randolphs that I started to get a little suspicious. We both knew it was unlikely we were dealing with the Country Club murders, Connie—but it was beginning to look like we were dealing with a set-up." He turned to address Olivia. "At the very least, it looked like you were being used as bait—I'd been told you weren't being given a choice. At first I didn't want you to do it and I was gonna try to warn you off—but then it began to look like you might actually be the target… And I knew whoever it was would go after you, no matter where you were. I figured you'd be safer under the nose of the FBI."

Olivia listened carefully as he explained his motivation. "Then why'd you act like such a jackass when I first came on board, Dean?" Her face was a testament to her confusion.

He averted his eyes. "I told you, Liv… We hadn't cleared the air. I knew how pissed you were with me, and we hadn't talked in three years. I hoped if I acted like a jerk you'd call me on it… God knows, you always have in the past. I figured we'd have a blowup and get it all out in the open."

Olivia was mortified that her personal business had been dragged into this conversation, but she still had questions, so she forged ahead. "Did you tap our phones…?"

He didn't need to respond—the shock on his face was answer enough. "When were your phones tapped?" He looked from Olivia to Elliot.

Elliot, who'd been observing the woman he loved in a personal conversation with the man he suspected still had strong feelings for her, had been uncharacteristically quiet. Now he answered Porter—his voice civil, but his words stilted from the effort. "From what we can tell, it was a few days before we were contacted about the operation."

"It wasn't me," Porter said.

Olivia narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with suspicion. "Then how'd you know Elliot asked me to pick up 'Schick 5' razors for him…?" she demanded.

"I overheard him on the phone with you: I wanted to talk to him… His door was open and I was about to knock and walk in, when I realized he was talking to you—I left to give him some privacy."

Olivia finally lowered her eyes, accepting his explanation with a quiet, "Okay."

Porter looked at ADIC Putnam with alarm—a question in his eyes.

"I know nothing about it, Dean… but you can bet I'll look into it." Her voice registered her concern. "And I agree with you…" She turned her attention to Olivia. "Detective Benson, you're the target of whoever is behind all this. And it's possible you are, too, Agent Stabler."

Olivia's attention was still on Dean. "Is that why you insisted on going under with me… instead of letting Elliot?"

He hesitated before he answered. "Yeah…" He raised his eyes to hers. "It's never a good idea to have anyone who's romantically involved go under together—you know that—and Dr. Huang strongly supported it." He gave a sheepish grin. "Besides, I knew if I was with you, Stabler'd be all over it—and you'd have twice the coverage." He risked a glance at Elliot, and caught the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. He nodded in Frank's direction. "And I trusted Barrett… I knew he'd be suspicious of the intel—and you'd be in good hands."

Elliot cleared his throat to speak: "Then I guess you didn't install the cameras in the bedroom, either," he said. He gave Porter an apologetic grimace, indicating he believed the agent—albeit reluctantly. "We've got some new information that may have bearing on all this..." He looked to ADIC Putnam for permission to proceed. She nodded and he leaned forward, his arms resting on the table—his hands folded in front of him. "Liv and I worked a case back in two thousand-three involving the Lamerly family." He glanced at Olivia. "We discovered yesterday that Crestview was originally owned by the Lamerlys… I was notified just before this meeting that Candace Lamerly had a son who'd renounced all ties to them, and changed his name. We believe it's likely that John Lamb is actually Jackson Lamerly. Olivia's Captain and teammates at the 16th Precinct have taken this on as top priority and they'll report in as soon as they have any information."

Olivia rested her head against the back of the seat and watched the passing sights out her window—mostly other vehicles. The meeting had ended at four-thirty, and she and Porter were driving back from the city. They planned to stop at Crestview long enough to change for dinner at the Club. She could feel Porter's eyes on her, and hoped to god he was giving the road as much attention as he seemed to be giving her.

"Oli… uh, Jennifer…? Think we can talk…?" he asked tentatively.

She turned to look at him. "I don't wanna talk about us—not until this is over." She saw the disappointment on his face, and felt guilty… especially since it was obvious he'd been trying to protect her—not do her harm. She reached over and touched his arm. "We, I… need the distance between us right now to play this role. It has to remain impersonal..."

He nodded, and glanced over at her. "Okay… I understand."

They rode in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Just before they reached Hempstead, Olivia turned toward him. She spoke softly, watching his profile. "I'm sorry, Dean. We thought…"

He turned his head briefly, a smirk at the corners of his mouth. "I know what you thought. Is this an apology, Benson?" He grinned, his arrogance clearly intact.

"Yeah… And, Dean—Thank you."

"Apology accepted. You think I can meet with you and Stabler when he comes over tonight?"

Olivia's eyes opened wide as she stared at him, his words apparently having rendered her speechless.

"I mean, we still have things we need to talk about… I need to be brought up to speed in order to be of any real help, here…"

"Ah… Yeah… I… When did… How did you…?"

Porter chuckled, obviously amused at her inability to form coherent sentences.

"I told you—I was counting on Stabler to overreact: I knew he'd be here protecting his territory—like a big ol' guard dog." He grinned over at her. "It's what I'd have done in the same circumstances. And I have a lot of faith in you—and Frank."

Olivia finally recovered enough to speak. "Okay… I'll talk to him and set it up."

A figure lurked in the shadows, just yards from the approach to the Crestview driveway—exactly where he was expected to be. He observed the silver Rolls Royce that had pulled to a stop in front of the house. He watched as the driver opened the passenger side door, offering a hand to the beautiful woman stepping out of the car. He waited until they were safely inside before continuing his conversation. "I told you… I want direct contact to whoever's in charge." He paced while he talked into his cell, looking furtively around to be certain he was still alone.

"And I told you—that's not gonna happen… Nobody on your level has direct contact. You have to go through layers to reach the top, for Christ's sake. Are you gonna follow-through on the job or not?" The man belonging to the voice on the other end of the phone couldn't disguise his frustration.

"On one condition: I wanna handle the woman. This is personal for me—she owes me. Besides—I don't want sloppy seconds, and I don't share. Either I get that guarantee, or I'll walk away in the middle of the job, and Kundak can figure out how to handle the two of them by himself. If he comes near her, I walk. I'll expect to hear from you by tomorrow at midnight."

"I'll pass the message on to my contact… It's out of my hands after that."

"Okay, Cap… Thanks. I'll fill them in on this—and Porter, too... I guess." Elliot ended the phone call with Cragen and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He'd barely taken three steps when it vibrated again. He stopped and reached into his pocket to retrieve it, answering quickly.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah, baby… What's up—everything okay?"

Olivia hurried to assure him that there was nothing wrong. "I talked with Porter… on the ride back to Crestview. He knows about you staying with me at night—he's known all along." She waited for him to respond, not quite sure what reaction to expect from her news: She didn't expect to hear Elliot chuckling into the phone.

"I'm not surprised. Based on what he told us, I imagine he was counting on it."

"That's what he said. Listen, I'm getting ready to head to the club for dinner, so I haven't got much time… Porter wants us to get together tonight—when you come to see me. He thinks there's a lot more we need to talk about and…"

"I agree. I just got off the phone with Cap, and I've gotta fill you all in on what they've found—about the Lamerlys. Let me talk to Frank, and we'll set a time and place. At least we won't have to work around Porter anymore."

The place was a little-known dive half-way to the city that no one who'd been hanging at the Hempstead Country Club would ever frequent. And the time was nine-thirty—after Porter and Olivia finished their dinner at said country club. Frank and Elliot were already seated at a table with a couple of beers, heavy into conversation when they walked in.

Ever the gentleman, Porter took Olivia's coat and hung it up for her, then pulled out her chair when they reached the table. Instead of sitting, she looked beseechingly at Frank, who immediately stood and switched seats with her so she could settle in beside Elliot. She gave Porter an apologetic glance, as Elliot leaned over to claim her lips. Frank rolled his eyes. "You might as well get used to it Porter if you're gonna hang out with 'em—they can't help themselves." In spite of his words, his tone betrayed his good humor.

After Olivia's wine and Porter's beer arrived, the foursome was ready to tackle the subject they'd come to discuss, and Frank got the ball rolling. "Okay, Stabler… Tell us what you got today from Cragen."

Elliot reached into his pocket and brought out a folded sheet of notes he'd taken. He consulted the notes before clearing his throat to speak. "John Lamb was born Jackson Lamerly, in nineteen-sixty: son of William and Candace Lamerly; brother to Douglas; and uncle to Drew. For whatever reason, he was estranged from his family before he turned twenty, shortly after his father died. He changed his name to John Lamb, and apparently spent some time in the Navy, after which he became involved in law-enforcement—eventually joining the FBI."

"How'd he end up with Crestview if his family disowned him?"

Olivia nodded. "I was just gonna ask the same thing, Frank."

"I didn't say his family disowned him… He apparently disowned them. But all the remaining family members died off in the past ten years, since Drew's incarceration for rape and murder—including Drew… He was beaten to death in the prison courtyard."

"Wow. What happened to the others?" Olivia asked.

Candace Lamerly died of a stroke shortly after Drew went to prison… She was having some medical problems during his trial, remember?"

"Yeah… I do."

"Drew's father died of a heart attack shortly after receiving the news of Drew's death."

"That must have been terrible for him… He actually seemed like a decent man," Olivia observed.

"Yeah, he did," Elliot agreed. "At any rate, Crestview was left to John. And although he doesn't live there—and barely acknowledges it—he's made certain it's well-maintained."

Porter summed it up. "This is all fine and good, but I don't see how any of it adds up to you two being his targets: What's the motivation? What could he possibly be holding against you? He's been involved in law-enforcement his whole adult life… I'm sure he understands the reason his nephew was arrested and prosecuted. And if he removed himself from his family, sounds like he had no use for the lifestyle they led, anyway."

"I gotta say—I agree with you Porter… I'm havin' a hell of a time makin' it fit, myself." Frank rubbed his hand down over his face and leaned back in his chair, taking a swig of beer.

Elliot looked at Olivia. "He doesn't even know you, Liv. Why would he be focusing on you?"

"But he does know you, El… Maybe he sees me as being the means to hurt you. But why would he want to…?" Olivia shook her head. "But this is all one hell of a coincidence. And I don't believe in coincidences."

Porter spoke again. "Okay, so what do we have that points to Lamb?"

Olivia reached in her purse and brought out the list they'd been working on. "This is what we had so far..." She read from the list, bringing Porter up-to-speed on the intel they'd gathered. "Add to that the information Cragen just gave us: Family members have all died since the arrest and incarceration of his nephew, and all the deaths are directly or indirectly related to his incarceration; and the fact that he isn't responding to Putnam's demands that he check in…" She jotted the new information down.

Porter looked around the table at the other three. "I've got to admit… There's a lot there that's suspicious… but there's still no believable motive." He sat for a moment worrying the label on his beer bottle. "What if he thinks you're targets, too? I mean, he obviously has concerns about my motivation… Maybe he's watching me."

"But why wouldn't he talk to Connie, Porter? He's gotta know she's gettin' pissed." Frank leaned his arms on the table and focused on Olivia. "An' why in hell would he put cameras in her bedroom an' shower—only one reason a man does a thing like that!"

In spite of herself, Olivia shuddered, and Elliot reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Maybe he didn't put them there," she said, looking down at the table.

"You sayin' you think this could be legitimate… We might actually be dealin' with the real Country Club murderer?" Frank's tone belied his disbelief in the theory.

"No. No, I don't think so… I'm just saying, maybe it's someone else—someone who does have motive. God knows I've, we've…" she corrected, sliding her eyes to Elliot. "…pissed off enough perps over the years… Maybe Fin's right and we should be looking at some of them." She raked her fingers through her hair, leaning wearily against the back of her seat.

Elliot watched her with concern. "I think you have a point, Liv. Let's take that a little more seriously. Who did Fin say he was gonna look into?"

"Anne Gillette, Anton Petrov, and Delia Wilson…"

Porter turned his attention to Olivia. "We should start with the case that was most recent…"

"That would be the Delia Wilson case. It happened just a few months ago… and it was far-reaching."

I wasn't involved in that one, Liv," Elliot reminded her. "That means it would be just you..."

"I know."

Porter looked knowingly at Frank. "Let's get the information to Connie and set some gears in motion."

TBC

Thanks for reading! I'll do my level best to post Chapter 12 on Wednesday morning... If not, it'll be up no later than Sunday.