TAYLOR

Being undercover sucks sometimes. Sure, there's action and adventure. Guns and women. But the constant hiding of one's true self can be disconcerting and a bit of an ethical mess.

My current position put me in a quandary; the only reason Grey hasn't been hauled in for questioning is because I told my handlers that he's more likely to spill the beans when he's comfortable at home, stewing over his fucked up world. This shit with Elena Lincoln just sent him into a spiral. When I got Ana out of here, little did I know how much he would mentally deteriorate- it was fascinating to watch. Didn't feel too bad for him, he deserves to feel some misery for the shit he subjected his wife to endure. Shit like that isn't okay and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for letting it go on as long as it did.

Which leads to a moral quandary. I hate my 'boss' with a fervor reserved for those going to a special place in hell. Had to dance to his jig long enough on this assignment that throwing him to the wolves does hold some appeal. But not before I try to pry as much info as I can out of him. Needed to make sure he wasn't one of the big fish.

I'm sure Santa frowned and took away one of my Christmas gifts when I leaked Elena's confession to select media outlets. Granted, Grey wasn't a celebrity in the way that Brad Pitt, George Clooney or Matt Bomer defined the word. But Grey was a member of a very elite assemblage that would take the news of his association with Elena Lincoln to heart. Any investors in her brand of documented abuse would fade into the shadows. Needed to find some sort of black book- anything with contact information. Little did Grey know that he was wired the last time he went to Lincoln's office. The deed, deemed almost too dangers had the mark found out, still seemed more easy to engineer than Ana's removal to the safehouse. All the layers of security I installed to keep the narcissistic sociopath content had to be disabled without leaving a trace of friendly-fire interference. Nothing is gained by me blowing my cover.

His cuff links contained a micro camera with audio. As he fidgeted in his seat, the FBI watched Lincoln access her safe. When she was arrested, her bracelet with the USB key fell into our hands, and the contents of that safe processed for evidence.

My hopes were somewhat dashed when Ana confirmed that all she witnessed between her husband and Lincoln was the acknowledgement that he was on board. Did he know the full extent of her operation? Was he aware of her side business? How much did he invest?

Reports from EUROPOL confirmed finding three dozen images of a young Christian Grey on a computer server out of Amsterdam. Tied up, covered in welts and bruises. Being sexually abused. Confirmed by Elena Lincoln's confession.

She spared no detail. Unable to speak, she made motions for a writing implement and paper. Gave her two Bic pens and a legal tablet. Two hours later, she handed Agent Vanirsson a stack of handwritten pages detailing her operations. Fingered Grey as being the main investor. She did state he did not know about her proposed project and only got his cooperation by omitting very important facts... but still. He's tied into the manufacture of pornography. Photos were found featuring his kink room and his known subs, those photos were in Lincoln"s possession. It's not a positive in his favor, that's for certain.

Have to go wake him up. More often than not lately, he's been killing his liver with opiates and alcohol. His life, his business. But it made things uncomfortable. Where he used to be rigid and in control, now he was dazed and melancholy. Roz ran the day to day workings of Grey Enterprises while the boss nursed his hurt pride.

Made my way to his bedroom. The stink of stale sweat and urine hung heavy in the air. "Sir?"

The snoring got louder.

"Sir?" Reached out and shook his shoulder. A bloodshot eye eked open.

"Wha?" The single word sounded mangled. He looked like something the cat puked up.

"There's been a lead regarding the missus."

With that announcement, Grey shot up in bed and asked, "Where? With who?"

I smiled on the inside. The man was damn near too easy to manipulate. "Northern California. A woman very similar in appearance was found on camera in the city of Redding two days ago."

Hope seemed to fill him, but it was anger that topped him off. Whatever drugs he was taking to keep himself docile seemed to fade away at the mere mention of his wife's whereabouts. "Can we narrow her location more? Has she shown on any other cameras?"

"Still sifting through the footage, sir. If there's anything, you'll be the first to know." There wouldn't be any more footage of this imaginary look-alike. My inner white knight warred with my sense of law-abiding justice. The white knight won. "Any orders if there are more images?"

"Yes. Schedule a flight to the nearest airport. Hotel, car. We will track her down and bring her home."

I nodded, almost positive that he's thinking about putting the missus back in his kink factory. One could see the hamster running on its wheel in his head when that was on his mind.

"Taylor?"

A deep sigh was heaved on the inside. "Sir?"

"Find my wife and you can name your price. Anything you want. Anything."

I knew what I wanted, and knew that if I played this game without my handler's knowledge, the comeuppance would be damn near magical. I owed it to them. "Thank you, sir." First, have to set the trap. And then... well. Won't be going in any official report.