Couples

Chapter 108

The diner is filled with patrons hungry for a substantial breakfast before tackling their workdays. "We haven't had a minute to talk about what kind of wedding you want," Eli points out over a steak and eggs sunrise special.

Lana lays her fork across her plate. "After all the attention we've been getting, a wedding would attract click-baiters like flies. Could we make it private? I mean, really private. I see you and me and a couple of witnesses someplace where onlookers can't get in."

"I could ask Judge Markway if he'd marry us in his chambers," Eli considers. "Morton Andrews might accuse me of exparte communication if he's not present, but we could let him sit in a corner and tell him to shut up."

"Morton Andrews and shutting up don't seem to go together. But we could use him as a witness," Lana suggests. "He's not allowed to talk about anything that happens in chambers, is he?"

Eli almost chokes on his coffee. "Nothing about the case. And if he claims it isn't about the case, then he'd have no reason to scream exparte. He'd be caught either way. Have you ever considered law school?"

Lana's red locks whip through the air as she shakes her head. "No thanks. I like my role in the justice system to be more hands-on. But I have thought about going for detective."

"Do you see yourself as the next Kate Beckett?"

"I think Kate's unique. But I could have my own style of tracking down leads. And I'd have a real advantage getting around during heavy snowfalls. The city's been seeing more and more of those."

"It certainly seems like it. And your cross country skiing skills have worked out well for you and the N.Y.P.D.," Eli recalls. "You should go for it. But getting back to our wedding. If you're sure that you want to be married in Markway's chambers, I can talk to him during a recess today."

Lana grasps his hand across the table. "Do it!"

"So Tori hit the motherlode?" Rick inquires, using chocolate chips to make a happy face on Kate's pancake.

Kate grabs a dark morsel. "She did. She identified three faces of Momentous Mops' employees."

Rick passes the finished plate to Kate. "Members of the Lorenzo family?"

"No. More like petty criminals. They all had rap sheets for shoplifting, burglary, or cashing bad checks – nothing violent. But they couldn't be bonded, and most employers wouldn't hire them. It's no wonder the Lorenzos scooped them up."

"So, if you catch them red-handed, do you think you might be able to turn one of them?"

"Maybe. They might be afraid of the Lorenzos or grateful for the job. If they try going after the Atterbury house, we'll see."

"When I met Simon Atterbury, he seemed like a good guy. He had a severe case of hero-worship of Neil deGrasse Tyson. But then, what space groupie doesn't? Has Simon left New York yet?"

"He's supposed to be leaving today. I'll be surveilling his house, and Ryan and Esposito will be watching Momentous Mops. They'll give me a heads up when the Lorenzos' operation may be underway."

"Aside from the boys, what kind of back-up do you have?" Rick queries.

"I'll be able to call in as many unis as I need. And if things go down as we think they will, Captain Montgomery wants to be on the scene, too."

"That should look good to 1PP," Rick observes.

"I think he's more interested in getting back on the street," Kate offers. "He really hates being stuck behind his desk."

"I can't say that I blame him," Rick sympathizes. "Being able to work cases with you helps me get through the bleary hours spent staring at my computer screen. The paperwork Montgomery has to wade through is a lot worse than any drudgery I endure to craft a tale. Meryl is free today. Maybe I can join you as well. Can you give me a heads up if Operation Grab the Mops goes down?"

"I'll do my best," Kate promises.

Azra doesn't scare easily. In fact, she can count the times she's had shaky knees on one hand. But they're trembling now. She isn't fond of public speaking, but it's never had the effect that looking out at the sea of international diplomats is having on her present physical condition. The State Department, the D.N.I., and God knows who else has already vetted every word she's about to say, but the responsibility will still be hers. She is the one exposing Russian aggression and covert machinations to the world. And she's the one who has to be convincing.

Stepping up to the microphone, Azra watches as the audience inserts their translation earpieces. She resists the impulse to reach for her bottle of water, afraid it might slip from her grip.

Jack struggles to view the feed from the General Assembly. He only had a five minutes heads up as to what Azra would be doing, and he had to twist a few arms to get it. As her image fills the screen of his phone, he's never seen her skin look quite so pale, even when she had a bullet in her.

"Mr. President, honored delegates, ladies and gentlemen," Azra begins. "I come here at an inflection point in global history. There was a time when we knew with whom we were at war. Tanks, guns, aircraft, ground forces could be counted. New technology has completely upended the way sovereign borders and international law are breached. Agreements forged in shared loss are now being shattered, creating confusion and duplicity.

"I'm here today to cut through the Russian-generated fog around the events taking place in Ukraine. What I report to you, I witnessed with my own eyes. I share it in the hopes that you understand the extent of the deception to which our world is falling prey."

Jack has no idea if Azra's revelations will make any difference. But she's doing fine. Hell, she's doing great! Much of what she's describing, even he had no clue was taking place. The Russians have rarely played straight, but the direction they've chosen in the past few years takes the cake. Or maybe they've pushed the United States' face so far into the frosting that the intelligence agencies haven't been able to get it out of their eyes.

Throughout more decades than he cares to remember, politicians have heard speeches that were supposed to awaken them to the true state of the world. They beat their chests for a while, but nothing changed. If that scenario continues, the G.R.U.'s tendrils will burrow into every perception citizens of the United States and the world will form. No gun, no bomb, and no traditional army will be able to counter that. But if anyone can shine the light, it's Azra.

"Beckett," Ryan calls, urgency evident in his voice, "the Momentous Mops' van is heading your way."

"On it," Beckett responds. The van's route should take about 20 minutes. That will give her time to stage the marked units where they won't be seen. She won't call them in unless a crime is actually underway. She won't call Montgomery either. But she will call Rick. She almost never takes someone down for theft, not even grand theft. But this case is still about the murder of Calista Ford. The robbery busts will be a means to an end. Fingers crossed, she'll grab the right suspects to accomplish her goal.

A/N Neil deGrasse Tyson is still the director of the Hayden Planetarium. In 2018, multiple women accused him of sexual misconduct. His jobs with television networks and the planetarium were on the line. After both some apologies and an investigation, he kept his positions. All of that, however, happened before the time frame of this story. During that period, he was still an unsullied astrophysicist extraordinaire and the idol of millions.