The City that Never Sleeps Job
A Leverage/SVU story.
Disclaimer – In order to get this out of the way as soon as possible I wish to state for the record that I do not own any part of either Leverage or Law and Order SVU. Hopefully their real owners won't mind me borrowing them for a while.
People who have been following my previous story More Things in Heaven and Earth may be asking themselves what it is with me and SVU crossovers. The answer is nothing but I am going through a phase where I ask myself how characters from one series would see characters from another, unrelated series and SVU just seemed to fit into possible scenarios for both Buffy and this Leverage story.
This is set somewhere in Season 3 of Leverage because I wanted to make Nate a prison escapee and, therefore, as much a criminal in the eyes of the SVU detectives as the rest of the crew. Unfortunately we've only just finished Season 2 in the U.K. I've read as much as I can about Season 3 on the net but nothing substitutes for actually seeing the episodes, therefore, my apologies if the relationships between the characters don't seem right. Any feedback on this would be very welcome.
One last thing before the story starts. After I began this I discovered a challenge on the Forum from Aerynv dated 4th May concerning a Leverage/SVU crossover. Just to say that although this contains some of the elements in the challenge it is a separate piece of work, not a direct answer to it.
Chapter 1
"This is Maria, Senor Ford." Constanza Sanchez handed Nathan Ford a photograph. A pretty girl of about twelve was smiling happily at the camera. "That was taken two years ago. It is the most recent picture of her we have. After her parents died we were her closest blood relations. Life is hard for orphans in El Salvador so we paid a coyote to smuggle her into the United States..."
"And he double crossed you." Nate finished the story for her.
Constanza's husband, Pablo, nodded confirmation. "We paid him twenty thousand dollars; we sold the car, used all our savings and borrowed as much as we could to raise the money. Then he demanded another twenty thousand to hand her over. He told us if we didn't pay him, he would sell Maria to Hector Morales. That was nearly a month ago. We tried to get the money, Mr Ford, you have to believe us, but we have nothing left to sell and no-one would lend us any more!"
Nate sat back and considered what he had heard. "Why didn't you just pay an immigration lawyer and have her come here legally?" he asked. He noted the exchange of glances between husband and wife and the change in their body language. "Because you're also here illegally?" It wasn't a question although it was phrased as one.
Pablo nodded, unhappily. "Si." He whispered.
Nate smiled. "We'll take your case." He announced to the pair. The Sanchez's looked at him, their expressions a confusing mixture of amazement, happiness and concern.
"Senor, Morales, he is a very bad man, very dangerous and you understand we cannot pay you." Constanza said.
"We've dealt with dangerous men before, Mrs Sanchez and don't worry about money. We have alternative revenue streams." His lips twitched. "May I take this picture? Thanks, we'll be in touch." He walked out of the café where they had met, leaving the Leverage team's newest clients exchanging confused looks.
The team took their seats and looked towards the bank of monitors.
"O.K., Hardison, what have you got for us?" Nate asked as he toyed with his whisky glass, ignoring the concerned glances of the others.
The hacker stood before the monitors and pulled up several photographs of a thick set man with short dark hair. Judging from the photos his preferred dress was a shirt hanging open almost to his navel, showing off a collection of medallions hanging around his neck by thick chains.
"This is Hector Morales." Hardison began.
"Looks like a refugee from Saturday Night Fever." Sophie observed.
"Don't let the John Travolta look fool you." The Hacker replied. "This is one bad dude! Started out as a coke wholesaler but has recently diversified into people smuggling, prostitution and sweatshops."
"Staffed by the illegals he smuggles in." Elliot surmised.
"Right on, baby." Hardison confirmed.
"What else do we know about him?" Nate asked.
The black hacker brought up another series of pictures, this time internal and external shots of restaurants. "He lives in New York City where he owns a number of restaurants through which he launders his money." Hardison enlarged one picture so it filled the screens. "This is "Cuba Libre" his pride and joy. Very high class, it boasts it serves the best Mojito's outside of Cuba. He can be found there most evenings, glad handing the rich and beautiful people who patronise it."
"He's Cuban?" asked Sophie.
Hardison shrugged. "He says he is. A political refugee from Castro, but no-one knows. He's not involved in any émigré groups and I can't find any trace of him on any databases before 1996 when he suddenly appears as the owner of a bar in Little Columbia."
"What about the cops?" Elliot questioned.
"Both the NYPD and the FBI have him down as a suspect in dope distribution and various homicides. He's been taken in for questioning on several occasions but he's never been convicted of anything, or even arrested. They got nothing in their databases on the people smuggling and the other stuff."
"Right!" said Parker, her voice determined, "Let's take this guy down!" She looked expectantly towards Nate. "When are we leaving?"
The Leverage mastermind gave her a slight smile. "We need a plan first." He reminded her. He took a long swallow from his glass and his eyes glazed over as he thought. Finally, they focussed. "What does anyone starting a new business want to do?" he asked.
"Expand?" answered Hardison.
Nate nodded. "Right." He turned to Sophie. "How do you feel about becoming the owner of the best little whorehouse in Nevada?" he asked her.
She tossed her hair, posed and smiled seductively. "Why, Mistah Ford!" she replied.
Two weeks later
Detectives Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson strode through the doors to the ER and went up to the counter where they flashed their gold badges at the duty nurse.
"Where's the vic?" Stabler asked.
"Examination Room Three. The doctor's just finished with her. She's a very lucky woman" The woman replied.
"If you can call being left alive after being raped lucky." Benson said.
The nurse shook her head. "She wasn't raped." She replied.
The two detectives exchanged puzzled looks.
"If she wasn't raped why did you send for the sex cops?" Stabler asked.
The woman shrugged. "Hey, I said she wasn't raped. I never said whoever attacked her didn't try their damndest! Her dress was torn and her panties had been ripped off. They would have gone through with it for sure if some Good Samaritan hadn't intervened. As it is, she's got a good collection of souvenirs of the occasion; fortunately the Doc says it's mainly superficial."
"The Good Samaritan being the one who called the police?" Benson queried.
"No." the nurse shook her head again. She pointed to a uniform, who was hovering outside one of the examination rooms. "Why don't you ask him? He's the one who rode with her in the bus."
"Thanks for your help." Benson said, as the nurse turned to deal with another customer.
The cop straightened up as the detectives approached him. He was young, obviously only recently out of the Academy, his enthusiasm not yet blunted by the realities of the streets.
"Hey, detectives." He greeted them. "I'm Officer Malinkski."
Stabler smiled at him. "O.K. Malinkski, where's your partner?"
"Guarding the crime scene. As soon as I saw the vic. I remembered the advisory you guys sent out."
Benson nodded approvingly. Over the past month there had been a series of attacks against women tourists in the area where this victim had been found. All the victims had been badly beaten, robbed and then raped. Unfortunately the women had been too traumatised to help out much with the investigation. The best description they could give of their attackers was that they were all young, casually dressed and either white or Latino. They couldn't even agree on how many had been involved. Forensics had been equally unhelpful. No semen had been found on any of the vics so it was assumed that they had worn condoms, which meant that they were either in the system already or watched a lot of CSI. The SVU were checking up on registered sex offenders but without more information it was a long shot.
"So, what you got for us?" Stabler asked the young officer.
"A local store owner phoned in a complaint about hearing fighting in the alley behind his store. When we got there we found the vic lying in the alley. She was alone. Her dress had been torn off and her panties were partially pulled down. She was semi-conscious. While we were waiting for the bus we spoke to the store owner. He said that after he'd called us he went upstairs and looked out of a window that overlooks the alley. It was dark but he could see the vic slumped on the ground, surrounded by a group of guys. Another guy was laying into them, really busting heads. The store keeper said he opened the window and shouted that he'd called the cops. The fight broke up then and the original group took off. The other guy paused like he was listening to something, then took off after them. He couldn't give much of a description of any of them except that the Good Samaritan was white and had long hair."
"Any identification on the vic?" asked Benson.
Malinkski shook his head. "We looked round for a purse but couldn't see one. I guess the perps took it with them."
"What about the vics clothing?" Stabler asked.
The officer held up a plastic bag filled with women's clothing items. "The doctor just gave me this. We left her dress where we found it for Forensics." He reported.
"You did good work." Benson complimented the young officer, who brightened at her words. "Give us the evidence and then you can get back to your partner. Make sure that nothing at the crime scene is disturbed until CSU have finished with it."
"O.K. Detective." Malinkski handed over the bag and walked away, leaving the SVU detectives with the unpleasant task of talking to a highly traumatised woman.
Olivia gently opened the curtains and they got their first look at the victim. She was dark haired and had dark eyes set in a face that was still classically beautiful, even through it was currently marred by sticking plasters on her temple and cheeks and a bruise forming on her chin. She was sitting up on the examination table, dressed in a hospital gown, so the nurse's statement that her injuries were superficial seemed accurate. Fortunately she seemed to be holding it together, at least for now.
Olivia smiled, reassuringly at her. "Hi, I'm Detective Olivia Benson and this is my partner, Elliot Stabler. We're from Special Victims Unit. I know that you've been through a lot tonight but we'd like to ask you some questions so we can catch the people who did this to you…" she glanced down and saw the woman was wearing a wedding band. "Mrs…?"
"Baker, Sarah-Jane Baker." The woman answered in a mid-western accent. "From Troy, South Dakota."
Olivia glanced at her partner, another out-of-towner. It definitely looked like their perps.
"Can you tell us what happened, Mrs Baker?" Stabler asked, his voice gentle.
Mrs Baker ran her hand across her eyes and winced as they caught one of the areas covered by a plaster. "I don't remember much. It all happened so fast. I was out for a walk and I guess I wandered a little too far from the hotel. I remember being grabbed and hustled into an alleyway but after that it seems like a nightmare."
"What about the people who grabbed you? Do you remember how many there were?" asked Olivia.
Mrs Baker closed her eyes in thought. "Four, maybe five?" She hazarded.
"What did they look like? Can you remember anything about any of them?" Stabler pressed.
"What the hell is happening here?" a male voice growled from behind them.
Mrs Baker's face lit up. "Tom, honey!" she cried.
The SVU detectives turned to see a casually dressed man with slightly too long brown hair standing at the entrance to the cubicle. His pleasant features were marred by an expression like thunder.
"This is my husband, Tom." Their victim explained. She turned to her husband. "Thank the Lord you're here!" She opened her arms and Mr Baker moved forward to gently embrace her. Still holding on to his wife, the man turned to the Detectives. "What sort of burg are you people running here?" he raged. "I thought Giuliani was meant to have cleaned up this town but we've only been here a coupla days and this happens!"
"Sir, I know your wife has been through an ordeal but we need to question her while her memory is still fresh. It will help us to identify the men who did this to her." Olivia tried to pacify the man.
"You bet she's been through an ordeal! She's been put through hell! There's no way he's answering your questions tonight. I'm taking her back to our hotel. You can speak to her tomorrow, after she's rested. We're staying at the Grenville Hotel in Midtown."
Stabler nodded. He knew the hotel. It was clean, reputable and mid-priced. The sort of hotel tourists on a limited income would choose.
"Honey, I've brought you a change of clothes." Mr Baker glared at the Detectives. "I suggest we leave so my wife can change." He growled and led the detectives out of the cubicle. Once outside, he turned on them. "You can bet all the folks back home are going to be hearing about this. You let vicious animals roam the streets attacking innocent people while the police browbeat their victims! Don't expect anyone from Troy to visit this jungle anytime soon after I get through telling them what happens here!"
Olivia and Elliot stood and quietly listened. It wasn't uncommon for victims and their families to initially vent their anger at the investigating officers. Although they would have preferred to question Mrs Baker now, given her husband's presence and current attitude, it was probably better to wait until he'd calmed down and realised where his anger really should be directed. In his current mood he was going to be more of a liability than an asset to their investigation.
The curtains swished open and Mrs Baker walked out, now fully dressed. Her husband placed his arm protectively around her shoulder. "Let's go now, honey. We'll get a cab back to the hotel." He began to lead her out but stopped when Elliot called out after them.
"Would nine o'clock tomorrow be O.K. to meet?"
Mrs Baker turned towards him. "Yes, of course. Come round to the hotel then. We're in Room 435."
T.B.C.