Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue or any of the characters etc...
Author's note: I intended skipping the undercover op (particularly as Nick bores me) but then Debby mentioned something about some west coast drama in her review and I thought why not. Hope you like it. Thanks again for the favs, follows and reviews. Please keep them coming - I've said it before but they are such an inspiration to keep writing. I write this because I enjoy it but feedback just makes your day. Although as I'm about to post this, I realize reviews don't seem to be showing up on the site (authors can see them but they don't display on the site) but don't let that deter you from reviewing - hopefully the glitch will be sorted soon.
Hope everyone had a great new year.
...
Two weeks had turned into four and then five and now Gail was seated across from Slade, second-in-command of one of Vancouver's most powerful drug cartels and she was no closer to finding out the identity of the cartel boss. Worse still, depending on how this conversation went, she may never know how the drugs were being shipped into Canada.
Slade was a wiry kind of guy. If he were a dog, Gail would have described him as a whippet, but where whippets tended to be docile and amiable, he was nervy and quick to anger. At the moment he was trying to out stare Gail, unmoved by her assurance that Nick was not ratting them out to the police. Gail knew if she couldn't convince him, suspicion would fall on her next. After all, Nick had introduced her as his ex-girlfriend who had the contacts to expand the cartel's business beyond Vancouver to Australia, where cocaine was selling for five times its street value in Canada. As Slade's gaze didn't waiver, Gail idly wondered why drug bosses never had regular names. She knew now was not the time to be pondering such things, but somehow it helped her withstand Slade's scrutiny without flinching.
So far this whole undercover mission had been a bust and if it was about to go pear-shaped then there was a good chance she would never get back to Toronto and the life she was daring to imagine she could make with Holly. Gail had promised to come back to San Francisco once the undercover assignment was done and help Holly pack up her apartment, but that wasn't going to happen now. Holly would have arrived back in Toronto two days ago. Gail mentally chided herself for letting her thoughts wander. She needed to stay focused.
Paranoia was high in the cartel. Their source in the Vancouver Police Department suspected that an undercover officer had infiltrated the cartel but hadn't been able to supply a name. Now, Gail had to figure out whether Slade really thought Nick was the undercover operative or was on a fishing expedition. Perhaps he was just trying to rule Nick out. After all, Nick had left Vancouver five days ago with Ricardo, one of Slade's lieutenants, to collect a large consignment of cocaine from Mexico, which Slade believed she had arranged to then smuggle into Australia.
She and Nick had a rough idea about how the drugs were being brought into Vancouver. Piecing together snippets Slade and other gang members had let slip, it seemed the drugs were brought up from Mexico in a fishing trawler, which anchored just off the coast. From here they were transferred to a speedboat to be brought to the mainland. Somehow though the speedboat was getting through without being detected by the Canadian Coast Guard.
It was the first time Nick had been trusted to make the journey. Undercover for seven months, Nick had made himself indispensable to Slade by taking charge of distributing drugs to local suppliers, but other than identifying Mexico as the source, Slade had remained tight-lipped about how the drugs were getting into the country. Gail's appearance had changed that. She told Slade that if she was going into business with him, she needed to know the supply chain was full proof.
Slade had taken a while to agree. Gail knew he was using the time to check her credentials. Juliette, who was leading the investigation, had been careful to craft a believable backstory for Gail, including a charge sheet with a string of arrests in her early twenties for possession and time in prison. Gail, the story went, had just returned from three years in Australia, where she'd worked for a local gang trafficking cocaine into the country.
'Nick is solid. Loyal. I relied on him when I was in Australia. There's no way he'd talk to the police. He's hated them ever since they wouldn't charge the driver who wiped out his parents in an accident when he was a teenager'.
Undercover it was more convincing if you incorporated some of your own life into that of your alias. Nick and Gail had agreed to stick with the story that he'd jilted her and they resumed contact several years later when she started dealing. Both had kept their first names but assumed new surnames. That way, because they knew each other so well, they were unlikely to slip up by calling one another by the wrong name, and if they happened to run into anyone who recognized them while with Slade or any of his gang, it wouldn't cause any suspicion if they were addressed as Gail or Nick.
Slade nodded slowly but didn't break eye contact. 'You knew him then?'
'Met him not long after. He left me at the altar when I was nineteen'.
At this Slade look surprised. 'So, why do business with him?
'Lousy boyfriend, good business partner', she shrugged. 'And he's not my type anymore'.
Slade raised his eyebrows, but he seemed to be satisfied with Gail's response. 'I had a feeling'. He looked Gail up and down slowly, appraisingly. 'What a waste'.
What a creep thought Gail. 'Waste for whom exactly', she challenged, but her tone was light.
Slade laughed. 'You might just be the boss's type. She likes them blonde and feisty'.
Ah, so the boss was a woman. This was new information. 'I don't mix business and pleasure, as a rule', she said.
'But rules were meant to be broken, Gail', said Slade, holding his hands out as if this were self-evident. 'And I think once you meet Miss Goddard, you may want to break a rule or two'.
Gail worked hard to keep her face impassive. A name now. Slade had let slip two clues about the boss's identity. It seemed too easy. Up until now he'd been very cagey about his boss and thinking back Gail realized he avoided using the gender specific pronoun when describing Miss Goddard, if that was her name or if she even existed. Gail wondered if this was some sort of a test or set-up, although she also knew that the bogus deal she was offering Slade promised serious money and he didn't want to risk that.
'Be ready. 10 pm tonight. I'll take you to Miss Goddard'.
As Gail rose to leave, Slade placed a grainy black-and–white photo on the desk. 'Do you know this chick?' he asked with seeming casualness, although Gail could detect an underlying sharpness to his tone.
Looking at the photo, she saw it was Juliette. 'No. Who is she?' Gail tried to sound irritated. Slade was still watching her face closely and she hoped she hadn't given any indication that she recognized Juliette.
'Police'.
'How do you know?'
'The guy we have in the VPD says she's running an operation targeting us'.
'Listen Slade, if the police are getting too close maybe we should lie low for a while. Call off Nick and Ricardo. I've spent time inside. I'm not going back there'.
By acting like she was getting cold feet, Gail hoped to shake off Slade's suspicions. After all, if the police were planning to bust the operation Slade was smart enough to know they'd want the shipment from Mexico to go ahead. However, having got this far, she figured Slade would be reluctant to pull the plug.
'No, I got word from Nick and Ricardo. They're bringing the shipment in tonight', Slade's voice was firm, indicating this was non-negotiable. 'I'll take care of her' he gestured to the photo. 'See you at 10. And Gail, wear something nice'.
….
Back at Nick's apartment, Gail made her way to the bathroom where she removed one of the tiles surrounding the bathtub and retrieved a cellphone. She couldn't risk phoning Juliette. If Slade thought Nick was working for the police, there was a good chance he would have bugged the apartment. Instead she sent a text to Juliette.
S knows you're running op. Plans to 'take care of you'. VPD contact also suspects an uncover is working for S. S asked if it was Nick. I think I convinced him we're legit. S collecting me at 10pm to meet boss – called her Miss Goddard. Should I go?
When she finished typing, she sat down on the bathroom floor with her back against the tiled bath. She felt sick. God she hated undercover. When she had arrived in Vancouver, Nick had assumed she be grateful that he singled her out for the job. It never ceased to amaze her how Nick, despite their history and how well they should have know each other, didn't get her most of the time.
'I thought you'd be relieved to be away from Toronto with all the shit going down with the Pecks', he'd said defensively.
'Nick I'm just getting my life back. I've made detective. I've got a house', Gail didn't tell Nick how hard she'd had to work to shake off the Peck stigma or how some people in the force still didn't trust her.
Nick had been surprised about the house though and even more amazed when he found out Gail was sharing it with Chloe. Why did everyone find it so implausible, she wondered. Although to be fair after leaving the Peck mansion, she'd lived in her car before Dov took her in. Chloe was a different matter. Why did people assume she hated her? Sure she was all sunshine and happiness, but Gail didn't think she gave her any more shit than she did most people.
'Chloe domesticated you' Nick had teased.
'You don't think I'm capable of doing that myself?'
'Ahh', Nick pretended to ponder for a moment, 'No'.
Which was why she didn't tell him about Holly. Not at first. She suspected Nick might still see her as being incapable of love or of being loved. Not the girlfriend type he had said before and she didn't now have the energy to tell him he was wrong, that yes she was never cut out to be his girlfriend, but with Holly it was different.
But after weeks of sharing the apartment, with little to do unless Slade summonsed them, Nick started talking about how happy he was with Juliette, and it was so genuine, not intended as it might have been in the past to wound Gail and make her feel inadequate, that she felt glad for him and eventually let slip about Holly.
Nick had beamed. 'Don't fuck it up, Gail'.
'Jesus, Nicholas why do you assume that's going to happen'.
Nick smirked and said 'Track record'. Gail responded by throwing a cushion across the room that hit the side of his head.
'You have surprisingly good aim for someone with noodle arms'. He smirked again.
'Ass', she said but without any bite. Despite all the crap they'd put each other through, she understood that when Nick told her not to fuck things up with Holly it was his way of showing that he did care.
'I'm glad though. You deserve to be happy, Gail', he smiled, unconsciously echoing the words Traci had said to Gail what seemed like years ago, which had prompted her to call Holly and arrange their first 'non' date at the batting cages.
She didn't want to mess it up with Holly, not now. Already, it felt like they couldn't catch a break. They were barely back together when bam she was undercover putting their burgeoning relationship more or less on hold. Separated from Holly, it felt fragile and a little unreal, and try as she might Gail couldn't help but give into a little self-doubt. All they had had were promises to start again, well that and a lot of sex. God, there had even been phone sex the night before she left for undercover, and that was less than 24 hours after she'd seen Holly in San Francisco.
When Chloe picked her up from the airport, somehow knowing, even though Gail had never told her about Perick, that she hated taxis, she had once again fired questions at Gail. Had she been to Alcatraz, did she check out the Golden Gate Bridge, had she ridden on a cable car or visited Chinatown and how about Fisherman's Wharf? Did she see the container cranes in Oakland Port that were supposed to be the inspiration for the At-At Walkers in Star Wars? When Gail shook her head no to every question, Chloe finally said 'You two just had sex for two days straight, didn't you'.
'We ate out a couple of times as well', Gail had replied.
Chloe had looked at her sideways. 'Was there a double entendre in that comment?' and Gail had just smirked.
In fact she didn't know if it was still make-up sex or the uncertainty of undercover, and she had to admit Holly's new glasses were a definite turn-on, but for whatever reason they had spent most of the two days tangled up in each other. Holly hadn't voiced her fears, but Gail knew she was anxious about the undercover operation, and the way she touched Gail it was as if she were mapping every inch of her body, leaving an indelible imprint of herself on Gail as if to remind her of why she needed to come back.
Gail still felt a sense of wonder that Holly was willing to give her a second chance. Nick didn't need to tell her not to fuck it up. She'd done that already and spent the last two years regretting it. People she loved, or thought she loved, always seemed to leave, and that night at the Penny she stupidly convinced herself if she left first it wouldn't hurt so much. But it did. It felt worse than every other time, because normally she held a large part of herself in reserve, never letting people completely in, yet somehow,without Gail even noticing it, Holly had got past her defenses and into her heart.
'God, I have become such a sap', Gail said out loud and then laughed mirthlessly. Let Slade work that out if he was bugging the place. She just wanted this operation to be over and more than anything she wanted to be back in Toronto with Holly to reassure herself that what they had was real.
A moment later the phone pinged with an incoming text.
Go ahead tonight. Everything ok.
Everything okay. What did Juliette mean by that? She had to trust that the detective had a handle on this. Perhaps she was planning on putting a tail on Gail, although she only had a small team working on the op, so it was unlikely she could spare anyone.
Juliette and her superior were aware that someone fairly senior in the force was working for Slade and his boss. This meant the only way to bring down the cartel was to assemble a small team of trusted officers to run a covert operation, secret even from the top brass. Nick had been chosen to go undercover because he was new to Vancouver and so was unknown to the cartel and even most of his new colleagues in the VPD. Gail was a complete outsider so they didn't have to worry about her being recognized as police.
When she first arrived in Vancouver, she wondered what Juliette would think about working with Nick's ex. Especially after she'd been such a bitch to Juliette during Steve's trial. However, Juliette had acted with professionalism, and, Gail had to grudgingly admit, as if she had supreme confidence in Gail's ability to do the job required. She just hoped Juliette's faith wasn't misplaced, for all their sakes.
…
Shaughnessy wasn't just the most expensive neighborhood in Vancouver; it was the most expensive in Canada. Mostly old money and grand old mansions on wide tree-lined avenues, Shaughnessy was home to the doyens of the city and, it appeared, one very wealthy drug lord. Slade had ushered Gail into the reception room of a large Tudor style residence, which she guessed must be worth at least five million. Standing at the end of the room were a man and woman in deep conversation.
As Slade and Gail approached, the woman, whom Gail assumed was Miss Goddard, turned to regard them. Slim and attractive, she was elegantly dressed in black slacks and a grey silk blouse and her hair was a striking auburn color that appeared to be natural. Gail guessed she was in her mid forties.
She held out her hand to Gail. 'Ah, Miss Peterson, we finally meet'. Her voice was husky and her handshake surprisingly firm. 'Please call me Lucia, and I can call you Gail'. The last was not so much a question as a statement. Gail nodded. 'And this', Lucia gestured to the man, 'is Superintendent Mitchell'.
Graham Mitchell. The cartel's man in the VPD. Crap, thought Gail, he was one of her parent's contemporaries and she'd met him once at one of her parent's parties when she was a teenager. It was during her Goth phase when she had dyed her long hair jet black and she'd only made a short obligatory appearance at the party where she was briefly introduced to Mitchell, so there was a chance he wouldn't recognize her. Her hair had been dyed blonde again for the operation and styled shorter, a little like the cut Holly had given her in the bathtub, so he may not connect her with the surly Goth from the Peck party. Schooling herself to remain composed, Gail held out her hand to Mitchell.
'A pleasure. I believe we have you to thank for much good work on our behalf'. Gail smiled.
'I do my best to help', Mitchell said, his tone urbane and charming, although his own smile was thin-lipped.
'Drinks', Lucia clapped her hands, 'I believe tequila is your poison, Gail, and whiskey for you Slade'.
Gail guessed Lucia learned of her drink preference from Slade, nonetheless it was unnerving that she knew such a small detail about her. As Lucia made her way over to the bar, Mitchell followed her, leaving Gail standing next to Slade. Gail stiffened. Slade didn't appear to have noticed anything was amiss. As Lucia poured the drinks, Mitchell spoke to her in a hushed tone, so quiet that Gail couldn't make out what he was saying to the woman. When he finished speaking, Lucia gave a quick nod and he turned to Slade.
'I need to borrow you for a moment. You'll excuse us Gail?' he said.
Gail nodded numbly. She wondered if she could make a break for it. She knew Slade was armed and imagined Mitchell would be too. There had been a guard at the gate of the property who she guessed was one of several. As the two men left the room, Lucia handed Gail a shot glass, and then indicating a low sofa said 'Come, sit with me'. Feeling like she had no choice, Gail did as she was instructed.
'Cheers', said Lucia tipping up her own shot glass, and Gail again felt like she had no choice but to follow suit, grateful at least that she could hold her liquor and that it would take more than one shot to cloud her judgment.
'You are very beautiful', Lucia said, moving so she was sitting uncomfortably close to Gail. She leaned in and cupped Gail's jaw in her hand, and then gazing at her intently said 'So striking. I do hope you're not our undercover spy'.
As Lucia spoke, Gail realized she was having trouble focusing. She felt dizzy and her vision had become blurry, her limbs suddenly so heavy it was an effort to hold the shot glass or even remain physically upright, let alone get up from the sofa. With a rising panic, she recognized she'd been drugged. Not again, she thought resignedly. Mitchell had clearly recognised her as a Peck. Her only hope was that Juliette had followed her here, but she knew it was more likely she and the team were focused on busting Nick and Ricardo. She would never see Holly again. She hoped that Rachel and Lisa would look out for her. God, is my last conscious thought going to be about boob-job, Gail sighed to herself, trying instead to focus on an image of Holly's face, with her lop-sided smile and those warm, warm brown eyes. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness it occurred to her that she now knew what was meant by heart break, that it was an actual physical thing, because Holly Stewart had tattooed so many love lines across her heart and she felt like it was about to split in two from the anguish of knowing what she and Holly could have been.
...
Author's note: Was I a little evil to end the chapter there? West coast drama indeed. More soon I promise.
