Rita had been playing catch-up for the past two hours. Part of that was due to all the paperwork that the late-night/early-morning raid on NOHO Auto Repair had generated. Part of it was due to her trying to make sense of the information she had gotten the night before at Cap's Bar and Grill. But a good part of it was due to the picture that was currently sitting on her desk, and the amount of time she had spent staring at it. It hadn't been gathering dust per se, it had been well protected in the bottom drawer of her desk by a collection of papers and NYPD t-shirts. But she hadn't looked at it in many years, not like she had been looking at it for almost an hour today. None of them had changed that much since the photo was taken, even though the photo was over a decade old. The covered bridge in Vermont that served as the backdrop for the picture of Rita, Aric, and Tyler hadn't changed much either. It was a black-and-white photo, so the beauty of the turning leaves was only present in Rita's memory. She had been holding Tyler's leash, which was why his smiling face was turned upwards towards her as she stared at the camera. Aric stood on Tyler's left, his face also looking at the Canon AE1 35mm SLR camera, and the woman holding it. It was late in the day for film cameras, but Aric preferred them for special occasions. Rita was convinced that the woman who took the picture, who had been flirting with Aric despite Rita standing right fucking there, knew more about SLR film cameras than she was letting on, and was just faking ignorance so she could stand close to Aric as he explained how to work the thirty-year-old device. But for whatever reason she had done an excellent job, and the photo was crisp, with perfect depth-of-field, the rule of thirds perfectly displayed. Rita had no idea how the other pictures she had taken, with her own digital camera, of Aric, or Aric and Tyler (Rita was sure she appeared nowhere in those secretly taken pictures), came out. She wondered how many times after that the woman had looked at those pictures, and dreamed about a life (or at least a steamy night) with Aric.

At the moment, Rita's eyes, and mind, were all on business.

"I need an arrest warrant for Ekaterina Sokolova," Rita said to District Attorney Lori Munson as she balanced the phone up to her ear and looked at the folder with the data that she was about to submit to COMPStat, "you should have the info from the Chief's office by now."

"I've only got the summary. I thought we were going to give it to the grand jury," said the woman that Rita had first met twenty years earlier when Rita was still a detective and Lori was still an A.D.A.

"We got word through a back channel that they'll hand her over if there's an active warrant out for her. And Sweden has already said that they're interested in her for a homicide of their own, so they're issuing one as well."

There was a moment of silence that Rita was certain meant that Lori Munson was reading the summary.

"Since when have the Russians started handing over their citizens?" Lori asked.

"Since recently, I guess. She must have pissed somebody off. You know what it's like over there right now."

There was another moment of silence from the other end of the phone call. Rita could hear a door close before DA Lori Munson asked her question quietly.

"How close do I want to look at this?"

"As close as you need to. It'll hold up. The info is solid. We know who she hired, though we found out too late for it to go into the report to the Chief. His name is Maksim Orlov. International mercenary. He's in Syria right now, and I hear that he has a really short life expectancy. But she hired him. He's Russian but works freelance. The Russians will deny any knowledge or involvement, but they'll put her on a plane once they have a copy of the warrant."

"I can get you the warrant, whatever good it does you. But the Russians handing her over...I'll believe it when I see it."

"You and me both."

"He has some numbness in his arm and shoulder, which is expected," Michael Woodruff said after he stopped into Rita's office, "they say it might take six months for that to completely wear off. Their big concern is possible nerve damage. They won't know for sure about that for a while."

"Did his sister get in OK?"

"Her flight was delayed, but she made it."

"She flew in from Providence? She didn't drive?" Rita asked.

"T.F. Green to JFK. Regular alphabet soup, but faster than driving."

"OK. You're nursemaiding Gideon and Espinoza today and tomorrow. Abby and Sax might take them Thursday and Friday, I'll let you know later," Rita said just as the phone rang.

Rita listened for a short time and wrote on her pad.

"Robbery, Granny Za's Weed Marijuana Dispensary on Rivington," Rita said as she handed him the slip of paper.

"Thank you, ma'am, may I have another," Michael said as his face broke into a smile.

"Take the youngsters with you," she said as he left her office before she called after him, "but if you're all covered in Cheetos dust when you get back I'm going to know what happened!"

The trio had barely hit the stairwell before Rita's phone rang again.

"15th squad, Captain Ortiz."

"Rita," James Becker's voice said, "there's been an explosion in a building near a San Diego Gas and Electric plant."

fuck

"I need them both on a plane as soon as you can make that happen," Trish said as she sat at her desk on one of the public floors of the Richmond Enterprises building.

"I got Kyle's message. I'll have to talk to Paul," Simon replied, "You gonna read me in on whatever is going on, or do I stay in the dark?"

"Paul is getting a message from the head of the studio right now, reminding him how much he owes us, and telling him to give us whatever we need. Past that, you'll have to stay in the dark for now. I'll fill you in once it's done."

"Got it. We'll get them on a plane this afternoon."

"Thanks. I owe you."

"No worries. I'm getting paid," he replied, the lightness in his voice clear.

Trish ended the call and placed her phone on her desk. The door to her office was closed, but she could see people walking through the hallway out of the corner of her eye, and she had to make a conscious effort to not hear what the people around her were saying.

fuck it, she thought as she took her Jabra earbuds out of the charging case, they're charged enough.

It was easier for her to concentrate once she had Bob Marley to block the voices. She was happy with how the plan was coming together, but she still had a couple of important details to finalize. She wasn't sure how to interpret Captain Ortiz's enthusiasm for the plan, or her offer to help. Trish had no idea what the detective could help with, before or during the op, but she was glad to have the help afterward when they had Ekaterina Sokolova on US soil and in a New York City jail cell. Then her help would be important, as she sold the story that everyone would have to believe for the Russian woman to stay in custody.

It was all a question of timing. That fairly described most of Trish's life. Timing. Dancing, gymnastics, combat, success or failure in any of them came down to timing.

Her phone was on her desk while the music played in her ears, so she didn't feel it vibrate immediately, and it took a moment longer for her eyes to recognize that she had a text message from Hank.

Explosion in San Diego. Building near a power station. We couldn't locate it in time. Sorry Trish.

Trish read the message three times to make sure she had not misread anything before she pulled up his number and pressed the telephone icon.

"Did it launch?" she asked without preamble.

"No, nothing launched. As far as we can tell, it exploded inside the building; either an accident, or they scuttled it because they knew the jig was up, but it brought the entire building down, and damaged the ones nearby, but the power plant is fine."

"Casualties?"

"Anyone in the building at the time was certainly killed. Two nearby buildings were damaged enough that they collapsed afterward. SDPD is taking the HAZMAT threat seriously. Nobody that's not wearing full PPE is getting anywhere near that site. They're shutting down the power plant and evacuating the workers. And they're still on the lookout for secondary and tertiary devices."

"Jesus," Trish said, "I need to call Jess. She and Alice were the ones investigating this."

"Whose Alice?"

"That's a story for later. Fuck. If that shit gets loose it's gonna kill a lot of people."

"There were just too many power plants and too many buildings that fit the profile," Hank said.

"It's not your fault, and it wasn't your problem in the first place. I just thought we could help the SDPD narrow down their search."

"We did help. We just ran out of time."

"They must have been rushing to finish before you found them, and they got sloppy."

"It could be. SDPD were swarming all over anything that was a likely location. It would have been hard for them to miss. They knew it was just a matter of time."

"Thanks, Hank. For everything. Before I forget, give Doreen the all clear, and thank her for her help."

"Will do. Take care, Trish."

"You too."

Trish ended the call but continued to stare at her phone.

we just ran out of time, she thought.

In the end, it just came down to timing.

"You're really going to help them?" Julia asked, "You're going to step into that bubble again, step out into Russia, kidnap a woman you've never met, and bring her back here and hand her over to the NYPD?

"Last time I checked I had nothing else on my calendar," Beth replied as she drank cold green tea with Matcha.

"It wasn't our thing, is all I'm saying," Julia continued, "It wasn't even Jessica's thing. It's nice that you two have become friends, but you don't have to do this just for her."

"I'm not doing it for her. I'm doing it because this woman hired Maxim fucking Orlov and his bunch of sociopaths to kidnap someone, and I didn't fucking like him even when I worked with him, and I like him even less now."

"So wait for the team they're sending to Syria to kill him, show up at his funeral in a red dress, dance on his grave afterward, and call it a day."

"I thought of that. But I thought of other stuff too."

Julia didn't have to ask the question, but she felt that Beth needed to say the words out loud.

"Like all the times that you were on the other side of this?"

Beth was quiet for a moment before she answered.

"Like that, yes. Do you remember when Alawi al-Jabbour's wife Amal escaped from him and hid in Paris before disappearing, only to reappear in Jeddah?"

"Vaguely."

"That was me. al-Jabbour hired me and my team to kidnap her and bring her back."

Julia didn't say anything. She had learned to remain impassive when Beth spoke about the things she had done as Alice.

"Helping now won't erase what I did. Nothing will erase what I did. But looking back on it now, I really wish someone had snatched al-Jabbour up before we got to his wife. She might have had a chance at a real life. And it would have been one less thing for me to carry around now."

"You were kidnapped yourself. They broke you intentionally and rebuilt you into what they wanted. You didn't have a choice. Try and remember that."

"But I'm still carrying the weight. As I should be. It was my hands that did all that. It should be my hands carrying the weight. And it should be my hands that make amends when the opportunity presents itself."

None of this conversation was new to either woman. They had many such discussions, drunk or sober, stone-faced, or cheeks stained with tears.

"Well, then, since you are sure that you want to help, I'm in too."

"I'm watching it now," Jessica said to Trish as CNN reported on the explosion in San Diego, "they're not saying anything about the other stuff, just that it was an explosion."

"If we're lucky, the fire burned everything else up, but you have to think that some of it got spread around locally."

"One WMD far enough north to spread to Canada, another one far enough south to spread to Mexico. Somebody had a serious hard-on for wiping out North America. What the fuck did we ever do to anybody?"

"Plenty, but not enough to justify this. Kyle is seriously pissed. And I can't get Hank to stop sending me sorry, I fucked up texts. Like he did something wrong."

"He's just like Luke. He thinks everything that goes wrong is his fault. I swear he should be a fucking Catholic."

Trish was silent for a few seconds.

"Not Jewish?"

"The Jews think, why does all this shit happen to me? The Catholics think, all this shit happening must be my fault. "

"Huh. I did not know that."

"Jesus, it was your fucking mother that told me that."

"That explains it. I stopped listening to anything that came out of her mouth once I turned 10."

"What about your plan?"

"It's coming together. I'll fill everyone in when we talk later. You're sure you're OK with this?"

"Snatching up some rich asshole that's been paying a Russian mercenary to kill and kidnap his way across New York? Why the fuck wouldn't I be OK with it?"

"I was just asking."

"Well don't ask stupid questions," Jessica said.

"Sorry, my bad."