Free Justice Served by Radclyffe Page B

appeared to be weighing his words. “Sometimes it can get confusing.”
    “Are you ever confused?” Mitchell asked softly.
    “No,” Jason replied just as softly. “Never about what I feel, only about what others might think.”
    “I already know what the only people who matter to me think.”
    Jason looked as if he wanted to ask more, but he merely nodded. “The boys were asking after Mitch last night. I told them he was laid up for a few days because of the motorcycle accident. They want to visit.”
    Mitchell blinked. “Here?”
    “I told them he was staying with some friends. It would probably be good for your cover if they saw you and Sandy together.”
    “What about all the security and stuff in the building? Don’t you think that’ll make them curious?”
    “They won’t ever see this floor, because we’ll program the elevator to go right to the loft. All they’re going to see is the garage and Sloan and Michael’s apartment.”
    “What about the camera over the door? Most people don’t have one of those.”
    Jason grinned. “We have a custom light fixture that screws over it for just such times as these.”
    “Okay then. When?”
    “Jasmine has a show tonight. The kings will probably be there. You up for it afterward?”
    “Sure.” Mitchell wondered, however, if Sandy would be ready for Mitch to get back to work.

    *

    Watts, carrying a Styrofoam cup brimming with mud-colored coffee, ambled down the hall leaving a trail of splashes on the scuffed tile floor in his wake. He leaned against the door frame of a large room that resembled the vice squad room with its haphazard arrangement of desks and mismatched chairs—but there were ten times as many computers here. Sipping his coffee absently, he regarded the two men in shirtsleeves and baggy chinos—the kind of nerdy guys who got their asses kicked in high school—as they listened with rapt attention to Sloan. She was half turned away from him, one hip hiked up on a desk, as she pointed to something on a monitor that Watts couldn’t see. He had assumed that she’d be bored to tears setting up whatever it was the city wanted her to do, but to his surprise, she seemed to be into whatever she was saying. Even from where he was standing, he could sense her energy. He pushed away from the doorway and strolled in to join the group.
    “How’s it going?” he asked.
    “Just getting organized,” Sloan replied, easing off the desk. “You guys go ahead and get the network hardwired. I’ll be back.”
    When she indicated the hallway with a tilt of her head, Watts nodded and preceded her out. Once there, he said, “I’d have brought you coffee, but this stuff doesn’t qualify.”
    “Thanks anyway. I know better than to ingest anything around here.”
    “I see you got stuck with the pocket-protector twins.” Watts snorted. “Hard to believe they’re detectives.”
    Sloan suppressed a smile. “They’re eager.”
    “So you’re really going to set up this electronic spy thing?”
    “That’s what they’re paying me to do.” Sloan grinned. “Although if I only gave them what they’re actually paying me for, they might be able to manage interdepartmental data retrieval in a decade or so.”
    “Nothing but the best when you work for the city.”
    “Yeah, I noticed that.” Sloan glanced into the room where the two detectives were absorbed in sorting out a tangle of cables. She lowered her voice. “But once I get the various networks connected, I’ll be able to browse any database I choose. I already know someone on the inside has been hacking data from the crime lab and the detective bureau’s files. With unlimited access, I can trace him back to the source computer, not just the department.”
    “How long?” Watts asked eagerly.
    “If I had Jason and Mitchell here, maybe a week, but there’s no way to do that without someone getting suspicious.” Sloan lifted a shoulder. “Working by myself—I don’t know. I could get lucky,