THIRTY-EIGHT

“Did you look at the overnights already?”  Cate squinted at the photograph displayed on her flat-screen computer monitor.  The surveillance video capture was fuzzy, but the Target of her investigation was clearly identifiable. 

“Yeah.  There are a few interesting things.”  A slightly-nasal voice with a thick Boston accent crackled from the speaker on Cate’s desk phone.  “He didn’t take his usual cah-service from the office, he drove.  And he made a few stops on the way.  Out of his way, actually.”

“Hmm.  New places?  Or places we know?”  Cate swiveled her chair to glance at the television screen mounted on her office wall.  It was always tuned to CNN, and the “Breaking News” headline had caught her attention.  She scanned the crawler for details as she shuffled the papers spread across her desk, trying to determine which of them concealed the remote that controlled the muted TV.

“A couple places we’ve nevah seen him go before, but we know ‘em.”  Special Agent Lenny Doyle’s hearty chuckle rumbled through the speaker.  “One of the finah men’s establishments in lovely downtown Newahk.  Shadow-owned by Friends of Ou-ahs, of course.”

“Ah, c’mon Kenny.  He was probably just out campaigning, trying to win the votes of some hardworking lady constituents.”  Cate snickered at her sarcasm as she nodded along with Doyle’s seemingly cryptic disclosure. 

Any civilian listening to the conversation may have been puzzled by the vernacular, but the law enforcement officers involved knew exactly what they were talking about.  “Friends of Ours” were exactly what they were portrayed to be in countless Hollywood movies:  Men with full indoctrination into to Italian Organized Crime.  The term had become universal slang for cops discussing Mafiosi, despite its technical inaccuracy.  Law enforcement was certainly no friend to the Mafia; nor would any member of the profession ever be fully indoctrinated into one of The Families.

Realizing the “Breaking News” was an announcement of another round of civil unrest in an African country, Cate abandoned her half-hearted search for her remote.  She turned her attention back to the image on her screen.  “Any good shots?” 

“A couple.  Want me to send you prints for the file?”

“Nah.  Just dump ‘em on the drive.  I’ll pull ‘em up here, have our tech guys cut prints if I need them for the case file.  No sense in wasting effort or paper.”

“You got it.  So, we got Bill and Danielle on the Tahget today.  He was still at home when I talked to Billy about an hour ago.  Guess he’s going into the office late today.”

“Well he had a long day yesterday.  It’s rough being an Assemblyman.  Especially when you gotta keep all those paying constituents happy.”  Cate snorted ironically. 

She started as she heard the buzz of her iPhone, indicating she had received an incoming text.  Like the still-undiscovered television remote, her phone was somewhere under the messy pile of documents and photos on her wide desk.  Again Cate started ruffle the papers, searching for the device.

“Yeah, and when you’re out late getting your Jahnson serviced by some blonde bimbo in the back room of the bah.”

Cate chuckled at Agent Doyle’s blunt observation as she continued to search for her phone.  “Well, there is that.”

“I’ll shoot you an e-mail latah, tell ya what Our Boy is up to when Billy checks in again.  Should be pretty soon.”

“Aha!”  Cate breathed softly, discovering her iPhone under the flipped-open front cardboard of the file jacket.  She quickly swiped her finger across the screen and scanned the alert, which announced receipt of a new text message from Dorothea Hurley.

“Umm… Yeah, Lenny.  That would be good.  I don’t think he’s gonna be moving around much since he has a lot of local events on the schedule this week, but you never know.  Just keep me posted, ‘kay?”

“You got it, Cate.”

“Thanks, Len.  Talk to ya later.”  Cate reached to punch the button on her boxy black multi-line phone, terminating the connection.    A brief buzz of dialtone sounded before she shut down the speaker as well.

“Hmm…” Cate hummed softly as she scanned Dorothea’s text.  It was a brief message, confirming the time and place of their late-afternoon coffee date to discuss final details for Jon’s surprise party.  Cate felt a little pang of guilt as she typed out her response, promising to meet Jon’s ex-wife as scheduled.

Dorothea had done practically everything to plan this event; between work and doctor’s appointments Cate had barely been able to find the time to scout the location and preview the entertainment.  Even on that date she had worked up to the moment of their meeting, dashing out of the office to join Dorothea for a late dinner at the supper club where the Sinatra impersonator was performing.  Cate hadn’t felt terribly guilty about fibbing to Jon regarding her whereabouts that night; she really had been working, at least until she ran for the cab.

“Okay.”  Cate muttered her reply as she tapped the “send” button.  She nodded for good measure.  One more task completed.  She set the iPhone aside on her desk, where it was certain to soon again be buried by paperwork.

Reaching for her computer mouse, Cate closed out the image file on her screen then scrolled through the file directory.  She had barely begun her perusal of the shared drive that contained surveillance photos and videos of her Target when again her phone started to buzz.  This time it was the urgent repeated vibration of an incoming call.

Without pulling her gaze from the monitor, Cate reached for the place where she had just seconds ago set her phone.  Her finger automatically swiped across the screen before she raised it to her cheek.  With her other hand she manipulated and clicked the button on the mouse.

“Hey, Dorothea.  I just sent you a text.  I’m still good-to-go for three-thirty.”

There was a brief pause, then a throaty chuckle.  “Well, that can’t be good.  My wife meeting with my ex-wife on the sly.”

Cate winced at Jon’s smug jab.  “FUCK!” she swore silently, her mouth forming the words but her voice not releasing them into the phone’s little speaker.  She had already almost blown it; she didn’t need to encourage Jon to think there was something covert going on.

“Oh, hey Baby.  Sorry.  Dorothea just texted me to confirm we’re meeting for coffee to talk about the lower school career day.”  The fib rolled nonchalantly off Cate’s tongue.

“Career day?”  Jon chortled.  “Aren’t the lower school students a little young to be worrying about their careers?  Christ, most days Romeo can barely decide if he’s gonna act like a human or pretend to be an animal.”

Cate smiled at his observation.  “I think it’s more of a show-and-tell kind of thing.  Like ‘these are the people who make up our community’.”

“Okay, if you say so.  But I warned you.  You volunteer to help with one little fundraiser and next thing you know you’re involved in every event.  Dorothea’s cunning like that.  Very sneaky.  Crazy like a fox.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell her you said that,” Cate giggled.  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the support.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I’m sure it will come as no surprise to her.”  Jon’s chuckle floated through the connection, warming Cate’s ear.  “So, how’s your day going?”

“So far?  Not terrible for a Monday.  Still wading through the weekend reports.”

“For a ‘field agent’, you sure do have a lot of fucking paperwork.  More than you had when you were teaching.”

Cate smiled.  “Not more.  Just a different kind.  The paperwork’s always there, no matter what.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“You have it too, even in the Rock Star business.  Contracts, agendas, schedules, riders, employee files… not to mention all the copyright stuff.  It’s all part of the game.”

“Yeah, but I have a team of overpaid lawyers and assistants to do most of that shit for me.”

Cate snorted.  “Must be nice.  We here at the federal government try to conserve your tax dollars, and do it ourselves.”

Her snort was echoed from the other end of the line.  “Fuck, MY tax dollars probably run your whole fucking agency.”

“Well, take that up with your elected officials,” Cate argued mildly.  She grinned as she returned her attention to her computer screen, again manipulating the mouse.  It was now obvious Jon had only called to chit-chat.  He must be bored.

“I will, next time I visit 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“The President doesn’t make tax policy, Jon.  Congress does.”

“But he introduces it.  And signs it.  Or vetoes it.”

“Yes, but Congress can override his veto.”  Cate rolled her eyes even as she smirked at the benign debate.  “Are you waiting for your set call?”

“Yeah.  They’re taking for fucking ever to get rolling this morning.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“I already read the Times, front to back.”

“So do the crossword.”

“I tried.  I got stuck.  Besides, it’s stupid.”

Cate sighed softly as she double-clicked on a file.  Immediately a document appeared on her screen, a running log of her Target’s activity compiled by the teams of agents who had kept him under round-the-clock surveillance for nearly the past three months.  Her eyes narrowed as she quickly perused the last forty-eight hours’ entries.  Nothing unusual other than what Agent Doyle had already mentioned.

“Baby, I wish I could go with you today.”

Jon’s lament made Cate look away from her computer screen.  She swiveled her chair away from her desk, turning her eyes to her window.  The view of lower Manhattan from the twenty-fifth floor was normally quite impressive.  Today it was dark and dreary, the outside of the glass streaked with light wintry drizzle.

“It’s just lab work, Jon.  You’re not missing anything.”

“Cate, it’s not just lab work.” 

His gentle voice in her ear made Cate’s lips curve with a bittersweet smile.  He was right.  The protocol may be the same as any other day she had to give blood for the never-ending rounds of tests, but the results would be significant.  Today’s tests would reveal if their most recent efforts were successful.

“Yeah,” she agreed softly.  “I know.  The pregnancy test.”  She winced slightly as she said the words. 

It had been almost a relief when Dr. Klein advised them not to use a home pregnancy test following their intrauterine insemination procedure almost two weeks ago.  He had explained there was no medical reason for his advice, but he thought they needed a “mental-health break” from the responsibility of self-administering the test.  Since Cate would have to submit a blood sample to monitor the hormone levels in her body anyway, they may as well let the lab give them the news.

Today was that day.  Before they sat down for dinner tonight, they would know if there was a baby on the way.

“I hate that you’re gonna know before me.  It’s not fair.”  Cate could hear the smile in Jon’s voice as he fake-pouted. “You’re already carrying the little papoose around in your tummy, and you get to know first.”

Cate couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Jon, you don’t know what the test is gonna tell us.  It might be negative.”  She tried to sound nonchalant, even as her stomached tightened.

“Naw, I’m thinking positive.”

“Well, okay.  Do what you gotta do. But it’s still a big if…”  Cate stared unseeing at the gray skyline.  While Jon’s optimism was heartening, she just couldn’t let herself think ahead.  The disappointment would be crushing.  She had already survived the heartache of dashed hopes too many times.

“Well, I’ve been doing my part to appease the Baby-Gods.”  Jon chortled softly in her ear, determined to keep her spirits up.  “In fact… put me on speakerphone.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.  Then put the phone on your tummy.”

“Oh Good Grief.”  Cate rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.  “You can’t be serious.  I’m at work, Jon.”

“So?  Nobody’s in your office, right?  What harm will it do?”

“What good will it do?”

“Pffft.  I’m not gonna let your gloomy cop-cynicism ruin my groove.  This is just like when I get ready for a show.  The ritual.  You do the same thing every day, good things happen.  C’mon, Cate.  Put the phone against your belly.”

“I think I’m gonna hang up now.”

“No you’re not.  I’ll just call back.  And I’ll leave it on your voicemail.”

That elicited an exasperated giggle from Cate.  She had no doubt he was serious.  Jon obviously had plenty of time to amuse himself by filling her voicemail inbox.

“Jon, you can do this tonight, you know.  In person, at home.”

“Nuh-uh.  By then we’ll know.”

“When we know, is this gonna stop?”

“Maybe,  maybe not.  Do it, Cate.”

Cate let out an exaggerated sigh.  Knowing she had to give in, she pulled her iPhone from her cheek and tapped the speakerphone icon.  “Okay.”

“Alright, put the phone on your tummy.  Be sure the speaker is right down there, where she can hear.”

Chortling softly, Cate followed his direction.  Leaning back a bit in her chair, she gently laid her phone on her lower abdomen, over her womb.  She shot a glance toward her office door to be sure it was closed.  The last thing she needed was for one of her colleagues to wander past and witness the strangeness that was about to occur.  For the past week Jon had insisted on giving her womb a daily serenade, ever since they had coincidentally caught a rerun of the appropriately-themed Friends episode.

“Okay,” Cate repeated, trying to keep her voice low on the off-chance someone was paused outside her office door.  “Just… Hurry up.” 

Jon’s husky chuckle made her smile.  From the little speaker against her belly Cate heard the soft strum of an acoustic guitar.

Are you in there, Little Fetus?

In nine months will you come greet us?

I will buy you some Adidas...

Cate giggled softly in anticipation of Jon’s continuation of the silly little tune.  Every day he ad-libbed a new version.  She suspected his creativity was as much to make her laugh as it was to bolster his optimism that this time they really were pregnant.

…And anything your heart desires.

I… hope you look like your Mama…

But….. you don’t create a bunch of drama….

And…. if you wanna pet llama…

Jon paused, strumming softly as he formulated his closing lyric.

You’ll…. Have to talk to Uncle Mook.

Unable to stop herself, Cate burst out laughing at Jon’s goofy verse.  “You really are bored, aren’t you?” she teased in a half-giggle.

“Nah, not really.  I just would rather be with you, is all.”

Her giggles subsiding to a soft chortle, Cate lifted the phone from her belly.  Leaving the speaker engaged, she swiveled her chair back toward her desk and set the device carefully beside the foot of her monitor.  “You’d be bored here, too.  Nothing much to see.  Just a bunch of overworked, underpaid civil servants digging through paperwork.”

“I could hang out and have coffee with the Guys.”

Cate snorted amusedly.  “Yeah, ‘cause that would help them get through all the crap they have to do.”

“What?  I could hang with Gus.  He never seems to be doing paperwork.  He’s always out on the street, doing a stakeout or chasing bad guys.”

Shaking her head as she smiled, Cate reached again for her mouse.  If Jon wanted her to keep him company as he sat alone in his trailer on the set, she was game.  But she was going to have to get some of her own tasks done while he chattered.

“We don’t do stakeouts, Jon.  We do surveillance.  And Gus doesn’t chase anybody through the streets.  That would blow his cover.  Jeez, don’t you remember anything I taught you at The Center?”  She chided him playfully as she opened another document on her screen, then picked up a pen.

“Yeah, yeah.  But the way they say it in the movies sounds a lot cooler.”

“Mmmm.  Well, that’s because most investigation is routine.  Boring.  Writers have to fabricate some excitement or nobody would pay to see the movie.

“Ah.  Speaking of Gus, why haven’t you invited him over for dinner yet?  You afraid to let me meet him?”

“No.  There just hasn’t been a good time yet.  Hell, we’ve hardly been home.”

“We’re home this week.  Ask him over.  Maybe Friday night.”

Cate smirked as she scribbled a note on her legal pad.   Jon knew full well that they had dinner plans on Friday, in celebration of his birthday.  He just had no idea of the full extent of those plans.

“We’re going out Friday.  Celebrating your birthday, remember?”

“Shit.  We don’t need to celebrate that.  It’s just another day.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Cate rolled her eyes at his mock-protest.  Despite his grumbling about his age she knew Jon welcomed the attention.  “Then we’ll just go out to dinner because I want to go out to dinner.  Not a word will be spoken about you being half-a-century old.”

“Fine.”  Jon let out a noisy fake-sigh.  “So, bring your partner home for dinner on Thursday.  We don’t have anything going on then, do we?”

“No, but Gus does.”

“What?”

Cate sighed and dropped her pen on the lined pad.  She reached for her travel mug and took a sip of now-tepid tea.  “He’s not here, Jon.  Gus is on leave this week.  So, he can’t come to dinner Thursday.”

“Oh.  He’s on vacation, huh?”

“Yep.”  Cate flipped open another section of the case file.

“Someplace warm, I hope.  The weather here this week is gonna suck ass.”

Cate started to thumb through the thick stack of papers affixed to the file section.  “He went home to San Diego.  His sister is getting married this weekend.”

“San Diego, huh?  That’s nice.  Thought maybe you were gonna tell me he went back to Florida.”

Cate chuckled.  “No.  He’s there enough for work.  I doubt he has any desire to go down there on his free time.”

“Not even Disney World?”

“He’s not a little kid, Jon.”  Finding the page she was looking for, Cate reached for a Post-It note.  She affixed the little yellow square to the paper and scrawled a comment.

A long, breathy sigh sounded through the speaker.  “Man, I could use a beach right about now.”

Cate smiled at the thought.  “Me too.  Someplace warm.  Where we could just lay on the sand and listen to the ocean…”

“Well, why don’t we go?”

“Because it’s Monday and we’re at work.”

“No, I mean this weekend.  You take Friday off, we’ll jet down to Saint Barth, soak up a little sun.”

Jon’s suggestion made Cate look up from her file.  Her eyes widened as she recognized the potential crisis.  They couldn’t go out of town, especially not Friday.  Over a hundred people would be waiting for his arrival at the Carnegie Club to kick off his birthday celebration.

“Baby, as nice as that sounds… we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Umm…”  Cate glanced around her desk, searching for some inspiration for an excuse.  “Because…”  Her gaze dropped to the file in front of her.  Her partner’s messy handwriting gave her the out.  “Because.  With Gus out of town, I’m on call.  If something happens with this case I can’t be hundreds of miles away.”

“You’ll have your phone.  And ain’t that why you have a Duty Agent?  To cover whatever shit happens until the case agent can get her butt back to the office?”

“Shit.” Cate’s swear was a whispered breath.   Jon knew he was right.  Time to rely on the timeless law enforcement excuse. 

“Yeah, but Jon… there’s stuff going on.  I can’t tell you what, but… well, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon grumbled an exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  We’ll stay here in cold, dreary New York because some numbnuts is doing bad shit that you can’t tell me about.”  He petulantly sneered the last words.

Cate chuckled, relieved he wasn’t going to push her on the topic.  “You know, Baby, just because we have the means to jet off at moment’s notice doesn’t mean we always should.  Besides, I really have no desire to spend the weekend running from the fucking paparazzi.”  For the first time in their conversation her voice took on a bitter note.

“We could just slip into town, stay at our resort or villa or whatever.  They’d never know we’re there.”

“Jon, they always know when you’re there.  It’s a tiny island, and they pay off the locals.”

“You know, maybe we should buy a place somewhere warm.  Then we’d always have a house to go to.  Not necessarily St. Barth… maybe Costa Rica or Belize or someplace like that.”

“Mmmm….” Cate hummed a mildly disinterested response as she returned her attention to her case file.  Since Jon had wandered off on another tangent, she might as well multitask as she half-listened.

“… Jake and Romey would love it, having their own private beach.  They could surf year-round instead of just in the summer, like up here.  You know, I think I’m gonna have Maude look into that for me, see what she can come up with in terms of listings…”

“I’m sure she’ll find something.”  Cate smirked through her murmured reply.  Real estate agents always found something for clients like Jon.  Commissions on luxury properties were a great motivator.

“John goes down there a lot.  And when we played San Jose it was great.  Beautiful place.”

“Mmmm hmmm…”

“But then again, there’s not a ton of nightlife, like St. Barth.  Or shopping.”

“Or paparazzi.”

“Did you like the villa where we stayed at Christmas?  I could make an offer on it.”

“It was nice.”  Cate looked up from the case file to the monitor as she again manipulated her computer mouse to open another file.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t really that big.  If we took the whole family down it might be a little crowded.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I should think about buying a boat.  Then we could go wherever we want.”

Cate snorted amusedly, recognizing that by “boat” Jon actually meant “yacht.”  He had long been envious of his friend Ron’s luxury vessel, where they had spent several pampered vacation stays.  “And then you’d have to pay a full-time crew.  Which would mean bye-bye to your football team prospects, at least for awhile.”

“Yeah, well…”  Jon growled a little hmmph, a wordless acknowledgement of his wife’s sensible advice.  “Still, it would be nice to have a little vacation getaway place, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Baby.  If it makes you happy, I’m all for it.”

“But it probably should be someplace close, so we don’t have to fly for fucking ever to get to it.”

“That sounds practical.”

“Well, other than the Caribbean…”

Jon’s musing was interrupted by a sharp buzz, followed by a deep voice crackling from Cate’s office intercom speaker.

“Cate?  You at your desk?”

She looked up at the sound of her supervisor’s voice.  “Yeah, Al.  I’m on an open line.”  Cate’s reply let him know she was in a conversation on speakerphone with someone not belonging to their professional circle.

“When you’re done, I need you to come down.”

Cate glanced at her iPhone, thankful that Jon had stopped his ramble upon hearing her interruption.  “It’s nothing urgent.  I can come now.  Your office?”

“I’m in the OCC.”

“On my way.”

 Cate waited for the click of the closing connection before re-addressing her husband.  “Sorry Baby, but I gotta go.”

His deep chortle made her smile.  “Ah, duty calls.  S’Okay.”

“I’ll text you later.  Have a good shoot, okay?”

“ ‘Kay.  Love you, Baby.  Now go fight crime.”

Cate chuckled softly.  “Love you too.  Bye.”  She reached for her phone, tapping lightly to end the call, then leaving the device on her desk. There was no sense in returning it to its holster at her waist; she wouldn’t be allowed to take it into the secure Operations Control Center anyway.

Grabbing her metal travel mug and rising from her desk chair, Cate quickly crossed the room and slipped through her office door into the hallway.  She paused at the office coffee bar long enough to refresh her tea with a shot of hot water before continuing to the private elevator at the rear of the office suite.  A fifteen-second ride took her one floor down to the windowless, secure suite that housed the OCC.

Touching her access badge to the electronic pad next to the door, Cate waited for the light to flash before turning the knob.  She passed through a second set of doors and into the inner sanctum of the Manhattan Field Office, the place where around the clock a rotating staff monitored operations being conducted by their agency around the world. 

“Hey, Al.  What’s up?”  Cate greeted the Special Agent in Charge Alfred Quinn with a small smile.  She could see in his expression that he was perplexed by something.

“ ‘Morning, Cate.  Your Boy is on the move.”  He nodded at one of two dozen flat-screen video monitors mounted on the wall. 

Cate’s brows arched, her expression registering her surprise as her eyes turned to the image on the screen.  “What?  I was just on the phone with Doyle, not fifteen minutes ago.  He said Target was still at home.”  She scanned the video, a scene from a familiar location she knew well from personal experience.  “What the…?”

“Teterboro.  He just boarded that Lear.  It’s private, we’re checking the tail number and waiting for the flight plan.”

Cate’s blue eyes narrowed as she evaluated the small white executive jet depicted in the live video feed.  It was apparently waiting for clearance to depart, sitting on the tarmac with its engines running and its nose pointed torward the taxiway.  “This is real-time?”  She murmured the question though she knew then answer.

“The Newark team is on him.”

“Billy and Danielle,” Cate affirmed, nodding.  “Lenny was going to check with them and get back to me.”

“Well, as you can see they’re kinda busy right now.”  For the first time Quinn’s sober expression lightened.  He gave Cate a little smirk.  “You Boy’s just full of surprises.  Especially on a Goddamned Monday morning.”

“Yeah,” Cate agreed, nodding slowly.  “The advance of his schedule we got from our source last Friday showed pretty much meetings and sessions for today and tomorrow.  Later this week he has a bunch of public appearances slated.”  She frowned at the screen, not taking her eyes off the video feed.

“Any idea where he’s headed?”

“Noplace we’re aware of.  It could be something personal, though.  His Mother isn’t well.”  Cate took a sip from her tea.  “Can’t be a junket.  It would be on his official schedule, and he wouldn’t be on a private jet.  We don’t know whose it is yet?”

“Max is on it.  We should have an ID momentarily.  And wherever he’s headed, he’s planning to stay awhile.  Team reported he took a suitcase and a smaller bag on board.”

“Hmm.”  Cate turned toward the line of workstations that sat in the middle of the room.  “Hey, Jeannie?”

The dark-haired analyst turned at the sound of her name.  “Yeah?” 

“Can you get Miami on the line?   Silvio, if he’s in.”

“Standby.”

Cate and her Supervisor stood quietly for the next minute, watching the video stream of the stationary aircraft as each considered the possibilities.  As a New Jersey public official, their Target had no official duties outside the state scheduled for the week.  But as a corrupt politician, he very likely had other business to take care of.  His trips to Florida had increased in frequency over the past few months.  Now that it was an election year, Assemblyman Valentin DiCarlo was a very busy man.

“Cate, Silvio on Two.”

Cate reached for the receiver of the bulky piece of machinery mounted on the nearby computer station.  Though it was a state-of-the-art encrypted communications device, the secure phone station looked like something out of a 1970s spy movie. 

“Hey, Sil.  Al’s here, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” After the perfunctory warning, Cate punched the button.  Immediately the agent’s good-natured greeting poured from the station.

“Hola, Compadres.  Happy fucking Monday morning, eh?”  Silvio’s baritone chuckle made Cate smile as she addressed the secure phone.

“Jeannie tell you what’s up?”

“Cupid’s out for a spin, eh?”

Cate chuckled.  Silvio had been the one to assign their Target’s code-name.  It was fitting, given his first name.  “Yeah.  Any idea where?”

“Nope.  Nothin’ in the chatter down here.  Maybe he’s going to see his Mama?”

“That was my guess too.”  Cate nodded though her colleague couldn’t see her.

“Hey Al!  Teterboro came through.”  A silver-haired man turned from his cubicle to call to Agent Quinn.  “Plane is owned by Duque Importers, Coral Gables.  Destination Opa-Locka.”

“Shit.” Cate shook her head wonderingly.  “Looks like he is coming back your way, Sil.”

“Awfully rude of him not to call first.”  The Miami field agent chortled.  “We’ll pick him up.  You got eyes on?”

“Yeah, the Newark team’s at Teterboro.  Plane hasn’t taxied yet.”

“So we got a couple hours.  No sweat.” 

Cate and her supervisor exchanged a look as they heard Silvio give marching orders to someone at his own office.  “Now the question is, why?”  Agent Quinn voiced their shared thought.

“Hey, Sil?  Anything going on down there this week that Cupid would be interested in?”

“Not that I know of, but Yvette’s right here, doing an open source search.”  Silvio referred to his Investigative Assistant, a bright, computer-savvy young woman Cate had spent a good amount of time with on her last trip to the Miami Field Office.  She had been impressed by Yvette’s efficiency and instincts.

“What’s Duque Importers?”  Cate posed the question to the speaker, confident Yvette could hear it as well.  “That a name you know?”

“They’re a pretty big shipping company, Cuban-American ownership.”  Silvio answered immediately, without need for research.  “We don’t know them from an investigative viewpoint; they’re just well-known down here, lots of ads and good reputation.  Mainly handles luxury goods:  cars, furnishings, art, booze… that kinda stuff.  Owner is one of the society big shots down here.  Into polo ponies and shit.  Hot wife, former Miss Argentina or somethin'.”

Cate chuckled at Silvio’s informal dossier on the company and its ownership.  He was a confirmed bachelor who appreciated the finer things in life, including women.  He never failed to notice a pretty face or a nice figure.

“So why is our North Jersey Italian boy flying to Miami on a Cuban Importer’s private plane?”  Cate stated the obvious.  “Do they know each other?  I don’t recall seeing any connection in the logs.”

“Dunno.  Maybe we’ll find out in a few hours.”  Silvio chuckled.  “Follow somebody around long enough and you can find out lotsa stuff.”

“That you can,” Cate agreed with a grin, taking another sip of tea.

From the speaker came a female voice, more distant than Silvio’s.  “Got it.  ‘Affair of the Arts,’ tomorrow night.”

“What?”  Cate automatically took a step closer to the speaker, as if to hear the announcement more clearly.  “What’s tomorrow?”

Silvio’s rich laugh sounded at Cate’s eager query.  “Yvette does it again.  She’s the best danged Computer Nerd since that Chloe girl on ’24’.  That took her about a minute and a half."

“Hey, Google is your Friend!”   Cate giggled quietly as she heard Yvette call from the background.  

"So, what is it?”

“Looks like our Cupid is going to some kinda charity ball or something.  It’s called ‘Affair of the Arts’, for the Miami Family Hope Project… provides food bank, child care, and job training assistance for low-income families… yadda yadda yadda…”  Silvio’s rich voice trailed to a mumble as he obviously scanned whatever source document Yvette had printed for him. 

“Oh yeah, here we go.  Hosted by Oscar and Isabel Duque at their home, Tradewinds Estates, tomorrow night…. Guest list includes Our Boy, lots of society Who’s-Whos… And Whoo!  Twenty-five hundred dollars a plate!  Better be some good food at that picnic, if ya know what I’m sayin’!”

Cate laughed at Silvio’s commentary even as her puzzlement grew.  “Why on earth would Our Guy pay that kinda dough to go to some charity event in Florida?  And not put it on his schedule? It had to be a last-minute deal; he either cancelled out his meetings over the weekend or he’s missing them back here.  And why would he fly there on the host’s plane?  There’s gotta be some other kinda connection.”

“Wait a minute… I got the full guest list now…”  Cate could picture Silvio scowling seriously as he read through what was sure to be a long list of names.  “AH! Oh… Sonofabitch!” 

“What?”  Cate and Al’s anxious query came in stereo.

“Lookie, lookie.  There’s a section at the bottom, for ‘Top Tier Donors.’  Apparently these rich hoity-toities who donate ten grand or more are invited on an ‘Exclusive Moonlight Cruise’ aboard the Duque’s yacht…”  Silvio snorted a laugh before announcing the vessel’s name. “… ‘Stamina’.  Wanna guess whose name is on that list?”

“Cupid’s.”  Cate announced with confidence.

“Well, yeah.  But who else?  Here’s a hint:  Friend-a-Ours from Saddle River, winters in Boca.  Likes to bet the ponies at Hialeah?  When he’s not overseeing the ‘chemical importation’ business outta Merida.”  Silvio snorted as he referred to the known smuggling of designer drugs from Mexico into South Florida by Mafia soldiers.

“No shit?” Cate gasped softly.  “Moretti?”

“One and the same.”  Silvio chuckled richly.  “Guess he got bored, hangin’ around down here all winter with nothing to do but bikini-watch and play with his horsies.  At least he’s givin’ his money to a good cause.”

Cate chortled.  “Oh, I’m sure that money’s coming right from his own pocket.”

“Betcha he picked up the tab for Cupid, too.”

Special Agent Quinn had listened silently to the exchange between the two case agents.  Now he spoke up.  “The question is, what’s going to happen at that party -- or on that boat -- that makes our guy go all the way down there?”

Cate shook her head slowly as the wheels turned in her mind.  “I don’t know, Al.  This is all new to us.”

Al addressed the secure phone as if it were the Miami agent.  “Sil, can we get somebody in there?”

“This short-a notice?  Maybe.  We can probably set somebody up as a bartender, waiter, security guy… somethin’ like that.  But that’s not gonna give us much access.  If this wasn’t at their house it would be easier.”

“How about just buying a ticket?  Are they still for sale?”

Cate heard Silvio mutter to Yvette, then there was a short pause before he answered.  “Yeah, tickets are still available.  But this ain’t one of those things we can really buy our way in, either.  Would be too suspicious, somebody showin’ up without a good reason.  These people are the movers and shakers in Miami social circles, the business tycoons and their wives who do charity work.  They all know each other.  With more time we could put together a cover for one of our people, get them in there as some kinda nonprofit director or something, but this late in the game it would be too risky.”

“Unless we already happen to have our own bonafide celebrity with a strong interest in charity.”  Al’s quiet observation made Cate’s blue eyes widen.

“Al….”

“Not your husband.”  Agent Quinn clarified.  “You.”

Cate stiffened.  “Al, I’m not a celebrity.  I do everything in my power to stay out of the limelight, so that people don’t know what I do for a living.  You know that.”

“Yes, I do.  But if Mrs. Jon Bon Jovi should happen to be in Miami for a shopping trip, and should want to support a good cause that caught her attention, who’s gonna tell her no?”  Al smirked confidently.  “Your husband’s foundation is as high-profile as he is.  And it deals with low-income family issues, just like the charity they’re throwing this fundraiser for.  We couldn’t dream up a better backstory than you already have.”

Cate was silent for a moment, considering her supervisor’s rationale.  The idea of using Jon’s foundation as a cover for her professional duties made her uneasy.  She knew he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about the idea, either, if she consulted him.

Not that she ever could tell him about it.  

She sighed softly as she realized Agent Quinn was right… there really was no other way.  What was about to happen in Miami could break their case wide open, could expand their little New-Jersey based public corruption investigation to potentially international criminal activity.  And the only way to do that was to have an eyewitness account of what went on between two prominent figures at a private charity event.

Slowly Cate nodded, meeting Al’s gaze.  He gave her a confident smile.

“Agent Sullivan, you need to get yourself on the next plane to Miami.”