"I was wondering if you were still interested in information about George Roscone."

Roscone? Yes, she was interested. Hell, yes!

"Who am I speaking to?" George Roscone was the District's DA, and he'd scuttled a very big case against two drug dealing brothers a couple of years ago by leaking her investigation to the press. She was certain he'd been bought off, and set out to prove it by trying to locate the money. After eight months of finding nothing out of the ordinary, she'd reluctantly let it go when Chad not-so-subtly suggested that she redirect her budget to something that would bear fruit.

"I'd rather not say. I want to be anonymous, for now, anyway. Can I do that?"

"My office will work with you to maintain confidentiality. But before I can guarantee that, I'm going to need to know what kind of information you have, and how you acquired it."

"Okay...," Ruth needed to make all of this believable, so she'd practiced in the car on the way to Reston. She wanted to come off as nervous and uptight, and that was easy enough if she just borrowed from her recent experiences. "I used to work in a bank in the city and you subpoenaed all of Mr. Roscone's statements. Right after that, my boss asked me to keep an eye on his account and see if anything happened?"

"So did something happen?" God, she really wanted Roscone.

"Well, not exactly. See, I got laid off not long after that. But I moved out to Virginia and a couple of weeks ago, I started work at another bank."

Sometimes, it was like pulling teeth to get people to talk. "And what does this have to do with George Roscone?"

"He came into my new bank the other day. He has an account there. I know it was him because...well, I always thought he was really handsome." Spencer had told her to put that in because Elena used to go on and on about what a "pretty boy" Roscone was.

This was definitely the kind of tip Diaz was interested in, but if he had another account, she really didn't need this witness. All she had to do was launch a new query and watch it come up. It took a lot of resources to track accounts and transactions, but it was easier when she knew in advance what to look for.

"But the thing is, he doesn't go by George Roscone. He goes by another name on this account."

Holy shit! Diaz nearly fell out of her chair. This was the best news she'd had in a year.

"Can you give me the name that he uses, and the name of the bank and the branch where you work?"

"I...well...."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I've been laid off for awhile, and I was wondering if maybe there was a reward or something."

Elena was used to requests like this, especially from tipsters on the bottom rungs of the economic ladder. A few thousand dollars meant a lot to somebody who lived from hand to mouth, and it was nothing compared to the costs of 24/7 surveillance of suspects and round-the-clock audits. Thank god her boss saw the advantage of a few dollars wisely spent.

"I might be able to swing a small reward of some sort, maybe as a whistleblower, since this has to do with your work. It's all going to depend on what kind of information you have and what we're able to prove in court."

"I have copies of his statements for the past two years. And he's just started making big deposits and withdrawals again."

Elena was practically salivating. She spun around to look at the clock. It was a quarter after five on Friday evening.

"I'd be very interested in having a look at those. If you'll give me your name and address, I'll come pick them up tonight."

"No, I think I'd prefer to meet you somewhere and show you what I have. Really, I want to do the right thing, but if there isn't a reward, I don't want to be involved." She hesitated for effect. "I could get in a lot of trouble for this at work, probably even lose my job."

"I know, and I really appreciate you coming forward with this. Can you meet me somewhere tonight?"

"Tomorrow would be better. I'm on my way home and I have things I have to do tonight."

Great! Wouldn't want to interfere with a Friday night date when justice was as stake.

"Okay." A situation like this called for kissing ass, and Elena could do that when she had to. "Can you come into the city, or would you like to meet somewhere else?"

"What about somewhere on the mall, say near the Metro stop at the Smithsonian?"

That would work very well, Elena thought. The Smithsonian was across the mall from her building.

"How's nine a.m. tomorrow morning?"

"I can be there then, I think." She didn't want to appear too eager. "If I can't make it, is there a number I can call?"

Elena quickly rattled off her cell phone. "How will I find you?"

"I'll put all my copies in a blue folder."

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow morning. This is a good thing you're doing. I wish more people would take their civic duty as seriously as you." That was the standard speech Elena gave when people provided her with information. She hoped the woman would take it to heart.

"Just see if you can get me some reward money. I really need it."

"So what do you think?" Agent Pollard, who had spent the last nine hours inside the surveillance van, turned off the recorder to talk to his boss on the other phone.

"I'm not sure, Mike. Who's this Roscone guy?"

Pollard flipped through the dossier on Agent Diaz.

"He's a DA. She's been working his case to see if he's on the take."

"That sounds just like the IRS, doesn't it?" he laughed.

"So, you want me to follow up on this one?"

The agent in charge knew it would be a waste of time and resources. "Nah, I wouldn't bother. It doesn't have anything to do with Rollins. But this Roscone...?"

"Yeah?"

"Tip him off." Akers hated Elena Diaz.

CHAPTER 20.

"YOU DON'T HAVE to do this, Ruth. It isn't too late to change your mind." The two women stood next to the Taurus, both anxious about what the day might bring.

"It's no big deal. I'm going to drop this off and be back here inside of three hours."

"Elena's gonna shit a brick when she finds out the Roscone stuff is bogus. I think she'd rather have him than me," Spencer joked nervously.

"I doubt that. Look, don't let Jessie watch cartoons all morning, okay? Take her over to see the puppies or something."

"You bet." Spencer locked her serious gaze onto Ruth's anxious face. "Thanks for this, Ruth."

"You're welcome."

Spencer wrapped the smaller woman in a nervous hug, which was heartily returned.

The blonde woman got in and started the car, but didn't close the door, her eyes still lingering on the angular face of her friend. "This is the beginning of the end, Spence. It'll all be over soon."

"I hope so, for both of us." Spencer closed the door and stepped back, waving goodbye as she watched the Taurus pull away. Not that they'd needed any reminders, but both of their lives were riding on the meeting with Elena.

Ruth realized it too. She'd been thinking all morning about what was at stake for both of them. Coming forward about her identity was a big step, but after their talk last night, she'd agreed to put all her faith in Elena, trusting that the agent would never let Spencer down.

Last night had been...interesting. When it came time for bed, the programmer had gotten the sheet and blanket from the closet to make up the couch and it struck Ruth as silly that she would do that. They had slept together in the double bed the night before; why not again? Spencer had joked that while she had no problems sharing a bed with the likes of someone as pretty as Ruth, she should keep in mind that sleeping with a lesbian was theoretically the same as sleeping with a man. Maybe so, Ruth had said, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable. And that's precisely what she found to be so...interesting.

When she reached the Metro station at Franconia-Springfield, the end of the Blue Line, Ruth parked the station wagon in the garage. A twenty-minute ride would take her to the Smithsonian, but Spencer had suggested she get off earlier at Farragut West and walk across the mall from the opposite direction. It would make her feel more in control of this meeting if she weren't so predictable.

When she boarded the train, she flipped open the blue folder to examine its contents one more time. The first few pages were bogus bank statements, formatted on Viv's computer, and photocopied last night at a grocery store in Manassas. Underneath those statements were Spencer's report and the annotated pages of code. The last page was the typed note that Spencer had encouraged her to include, the story of Ruth Ferguson and Jessie Drummond. In her recounting of events of Madison, Ruth didn't reveal her new identity. If this didn't work out, she and Jessie would need to move on, since it meant the feds would then know that they were in the area. Her anxiety compelled her to pull it out of the folder. But as she considered one more time Spencer's infinite trust in Elena Diaz, she slipped it back inside.

When the Federal Triangle station was announced, the blonde woman stepped off and followed the signs to Constitution Avenue. She was at once awed by the stateliness of the buildings around her. As she walked toward the mall, she began to make out the tops of both the Capitol and the Washington Monument, and when she finally stood between those two landmarks, she could see the Lincoln Memorial, the National Gallery, the Smithsonian, and even the top of the White House. Standing in this majestic place was almost breathtaking. She hoped that one day soon, she could bring her daughter to explore this wonderful city.

Ruth was fifteen minutes early for her meeting; already, the mall was bustling with tourists, and thinking that she wouldn't stand out so much helped her relax a bit. In the distance, she located the Metro stop for the Smithsonian and the bench where Spencer said she should wait.

After only five minutes, she spotted a woman walking from the direction of the IRS building that she just knew was Elena Diaz. She was as Spencer had described: very tall, curly dark hair with large brown eyes. She was dressed in tailored slacks and a turtleneck, the black blazer no doubt concealing the gun tucked beneath her shoulder. Ruth held the blue folder conspicuously in front of her and waited to see if she would catch the woman's eye.

Diaz was aware of the woman on the bench, but she was almost past her when she glanced sideways and caught the blue image. Stopping short, she turned and strode purposefully toward the bench.

"Are you waiting for Elena Diaz?" she asked.

The blonde woman nodded once and dropped the folder to her lap as the agent took a seat beside her on the bench.

"Would you mind showing me some identification?" Ruth asked tensely.

Elena smiled and pulled her badge from her waistband, flipping it up to reveal her official photo ID.

"Is that for me?" She gestured toward the folder.

Again, Ruth nodded without speaking; she was much more nervous about this than she'd ever imagined she'd be. It was sure easy to see why Spencer had been attracted to Elena Diaz. The Latin woman was gorgeous, obviously strong and confident; independent, Spencer had said.

Elena took the folder and opened to the first page, scanning the information with excitement.

"Where's the name? And where's the bank's name?" she asked pointedly, working hard to conceal her agitation.

"I just wanted to show you what I had so we could talk about the reward." Ruth leaned over and slid her finger beneath the bogus spreadsheets, opening to the first page of Spencer's report. "There's more here," she said.

Elena's eyes grew wide as she realized what she was seeing, the salutation Serpiente confirming its authenticity. Spencer had sent this woman to talk to her.

Automatically, she looked up, locating in her peripheral vision the surveillance van that had dogged her all week. Those guys never seemed to take a day off, she groused to herself. The asshole was probably watching her through binoculars; but she doubted seriously that their conversation was bugged, especially since this woman had waited for her on the bench instead of at the Metro stop where they'd planned to meet. But they shouldn't take a chance.

"Look, you did the right thing bringing this to my attention, but I'm going to need to look at it and talk to some people before I'll know about the reward. Are you okay with having to wait a few days?"

"I can wait. I'm okay for now."

That was the best news Elena could have gotten. Spencer was safe and out of sight, and she'd made a friend who was willing to go out on a limb for her. "Is there any way I can get in touch with you if I have any more questions?" How could she contact Spencer?

Ruth squirmed on the bench as she contemplated her predicament. If Elena really could help Spencer, she needed a way to reach her.

"What if I call you back on Monday? Is that enough time?"

Elena pulled out a business card.

"I think so. I should be able to ask around by then. Here's my direct number and extension." Elena scribbled the information on the card and pressed it into Ruth's hand. Standing, she offered her hand and one last message of thanks. "I really appreciate your help on this. I'll do everything I can to get you some kind of reward."

Agent Pollard chuckled as he lowered his binoculars. By the time Diaz got her warrant, Roscone would have wired the money out of the country into an offshore account.

Ruth headed toward the Smithsonian station, constantly checking the crowd to see if she was being followed. Spencer had advised her to take a circuitous route back to the Blue Line, so she hopped off at Metro Center, changing to first the Red Line, then the Yellow, finally jumping back to the Blue at Pentagon City. She'd been one of only a handful getting off at Chinatown, so that gave her confidence that her mission was a success. Nonetheless, she had to calm her shaking hands before she could start the car and pull out of the garage into traffic.

Mission accomplished.

"I can't believe you did all that by yourself," Ruth remarked to a very tired and sore Spencer, who had spent the morning spreading a load of gravel over the muddy driveway.

"It gave me something to do besides climb the walls while you were gone."

"Well, it wasn't too smart, considering that your ribs are still black and blue and your arm has a hole in it," she scolded, taking up a position behind the taller woman so she could massage the aching shoulders. Jessie sat at the kitchen table coloring in a new book.

"I know, but what could I say? They dumped it and left. Viv couldn't get her car out, and you couldn't have gotten yours in."

"You could have at least waited for me to help."

"I was going crazy," she reiterated. "So tell me everything. What did Elena say when she found out the Roscone shit was bogus?" A hard squeeze from Ruth reminded her that the four-year-old was present. "Sorry."

"We didn't talk. Well, we did, we just talked about Roscone. She acted like she was nervous about us being overheard, so I played along."

"But you showed her the papers?"

"Yeah, I gave her everything."

"Boy, she must be under pretty tight surveillance if she wouldn't even talk to you." Spencer winced when the small hands found a hard knot at the back of her neck.

Ruth felt the flinch and honed in on the spot, pressing it gently with her thumb until she could feel the muscle start to release.

"So did you guys figure out a plan to talk again?"

"Yeah, you were right about the reward. That gave us a good excuse, because she said she'd have to check on it and I should call her back." Ruth then remembered the card she had shoved in her pocket. "Come to of think of it, she gave me her card."

Ruth dug the card out of her jacket, admiring the gold-embossed shield. Turning it over, she found a note.