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Nadia was the prostitute he had crossed paths with during the counterfeit money case. He still clearly remembered how she had run barefoot through a filthy alley, dressed in red.
Her appearance had changed considerably since then. She had dyed her formerly black hair brown. Her once-gaunt face had regained some vitality, and she looked much better.
—Don't mention it. Erin has done a lot for me. —Nadia replied with a forced smile as she withdrew her hand.
She also retained a very clear memory of the detective. Ethan hadn't hesitated to threaten her with a gun, and once they were at the station, he had even dared to set up a teenager and make him look like he had stolen a pistol. He was a man capable of anything.
That was why, besides remembering him so clearly, she couldn't help feeling somewhat afraid of him.
—Oh, right… —Nadia gave him another smile—I forgot to thank you for dinner last time.
—It was nothing.
Ethan shrugged, finished adjusting his vest, and looked at Ruzek over his shoulder.
Under his amused gaze, Ruzek gathered his courage and approached her.
—Hi. Thank you very much for coming to help us.
—I'm sorry —Nadia said when she saw him.
She stuck out her tongue with an embarrassed expression.
—I hope you're not still upset about what happened last time.
—It wasn't that big a deal.
Erin, standing beside her, rolled her eyes. Apparently, Ruzek had forgotten who had spent the entire day sitting in the office after that incident.
Ethan smiled and gently nudged Ruzek aside, rescuing him from the situation.
—Come on. Burgess is inside. I think you could give her a few pointers.
He motioned with his hand, and the four of them entered the technical room.
After greeting Hank Voight, Nadia approached Burgess and looked her up and down.
—This is Kim Burgess —Erin introduced them—Kim, this is Nadia. She'll explain how you should behave during the undercover operation.
—Hi —Burgess greeted her with a nod.
Nadia wasted no time. She pulled a lipstick from the purse hanging over her shoulder and began applying it to Burgess's lips.
—Don't move.
Burgess instinctively tried to pull away, but Nadia held her still. Then she ran a finger over her lips, smearing the color until the red looked even more intense.
—That's better.
She adjusted her clothes and pulled the neckline of her shirt a little lower. Finally, she stood directly in front of her and held her gaze.
—Now look me in the eyes.
Burgess obeyed and immediately understood what Nadia was trying to show her.
The young woman's eyes were dull, devoid of any hope.
Burgess closed her eyes and summoned the most painful experience of her life. When she opened them again, she was still far from reflecting the same emptiness as Nadia, but at least she was beginning to convey the right feeling.
Ethan watched Nadia curiously and wondered what she must have gone through to end up like that. Although, considering the substances she used, her condition wasn't exactly surprising.
—Very good —Nadia said, turning toward Voight—I'll explain the rest of what she needs to keep in mind on the way there.
—Just remember one thing —Erin interjected.
She took Nadia's hand and adopted a serious tone.
—As soon as Burgess sees Rollo Ramirez, she'll send us a signal. We'll move in immediately. When you see us enter, find a corner and hide. Don't run around. Understood?
Nadia didn't answer; she merely nodded several times.
Ethan watched the two women, wondering when they had grown so close.
—Wait —Jin suddenly interjected.
He removed his earpiece, visibly concerned.
—The hidden microphone is malfunctioning. I need another hour to repair it.
—What the hell? —Erin threw her arms open in exasperation—We don't have an hour. Why didn't you say something earlier?
—It just stopped working —Jin shot back, every bit as frustrated as she was—It's not like I did it on purpose. The station should have replaced this equipment a long time ago.
—Enough. Stop arguing.
Ethan drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Voight.
—Are we canceling the operation or what?
—There's no need —Burgess interjected.
She pushed the hidden microphone aside and spoke firmly.
—It probably wouldn't have been much use anyway. Those men could try something at any moment, and if they find it on me, it'll only make things worse.
She patted the crossbody bag she was carrying.
—When I see Millares, I'll find a way to call you. Don't worry, everything will be fine.
Deep down, Burgess wasn't willing to let that opportunity pass her by. Every operation involved risks, and from her perspective, going without the microphone didn't make much of a difference.
—All right, let's move. —Voight decided after a few seconds of hesitation.
He turned around and left the room.
In the distance, the city skyline glowed beneath a sea of lights. Near a gas station, the flow of vehicles and pedestrians was constant.
On a street corner, two attractive young women dressed provocatively endured the cold while smoking one cigarette after another. Their long legs, covered in black stockings, occasionally drew honks from passing drivers.
Burgess held the cigarette between her lips and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
—Act natural —Nadia advised with a shrug—We deal with these kinds of men all the time. Don't provoke them or do anything that might draw attention. In this line of work, it's best to keep a low profile and stay out of trouble.
—Understood.
Burgess relaxed and allowed herself to slip into character. She took a slow drag; the tip of the cigarette flared with an intense crimson glow that stood out against the night.
A short distance away, concealed behind the corner, a Ford Interceptor was parked.
Ethan looked away from the two women and pressed the transmitter.
—These guys really are cheap. They pull off an eight-million-dollar score and only ask for two girls.
—Maybe some of them already have girlfriends… or women waiting for them —Antonio replied over the channel—Besides, we don't even know how many of them there are. Maybe the girls are only for Rolo.
—Hey, Ethan —Olinsky interjected, unable to hide his curiosity—Since you're the only millionaire among us, how many would you ask for?
—Yeah, come on —Halstead added with a laugh—Now I'm curious.
—Well, how should I put this…? —Ethan fell silent, pretending to give the question serious thought.
Before he could continue, Erin's voice cut through the channel:
—Detective Morgan, if you answer that damn question or say anything stupid again, you're going to be in serious trouble.
A couple of muffled laughs filtered through their earpieces.
—I hadn't even said anything yet —Ethan protested.
—I know you. I didn't need to wait.
—This is censorship, Lindsay.
—And I can make it worse. Shut up and keep the channel clear.
Ethan smiled and released the transmitter. For a few seconds, no one dared to break the silence.
—So, Ethan… —Olinsky's voice suddenly came over the channel—Five or ten?
Ethan arched an eyebrow but didn't answer.
—I say five —Antonio interjected—He talks a big game, but I bet he gets conservative when the time comes.
—I don't think so —Halstead replied, amused—Knowing him, he'd ask for ten just so he could brag about it afterward.
—Well, if it were me… —Ruzek began.
—Nobody asked you, Ruzek —Olinsky cut him off.
A succession of stifled laughs traveled through the channel.
Ethan shook his head. It was obvious they were trying to provoke him to entertain themselves while they waited. He touched his earpiece and pressed the transmitter.
—The answer depends on a lot of things. The place, the atmosphere…
—Detective Morgan —Erin warned in an icy voice—if you finish that sentence, I'm switching vehicles just so I can come over there and hit you.
—Come on, Lindsay —Halstead protested—Now we all want to know the answer.
—Speak for yourself.
—I want to know too —Antonio admitted.
Ethan stared through the windshield, suppressing a smile.
—I'm not falling for this.
—That sounds like the answer is five —Halstead taunted.
—Or like he can only afford two —Ruzek added.
Ethan reached for the transmitter again.
—Listen, amateurs, this one time in Las Vegas…
—Morgan —Erin interrupted him.
She only needed to say his last name.
Ethan released the button and raised his hands, even though no one could see him.
—Understood. Channel clear.
—Good decision.
Several bursts of laughter filtered through his earpiece. They had gotten exactly what they wanted: annoying him for a few minutes and making the stakeout more bearable.
A few minutes later, a black SUV appeared at the end of the street and stopped beside Burgess and Nadia. After a brief exchange with the occupants, both women climbed into the vehicle.
—I'll follow them first.
Ethan activated the transmitter and stepped on the accelerator.
He kept his eyes on the vehicle while reporting its location at every turn. After several blocks, Antonio approached from behind and took his place. Taking turns to avoid detection, they followed the SUV for twenty minutes until they all gradually parked near a house.
Snow was beginning to fall.
The SUV stopped in front of the house. Burgess and Nadia got out and accompanied two men to the porch. They remained there for a few moments before going inside.
Ethan picked up the AR-15 resting on the passenger seat and checked the rearview mirror. The Intelligence vehicles arrived one after another and parked at different points along the street.
Even from outside, they could hear the music thundering inside the house. Before entering, Nadia took Burgess's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Although she was seven or eight years younger than Burgess, at that moment, she seemed much calmer. She had lived through all kinds of situations, but this was the first time she had participated in an undercover operation.
The door opened, and the volume of the music suddenly increased. A bald man wearing a yellow Lakers jacket greeted them with a broad smile.
—Hello… —Nadia greeted him with a suggestive arch of her eyebrows.
The man stepped aside, and the two women entered arm in arm.
To the right of the entryway was a staircase leading to the second floor. The living room was beside it.
Burgess and Nadia weren't the only women there. There were four others dressed just as provocatively. Some were drinking while sitting on the couch; others were using drugs.
Besides the three men standing at the back of the room, another was sitting on the couch. None of them was Millares.
Burgess quickly scanned the place. In the adjoining dining room, she spotted a black-haired man sitting at the table, but his back was turned, and she couldn't see his face.
The man in the yellow jacket scratched his bald head and gave Burgess a hard slap on the ass.
—Come on, sit on the couch.
—Yeah, sure —Nadia replied immediately.
They both hurried over and sat beside the other women.
The coffee table was covered with all kinds of liquor. There were also two stainless-steel trays. A small amount of white powder had been arranged in lines on one of them using several cards.
Several makeshift tubes fashioned from rolled-up hundred-dollar bills rested on top.
As soon as they sat down, the man in the dining room stood and approached them. He had a short black beard and an extraordinarily powerful build.
Burgess recognized him instantly. He was Millares's second-in-command, *Gustavo Muñoz*.