The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) by S.D. Skye

wife’s purses and crap. Sheesh!” the officer said. “You’ve got five minutes and then I’ve got to lock up. I’ll make another stop and come back. You got a flashlight?”
    “Uhhh...yes, sir. Right here.” She reached her arm behind the seat into the duffle bag and pulled it into his view. “See? We’re good to go.”
    “Okay. I’ll be back in a few. Good luck finding your wallet.”
    Tony stepped out of the car, waved at the officer. When he pulled the cruiser onto the parkway, J.J. and Tony jumped out.
    “That there was some fancy footwork, partner,” she said, sucking her teeth and speaking with a cheesy Yankee Texan accent. J.J. shifted her gaze to her watch, and then grabbed an evidence bag from the duffle. Time was ticking and they hadn’t reached the drop location.
    As they padded down bike trail, a sliver of a moonbeam and a flashlight illuminated their path. Tony led the way, his pace swift and urgent, his body shielding her from whatever lay ahead. The sound of falling leaves set her nerves on edge.
    Within minutes, they arrived at the footbridge, roughly forty meters in. She shone the light on the adjacent grassy area as Tony eased down the rocky slope, then tossed him the flashlight so he could see where Plotnikov had stuffed the bag.
    Alone in the blue blackness, J.J. flinched, placed her hand on her holster every time noises sounded in the trees. Birds, bats, whatever. Sunday dinner was but a shot away.
    Wordlessly, Tony searched the crevice between the wooden planks and the slope.
    “You see anything? The package may be small if he’s passing codes.” She looked at her watch again. “We’ve only got a couple minutes left.”
    “No. Nothing. You sure this is the right location?”
    “Uh yeah. Picked it myself.”
    “Still don’t see...oh, here it is! Lemme see if I can grab it. He wedged it in here pretty good.”
    Wedged? J.J. thought. How could a small package be wedged?
    After a few grunts, he emerged. He followed the light up the jagged rocks embedded in the hill, climbed to the trail. The large, dark green trash bag sealed with duct tape along the seams was classic Russian tradecraft.
    “ This is the package?” J.J. questioned. The discovery wasn’t quite what she expected. “Rather large to contain codes, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Yeah. Sure is,” Tony replied. “Feels like a stack of documents.”
    They both shrugged off their concerns for the moment, grateful Karat made the drop at all. His recall to Moscow was unexpected and probably as shocking to him as to them. His cooperation may have prompted his own murder and that thought quelled their excitement.
    J.J. shook her head, held the evidence bag open so Tony could drop the weighty package inside. Karat must’ve cleaned house knowing the opportunity might be his last. Seems he wanted to stick it to the SVR before he met his fate, and now J.J. would bring his desires through to fruition.
    “He did it. He fuckin’ pulled it off.” Tony grabbed the evidence bag from J.J. and paced toward the parking lot.
    Her initial elation subsided and sadness set in. “Yeah, but at what cost?” J.J. followed closely on his heels. “You think they’re gonna kill him...like the others?”
    “Probably. But risk is the nature of this business. Everybody knows that. He understood the stakes. We paid him to take those chances. And he gave his family a better life. If this information is solid, whether he’s dead or alive, we’ll work with the CIA to get the money where it belongs. We’ve kept our end of the deal.”
    “No, you and I kept our end of the deal. But the FBI didn’t. Some self-serving bastard didn’t keep his end of the deal,” she spat as her anger welled inside. “He didn’t honor the oath, and Karat might pay for his treachery with his life.”
    “Listen, I realize you’re frustrated and angry. Hell, I am too,” Tony said. “The best thing we can do for Viktor is to make sure that he doesn’t die in vain.