John Barsanti tipped his head. “Detective Rizzoli.”
Jane looked at her husband. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Let’s all sit down,” said Glasser. “It’s time to get a few wires uncrossed.”
Jane settled warily on the couch beside Gabriel. No one spoke as Glasser poured coffee and passed around the cups. After the treatment they’d endured earlier that evening, it was a belated gesture of civility, and Jane was not ready to surrender her well-earned anger in exchange for a mere smile and a cup of coffee. She did not take even a sip, but set the cup down in a silent rebuff to this woman’s attempts at a truce.
“Do we get to ask questions?” Jane asked. “Or will this be a one-way interrogation?”
“I wish we could answer all your questions. But we have an active investigation to protect,” said Glasser. “It’s no reflection on you. We’ve done background checks on you and Agent Dean. You’ve both distinguished yourselves as fine law enforcement officers.”
“Yet you don’t trust us.”
Glasser shot her a look as steely as the color of her hair. “We can’t afford to trust anyone. Not on a matter this sensitive. Agent Barsanti and I have tried our best to keep our work quiet, but every move we make has been tracked. Our computers have been quietly accessed, my office was broken into, and I’m not sure my phone is secure. Someone is tunneling into our investigation.” She set down her coffee cup. “Now I need to know what you’re doing here, and why you went to that house.”
“Probably for the same reason you had it under surveillance.”
“You know what happened there.”
“We’ve seen Detective Wardlaw’s files.”
“You’re a long way from home. What’s your interest in the Ashburn case?”
“Why don’t you answer a question for us first,” said Jane. “Why is the Justice Department so interested in the deaths of five prostitutes?”
Glasser was silent, her expression unreadable. Calmly she took a sip from her coffee cup, as though the question had not even been asked of her. Jane could not help but feel a stab of admiration for this woman, who had yet to show even a glimpse of vulnerability. Clearly Glasser was the one in command here.
“You’re aware that the victims’ identities have never been established,” said Glasser.
“Yes.”
“We believe they were undocumented aliens. We’re trying to find out how they got into the country. Who brought them in, and which routes they took to penetrate our borders.”
“Are you going to tell us this is all about national security?” Jane could not keep the skepticism out of her voice.
“That’s only part of it. Ever since September eleventh, Americans just assume that we’ve tightened our borders, that we’ve clamped down on illegal immigration. That’s hardly the case. The illicit traffic moving between Mexico and the US is still as busy as a major highway. We have miles and miles of unmonitored coastline. A Canadian border that’s scarcely patrolled. And human smugglers know all the routes, all the tricks. Shipping in girls is easy. And once they’ve brought them here, it’s not hard to put them to work.” Glasser set her cup on the coffee table. She leaned forward, her eyes like polished ebony. “Do you know how many involuntary sex workers we have in this country? Our so-called civilized country? At least fifty thousand. I’m not talking about prostitutes. These are slaves, serving against their will. Thousands of girls brought into the US where they simply vanish. They become invisible women. Yet they’re all around us, in big cities, small towns. Hidden in brothels, locked into apartments. And few people know they even exist.”
Jane remembered the bars on the windows, and thought of the isolation of that house. No wonder it had made her think of a prison; that’s exactly what it was.
“These girls are terrified of cooperating with authorities. The consequences, if they’re caught by their pimps, is too horrible. And even if the girls do escape, and they do make it back to their home countries, they can still be tracked down there. They’re better off dead.” She paused. “You saw the autopsy report on victim number five. The older one.”
Jane swallowed. “Yes.”
“What happened to her was a very clear message. Fuck with us, and you end up like this. We don’t know what she did to make them angry, what line she stepped over. Maybe she pocketed money that wasn’t hers. Maybe she was doing business on the side. Clearly, she was the matron of that house, in a position of authority, but it didn’t save her. Whatever she did wrong, she paid for it. And the girls paid with her.”
“So your investigation isn’t about terrorism at all,” said Gabriel.
“What would terrorism have to do with this?” Barsanti asked.
“Undocumented aliens coming in from eastern Europe. The possibility of a Chechen connection.”
“These women were brought into the country purely for commerce, and not for any other reason.”
Glasser frowned at Gabriel. “Who mentioned terrorism to you?”
“Senator Conway did. As well as the deputy director of National Intelligence.”
“David Silver?”
“He flew up to Boston in response to the hostage crisis. That’s what they believed they were dealing with at the time. A Chechen terrorist threat.”
Glasser snorted. “David Silver is fixated on terrorists, Agent Dean. He sees them under every bridge and overpass.”
“He said the concern went all the way to the top. That’s why Director Wynne sent him.”
“That’s what the DNI is paid to think about. It’s how he justifies his existence. For these people, it’s all terrorism, all the time.”
“Senator Conway seemed concerned about it as well.”
“You trust the senator?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
Barsanti said, “You’ve had dealings with Conway, haven’t you?”
“Senator Conway’s on the intelligence committee. We met a number of times, about my work in Bosnia. The war crimes investigations.”
“But how well do you actually know him, Agent Dean?”
“You’re implying that I don’t.”
“He’s been a senator for three terms,” said Glasser. “To last that long, you have to make a lot of deals, a lot of compromises along the way. Be careful whom you trust. That’s all we’re saying. We learned that lesson a long time ago.”
“So terrorism isn’t what concerns you here,” said Jane.
“My concern is fifty thousand vanished women. It’s about slavery within our borders. It’s about human beings abused and exploited by clients who only care about getting a good fuck.” She paused and took a deep breath. “That’s what this is all about,” she finished quietly.
“This sounds like a personal crusade for you.”
Glasser nodded. “It has been for almost four years.”
“Then why didn’t you save those women in Ashburn? You must have known what was going on in that house.”
Glasser said nothing; she didn’t have to. Her stricken look confirmed what Jane had already guessed.
Jane looked at Barsanti. “That’s why you showed up at the crime scene so quickly. Practically at the same time the police did. You already knew what was going on there. You must have.”
“We’d gotten the tip only a few days before,” said Barsanti.
“And you didn’t immediately step in? You didn’t rescue those women?”
“We had no listening devices in place yet. No way to monitor what was really happening inside.”
“Yet you knew it was a brothel. You knew they were trapped in there.”
“There was more at stake than you realize,” said Glasser. “Far more than just those five women. We had a larger investigation to protect, and if we stepped in too early, we would have blown our chances of secrecy.”