Page 98 of Beautiful Agony

"Are you sure, Captain? Officer Mackland becomes quite detailed about his activities. And about his own kickbacks within the clubs as part of his performance bonus."

Silence falls between us, and Captain Rutledge ponders the gravity of what I just said.

"What do you want from me, Stravinsky?" His eyes bore into mine, decades of police work etched into the lines of his face.

"I believe my wife was very clear to you about what I wanted." I lean forward. "Your assistance in bringing a legitimate face forward to help take down a dangerous human trafficker. One that the police have not only overlooked, but many of you have actively aided over the years."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then in exactly twenty-four hours, this video will go live online. Once it's out there..." I spread my hands. "Well, then you'll be put before the court of public opinion."

Rutledge's face darkens as understanding dawns. "That's blackmail, Stravinsky."

"It's only blackmail if you have no choice." I check my watch. "And from how I see it, you very much still have a choice, Captain. You can either wait for this to explode in your face, or you can get ahead of it. Break the story yourself. That way, you'll maintain at least a little bit of control over the narrative."

His laugh is bitter. "You've got this all figured out, don't you?"

"My wife does." I stand, straightening my jacket. "Because despite everything that has happened, she still believes in you, Captain. I'd hate for her belief to be proven wrong in the worst possible way."

"It's not every day a bratva boss walks into my office so willingly," Rutledge says, leaning back in his chair. "Making demands. That's bold of you, Stravinsky."

"Whoa, whoa!" Aleksey starts. "Bratva boss! I'll have you know, Captain, that you are making a very serious accusation!"

"Save the act for a judge, counselor." Rutledge waves him off. "We both know what your client is."

I remain silent, studying the way Rutledge's fingers drum against his desk. His entire demeanor has shifted since watching the video.

"Let's speak frankly," Rutledge continues. "No more bullshit about legitimate businesses or plausible deniability." He gestures at my phone. "Or what we both recognize as very clear blackmail. Everything from this point on is off the record. I swear it."

"As you wish, Captain." I keep my voice neutral, though inside I feel a surge of satisfaction. The threat to his department's legitimacy has hit home harder than any concern about Kirsan's activities.

"I could arrest you right now." His eyes narrow. "This video is more than enough evidence."

"You could," I agree. "But you won't, will you?"

Rutledge's jaw tightens as he shakes his head. We both know the real threat isn't Kirsan's operation. It's the rot that's spread through the entirety of the police force.

The kind of corruption that makes good cops question every badge they see.

"How many others?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know." I meet his gaze steadily. "But I know it's a number that you're going to be dangerously uncomfortable with."

"And what about you?" Rutledge asks, his voice crunching like gravel. "How many officers are onyourpayroll?"

I lean back, letting the silence stretch between us. "That's not relevant to our discussion, Captain."

"The hell it isn't!" His fists slam against the desk. "If we're being frank here, then be frank. How many of my men work for you?"

"I can assure you of one thing," I say carefully. "None of them engage in the kind of activities you just witnessed in that video."

"That's not an answer, Stravinsky."

"It's not." I admit. "But it's the only one you're getting. What matters is that any officer who might hypothetically be on my payroll has never been asked to overlook or participate in human trafficking."

"Just other crimes," he spits.

"If you want to chase ghosts about theoretical corruption, be my guest." I gesture at my phone. "But right now, you have very real monsters on the force. The choice is yours. Waste time investigating me, or focus on the evidence I just handed you."

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