The Witness

in protective custody, you’re killing me. They will get to me, and through whoever you put in their way.”
    “Elizabeth. Liz,” Garrison said, leaning forward. “You’ve trusted me with key information that’s led to arrests, to convictions. Trust me now. I’ll personally take the lead in your protection.”
    “I won’t be responsible for your death, for your parents’ grief. I promise you, if I live long enough I’ll run again rather than testify. I’m good at hiding, and you’ll never have my testimony.”
    “You have to believe we won’t let anything happen to you.”
    “No, I don’t. Who else might you trust with my life? What about Agent Pickto?”
    Garrison sat back. “What about Pickto?”
    “Special Agent Anthony Pickto, age thirty-eight, assigned to Chicago Bureau. Divorced, no children. His weakness is women. He enjoys them more when they’re reluctant. He’s funneled information on investigations in exchange for access to women the Volkovs bring to the States from Russia, then force into prostitution. They pay him, too, but that’s secondary. He’s digging for the FBI contact—you, Agent Garrison. He’s getting closer. If he learns who’s receiving the data that’s led to these arrests, to these busts, you’ll be taken. Questioned, tortured,raped. They’ll threaten you with the torture and death of everyone you love, and perhaps will select one as an example to demonstrate how serious they are. When you’re of no further use, they’ll kill you. Agent Pickto reports to you, Assistant Director.”
    “Yes,” Cabot confirmed, “he does. You’re making very serious accusations about an agent in good standing.”
    “They’re not accusations, they’re facts. And only one of the reasons I won’t put my life in your hands. I’ll help you put these people away, help you break the Volkov organization, but I won’t tell you where I am. If you don’t know, you can’t divulge the information under duress.” She reached into her pocket, took out a flash drive. “Check the information I’ve correlated on Pickto, then ask yourself if, before reading it, checking it, you would have trusted my life, this agent’s life, others under your command, others in the Marshals Service, to this man.
    “You would never have found me, but I came to you. I’ll give you everything you need, and all I’m asking is you let me live. Let Elizabeth Fitch live to help get justice for Julie and Terry and John. And when she’s done, let her die.”
    “I can’t promise to do this your way. I have people to answer to.”
    Impatience shimmered through. “Do you think I’d have come to you if I didn’t
know
you could authorize exactly what I’m asking? You have power, you have evidence, and considerable leverage. My way, and the Volkovs will be done in Chicago, in New York, New Jersey, Miami. You’ll weed out agents and other law enforcement and judiciary officials who have worked for them—by choice or out of fear.”
    No longer able to sit, pretend a calm she didn’t feel, Abigail surged to her feet. “I was sixteen, and yes, I had poor judgment. I was reckless. One night of my life, I broke the rules. But I don’t deserve to die for it, any more than Julie did. If you take me in against my will, this will leak to the press. And they’ll talk of that young girl, of twelve years in exile, in coming forward to offer help at great risk.”
    “Is that a threat?”
    “Yes, it’s very much a threat. Your superiors wouldn’t be pleased with the bad press, especially at a time they’re working to break the Volkov
bratva,
especially when trusted FBI agents like Anthony Pickto are implicated. Perhaps explaining that to those you answer to will give you additional leverage.”
    “Pause the recording, Agent Garrison.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I’m going to make a phone call.” With that, he strode out of the room.
    Abigail sat again, folded her hands in her lap, cleared her throat. “Ah, should I order more coffee?”
    “No, thanks. I’m good. You play hardball, Liz.”
    “I’m playing for my life.”
    “Yeah. Pickto. You’re sure?”
    “I wouldn’t impute someone’s name, reputation and career otherwise.”
    “Okay. He’s been asking some questions. Nothing that bumped my radar, nothing out of line, but I’ve heard he’s asked some questions about the last couple Volkov busts. And when I put those questions in this context, it bumps my radar, hard.
    “I’d have trusted