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Back in his office, following the disastrous end to his meeting with Blue, he tried to sit patiently and act composed, reading the report she had given him. "This report covers everything and everyone Marco has ever met. Someone else doesn't like him very much. A particular bank account of his might be interesting to check out."
"That is handy." Cam hovered near the visitors’ chairs on the other side of the desk, looking a little bit worried.
"Spit it out," Nash said, watching his young partner pace back and forth in front of him.
"I wasn't sure how to approach you about this mystery report and where you got it. I figured out long ago you tend to not talk about your sources, whereas I spill everything as soon as I learn it," Cam blurted out.
"Why did you say it like that? Look, Cam, I'm not trying to hide things from you. I put out the word. An informant came back with the information. Actually, I can’t do this. I’m not going to lie to you.”
Cam looked at him with an eyebrow raised as if to say, oh really? But he kept his mouth shut and let Nash continue.
“Can you tell me we don't need this? Because I can't. He can't slip through our fingers. Marco could order someone else's murder," Nash said, looking for an answer to something else before he confessed. “I do have more information and I will tell you who gave me this file, but I want to wait until everyone is here so I can do it all at once.”
"I can accept that. However, first of all, he is a thief. Second, he is not an assassin. Even you have to admit that the most logical probability, if Marco is responsible, is that he paid someone. It’s not his usual MO. Maybe whoever he hired is trying to frame him.”
Nash rolled his eyes and huffed, clearly not wanting to see reason. Though Cam watched as he made the necessary notes in the file under possible motives.
“No police force has a record of him being violent in any of his heists. There are plenty of robberies committed all over the world. Other cops have worked on catching him. If he had made a mistake, the other agencies would coordinate together and round him up. They would not let him escape justice if the crimes had been worse. Your attitude right now is what he wants," Cam continued on, making his points, as he sat in an opposite chair. "He wants you to focus on him, to fuck up and not pay attention to what he's doing. He wants you distracted. And he's getting it."
"I'm paying attention to one hand while the other pulls the rabbit out of the hat? It's possible. He could give orders to someone, and whoever the accomplice is—carries out the murders. I want that person, but I still want him too. Marco would not sign off on a plan without issuing orders," Nash admitted.
"Is arrest, trial and sentencing the result you hope happens?" Cam asked.
"No, it isn't, but I will deal with it," Nash said.
"Okay," Cam whispered, even if Nash didn't notice. "We should start fresh tomorrow. Sleep on it," he said, taking the envelope from a pissed-off Nash and sticking into a drawer, locking it.
"How about we both take a nap, a quick one, right here, since it's been a long couple of days, and then we jump back into the file?" Nash negotiated.
"Deal," Cam said before exiting the room and coming back with two cots. They settled them at opposite corners of the conference room—because Cam snored like a lumberjack, Nash thought, but didn't voice out loud. Both snuggled into their makeshift resting area.
Nash woke early, almost five o'clock. He unpacked simple jeans and a shirt from a go bag that he always kept hanging in his closet and took a quick medical bath in the bathroom sink of the men's room. He had left his weapon and harness hanging on the chair, since there was no need for the weapon inside the building.
Nash had to admit that Cam had been right to suggest the nap. He felt better after a little rest, a spit bath, and a change of clothes. When Nash went back into the room, he found Cam still sleeping on his cot. Using his foot to shake him, he tried to wake his partner, who lay under the lump of clothes and blankets.
A mumbled "Whaa—?" and "Who?" answered Nash after he shoved his shoulder multiple times.
"Wake up," Nash ordered. "I want you cleaned up and ready to go in half an hour."
"Are you going to order some breakfast?" Cam asked once he untangled himself from the cot. He dumped himself onto the floor and was now blinking up at Nash.
"Fine. I'll make it a party. We'll see if everyone will be as chipper as you when I wake them up." Nash hesitated. "I trust our people, and I appreciate I can tell them things if I need to. I don't know, McCann." He worried about Cam being upset with him for not sharing where their information had come from.
Cam rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. "If it helps, he received recognition from the Queen."
"Seriously? Is he a Sir, like the Queen knighted him and shit? One of her aides could provide him with that title or something?" Nash asked.
"Would that matter?"
"No. Yes. I don’t know," Nash confessed, still processing that little tidbit.
"So, tell him," he said, at ease. "None of us will be any help otherwise. Give us the tools we need to help you. You shouldn't let the past trouble you enough for us to put on blinders. The goal is to catch Marco Cruz."
"Are you always this smart?" Nash kept his gaze on Cam as he rose, stretched. "I want to say, you're a hell of a partner. I gave you a hard time in the beginning for being new and foreign."
"Do you hear yourself? The new and foreign part." Cam cocked an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Yeah." Nash snorted, waving him away, so they could start their day.