[ Fraser was prepared for almost anything. When it came to most things he had a plan, a scheme by which they could accomplish anything they put their minds to. On occasion his methods would terrify any sane, normal person. For example, nobody in their right mind would think of joining a mob boss at their dinner table to gently discuss lifting the hit on a brand new acquaintance. They wouldn't join the crew of a ghost ship in order to track down a man poisoning the great lakes. They wouldn't dress up as a woman and...
Nobody in their right mind would do any of these things except for Constable Benton Fraser. And occasionally his partner--a hazard of the job.
His plan to go undercover at the club was simple, really. They'd have to become patrons. It was no different in the long term than it would be to go undercover in a bar for several nights a week, waiting for their target to come in. Well, no different but for the fact that pretending to be patrons of a bar wasn't outside of their relative realms of experience.
A bdsm lifestyle club was so far outside of that realm that Fraser didn't even know where to start, and so far in their investigation Ray had been a closed book on the subject. If he knew more than he was letting on, Benton didn't know it. But Ray would be an awful sub, judging from what he'd learned so far. If anything could blow their cover, that would be it.
But they were out of other options, as far as plans to solve this case went. If they wanted to make any progress and catch these killers, then they'd have to make the attempt.
He sounded resigned to failure when he at last made the proposal, pushing the flyer he'd picked up at the club's front desk away from him. They'd been brainstorming here at the consulate for hours, and the streetlights had come on some time ago, casting a dim glow into the otherwise lowlit room. Fraser was reading by lamplight, and a half eaten pizza lay open on the desk--Ray's idea. ]
An undercover operation seems to be our only option.
no subject
Nobody in their right mind would do any of these things except for Constable Benton Fraser. And occasionally his partner--a hazard of the job.
His plan to go undercover at the club was simple, really. They'd have to become patrons. It was no different in the long term than it would be to go undercover in a bar for several nights a week, waiting for their target to come in. Well, no different but for the fact that pretending to be patrons of a bar wasn't outside of their relative realms of experience.
A bdsm lifestyle club was so far outside of that realm that Fraser didn't even know where to start, and so far in their investigation Ray had been a closed book on the subject. If he knew more than he was letting on, Benton didn't know it. But Ray would be an awful sub, judging from what he'd learned so far. If anything could blow their cover, that would be it.
But they were out of other options, as far as plans to solve this case went. If they wanted to make any progress and catch these killers, then they'd have to make the attempt.
He sounded resigned to failure when he at last made the proposal, pushing the flyer he'd picked up at the club's front desk away from him. They'd been brainstorming here at the consulate for hours, and the streetlights had come on some time ago, casting a dim glow into the otherwise lowlit room. Fraser was reading by lamplight, and a half eaten pizza lay open on the desk--Ray's idea. ]
An undercover operation seems to be our only option.