Dana Wright was on a mission.  Not only was she the newest addition to the FBI agency that had noticed recent theft activity that followed a pattern, she was also a woman who aspired to bigger things.  Being a field agent was all fine and good, but her eye was on a management position, so she aimed to make a big splash right off the bat.  Of course, some people would call her methods shady, but she didn't feel much guilt about seducing the fencer her division couldn't seem to bust.  So what if he eventually found out?  Her ethics didn't stop shy of shutting him up permanently, should that happen.<br/><br/>After months of pumping him for information... well, OK... snooping around his place when he'd finally fallen into a drunken (and mildly drugged) stupor, she'd stumbled upon a list of his contacts.  There were only four numbers, all of which she'd tracked down, but only one of them operated within the radius of the majority of the robberies, so she'd focused on him.  It hadn't taken much effort to gain his trust, he wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, and she'd done a couple of retrievals for him to prove that she was trustworthy.  Neither had gleaned any leads on the recent rash of robberies, but she held out hope that she would yet bust that case wide open.<br/><br/>Which led her to the club.  She knew that she was looking for a young woman with flaming red hair and she knew the proper greeting phrase to show that she was a buyer, all she had to do was be patient and not strangle any of the losers who pawed at her or breathed their putrid breath in her ear.  Just when she was fearing for the enamel on her teeth a woman matching the description entered the bar.  Once she was seated Dana approached, her demeanor laid back.  She felt a little silly speaking the code phrase, but hopefully pulled it off without showing it.<br/><br/>"Hey baby... how's tricks?  Care for a ginger ale?"<br/><br/>The odds of anyone saying that phrase otherwise were pretty damned slim!  She managed to pull if off without cringing.