CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Assistant Chief Jeffrey Miles had called Bronx Narcotics Sgt. James Ortiz and asked him to come over to 1 Police Plaza for a conversation. Ortiz was a little annoyed since he was eager to plan a new mission amid the current chaos. The loss of a Homicide detective was felt by everyone in the department. But with the task force recently being disbanded, and its former members being investigated by internal affairs, it was a great time for the vigilante crew to take action.

"Sergeant," Miles said. "You and your crew have done some outstanding work. Your team has made the greatest impact on drug supply and sales that this city has ever had. I wish to God that we could have done this above board because I would pin a medal on you and your men. There are eight-million people out there who currently have no idea just what you have done to protect them. That doesn't seem right."

"Well, sir," Ortiz said. "As you know, we aren't doing it for medals or for public approval."

"Of course not," Miles agreed. "Which is what makes it all the more noble, in my opinion. However, things within the department are getting volatile at the moment. One particular incident appears to have us enmeshed in a Federal investigation, something about someone impersonating a DEA agent or something. No matter, there are currently a lot of things happening right now. And, with the high-level success your team has had, it seems like a good time for your team to relax its current off-duty activities."

"Sir," Ortiz objected. "If I may, sir, this is maybe one of the best possible times for us to do our work. With all the chaos that is going on surrounding that task force, we finally have more freedom to operate."

"Sergeant," Miles tried to interrupt. But Ortiz kept going.

"Also, sir, while we have made a decent impact on drugs in our city so far, we could probably cripple the drug trade in this city entirely with just a few more key operations."

"Sergeant," Miles said, a little more sternly this time. "I've given this plenty of thought. You and your detectives are great at what you do. But, please, trust me when I say that this is the best possible time for us to pause those operations."

The message was clear: I'm in charge and things end now.

"Now," Miles said, "You and your team can always come to me. Everyone owes you a huge debt of gratitude for the results that you've obtained. My door is always open to you, Sergeant. I hope that I may still be able to call on you from time to time if a particular need arises."

That next message was clear, too: We've both got something to hold over each other's head, so let's be professional about it.

"Yes, sir," Ortiz replied. "Thank you, sir."

As Ortiz left Manhattan and headed back to the Bronx, he wondered what in the hell he was supposed to do now. He had a lawyer that he needed to pay for, and his regular salary wasn't going to cut it. He knew the answer. It would only take some more dead dealers, just a few, and he could cover his legal costs for a long time. But, if they did anything now, they would have to operate without any support from the Rabbi. He needed to talk with the other detectives to see what their thoughts were.

It had been two weeks since Eva was killed and Jimmy was still out on sick leave. He had gotten a call that his neighbor Mrs. Daniels was being moved from the ICU to a regular unit in the hospital. She would probably be released from the hospital in about a week if her progress continued. That brought some relief to Jimmy, both for her well-being and the fact that he was taking care of her cat while she was in the hospital. Oddly, Mr. Purdles provided some comfort while Jimmy was out on leave. He didn't know what thought scared him more, the comfort that the cat brought him or the way Erin was getting attached to it. The way things were currently going, he might have to get a cat of his own when Mrs. Daniels came home. It was not an amusing thought.

Marcus checked on him every day, and had stopped by twice in the last week. Other than that, Jimmy had not seen anyone else from work since the funeral. People had tried to keep in touch, but he didn't return their calls or texts. He couldn't stand to hear any more condolences or well wishes. Tanner was the only call or text he was ready to reply to, but he hadn't heard from Tanner, yet.

Jimmy and Erin had fought like hell to keep Tanner from being placed in foster care while everyone searched in vain to find another family. But Jimmy and Erin both knew that Eva and her late husband had no other relatives. Erin had taken the last two weeks off as vacation time. She needed to be here, trying to help.

"I don't know if I can go back," Jimmy said.

"Why not?," Erin asked. "That's the last thing Eva would want to hear from you."

"I just don't know how I could work with anyone else. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Well, for now," Erin offered. "Why not work with Marcus and see if you can get back to solving that triple homicide. That's what Eva was trying to do. She went back to the beginning to start over. You can start over with Marcus."

"I don't know. I just don't know," Jimmy sighed.

"Sweetie, I love you," Erin said. "But you have got to stop sitting around and punishing yourself over all of this. You have got to get off your ass and solve this, you have got to make sure that she didn't die in vain. If you don't, you'll never forgive yourself, for the case or your last conversation with her."

"Jesus," Jimmy said while staring at Erin in disbelief. "How can you…"

Erin cut him off in mid-sentence. "No, Jimmy. I loved her, you loved her, but she's gone and Tanner is lost in hell right now. It sucks that she's gone, but every day that you just sit here is another day that somebody out there is getting away with murder, another day that she died for nothing. And I can't stand to watch much more of it. You're the only one that can do anything about this."

Erin grabbed her purse and left the apartment. She was watching Jimmy beat himself up, day after day, and she couldn't take it anymore. Jimmy was the only person that could make this right, and it was time for him to get started. She called Marcus and told him it was time for them to kick Jimmy's ass into action.

Ortiz had all three of his detectives out on the boat with him. He explained the situation that they were facing after his conversation with the Rabbi.

"So," Ortiz said. "The way I see it, we have a few choices. One, we just quit the off-duty activities and go back to regular police-work. Two, we make one hell of a proposal to the Rabbi. Not likely to work, but worth mentioning. Or, three, we just carry on without any sanction or protection. Thoughts?"

"Well," Roman spoke up. "It seems this is the biggest opportunity that we'll ever get to do some things without tripping over the department."

"I don't know, Rome," Martinez said. "I've been loving the ability to make a difference. But I don't like the thought of using a fallen officer to our benefit."

"Gil," Ortiz said. "That wasn't our fault. The fact that it happened at that house is a funky coincidence."

"Agreed," Martinez said. "I'm not saying I'm for or against what comes next, but let's not make her death our best reason for doing it. That's all I'm saying."

"Hey," Roman said. "I didn't mean to make it sound like we should do this because of her. I'm just saying the situation is what it is. And, not to sound cold, but the bad guys aren't taking a day off and I don't think we should, either."

"Look, guys," Ortiz said. "The loss of that detective was fucking tragic. But, like the rest of the department, we need to stay focused on our job. So, let's stay focused and try to figure this out."

"Hey," Hodges finally spoke. "We were always at risk, Rabbi or not. If we had actually got tangled up somehow, there was only so much help he could offer, anyway. So, my vote is we keep going until we have a reason not to. For me, our cause is noble, and we have work to do."

What Hodges didn't say was that he had sat down with a couple of old friends from his special forces days and engineered the perfect plan to help the task force self-destruct. He didn't want a pat on the back for what he did, but he also didn't want to think that it was all for nothing. Which is what it would be if they all just gave up now.

"Okay," Martinez agreed. "I can get behind that reasoning. We all agreed on this in the beginning because we all wanted to make a real difference. And we actually started doing that. I vote to keep going. Rome?"

"Look," Roman said. "I may have phrased it poorly, but I already said I'm ready to keep going. The Rabbi thing was cool while it lasted. But we didn't really give him any details, anyway, did we? So, how is he going to know if we keep going or not?"

"I Agree with all of you," Ortiz said. "However, we do need some contingency plans in place. Those plans begin with investing in more of our own equipment. Think about all the headaches that come with requesting new equipment and the paper trail that is created."

"I can take care of that," Hodges said. "As long as we keep the discretionary fund filled up, I can line up pretty much anything we need."

"Alright, guys," Ortiz said. "Let's figure out what we need."

Around dinner time, Marcus stopped by Jimmy's place with beer and pizza.

"Look," Jimmy said. "I appreciate everything, but I don't even know where to begin picking up the pieces of all this investigation and trying to put it back together."

"You start at the beginning, knucklehead. Think back to when you and Eva had just arrived at the scene and found three stiffs sitting there. Back then, you didn't have any pieces until you got out of the car and started looking around. So, start at the beginning."

As Jimmy began pulling, pushing, and arranging various photos and reports around the table, Marcus started to get Eva's notes in order from Jimmy's copy of her notepad. Finally, Jimmy opened up his laptop and sorted every file he had from the case into chronological order. Then he picked up photo number one from the crime scene and began explaining what took place after he and Eva had arrived.

"So, that's how we knew the door was breached instead of just being kicked in. Also, that's our first clue about possible tactical training among the suspects."

"Whoa!"

Marcus had been pacing while Jimmy talked, but suddenly he sat down at the table to face him.

"The next important thing that we want to do, from this point forward, is to create two lists. One for what we know and one for what we think we know."

"I don't follow," Jimmy said. "We're not even inside the house yet. But what we can see outside is pretty obvious."

"Okay," Marcus said. "What you see is obvious, but how it got there or what happened is not so obvious."

"Still not following you, bro."

"Okay," Marcus took a deep breath. "Think of it like this. When I was back at the academy, they used to drill it into our heads not to make assumptions about anything. And they were always hammering us with stuff to reinforce it. For example, one day, not a single restroom worked in any area that cadets had access to. This started at around five in the morning and stayed that way until after midnight."

Surprised, Jimmy had to ask, "Why? That just seems cruel."

"Because nobody usually thinks about things like that. We all just assume there will be a modern bathroom somewhere nearby. But, they got us, and we all had to figure out ways to get by without compromising our grooming standards or being late for any training session. It also came with the caveat that, if you were caught relieving yourself anywhere on the academy grounds, you would be instantly kicked out of training."

"Damn! They didn't let you guys use the bathroom all day? Again, where's the lesson in that?"

"Not quite what it seems," Marcus laughed. "The key word there was caught. We could do whatever we wanted, within certain moral boundaries, as long as we didn't get caught. For some of us, that simply meant sneaking in and out of areas that were normally off-limits to cadets. If you were resourceful, and knew how to work as a team, it really wasn't too bad."

"But still," Jimmy said. "Did they pull a lot of stunts like that?"

"Well, another time they simply emptied all the vending machines and then closed the cafeteria all day. It wasn't life-threatening, but if you didn't have a back-up plan or a good friend, you did go hungry that day. It was just a reminder not to assume anything, such as assuming there would always be vending machines available if we missed the cafeteria for some reason."

"Okay," Jimmy said. "I kind of get it. But let's assume I'm untrained and hungry here. Speaking of which, pass that pizza box. So, what do you think I've assumed so far?"

"Well," Marcus said. "You're assuming your suspects have tactical training based on what you see. But what if they used something to breach the door, however, it was only an idea they picked up somewhere and not something that they were actually trained to do?"

"Yeah," Jimmy protested. "But there were other signs, too. Even the advice of a guy from ESU that Eva talked to."

"Hold on a sec," Marcus shot back. "From a distance, four nickels can be mistaken for four quarters — but that doesn't make them a dollar. You guys might have seen some tactical-looking signs, but that's not proof of tactical training. That's just proof that some tactical procedures were used. Maybe they watch a lot of cop shows and military movies. A few Hollywood imitations are not equal to actual training."

"True, but the ESU guy…"

"Heard and saw what Eva wanted him to hear and see," Marcus said. "She might have been looking for confirmation instead of facts, which could have steered that conversation in a whole new direction. Maybe she wanted to be right about that, so he agreed with everything she presented. What did she present to the guy from ESU? A tactical-training certificate? Or did she present evidence that you guys found at the house?"

"Obviously, it was evidence from the house."

"There ya go," Marcus said. "What happened when you guys showed up? You started noticing all the obvious signs. Now, stop and think for a minute, what if someone had meticulously created the very scene that they wanted you guys to find? Granted, it doesn't happen often. Usually Occam's Razor applies. But…"

"Oswald's Razor," Jimmy asked while feeling totally lost.

"Occam's Razor. It's a philosophy trope that basically says the simplest answer is often the correct one. Not important. Just think, most crime scenes you investigate have pretty clear and direct clues, right? No need to search Interpol when all the evidence tells you that the butler did it because it was usually the butler in that case."

"This is the problem with the FBI," Jimmy said. "They make you guys show up with college degrees, and you end up citing philosophy instead of doing real police-work."

"Just pay attention, knucklehead. Frequently your crime scenes are just what they seem to be and all the clues fit the things that they should. But, if this crime scene was staged to show you certain things or lead you to assume certain things, then every assumption going forward is another wrong step. Meaning that, if you investigate this like you normally do, then you are only going to find what someone wants you to find."

"So, what do I do with all the evidence we have so far," Jimmy asked.

"Keep it, of course. But split it all into two piles. One is for things that you know and one is for things that you think you know. For example, you know three people were shot, you know they were shot right there in the dining room, and you know there was more than one suspect that entered the house. But do you know how many people actually pulled a trigger in that dining room?"

"Well, ballistics showed us three unique weapons, but I guess we don't know exactly who fired them." Jimmy said.

"Correct. Same thing goes for the other evidence. You are not certain about the tactical training, only that it looks like tactical means were employed. So, three unique weapons go into one pile while tactical training goes in the other. Is it starting to make sense, now?"

"Yeah, okay, I see where you're going with this," Jimmy said.

"Good. It's a pain in the ass, but it might help us avoid some intentional misdirection."

"Okay, so the next thing from outside was a couple of Russian branded cigarette butts that we found."

"Column two."

"Wait, we had an actual connection between our prime suspect and the Russians."

"No, no, you didn't," Marcus objected. "Start sorting your evidence, again. You guys were fed Preston's name from day one. Preston's name came from an anonymous tip. You searched his car and found just enough evidence to confirm suspicion, but not enough to prove guilt. What's more, your Russian connection was only confirmed by a case of caviar found in his apartment, which could have been just a bad coincidence, or it could have been planted, like he claimed."

"What…" Jimmy muttered in disbelief.

"I mean, none of his phone records show any connection to anyone we know to have Russian ties. Nothing else in his apartment suggests any Russian interests. His phone history, his internet history, his passport, and even his credit cards have no Russian leads. Think about it some more. In all the time tailing him around, did he ever go near a Russian restaurant or bar? Before he knew he was being watched, did he ever pick up a Russian girlfriend or go anywhere that confirmed Russian anything? "

"No, I didn't actually gather any proof at all. Other than the caviar, it was all second-hand information that connected him to the Russians," Jimmy said while shaking his head.

"So, you were fed every bit of that Russian information, throughout various steps of your investigation. Up to, and including, the fake DEA guy, who offered you everything that you wanted to hear about Preston. And you followed all of it right into a political minefield. The result being that the investigation was stalled and the task force was broken up. Worse, everyone involved with the task force is now too distracted by Internal Affairs to adequately investigate a jaywalking incident. Honestly, I couldn't have written a book any better than the way this whole thing has played out, so far."

"Wait," Jimmy said. "You're beginning to make this sound like the villain in a comic book did all of this."

"Look, somebody was crafty enough to put dynamite under your case and blow it to pieces — and they did so at a time when ten detectives were simultaneously working on it. This ain't exactly Lex Luther, but it is someone who knows how to get things done."

"Holy shit," Jimmy said as he exhaled loudly. "If I take a step back and just look at what you've pointed out, it sounds like we've been getting led around by the nose ever since we started investigating this. That's a big pill to swallow."

"Exactly. And that's the premise of some of the biggest con-jobs in history. But, knowing that, you start to see everything differently now. That means you can probably find just as many clues in the set-up as you can in the actual evidence. So, let's take a closer look at everything from the beginning."