CHAPTER FOUR

On Monday morning, Ortiz was in the office early. He disliked coming in so early when they were scheduled to go out and do police work later that night. However, paperwork was an unfortunate aspect of being the squad supervisor. It was also something that he was really good at manipulating. As Mark Twain said, there were lies, damned lies, and statistics.

While in Iraq, Ortiz had learned that the better you made the bosses look, the farther away they stayed. Later, he found out that the NYPD was no different. So, he treated paperwork almost religiously. On paper, Ortiz made the bosses look like they were single-handedly eliminating crime across the entire city. In return, his squad had more autonomy than most other detectives in the NYPD.

His Monday morning ritual was interrupted by the sound of his cellphone. It was Maria, his ex-wife.

"Hey, how are you?"

"I'd be better if your checks ever started getting here on time," Maria replied. "I need money, so your son can go on a school trip."

"Okay," Ortiz said with a sigh. "How much this time?"

Maria exploded, "This time? What in the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm taking care of your damn son, raising him by myself, and I have to pay for everything he does. You think this is easy or something? He has stuff he wants to do, and I have to explain to him that his father don't want him to do nothing, don't want to pay for nothing."

"That's not true, Maria. I pay for stuff all the time. Practically, every time you call. I'm not made of money, but I always give you what I have."

"Give me what you have," she said sarcastically. " You have any idea how hard it is to raise a boy by yourself? Of course not, you leave that and all the expenses to me."

"I've told you before, he can come live with me, any time, and I won't ask you for a dime."

"Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you? Take my child away, show me how you can raise him, show me how perfect you are. You're not that perfect, you know."

"Maria, I don't want to fight this morning. How much do you need this time?"

"See," she said. "There you go trying to hang this shit over my head like I'm the one doing something wrong. If you ever made sure the alimony check was on time, I wouldn't ever have to call you, would I? I wouldn't have as much trouble doing all of this on my own, would I?"

"I've told you before," Ortiz said. "I don't control when the checks go out. They take the money out of my check automatically. And then the court, or the city, or whatever, sends out the checks when they want to. I can't make them do anything any faster."

"You can't, you can't. All you ever say is that you can't do something. You work for the damn city, you could call someone if you wanted to. Instead, you just leave us sitting here waiting to see if we're even going to eat this week."

"Maria, I told you, I can't call anyone. They don't work for the police, they work for the courts, and they don't care about me or my phone calls. And you're not going to starve any time soon."

"How would you know? You don't have to live like this. You just make sure we suffer like this."

"Damn it, Maria. You don't suffer like anything. You live with a guy making twice as much money as me. He pays for every damn thing you need. And so do I. You're not going to go hungry because the city doesn't send you an alimony check on the day you want. And I pay for everything I can…"

"Don't you bring him into this," she said. "You don't get to tell me who I can live with or what I can do with my life. He's twice the man you'll ever be. He's raising your son better than you. How's that feel, huh? You need another man to pay for your son because you're too damn selfish to make sure that any money gets here on time."

Ortiz had his hand on his forehead, trying to fight off the headache that was coming on. His blood pressure was up, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He reached down for the bottom desk drawer, where he kept a small bottle of bourbon and some aspirin.

"I can't do this today, Maria. How much do you need this time?"

"What is that supposed to mean," she asked. "There is no 'this time.' We need stuff all the time because you don't want to take care of your damn obligations."

"You said there was a school trip, Maria. How much for the school trip?"

"Oh, now you want to pay for something? What a big man, he feels good, like he's doing something nice or extra. You'd feel better if you just took care of your obligations to begin with."

"How much for the school trip, Maria?"

"Don't be ordering me around! You can't even take care of your own son, and you talk to me like that? That's your problem right there, you think…"

"How much for the school trip, Maria?"

"You're not in charge, so stop talking like you're in charge. If you ever made sure that damn check was on time, this wouldn't be an…"

"How much for the school trip, Maria?"

"Two-hundred dollars. He needs two-hundred dollars so he can go on a school trip. Are you going to take that away from him, too?"

"Fine. I'll get you the money. When can I see him?"

"Oh, so that's it," Maria said. "You think you can buy your son? This ain't even your weekend. And now you're holding money over his head like this? That's what's wrong with you."

"Well, I didn't get to see him on my weekend because you took him to visit your sister. And you can have the money regardless. I just want to spend some time with my son, Maria."

"Don't tell me who I can visit and who I can't. You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't even pay for your obligations on time. You don't get to tell me who I can visit."

"Fine. When is the school trip?"

"What? You think I'm lying to you? You think I need to lie about some school trip? That's probably the only way to get any money out of you, anyway."

"I'll get the money for you, Maria."

"He's your son. I shouldn't have to beg for something, so your son can go on a school trip. See, that's what's wrong with you. You don't even care about your own son. You just want to use him against me."

"I'll get the money to you, Maria," Ortiz said as he hit a button and ended the phone call. He washed down two of the aspirin tablets with a long pull on the bourbon bottle. What a great way to start the week off.

Later that day, by the time the sun had set, Ortiz had caught up on all of his paperwork, grabbed a nap, and joined his squad in the briefing room. Tonight they were planning to go out and do some buy /busts. The basic premise was, two detectives wearing hidden microphones make themselves available for street dealers to offer them drugs. It was important that the detectives didn't ask about drugs to avoid any entrapment issues. The other two detectives would be tucked away in a van, recording audio and video of each transaction. After a transaction was complete, the two detectives in the van would jump out and arrest the drug sellers.

They would have two uniformed officers with them, as well, for backup. The recordings provided all they needed for evidence. The recordings also provided leverage in the interrogation room as the detectives tried to gain information that only people involved in street sales would know about. This leverage allowed some people with useful information to be released with no charges against them. Others were booked and charged with various crimes. It was often an effective intelligence gathering tool for narcotics detectives.

Just after midnight, the narcotics squad was back in the briefing room to compare notes from the evening. The detectives maintained their own computer database where they stored every single interaction they had with anyone not wearing a badge. They also kept a copy of every report ever written by anyone in the squad. They called their database the "Box" in reference to the box-shaped computer where it was kept. It was a great way for the entire narcotics squad to always have up-to-date information and to compare new information as it came in.

"Alright, guys," Ortiz said. "If we're all caught up, then we can file our reports, update the box, and get out of here. "

"One thing, boss," Martinez said. "I got some info that might need to go in the box. But I'm pretty sure I'll be thinking about it when I'm off-duty. I'm wondering if I should hold off on the box or not."

Ortiz took a moment to consider that before saying, "That's pretty interesting. Hold it for now. I think we should all go grab a beer and kick the idea around."

Two hours later, the four-man narcotics squad all met up at the end of a pier just past the marina where Ortiz kept his boat docked. The squad, armed with a cooler full of beer, now had to answer an important question. Do they keep data on potential off-duty targets and risk creating a paper-trail of evidence? Or, do they simply keep that information to themselves, but miss any opportunity to cross-reference data while on-duty?

"For that matter," Hodges said. "How do we develop intel for our off-duty operations? Are we going to ignore some very relevant targets that we already have in the box?"

"You know what else," Roman asked. "How long do we wait to act on information that we want to use when we're off-duty? We can't exactly bury a guy the day after some snitch gives him up. That'll create a trail really quick."

"Well," Ortiz said. "I think that question answers everything else for us."

Martinez raised his hand, "Uh, boss, you want to enlighten those of us in the class that aren't straight-A students?"

"Okay, to me, it looks like this," Ortiz then went on to explain how they should enter all data into the Box that they collect while on-duty. On-duty operations could not change at all, or it might screw up the successful rhythm that they had established. Off-duty activities could not interfere with on-duty operations in any way, they had already decided on that.

The simple solution to information that they picked-up while on-duty is that they would avoid using it for at least six months from the time they got the information. That should be enough time to remove any suspicion of connection between the source and any action that they might take. It also gave them a safety filter for any data that they already had in the box. Information that was gathered longer than six months ago was most likely safe to consider for off-duty operations.

"So," Ortiz said. "Anyone have any thoughts?"

"That sounds pretty good to me," Martinez said.

With a big grin, Hodges asked, "Jeez, boss, are you sure you never did this before?"

Roman nodded his big, bald head in agreement and said, "That's great going forward. But, remember, the info I had on that Saturday night deal over in Williamsburg was only a few days old. And the source I got it from isn't all that reliable as far as keeping his mouth shut."

It was Ortiz's turn to nod his head. "Yeah, we should have had a better plan for Saturday. But it's done now. We're just going to have to hope that one fizzles out."

"Hey," Roman said. "If you want me to help him fizzle out, just let me know. I can make it look like a robbery or whatever."

"Let's hold off on anything unnecessary, for now." Ortiz felt a little uneasy at even having to respond to something like that. They were still cops. Maybe they were a little over the line, but it was in the vein of protect and serve. The people importing drugs into the city were monsters that caused harm to the public. "Besides, we really don't want to kill people that provide us with intelligence about dealers. Otherwise, in a few weeks, we'll have nothing else to put in the box."

"Roger that, boss," Hodges said.

"Well," Ortiz said, "If we're all good on the new search criteria, I dug up someone we should take a look at over in Harlem."