CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Well," Eva said. "We found nothing useful in Preston's apartment. You've been tailing him for the last three days and found nothing useful. What the heck are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know," Jimmy said. "I even asked Marcus to look into this guy as much as he could without getting himself in trouble. Marcus found the stuff I showed you and there wasn't much useful in there. So, the Feds don't have much and we don't have much, but I know this is our guy. I just can't figure out how to prove it."

"I talked to the Assistant Chief this morning, and he understood how frustrating this is getting for us. He did mention that if we need any help from the Plaza, make sure to call him. Ya know, I swear, I spend as much time updating the bosses as I do investigating."

"Well, it's like we said before," Jimmy said. "If he wants to take over then he can't go forever without making some kind of a move. He has to do something sooner or later. So, for now, I'm just going to stay glued to his ass."

"I've been doing nationwide searches for any murders or robberies that match our crime scenes. Ya know, same tactics, and all that. It's scary how many people out there with military training are pulling jobs just like this one. Way too many to even try fishing for suspects in that mess."

"Damn," Jimmy agreed. "That's a little unsettling. But I wonder if that means that, somewhere out there, some other detectives are feeling our pain."

"Well," Eva said. "If they are, I'd sure like to know how they dealt with it."

Martinez and Roman had stopped for lunch. Martinez waited until he was alone with Roman at the bar. Then he slowly said, "I spoke with the Rabbi. He didn't like what I told him. He said that we might have to slow down or cease off-duty operations for a while until we figure out what's going on with the Sarge."

"Well, that sucks," Roman replied. "We were just starting to make a difference. Seems like dope is actually getting harder for some people to find out there. Supplies have been drying up, and sales are down, so what we're doing off-duty is actually making a difference."

"Yeah, I know," Martinez agreed. "We got every politician in the city's history beat when it comes to the drug war."

"Man, even though it's illegal, I still feel more like a cop right now than I ever have before. We're doing good work and making a difference. That's going to suck if we have to back off and watch things start going to hell again."

"I'm with ya, brother," Martinez said. "I don't know if I can do anything else after this."

At that moment, Ortiz joined them at the bar. He said, "Hey gents, we might have an issue. The Rabbi wants us to lay back and do nothing for a while. He said that the task force is gathering a little too much steam right now. They're all over that Preston guy, which means that if he's not making any moves, then any move we make will stand out in contrast."

"Makes sense," Martinez agreed. "Just by-the-book stuff, for now?"

"Yeah," Ortiz said. "Business as usual until we figure out a way to do some things without drawing too much attention. What we need is for that Preston guy to do something spectacularly screwed-up so that we can move again without drawing any attention."

"What if that Preston guy does something crazy," Roman asked.

Ortiz cocked his head and looked at Roman. He asked, "Like what, Rome?"

"I don't know, yet," Roman said. "What if Preston took out a contract on one of the detectives? Not for real, but if they believed it, it would distract them all over, again."

"I don't know, Rome," Ortiz said. "That's going to take some planning to keep it away from us. Plus, that's going to have a lot of moving parts. We would need a chain of people to get that news around. But that chain couldn't lead back to us."

"Wait, boss," Martinez said. "I might have something for this… I heard it from a couple of guys that, a month or so back, one of the detectives on that task force had it out with a pretty big dealer from Brooklyn. The dealer threatened him right there in the courthouse. So, if that dealer took out a hit on him, that would have to get their attention, right?"

Ortiz could only shake his head. "Fuck, Gil. Why are you a cop? You should be working at NASA or some shit. Alright, let's table this discussion until we can all get together over water. I hate talking about shit out in the open."

Martinez and Roman glanced at each other and then both agreed with that statement.

A few days later, word reached the task force, through an anonymous tip, that a drug dealer named Sweet B had taken out a contract on the life of Homicide Detective James Burke from Brooklyn North.

Later that afternoon, Jimmy's buddy in the FBI called to check on him.

"Damn, boy," Marcus said. "You must be doing something right. You certainly got someone's attention over there."

"No kidding," Jimmy said. "But how did you hear about it over in Fee-Bee land? You guys eavesdropping on us again? Still trying to figure out how real cops get things done?"

"Ohhhh, that's good," Marcus said. "This from the guy who arrested the number one suspect in a triple-murder and still can't make a case? Oh, by the way, word got around about that trick with the crossword puzzle and getting that guy to spit out some Russian words. That was a very nice touch. Even some of our guys liked that one."

"Yeah, well," Jimmy said. "It didn't accomplish much, did it? So, how'd you hear about the threat from Sweet B way over there?"

"We're wired into all sorts of stuff these days," Marcus said. "We especially pay attention to threats against public officials and law enforcement at all levels. Never know where the next dangerous nut is going to come from these days. So, when I saw your name on the daily threat brief, it gave me a reason to call."

"Well, honestly," Jimmy said. "I wouldn't give the threat too much credit. If Baskins was going to do something serious, he would've done it a few weeks ago. Back when all the static between me and him was still fresh. I think this is old news that just now bubbled to the surface."

"You sure," Marcus asked. "You might be giving that asshole too much credit."

"Nah," Jimmy said. "Trust me, Baskins has bigger issues right now. You heard about this thing with some of the bigger dealers getting hit? Well, supply is running far short of demand out on the street these days. And Baskins is hurting like a lot of other mid-level dealers. It's actually pretty damn amusing to watch a drug dealer suffocating from a lack of supply."

"Just stay on your toes," Marcus said. "Don't get too complacent."

"Yes, mommy. And I'll eat all of my vegetables, too."

Jimmy had decided to take off a night from tailing Preston. He had talked to Erin and had made dinner plans with her. They had not spent much time together lately, and Jimmy knew she was angry about it. He wanted to make it up to her, so he asked her over for dinner and a movie.

Later that evening, just as he was walking into his apartment building, his neighbor's door opened across the hallway. Mrs. Daniels was an elderly widow that was known for filling the building with the smells of fresh-baked cookies and banana bread. As her head popped out of the door, she said, "Hi Jimmy. How are you?"

"I'm good," Jimmy replied. "Been under a lot of stress at work, but that's pretty normal, I guess. How about you, ma'am? How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been fine," Mrs. Daniels said. "Having trouble keeping Mr. Purdles off of the sink. But that's only because my sink is still dripping. I keep telling that lazy building superintendent about it, and he keeps telling me that he'll get to it. It's been a month, Jimmy. Do you know how much water is being wasted? Plus, it just amuses Mr. Purdles to no end. He just jumps up there and bats at the water with his little paws for hours. It's not so bad, except then he tracks his wet paws all over the furniture, Jimmy."

Jimmy looked down at the floor with an air of resignation. Looking back up, he asked, "Would you like me to take a look at it, Mrs. D?"

"Oh, dear," she exclaimed. "That would be so wonderful, Jimmy. I know that you just got home, but I would be so grateful if you could take a look at it."

"Sure thing, Mrs. D," Jimmy said.

As he entered her apartment, his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet, dense smell of freshly baked desserts. Mrs. Daniels was probably the reason everyone in the building was at least ten pounds overweight.

"Where is your Miss Erin tonight, Jimmy?"

"She's actually on her way over," Jimmy said. "She was supposed to meet me here, but called to say she was going to be about an hour late. Something at work or whatever."

"She's a good girl, Jimmy," Mrs. Daniels said. "She works hard to make sure everything in the city keeps running."

"Yes," agreed Jimmy. "She is pretty good. And, she puts up with me for some reason, which makes her a saint."

"When are you going to marry that girl, Jimmy?"

"I'm working on it, Mrs. D. I'm working on it."

As Jimmy crawled under the sink with a wrench, he quickly found the culprit behind the leaking faucet. Mr. Purdles, a huge black cat, sat in the corner of the kitchen watching dutifully. A few quick turns of the wrench and the dripping stopped.

"Oh my goodness, Jimmy," Mrs. Daniels exclaimed. "You got it. To think that lazy man wouldn't come in here to fix that. Oh, thank you, Jimmy. Thank you!"

"No problem, Mrs. D," Jimmy said.

"Here, let me get you some banana bread for you and Erin. I just made it fresh today. I'll just get something to wrap it up with."

As Mrs. Daniels bent over to grab a box of tin foil from the closet shelf, the sound of automatic gunfire tore through the night. Within seconds the apartment turned into chaos, the sound of glass exploding all around them, bullets ricocheting in every direction, and shreds of paper and fabric simply floating through the air.

Jimmy dove toward Mrs. Daniels and fell to the floor, covering her frail body with his own. It was over almost as fast as it had begun. A blanket of eerie silence seemed to fall over the apartment. The whole thing was so unreal that it took Jimmy a moment before he could move, his mind having trouble comprehending what had just happened all around him. He had been in war zones in Iraq and shootouts with suspects across the city. But this was the wrong environment for this. Yet, somehow it had just happened.

Jimmy was back on his feet, his pistol in one hand and his phone in the other. He called 911 and identified himself. He explained what had just happened, at least what he could make of it, anyway. Then he crawled toward the window to take a peek outside. The street was clear, there were no sounds, but the smells had changed. The tantalizing scent of cinnamon had been replaced with the acrid stench of burned gunpowder. He crawled back to check on Mrs. Daniels. She was unconscious but breathing. He didn't see any blood, couldn't find any holes. So, he did the only thing he could do. He waited.

It seemed like forever before he finally heard the sirens in the distance.

Bronx Narcotics Detective Roman Georginski had just done something that he never could have imagined. He had just opened fire on another NYPD officer. The machine pistol was horribly inaccurate and had spilled empty brass casings all over the inside of the vehicle. But he needed it to look as close to a gang-related drive-by shooting as possible in order for this whole thing to work. That homicide detective had to believe it was a gang hit from the drug dealer that had threatened his life. That was the only thing that would shift the focus of the task force.

Roman was just about two blocks away, driving with his headlights off, when a kid on a bike suddenly appeared in front of him. He swerved hard to the left, missed the kid, but hit a telephone pole. It shook him up pretty good, but thankfully the vehicle had lost most of its momentum in the swerve, so he wasn't injured. He hopped out of the car and ran back towards the scene of the shooting.

As Roman approached the block where the shooting occurred, he thought of the car and the weapon he had left behind. He was wearing gloves, so fingerprints did not concern him. But had anyone seen him leaving the car? Seen him running in this direction? He hoped not. He could hear sirens in the distance and thought, well, he'd find out soon enough if anyone had seen him.

His badge was on a chain around his neck. He flipped it out of his shirt so that it was visible in the middle of his chest and drew his pistol. He then pulled out his flashlight and methodically began to search the area as if he were looking for hidden bad guys. When the police cars began to arrive he turned and held up his badge announcing himself to all the officers arriving on the scene. He told them where and what he had checked so far to clear the area, and then began directing officers in various directions for them to search in.

Jimmy came stumbling forward out of the building while holding his badge in the air. He directed paramedics to Mrs. Daniels' apartment and said he didn't know if anyone else in the building had been hurt or not. He noticed someone in plain clothes in the middle of the scene and it seemed like they were picking something up off of the ground. Then they stood up and did it again. As Jimmy got closer, he could finally see that the person had a gold shield hanging from his neck. The detective seemed to be picking up shell casings from the ground.

Jimmy shouted, "Hey, detective, what are you doing? That's evidence, this is a crime scene."

Roman stopped and headed toward Jimmy.

When he was closer, Roman said, "You're right, and with all of this foot traffic and all of these vehicles, this evidence is disappearing fast. I'm trying to make sure the damn crime lab at least has something to work with before this scene gets any more contaminated."

"Shit," Jimmy said while looking around. "You're right. I'm not thinking too clearly. I was just on the receiving end of all this."

"Well," Roman said. "Maybe you should get checked out by the medics before you go too much farther. Just to be sure."

Jimmy said, "I'm working on it. I just want to make sure that the civilians are taken care of. Who's in charge out here?"

"I don't know, honestly," Roman said. "I just sort of showed up and started giving orders because the uniforms on scene looked a little confused. I was just up the street at Mickey's when I heard all the racket and headed over here to see what the noise was. I think I beat most of the squad cars here. Then, like I said, I just started directing traffic because nobody was moving and nobody was giving orders."

"Well," Jimmy said, "I'm sure glad you showed up." Jimmy shoved his hand outward and said, "Burke, Homicide, 90th precinct."

Roman shook Jimmy's hand and said, "Georginski, Narcotics, up in the 41st."

"The Bronx? Man, I'm glad you picked tonight to wander down here. Is there any evidence besides a paper bag full of casings?"

"Yeah," Roman said. "One of the squad cars found an abandoned vehicle a few blocks over, full of these casings, and a small machine gun. Mac-10 is what they're guessing it is. They are processing the scene and want you to come take a look at some point to see if you recognize the vehicle."

He knew Jimmy wouldn't recognize the vehicle. Roman had just stolen it a few hours ago. Also, he was pretty sure that Jimmy was nowhere near the window until long after the gunfire had stopped.

Roman stayed on scene for about another hour, taking reports, securing the rest of the crime scene, and finally being debriefed by a captain that showed up demanding answers. Nobody had asked what car Roman had arrived in. And nobody noticed that, when he quietly slipped away, he was walking and not driving.

The next morning, while Mrs. Daniels was listed in critical condition at the hospital, Jimmy was storming through the Homicide Bureau after a conversation with the Precinct Captain. "Can you believe this shit," Jimmy asked as he dropped into his office chair.

"What'd he say," Eva asked.

"He doesn't want me anywhere near the shooting. Apparently, because nobody died, Homicide has no concern in the case. He also thinks that I should have my hands full dealing with the triple-homicide that we're already working ."

"He's got a point, Jimmy," Eva said. "How would we react if Auto-Theft showed up and started investigating one of our crime scenes?"

"C'mon, Eva. This is different. It's not random, they were shooting at me. That's kind of fucking personal."

"I know it is, Jimmy," Eva said. "I'm just glad that you came out of it okay and that Erin was late getting there. How's she doing?"

"She showed up to a hundred cop cars and the news that there was an officer-involved shooting. How do you think she's doing? She took the day off from work because she's a mess. It doesn't matter that I'm fine, she still has all this… This stuff she has to go through for some reason. I… I don't know. She'll be fine if she ever realizes that I'm actually okay."

"Are you," Eva asked in the same tone she used when she was talking to her son. "Maybe you should see a counselor, Jimmy. We got specialists on-call for dealing with shit like this."

"I'm fine," Jimmy said. "I just want to get my hands on whoever is behind this."

"Careful partner," Eva warned. "Those feelings can drive you to bad places. I'm not saying you're wrong to feel like that. But these assholes win if you do something that will cost you a career."

"I'm fine," Jimmy said through a blank stare. "I got to go take care of something."

Jimmy got up and left the office.

Ortiz caught Roman in the parking lot and directed him over to Ortiz's car. Once inside, Ortiz turned to Roman and said, "So, I got a call from the captain over at the 90th this morning. He wanted to express his thanks to you for all your help at the Brooklyn scene last night. When the fuck have you ever been to Mickey's before last night? Were you even at Mickey's? Just, please, please, fucking tell me… Another cop, Rome?"

"Look, I covered my ass from every possible angle. I even…"

Ortiz cut him off, "Fucking hell, Rome! We are supposed to be after the bad guys. Supposed to be making a difference. We're a fucking team, for fuck's sake. You can't just run around sorting shit out on your own. Especially when it involves other cops."

"That guy was never in any danger. We just need to get him distracted, to let up on that Preston guy. We can't do anything else while he's their only concern. He's got to have some breathing room, otherwise we are going to watch all of the good that we have done just go down the toilet."

"Rome," Ortiz said. "I know more than anyone that we need to get back to work. But we can't be targeting cops. We still have a duty to protect the city. Fuck! I seriously hope this isn't what stops everything. We've made a dent, but we have a lot more work to do if we want to have any permanent effect."

"I'm covered, boss," Roman said. "We're all good. If there was a problem for us, we would know about it by now."

"I sure hope so, Rome. Because that was a bad fucking idea last night."