CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Wow," Martinez said. "We blew through that drug money a lot faster than I thought we would."

"Doesn't matter," Ortiz said. "We'll have more of that soon enough."

"Just saying, boss," Martinez said. "We're either going to have to run with our department issue stuff or go substandard for at least one run. We don't have enough money left to get the new gear we need."

"It is what it is," Ortiz said. "Let's just focus on making a plan for now. There are plenty of scumbags out there. We'll get more money soon enough."

"Cheers to that, boss," Hodges said with a grin.

"Yup," Roman agreed. "That is poetic justice."

"Plus, if we start running out of money, again," Hodges said. "Then that means we're doing our job and doing it well."

The remark from Hodges brought a round of cheers as the sound of beer bottles clinking against one another floated out across the ocean water.

"Okay, let's talk operations," Ortiz said. "Seems like our next candidate is a real winner. Mid-level drug dealer by the name of Maurice 'MoMo' Robinson. Free beer for the correct answer to where this asshole lives. Caller 10 gets the suds…"

"Uh, Alex, I'll take Queens for $100," Martinez said jokingly.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," Ortiz said as he reached down in the cooler and grabbed a beer for Martinez.

"Hey, no fair," Roman said while smiling, "He dug the guy up to begin with."

"Too bad, Rome," Martinez said. "Get off your lazy Polish ass and get your own beer, loser."

"Hey, do you kiss your mother with that mouth," Roman asked while getting up to grab another beer.

"No, but I kissed your mother with it," Martinez fired back.

"Well," Roman said. "That explains why dinner was late."

That brought another round of deep laughter from everyone.

"Queens it is," Ortiz finally said. "Our scumbag, Maurice 'MoMo' Robinson, seems to own a brownstone with a parking lot on one side and an abandoned church on the other."

"Sounds like we finally got some room to maneuver," Hodges observed.

"Well," Ortiz said in a way that indicated things were never as easy as they seem. "This one, too, has its very own unique challenge. It's almost directly across the street from a large firehouse. It houses an engine, a ladder truck, and paramedics. So, our potential witnesses are not just heroes, they're also trained observers that see and hear things in their sleep. If anyone is naturally inclined to hear and respond to strange sounds, it's these guys and gals. That means, if we take him at his home , we need to be like ninjas."

"Holy shit, boss," Martinez said. "This is starting to sound like fun."

"You picked him, genius," Roman said with a grin.

"Yeah, but I didn't do the recon on him, or I would have kept looking," Martinez replied.

"Well," Hodges broke in. "We know that he supplies most of Queens and probably half of Brooklyn right now. He deals in both cocaine and heroin. It's a challenge, but it could put a huge fucking dent in local supplies if we pull it off."

"Okay," Ortiz said. "Here's what I'm thinking. I'll do more background on this guy and see what else I can come up with. You guys pick some random times to do three different recon shifts. Figure on two-man teams, at different times of day. Mix it up, guys. Gil and Hodges, then Gil and Rome, and finally Rome and Hodges. That way you guys can all compare notes as well as scope out the territory at different times of the day and the night."

"Just speaking blindly here," Martinez said. "But I'm already guessing daylight hours might be our friend here, just because there's so much other activity and noises to blend in with. Things are way quieter at night, and any extra activity might draw attention from across the street. I mean, they're going to have people awake and active on all shifts in that firehouse."

"Also," Hodges said. "Smart money says they get more calls during the day than at night. Not to mention, one decent call and that firehouse empties out for a few minutes. Could make a good window if we can plan for a dynamic entry of the house."

"Yeah," Martinez remarked. "But I don't want to send 'em out on a fake call. That's real shit and might detract from an actual emergency while they're out chasing their tail."

"Agreed," Hodges said. "I don't want to mess with them in any way at all. But, if some natural course of events draws them out, and we're ready to go on a minute's notice, that could work out in our favor pretty damn nicely. Especially when anyone else on the street will be watching them leave instead of just looking around the street."

"There's a problem, there," Ortiz said. "Even if we were ready, we would need an unsuspicious staging area to wait. Then, we have no idea how long we would have to wait for them to get the right call. Plus, we would need a really solid cover because if we come into contact with local patrol for any reason, we have to come up with a damn good reason as to why we're surveilling a drug mark way outside our sector."

"Not to mention that the op is blown if we ever make contact with anyone," Martinez said. "We can't risk a paper trail or being connected to anyone we take down. That would nullify all the work we already do to keep our distance from our targets."

"Okay," Hodges agreed. "We can't sit it out until the perfect time. And we can't create the perfect time. So, we'll just have to find the most convenient time."

"Alright, gents," Ortiz said. "We know what we need to do. So, let's get to it."

As Jimmy and Marcus were digging through notes and photos, they attempted to create a list of actual facts and another list of things they suspected but were not sure about. Jimmy was still confused about cadets at the FBI Academy being encouraged to cheat at anything.

"Wait, I thought the 'I' in FBI stood for integrity," Jimmy said. "How does cheating, or thinking outside the box or whatever, jibe with the whole integrity thing?"

"It does stand for integrity," Marcus confirmed.

"Then, what's up with all the cheating stuff," Jimmy asked

"Look," Marcus said. "Integrity applies to everything we do. But it's viewed a little differently at the Academy. Remember, almost everything is a lesson there, twenty-four hours a day. They've spent years perfecting their system of training. So, sometimes we were tested on our knowledge, and sometimes we were tested on our ability to overcome obstacles. And, sometimes it was an either or proposition — either you know a subject really well or you figure out a way to get through it. It wasn't considered immoral to think outside the box, and they don't use the word cheat for doing that. So, as long as we stayed within Academy rules, sometimes we had options to choose from."

Jimmy asked, "And how does that work?"

"Well, if they told us explicitly that there will be no cheating or improvising, then we were expected to uphold that based on the honor system. But there were times when they would let you know that improvising was acceptable — if you didn't get caught. Getting caught came with grave consequences no matter what, which is why it was always a personal choice. Some people sailed through the academy on brains and ability alone, and never once improvised on anything. And, damn, do I admire those people because it's not something I was capable of. But there was always a thin gray line between black and white."

Jimmy laughed and then asked, "Okay, so what's a real world scenario where you might improvise, or find the gray line, without compromising the holy seal of federal integrity?"

"Picture this," Marcus said, "The proverbial ticking time-bomb scenario, right? Now, I can't hook up a car battery to a suspect's testicles to get the information I need to find the bomb because that's illegal, right? But, the Supreme Court declared that it is perfectly legal for law enforcement officers to lie to suspects when seeking a greater truth."

"So, what then," Jimmy asked.

"So, would you rather I speak politely and honestly with a suspect to find out where the bomb is planted? Or, would you rather I screw with his head and lie my ass off? That's the gray line between integrity and improvising. Lies and psychological games might not be the most upright thing, but they damn sure aren't immoral or illegal. Especially in that situation."

"So, getting the job done without bending the law or compromising morality. Yeah, you'd last about ten fucking minutes in the NYPD," Jimmy said while laughing. "As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure you can catch a cab in New York City with those lofty ideals."

"That, my friend, is why I do so much walking." Marcus explained. "Well, that and the fact that your drivers don't seem to like picking up black guys who are six-and-half-feet tall."

"Ah, don't limit yourself, brother," Jimmy snapped back.

"Meaning what," Marcus asked. "Lame attempt at racist humor?"

"No. Lame attempt at tall humor," Jimmy said with a smile.

"No humor, no brains, and no looks. Just what in the hell does Erin see in you?"

"I've got a cat," Jimmy said proudly.

"That's the secret, huh," Marcus asked while reaching for another beer. "Might have to get one for myself, improve my odds a little."

"Works wonders," Jimmy said. "She's over here all the time now."

"Alright, alright, funny guy. Tell me something. Did you ever track down this Lamar Tate guy? The partner of one of the vic's from the house?"

"No," Jimmy said. "We asked the 104th to put out some feelers, see if anyone has seen or heard from him lately. But we've gotten nothing back. One of our early theories was that he might have been involved. Maybe double-crossed his partner and the guys from Baltimore in an attempt to go into business for himself. But if that were the case, he should have been heard from or seen by now. I don't know. Maybe Queens just got busy and forgot our request. It'd be understandable, they got enough of their own crime going on."

"Huh," Marcus said. "Trying to confirm if this guy was even there or not might be a huge step in unraveling this mess. That means that trying to find this clown is now at the top of the to-do list."

"Well, boss," Martinez said. "We've all had a quick look at the place and the neighborhood. And, you're going to love this. We couldn't have picked a better target, but in the worst possible spot."

They were meeting out at the end of the pier. It was costing far too much time and money to meet on the boat every time they wanted to discuss something. As Hodges noted, they were starting to appear as part-time cops and full-time fisherman. Even worse, the last few times that they met, nobody even bothered to bring fishing gear. There were not many more ways to look suspicious than four guys getting on a fishing boat at all hours of the night and day, multiple times in a week, with no fishing gear.

"What do you mean," Ortiz asked. "What's so bad about the area?"

"Well," Hodges said. "That great big parking lot next door belongs to a hospital."

"That means traffic and pedestrians day and night," offered Martinez. "Plus, the security guards that staff the lot."

"We would need split-second timing," Hodges said. "And a lot of luck."

"On the other hand," Martinez said. "Besides having two guards on duty every eight hours, we're talking relatively little in the way of actual security. Plus, I don't know how this dude isn't on somebody's radar. He's literally got bricks of cocaine and heroin moving in and out of there, along with cash that comes and goes by the suitcase."

"Well," Hodges said. "It's our collective opinion that this is the best-bad location that we've ever seen."

"So, what are you guys telling me," Ortiz asked. "Is this one a no-go or what?"

"That's the thing, boss," Hodges said. "We just can't call it. It's a terrible situation. Yet, the target is so soft, and the scumbag is so complacent that he doesn't even carry a weapon. The most he's got for security is a mean dog. I'm telling ya, I'm not sure that he even locks the front door. But, again, he might as well be on Times Square for all the damn traffic the area has, night and day."

"We sure could put a dent in local drug supplies if we take this guy, boss," Martinez said. Then, with a giggle, he said, "It would be real a blow to coke and heroin sales."

"Alright comedian. That's what I came up with on my end, too," Ortiz said. "Just minus the pun. He seems to be connected to street dealers all over the place. And he would be a healthy target if we move on him."

"Hey, we can always take a look at some scenarios," Hodges said. "If we don't like what we come up with, we've pretty much got until the moment we kick his door in to cancel if we don't like something."

"Alright, guys," Ortiz said. "Somebody bring Rome up to date on everything when you see him and let's plan to sit down and work something out. You guys all have first-hand intel on the area, and we all know what we're doing, so I'm going to lean pretty heavily into whatever you guys come up with."

"Roger that, boss," Hodges said. "We'll come up with some plans and get back to you."

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Jimmy would remember it well because he had almost a full day of thinking about nothing but police work. Technically, he was still out on leave for another few days. But his time with Marcus lately was as much of a therapy for him as it was a learning experience. Sitting around with Marcus and reexamining every detail of the case was forcing him to think about more than self-pity. And then came the phone call from the hospital.

"Did she have any family that you know of," Erin asked him.

"I don't know of any," Jimmy replied. "But it's not like we were all that close. She was my neighbor. Sometimes she had fresh baked cookies for me, and sometimes I took out her trash or carried large boxes to the post office for her. She talked about a lot of stuff, but she never mentioned any children or any family that I can remember."

"Did you ever notice any visitors," Erin asked.

"No," Jimmy said. "It was mostly just her and Mr. Purdles."

"Well, you're going to have to keep him now, Jimmy."

"What? Why do I have to keep him," Jimmy asked.

"Well, for one thing," Erin said. "You didn't call him the cat, just now. You said his name. Also, because he's been a real comfort And, mostly, because there's been enough loss around here lately. You can't just turn him out, now, too."

"Yeah, well, he does like beer and pizza," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy! You can't feed him beer and pizza," Erin chided. "He's a cat, not a college mascot."

"Blame Marcus," Jimmy said. "He started it."

"Well, we should try to figure out if she has any family or anyone else," Erin said.

"I can't," Jimmy said. "I can't face another family after getting their loved-one killed."

"Jimmy," Erin said. "You can't blame yourself for this, too. You didn't cause this, somebody else did this."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. "But they did it to me. If I hadn't been around…"

"Jimmy, you can't take the blame for this. How in the hell do you even know it was about you. For one thing, they shot up her place, not yours. For another, you and Marcus finally figured out that a lot of stuff has been manipulated one way or another. You don't even know if the supposed hit that was taken out on you was real or not."

"Then it's a mighty big coincidence, don't ya think?"

"Whatever it is, Jimmy, you can't use this as some sort of excuse to crawl back into your shell and feel sorry for yourself all over again. She's gone, you're not. That means that you have an obligation to figure out all of this stuff. You're right about one thing, though. You're at the center of everything. So, if you shut down now, everything falls apart. And somebody gets away with all of it."

Jimmy was quiet for a while, just staring at the wall. Then, "Okay, you're right," Jimmy said.

"So, what are you going to do about it," Erin asked.

Still staring at the wall, in a low growl, Jimmy said, "I'm going to find out who is behind all this bullshit and make them pay."