CHAPTER ONE

The boat glided through the water, occasionally causing sea spray to drift aboard and glimmer in the afternoon sunlight. Sgt. Ortiz had gathered his narcotics squad for an afternoon of leisure on his fishing boat.

At just under forty-feet in length, it was no yacht, but it was comfortable enough for the four of them to relax on. Its reinforced structure and powerful engines made it able to handle an average day out on the ocean.

Technically, the ocean was about eleven miles away, across the Bay. However, with minimal commercial or recreational traffic, the Lower Bay might as well have been on the moon. It was perfect for anyone wanting to get away from the crowded city for a few hours. And, because the Coast Guard station was just a few miles to the south, in Sandy Hook, there was rarely any trouble in the Bay.

After a while, Ortiz killed the engines and just let the boat slowly coast over the waves. He turned around from the controls and looked down at the collection of narcotics detectives turned vigilante sprawled out on the aft deck. Getting their fishing gear together, drinking beers, and laughing loudly — they didn't seem to have a care in the world.

All three of his detectives were dedicated. They all had military experience. Each of them also had his own special motivation for fighting against the sale of illegal drugs. With Ortiz in charge, the four-man narcotics squad routinely racked up more high-level drug busts than any other precinct in New York City.

Ortiz was surprised at how quickly things had progressed. His mind wandered back to where this fishing trip had begun.

When his cell phone rang, he glanced down and noticed that the number showed up as unlisted. Typical day in the Narcotics Bureau. It could be a cop, a criminal, or an informant. Sooner or later, everyone in this racket became paranoid.

Ortiz said, "Hello."

"Is this Detective Sergeant Ortiz?"

He could tell by the tone of voice, and the years of entitlement in that voice, that this was someone from headquarters. Headquarters never called anyone for anything good.

"Yeah, this is Ortiz," he offered cautiously.

That phone call would lead to a meeting with a high-ranking police official whom the rest of the Bronx Narcotics Bureau would come to know as the "Rabbi." It was made clear during the first phone call that no one but Ortiz was to know the Rabbi's true name or position within the department.

"You may, or may not, know that my family suffered a horrible loss," The Rabbi said.

"We have followed a lot of leads, sir. We have the dealer that gave her the drugs and we are still pursuing leads from his arrest." Ortiz started to explain.

"Sergeant," the Rabbi said. "She may have willingly used the drugs, but I hold the people who brought her those drugs responsible for her death.."

"We're still pursuing leads, sir. We will get everyone involved."

"That's why I'm calling. Your leads are not the problem. The people at the street level also have a price to pay. However, it's the people at the top of the chain, the people bringing the stuff into our city, that are the real problem."

"Sir," Ortiz tried again. "Most of those people keep themselves insulated from the streets in many ways. It's just not as easy to…"

"Sergeant, let me stop you before you get much further. This isn't the typical micromanaging phone call from someone pressing for a higher stat count. I want to talk to you about making a real difference."

Great, Ortiz thought to himself. A parent looking for justice or another politician looking for new headlines. Either one usually led to some sort of project that often came at the time and expense of actual police work.

"Sergeant, as I understand it, you suffered a personal loss of your own due to street drugs."

"Yes, sir, my little brother," Ortiz said. What he did not say was that, if this politician was about to use the death of his little brother to champion a new cause, Ortiz would happily shove his shield up this politician's backside.

Instead, Ortiz heard, "Sergeant, I want to get rid of the high-level dealers. Clear them out, once and for all. Yes or no, do you want to be a part of that?"

Ortiz hated political games and was justifiably suspicious any time a politician asked if he wanted to be a part of something. The question was often some kind of set-up for a bait-and-switch proposition. Ortiz had to remind himself to handle this caller with care.

"Sir, arresting the kind of people that you're talking about is often the biggest challenge any of us face daily."

"Sergeant, I'm not talking about arresting anyone. Ever. That is all that I am willing to say until we have made an agreement of some sort."

"Well, sir," Ortiz said slowly. "That can mean a lot of different things. But let's say that I'm getting interested."

"Well, this song and dance is not getting us anywhere. I have faith that you are the man I'm looking for. So, Sergeant, I'm about to get brutally honest with you."

"Yes, sir."

"Sergeant, I want to cut the head off of the snake. Maybe if the health risks associated with importing drugs were a little more grave, then the risk might begin to outweigh the reward."

"Yes, sir," Ortiz agreed. "But that's often easier said than done." This was starting to sound like a political campaign speech, he said to himself.

"Sergeant, I want to kill these bastards off."

"Yes, sir. We all want them off of the streets, sooner rather than later."

"Sergeant, you're not listening to me. I want these bastards dead!"

What in the hell did he just say? "I'm not sure that I follow you, sir."

"I want to kill them, Ortiz. More precisely, I want you to kill them for me. Get rid of their bodies or make fucking public displays out of them. I don't care which. I just want to get rid of the scum. Permanently."

"Well, sir," Ortiz said in a measured tone. "That could involve some legal and moral hurdles. I understand that you're angry. And, honestly, I have some experience with…"

"Damn it, Ortiz. This isn't some last minute, knee-jerk, emotional reaction. This is all that I've thought about for the last two months. It has only taken me this long to call you because I have been reviewing service records for two months looking for the right person to approach. And I believe that you are that person."

Ortiz leaned back in his seat, wiped the newly forming sweat from his forehead, and looked around the office just in case one of his guys was playing a prank on him.

"Sergeant, are you still there?"

"Yes, sir," Ortiz said. "Just processing some things."

"Are you interested in talking about this in greater detail?"

"In person, sir. Not on the phone. Never again on the phone, sir."

"Very good," The Rabbi declared. "I trust that you can find my office within the hour?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. I will see you then."

As the phone connection went dead, Ortiz just sat there, holding the phone to his ear, and staring at the wall in disbelief. He knew that, no matter how this turned out later, he needed to proceed cautiously for now.

About an hour later, Ortiz was sitting in the Rabbi's office. Though the Rabbi spoke plainly and bluntly about his ideas, Ortiz was still lost in disbelief. If it was a setup, there was way too much cheese on the trap, far too many things were said. More importantly, the Rabbi didn't want any details, only action. So, if there were no details to report, then there would be no details to later hang or blackmail Ortiz with.

"Sergeant, I chose to propose this project to you because of your younger brother. I do not mean to trivialize your loss nor use your brother as an emotional trigger. I mention him because only someone that has experienced such a close loss can truly understand what I'm proposing."

"I understand the loss and the frustration, sir," Ortiz said. "But as I said before, there are a lot more things to think about here. From both moral and legal viewpoints."

"Look, as for legal. We are the law. Sometimes we are called on to enforce it, sometimes to protect it, and sometimes to interpret it. Our jobs involve the distinction of splitting hairs when it comes to law. More importantly, it's often our ass hanging out in the wind when civilians expect a standard to be met or society needs something to be done. Would you say that society has a true need here, Sergeant?"

"I would, sir," replied Ortiz. "But we also have our own organizations and efforts within the department to combat problems such as illegal drugs."

"And just how well is that working out for us, Sergeant?"

Ortiz knew better than to respond to a rhetorical question at headquarters, no matter what the subject was.

"More importantly, only a cop would understand the futility of what we do every day. We throw the best of laws, men, and technology at this drug problem — and it just comes back stronger. It's time for a new approach. Not something based on statistics and clearance rates. Rather, something that just damn works."

"Look, I understand the logic behind this idea, sir," Ortiz began. "But there is still the moral question about doing this."

"Do we not have a moral obligation to stop this from happening to more and more people? How many more families have to experience the types of loss that we have? When are the losses enough? How many more members do we need in a club that nobody wants to belong to?"

"We could say that about almost anything in life, sir."

"Don't! Do not try to equivocate this with anything else, Sergeant. Let me ask you something. Why did you become a cop when you left the military?"

"You already know why, sir. To fight the animals that sell drugs to kids. And, no, it's not working out ideally. But we do have our successes. This idea of yours has merit and has potential. But it also involves us setting aside everything the shield represents in order to handle things our own way."

"Sergeant, don't tell me about my shield. I joined the department and worked my way up because headquarters is the only place I could make a real difference. Further, I believe that you became a cop, and then a detective, because your shield allows you the ability to fight drug dealers more effectively than if you were a civilian. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir. That's exactly the reason."

"Let me ask you something else. You handpicked every detective on your narcotics squad. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, it's fair to say that you know and trust each of them fairly well. Correct?"

"Again, yes, sir."

"Then let me ask you this." The Rabbi leaned back in his chair and studied Ortiz for a moment before asking, "If you proposed this to them, what reaction do you think you would get?"

"I believe they would jump at the opportunity, sir. Honestly, I think they would have less apprehension than I do right now."

"Well, Sergeant, let me ask you this. Would you gamble your life on that?"

"Yes, sir. My team is tight. We're all vets, we've all seen combat, and we all do what we do now because we believe in it. Nobody joined my squad just to advance their career."

"Okay, Sergeant," The Rabbi said. "I want you to take a few days and think things over for yourself. That means you do not mention this to anyone just yet. Only two people know about my idea, so far, and I'm one of them. So, keep it between us. But go take some time to consider the impact that you could be making against drug scum versus the one you're making now."

Ortiz was back to see the Rabbi within two days. Within a week, he had his squad briefed on the plan. It took them all less than five minutes to accept the terms of the plan.

There were three simple rules that the squad came up with and asked the Rabbi to agree to. Rule one, since they were already tasked with finding and keeping tabs on various people associated with drug trafficking and sales, finding targets would be up to them. They decided among themselves that the targets should be high-level. No street dealers would be targeted as part of this.

The next rule that they came up with was that there should be a precedent from the beginning that would help them keep their focus. Any drugs that they came across would be destroyed. Any cash that they came across would be used to build an operating fund. If there was excess money after their tactical needs were met, then it would be anonymously donated among various local charities.

The third rule that they came up with is that nobody ever talks to anyone about any of this — ever. Being former military, and current NYPD detectives, this was perhaps the easiest thing for all of them. Especially for narcotics detectives, where operational security often meant the difference between life and death. Compartmentalizing information was a normal daily practice for these detectives.

The Rabbi agreed with all of their proposed rules, while reminding them of his own rule: Nobody but Ortiz was to know his identity or to make any contact with him. All communications would be handled through Ortiz and the Rabbi. If something ever happened to him or Ortiz, then all bets were off and everyone would simply return to normal police work. The other three detectives felt relief about this rule, as it was one less secret they had to protect.

The decision was made, and they immediately hit the files, planning for their first operation. They soon realized that one challenge was going to be dividing their attention on a daily basis. It meant keeping up the vigor with which they already pursued their regular job, while also trying to make covert plans for this new mission. If they slacked off even a little in their regular duties, it might cause someone to ask why.

So, in order to maintain appearances, they would have to restrict their new vigilante efforts to off-duty hours only. But this only took a few weeks to adjust to. It was decided that, at least for the next few months, they would only plan or talk about their off-duty activities when aboard Ortiz's boat. This helped them to compartmentalize their operations even more. The boat provided security from intrusion or eavesdropping, as well as provided a convenient excuse for getting together off-duty so often. They were going fishing.

As Ortiz emerged from the memory, he decided to get their business talk out of the way so that they could just relax and actually catch fish for a change. "Alright, alright," he announced. "Quiet down. We got some stuff we need to cover."

As the narcotics crew settled back in their seats, Ortiz continued, "Okay. Anybody got a problem with what we did last night?"

"Well, we almost lost that squirrelly one," Hodges said with an amused chuckle.

"I had him the whole time. I was just curious if he wanted to die tired or not," Roman announced with a big grin.

Everyone laughed.

Ortiz took a deep breath and said, "Jokes, aside. Does anybody have a problem with the way we handled that scum last night? Any second-thoughts or regrets?"

A chorus of no's arose as everyone looked around at each other.

"Good," Ortiz announced. "Maybe we can actually put a dent in the problem that is eating this city alive. And I think that is the real reason we all gravitated to this job. We did a good thing last night, we finally made a huge difference."

"Hey, boss," Roman spoke up. "I think we're all good with this. We all have our own reasons for doing this, but the one thing that all we agree on is that it's long overdue. I don't think any of us are going to lose any sleep over last night."

Then Hodges added, "Yeah, Sarge, these aren't first-time offenders or street level punks trying to make a living. These are the real bad guys responsible for actually bringing this shit into the city to begin with. Without them, there are going to be fewer problems for us to deal with."

Ortiz nodded his head and looked over at Detective Gil Martinez. "How about it, Gil? Are you still good with this?"

"Sarge, I'm cooler than the fish below this boat right now. My only concern is, why are we floating around out here when we could be in the city doing it again?"

"Because," Ortiz said, trying miserably to stifle a laugh. "We can't hit 'em too hard, too often, or we'll start drawing unwanted attention from the media. Next thing you know, we have a bunch of liberals from PETA marching down Fifth Avenue crying about endangered drug dealers."

"Roger that," Martinez replied.

Ortiz looked around at his detective squad and glowed with pride. He had led men in combat before, in an actual war. But he had never before felt pride like he did today. He knew that he had a solid crew and a real chance to make a difference. On the other hand, he was also amused by the fact that he would have to keep all of them reeled in on a short leash. Otherwise, they might end the whole war on drugs by some time next week.

"Alright," Ortiz spoke, again. "So, we're all still good?"

Again, everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well, alright then. Let's get on with our current mission and catch some damn fish."