CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"Jimmy, I wanted to give you a heads-up," Marcus said. "We might pick up one of the Bronx detectives today. No promises, but if that happens, you'll get a call from your bosses. Don't mention anything to them or act any different until they tell you we took over the case."

"Okay," Jimmy said. "I appreciate you calling to tell me. What changed overnight that set you guys in motion?"

"We tracked one of them via their cell phone last night and he was present at two different locations where dealers were murdered. It's only circumstantial evidence at this point, but…"

Jimmy interrupted him, "Which detective is it? And where were the murders?"

"It's Roman Georginski. One murder was in Brownsville and the other was in Bushwick," Marcus said. "We don't have any witnesses or anything else that actually ties him to anything except the locations themselves. But it's a start."

"So, what? He gets picked up because his phone appeared somewhere without any proof that he was actually there? Any first year law student could get that case thrown out."

"Look, Jimmy. Most of us want to wait, but the decision comes from well above my pay grade. The bottom line is that now we're sure these are the guys we want."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. "No denying that. How about the other two guys? Any closer to getting anything on them?"

"So far, nothing on either one of them," Marcus said. "We were hoping to track them being out with Georginski last night. But Ortiz was completely off the radar, so nothing there, and Hodges was at a VFW hall for most of the night."

"I hate to say it, Marcus, but you guys might have to work a little harder on these guys."

"You mean like how we got lucky with Georginski last night? That didn't take much work. Actually, it was almost too easy."

"That's something else," Jimmy said. "Think about how careful they've been up to this point and how much they've done to manipulate the investigation so far. Does this sound like the time for one of them to make such a huge mistake?"

"No, not really," Marcus said. "However, if I were one of them, and I wanted to know if someone was watching me right now, I might do something similar to this."

"Yeah, that makes much more sense," Jimmy agreed. "They might just be trying to see if anyone is watching, and if you guys move with nothing more than that cell phone track, they'll have their answer."

"Yeah, it's a risk," Marcus said. "But it's not up to me."

"Hey, Rome," Ortiz said. "If something was up, they would have called or showed up by now. I honestly think you're in the clear. Plus, even though it was a mistake, it tells us that we're probably not being monitored for anything. If we were, they definitely would have pounced on us by now."

"You sure, boss," Roman asked. "They could just be waiting, trying to build a stronger case."

"A stronger case," Ortiz asked. "You think they'd pass up a mistake like last night in the hopes that we might make another, even bigger mistake at some point? No way, Rome. If they had anything solid, they would have been all over us by now. I'm pretty sure we're in the clear."

"That would be great," Roman said. "But if we're clear, then I have to pause on anything else, boss. I mean, if there's anything else I can do to help with the lawyer thing, just name it. But, after last night, I've got to take a step back from off-duty stuff."

"No worries, Rome," Ortiz said. "I get it. I'm going to chill out for a little while, too. I'll find another way to deal with that lawyer. There's just too much risk out there right now."

"Thanks for understanding, boss," Roman said.

"No problem, brother," Ortiz said. "When Hodges gets back from court today, you guys should try to set up some buy/busts for later tonight. I'll be back in a few hours. Hey, we'll need to coordinate with patrol to have a few units on stand-by tonight to assist us. Can you cover that?"

"You got it, boss."

Marcus, Jimmy, and Erin were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking beers and eating pizza. Marcus was pointing out how much trouble they were having linking the Assistant Chief to the Bronx detectives.

"Can't you guys just arrest him and run with the evidence or records or whatever that you have now," Erin asked.

"It's not that easy, sweetheart," Jimmy said. "It's like trying to arrest the Pope for a crime, but much harder. The FBI has a few things on the detectives, but there really is nothing useful connecting the Assistant Chief to anything."

"He's right. There's just nothing there. The Assistant Chief might have forged an incident report or falsely signed a document, or whatever. But that's an internal issue for the NYPD. There's nothing that we can do with that. We need evidence of him committing a crime or colluding in a crime."

"You mean, like, some sort of Federal law or something," Erin asked.

"Yeah, something like that," Marcus agreed.

"Okay," Erin said. "So, the NYPD receives all sorts of money for anti-drug efforts, anti-terrorism operations, etc. Those Federal dollars come from quite a few different agencies. And, ultimately, he's responsible for how most of the Federal dollars are used within the department. Ergo, if you can connect him to any crime at all, then you can make a Federal case out of it because of the Federal funding."

"Holy shit," Marcus said with a whistle. "That is why the pen is mightier than the sword. Remind me to never cross anyone at the comptroller's office."

"Hey," Erin said. "Accountants can be dangerous, too."

"No doubt," Marcus said. "Most people don't know that it was actually a bunch of accountants that brought down Al Capone while he was the biggest gangster in Chicago."

"Did that really happen," Erin asked.

"Yep. Got him convicted for tax evasion, which sent him to prison for a long time. The numbers don't lie."

"Huh," Jimmy grunted. "Hey, Marcus, could you guys actually work with that? Something based on Federal funding?"

"Are you kidding me," Marcus asked. "We probably got as many accountants as we do agents. But, remember, the key part of any action we take still relies on an actual crime having been committed. There is no evidence of him committing any crimes, yet."

"I can't believe all of these people work for the police department," Erin said. "Even worse, it sounds like they might get away with everything. That isn't right."

"No, it's not," Marcus said. "But that's how the system works for now."

"Hey, Marcus, I've been thinking," Jimmy said. "These guys seem to like manipulating cases, misleading investigations, etc. Well, what if we turn the tables on them?"

"What do you mean," Marcus asked.

"What if we decide to do some manipulating of our own?"

"You got some nerve even showing up here, bitch-ass cop," Sweet B growled. "And then you have the audacity to ask for a favor? The only favor you get is walking out of here alive, and that's only if my fellas don't hit you with automatic gunfire on the way out. Yeah, motherfucker, you think I didn't learn anything from your last visit? I got security now, bitch-ass cracker motherfucker!"

"Good for you, Deshawn," Jimmy said. "I came to you for one reason and one reason only. A chance for you to see some justice done for your uncle."

"What are you talking about, cop," Sweet B asked.

"I know who took your uncle out," Jimmy said. "And we're having a hell of a time arresting them because they've been pretty smart, so far."

"Fuck some arrests. Point me at those bitches and I'll take care of it myself. Save you honkeys a bunch of time and money. I'll even pay you for the information."

"Can't do it, Deshawn," Jimmy said. "But I can probably take 'em down if you're willing to help."

"Why are you fucking with me, white boy? You trying to set me up or what? You want those motherfuckers dealt with, then just give me what I need to know. Fuck what you're talking about, I can make the motherfuckers disappear."

"Can't do it, Deshawn," Jimmy said, again. "If you don't care, fine. I can just keep going about my business. And, maybe I get 'em, maybe I don't. But, if they are going down for this shit, there's only one way it's going to happen — legally."

"Slow your roll, white boy," Sweet B said. "Why are you trying to protect these bitches? Your homicide police, you don't like motherfuckers like them anyway, so why are you trying to save 'em?"

"It's not about saving them," Jimmy said. "It's about the law."

"Oh, yeah," Sweet B asked. "Is that the same law that lets you put a pistol in my face and threaten my life? Nah, that's just a privilege you get because you got a badge. But one of us loses a family member, and it's all about law and order, huh?"

"Deshawn, I was wrong," Jimmy said. "Street bullshit aside, we both know how wrong I was. That wasn't law, that was me being selfish. That was me abusing my authority. And that was me being extremely lucky to get out of here alive."

"Damn right it was," Sweet B said. "That was some bullshit. And so is this. I prefer to handle this shit myself. But, go ahead, tell me about justice and all that shit."

Jimmy began laying out his plan to catch the Bronx detectives without actually giving any clue as to who or what they were. Sweet B listened intently. After a few minutes, Sweet B asked Jimmy, "That's all you need from me and those motherfuckers go down?"

"Well, I can't guarantee they'll go down for anything. I can't even guarantee that they'll show up. But if they do show up, it'll be the best shot we've had so far at getting those motherfuckers. And, if it all falls apart, well, then you'll at least have the names that you want."

"I'll guarantee that they show up. You just make sure you get the motherfuckers before I do."

Ortiz and his two narcotics detectives had set up some street-level buy/busts simply because, no matter what else the Narcotics Bureau accomplished, nothing pleased the bosses more than a high number of drug-related arrests every month. With the support of two patrol units from the 41st precinct, The detectives bought drugs from various street dealers and then arrested them as soon as the transaction was complete. Now, back in the office, the detectives were comparing notes.

"Well," Hodges said. "I got two dealers with some info. One that insists he's been able to resupply himself from a guy calling himself 'White Mike' but he swears he doesn't know anything besides a beeper number."

"A what," Roman asked incredulously. "Who in the hell has a beeper? Did White Mike time-travel here from nineteen-ninety-five?"

"Seriously," Hodges said while stifling a laugh. "I've got the number, and it actually checks out as legit. Apparently, he only has to beep this guy with a three-digit number that identifies him and then three zeros followed by a single number representing the ounces of crack that he needs. After that, he will meet you at a predetermined location with your resupply, within the hour."

"Yeah," Roman said. "But can't he do the same thing with a phone?"

"Not nearly as secure," Hodges replied. "Phones have constant transmission surges as they search for signals from nearby cell towers. But a pager only activates once, which is when it gets a message. So, it can't really track somebody in real time unless they get a lot of pages or they just stay in the same place all day."

"Now that is kind of funny," Ortiz said. "Not because of the pager, but because I just interviewed another guy who told me almost the exact same thing."

"You're kidding me," Hodges said.

"Nope. He doesn't know anything about this guy except that he's new on the scene and taking up as much new business as he can. And the pager may be secure, but the delivery sure isn't. If we know he's on his way to a delivery, we can just sit on that spot and grab him when he arrives. Hell, we'll even know the exact time that he's going to show up."

"That's where my second guy comes in," Hodges said. "He claims that Mike is from Trenton. Says he has got a cousin that knows the guy. If it's true, that would explain why he takes an hour to resupply these guys."

"I don't understand," Roman said. "If he is so smart, why would he make it so easy for us to bust him?"

"My second guy also told me that the current meeting place is only temporary. Soon, White Mike will have everyone on a system where they can deposit their money in one place and grab their resupply somewhere else."

"We're all screwed if that happens," Ortiz observed. "Even if we arrest people, it's going to make the District Attorney's life a living hell trying to prosecute cases like that."

"Can you believe this shit," Roman asked out loud. "This is the time that we find out about this guy?"

Ortiz and Hodges both froze and prayed that Roman would not say something about killing drug dealers while they were all sitting in the office of a police station. They were not disappointed.

"I mean," Roman said. "The guy is from Trenton, so our only chance to arrest him is if he shows up on our turf at the right time and place. Those bums over in Trenton could probably arrest him anytime they want. But instead they're sitting on their lazy New Jersey asses and waiting on real cops to do something."

"Well," Ortiz said. "Considering what we do and don't know about this guy, so far, I don't think we should add his name to our database, yet. Honestly, I probably won't even add his name to my notes. This could easily just be a rehearsed story that these guys came up with, something to offer up in case they got jammed up from an arrest."

Hodges looked over and slowly started to nod his head. "Yeah, boss. No need to document anything right now. But maybe we can find out more about him in the future."

"Yeah, if he even exists," Ortiz said, now smiling. "And there's no use in us releasing these guys if they haven't given us any good information. Also, no need to send a warning to this guy, just in case he does exist."

Roman watched this conversation between Hodges and Ortiz with a sort of confused look on his face. Finally, he asked, "Wait, you guys don't believe this scumbag is real? Why not beep his ass and go sit on that location to see if he shows up?"

Ortiz went silent again, this time just glaring at Roman with a look that could melt ice-cubes.

"Hey, boss," Roman said. "I'm just saying… Ohhhhhh. Yeah, I get it. Never mind. He's probably not real."

Ortiz said, "Nobody else talks to these guys. Just roll 'em up and send them down to central booking with the rest of the scum. We treat their information as not-credible and move forward."

"Roger that, boss," Hodges said. "My report has four interrogations from tonight's arrests, and all four refused to give any information or cooperation. Nothing else to report."

"Yeah," Roman agreed. "I had three, and nobody wanted to tell me anything except what I could bend over and do with myself. Fuck 'em, they'll be spending the night somewhere between central booking and Rikers Island. Let's see how they like bending over."

Ortiz just sat there quietly, lost in thought, as the other two detectives finished typing up their arrest reports. He didn't tell them that he had gotten both the beeper code and the location of where to meet the new dealer at. His two detectives seemed to be under the impression that this new dealer was just being put on hold for now, only to be dealt with later. But Ortiz was thinking about meeting this dealer on his own. Soon. He still needed more money for his lawyer. No use in waiting. Better to get this one over with now.