by Azhar Amien
Chapter 2: Breakthrough
It was always said that time slowed when your adrenaline pumped. That was false; nothing more than a writer’s tool for dramatic effect. It actually sped up. It was like losing your grip. You no longer thought. You simply acted. You became dislodged from the minutes that passed you by. Hundreds of ideas coursed through your mind, none of which you would consider for more than a second. And you knew: now would not be the time for fear or regret. That would come later.
The days after I had busted the men at the docks had been a blur. Overnight it was as though I had become a celebrity. The story was a sensation across the city. Police officer makes extraordinary bust. Of course the weapons couldn’t be traced back to the big fish. It was never that easy. But the weapons that had been brought in were advanced enough to be from a Special Forces unit, which got us stirred up. It was almost as though a private army was being set up. The thought was scary by itself. But for the first time in I didn’t know how long I didn’t feel afraid. I felt good. Victory, no matter how small or big, was something. A reminder of what was achievable. And it had made me realise a truth. I could live the rest of my life afraid of what I could do, or I could face my enemies and make sure that I won. After all it was not the criminals of the city who kept me from being a better man. It was only me.
When I had first told Nicole she had not known what to say. She had been afraid, scared for me and our family and unsure whether to be happy for me or angry at me for my recklessness. But over the last few days she had come around. My daughter beamed at me with admiration. Of course she was far too young to understand what I had done, but children were often much sharper than adults gave them credit for and she could easily catch on that her father had done something special. Special enough that he was on the front page of the newspaper. And she could understand that he wasn’t just a cop anymore.
He had taken that promotion.
My boss, and good friend, Sarah Blake had wanted me to take the job for years. She was one of the good ones; the precious few. She had taken me to one side and asked what had changed my mind. I would have thought that I’d find that hard to answer but I did not. I had simply said “Jess.” She had given me one of her infrequent smiles in response and told me that I had done something great and that this was big. She had not asked why I had done it or what I had been doing there. She was like that with me. It was why I appreciated her as a friend. She knew that if I wanted to talk about something to her, I would. She didn’t push me or demand anything from me. But I could tell she was really pleased I had taken the job. And I could admit that I was glad too.
I was at home with my wife and daughter and I couldn’t stop the feeling of euphoria that spread through me. It felt like it would never disappear. I was so lucky to have what I did. I was even fortunate with the way things had happened at the docks. I knew that I wasn’t going to screw this up. My family meant the world to me. I was doing this for them. Things would be different now. And I had a real partner in this now. Both Sarah and I knew that there was no one else among the police whom we trusted more than each other.
“It’s good to see you smiling,” Nicole winked as she said it.
I looked up at her and took in her beauty. I felt the familiar, overwhelming love and joy that I did only when I was with her.
“I always am with you,” I said.
She laughed, “Well, whenever you’re not brooding then sure you are.”
“You like it,” I replied, winking at Jess who grinned comically and showed me her teeth.
“D-a-a-a-d-y,” Jess then said in a sing-song voice, placing her white teddy bear onto the kitchen table and looking at me curiously.
“Yes cupcake?” I answered as I leaned closer to her.
“It’s story night!” she squealed.
“Wasn’t it ‘story night’ yesterday?” I quizzed, humouring her.
She blew up her cheeks and tried to pout at the same time. I know all parents think that their child is the cutest but you’d really have to have no soul if you didn’t find Jess adorable. She could never get enough of me reading to her for some reason. I didn’t even have a special voice or anything like that. She loved her fairytales too. She was as girly as they came. Unicorns, flowers, rainbows and all the rest of it. She lived in fantasy land, and I loved it.
Nicole reached over and stroked her hair, “Oh no, sweetie. Daddy is mine tonight. You can’t steal him again.”
“But you’re having your turn now, mummy!” she said with that goofy grin.
Nicole gasped, pretended to be shocked and then tickled Jess into submission. I just laughed and eventually broke it up by saying I’d make time for the both of them. I loved my family. They were the only reason I could live here in this city. The only reason I could feel whole. Maybe from here on things wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe things would get better. Maybe I could start hoping again.
It was late. I heard Nicole enter our bedroom. We had finally got Jess to sleep. I was in bed staring up at the ceiling as I usually did when I was in thought.
“For a moment there I was worried that we were going to have to sedate her,” Nicole said with that little giggle I loved.
I smiled, “She got her liveliness from you.”
“And her brains from you,” my wife replied, slipping into bed and kissing me.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Don’t I know it,” Nicole replied.
I held her close and went silent for a moment. She knew me too well. She knew what was on my mind.
“Jack you’ve got to stop worrying about this, about taking the promotion and about the choice you made. I know it’s hard, and I know I wasn’t sure at first too, but no matter what I’ve said in the past I always knew that you could do it. And I always knew that I would love you and support you regardless of the decisions you made.”
“You know this place, love. You know what we live in and what we both deal with every day we go to work.”
She kissed me again, softly, and for a moment all of my worries fell away.
“I know that you care, baby, too much sometimes. But you did a good thing. A brave thing. And the world didn’t end, did it? For so long you’ve been scared that stepping a foot out of line would make you lose us. Maybe that was always just nothing but fear. You’re a husband and a father, Jack. It’s not crazy to feel that way.”
“You know you do this thing, honey, where you just make everything better somehow.”
She laughed and moved on top of me, putting her hands on my chest.
“I’m just saying,” she started, leaning in close, “Have a little faith.”
I grinned then, rubbing her legs.
She gave me a mischievous smile, “You know I love it when you do that.”
“Do what?” I asked, feigning innocence, moving my hands over her thighs.
“That,” she sighed, “Come here, handsome.”
I sat up and kissed her passionately, pulling her back down onto the bed, embracing her, wanting her and forgetting everything else.
Over the next few days Sarah and I worked tirelessly. The weapons had been a cold trail, and interrogating the criminals at the docks had led to nothing. Their loyalty had been bought and paid for by a higher power. To some extent even their lives. Attempting to cut deals trading leniency for information proved fruitless. We had scraps at best. Keeping them in prison hadn’t been much use. Some were bailed out while those lower down the pecking order were left to rot.
“Boss-”
“Sarah,” she interrupted me.
“Right. I think we have to fold. We’re going nowhere with this. The trail is cold. The guys we arrested are worthless to us.”
She didn’t say anything. I knew that she couldn’t stand losing. And in this city losing was something people like us were forced to get used to. It was a wonder how she kept her head.
“Jack, I’m not going to-”
A call came in. We both looked. Sarah picked the ph
one up. I watched her listen intently, before declaring that we would be on the way shortly.
“Well Jack, I’m surprised it took this long. There’s been a murder.”
“Why would you be surprised? We had one just the other day.”
Sarah smiled, her eyes confident, “True. But last week’s homicide wasn’t potentially connected to our boys at the dock was it?”
I stared, “How could we know that?”
“Easy. The victim was involved.”
That pretty much settled it. We were both quiet on the way there. I vaguely heard minor details of the homicide on the way. I preferred to look at the crime scene with fresh eyes sometimes. In a way I was almost excited. I’ve felt a sense of liberation ever since I made my decision at the docks. It felt as though I had been keeping myself at bay for so long that I had forgot what I was capable of. I forgot that I was good. That I was better. And today I was going to prove it to myself and everyone else as well, including those I was afraid of. I felt an air of confidence as I hurriedly climbed out of the car as soon as it came to a halt. I surveyed the ocean of police officers, the forensics team and whoever else needed to be there for whatever reason. To me, on this day, they were all just a formality.
“You ready?” Sarah asked.
“If I’m not at this point I may as well go home,” I replied.
I walked over to the location of the body and ignored those in my way. If this murder really was connected to what had happened at the docks that meant we were getting closer. I heard something about a drowning as I passed by the crowd. Curious. Sure enough when I reached the body I saw that it was pale and soaked. I frowned. I had expected an old school mob murder - bullet holes, baseball bats and enough dirt on the ground to leave a trail. This was different. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that the middle-aged male on the ground had drowned, as there were no clear signs of injury, no cuts or bruises, no strangle marks and no indication of an attack at all. I heard the people around me talking about how the body had been semi-washed up and someone had found it. I heard the medical examiner say that by estimation the victim had been dead for a little over a day, maybe two. But none of that mattered to me.
No one else here knew how trained my eyes really were. Sarah perhaps had a guess. I didn’t pay any mind to those who called me a genius. I just had a keen eye. I just observed. Little details mattered to me more than they did others. But I had read once that the frailty of genius was that it required an audience. Not that I thought of myself as one. I was just wary of the dangers of being perceived that way. But I also had come to realise that holding myself back meant that what I could do was wasted away. Ability matters only when it’s seen.
I stared down at the body. I leaned in close when I had to and examined it in my own way. I took in every detail; the clothes, the man himself, his face, his skin and his surroundings. I pieced together a puzzle in my mind. I used what little bit I had overheard from the surrounding officers. I thought of the implications surrounding drowning being the cause of death. I thought of that night at the docks. I thought of the information I had already stored in my mind from ages past. And then it all came together in a flash.
“Jack!” Sarah said with agitation.
I glanced up, wrenched out of my thoughts.
“What have you got?” she asked.
I looked at her for a moment before I spoke.
“This is a waste of time,” I said, my voice laced with the kind of irritation and disappointment that was impossible to hide.
Sarah stared at me as though she hadn’t heard me properly. Nearby officers looked at me with either disdain or curious interest.
“Do you mind explaining yourself?” she said.
I knew I was treading on ice. But I also knew that I was right. I gathered my thoughts.
“The victim has been stripped down to all but his shirt and pants. The pants are navy blue and formal; made of polyester. But they’re cheap like the shirt. The shirt has pockets on both breasts. A bit unusual for everyday wear, no? Both items of clothing are a little big for the man too. All in all not the sort of thing he’d buy willingly. That tells me it must be a uniform of some kind. Look closely at the shirt now; the shoulders. Take note of the torn fabric-”
“The badges are gone,” Sarah whispered.
I nodded, “Forcefully removed. We know that members of the navy or military wear...what are they called? Ah, epaulets! You know, insignias?”
“Just say badges, Jack.”
I half laughed, “Yes. They’re used to denote rank. It makes sense then that these would be removed so as to make this man appear ordinary and lower suspicion. But this man isn’t military. I mean he’s not exactly the portrait of physical perfection. I’d say he’s a sea captain.”
“Based on what?”
I pointed, “Note the hook on the belt for a walkie-talkie, and of course his legs which are telling. This man clearly isn’t in good enough shape to be military, and if he was he’d be quite inactive. Yet the veins on his legs and the muscle tone on his calves indicate a lot of standing or walking as opposed to sitting down. So, ship captain it is.”
Sarah rubbed her temple, “He could be a security guard of some kind.”
I paused for a moment while the other cops stared, taken back. It seemed I had my audience.
“Maybe. But there’s something ironic about a ship captain drowning wouldn’t you say?”
Sarah frowned.
I continued, “The weapons came in by boat. It’s more likely that he’s a ship captain if he was involved. Drowning a captain tell us the killer has a sense of humour or thinks he’s a poet, right? Who knows maybe this was just personal. As always the truth lies somewhere in the middle. With all that’s in front of me at this point in time I can say that I know the killer. In fact we all do. This man was killed by Anthony Cornero.”
There were audible gasps around me. They all knew the name. They all feared it. The man was perhaps the city’s most revered crime lord. Its most powerful enemy.
“How the hell do you know it was him?” asked a nearby officer.
I didn’t have physical evidence of course but I had more than enough reason to believe what I did. I took another few seconds to collect my thoughts. I had got them listening. I realised then that it was quiet among the crime scene and most of the officers had come to see what was going on. They were now waiting for me to speak.
“Jack...” Sarah said in a low voice. That brought me back to earth.
“I’m sure you all know of Anthony Cornero. Now look at this man’s left leg near the ankle. The skin is indented quite deeply all around the leg as though something was tied to it. A rope would be my guess. Cornero’s signature is attaching a weight to the legs of his victims and throwing them out into the waters. How do I know that? Well over the years I’ve studied a few, scattered cases in which the victims were found drowned in similar, peculiar circumstances.”
Sarah’s expression then told me she had made the connections and recalled the cases.
I went on, “Maybe those drowning incidents led somewhere or maybe they were declared suicides at the time. And maybe those cases were small in number because the rest of the bodies haven’t been recovered. But I do know one thing: the victims were always either part of Cornero’s mob or one of his enemies. They were always connected to him somehow. We know that when mobs carry out kill orders from their leaders, and when a murder is unconventional like this, then it’s either to send a message, it’s personal or it’s a trademark. I can scratch the first one out because no one but the fishes were getting this message.
“Now it could be personal or a trademark. Difficult to say which. It could be both. This man isn’t part of a mob or gang though. He just rides boats. So what reason would there be to kill him? Really think about it. If he was involved in the weapons shipment...”
Sarah looked at me, “He was the captain of the boat. He drove it in.”
I nodded, “Exactly. I can
think of just one reason to kill him then: failure. Those weapons came in by boat under this man’s responsibility. Are you beginning to see? I’ll take a leap of logic and say that our guy here on the ground was riding that ship, the operation didn’t succeed because of me and we know mob leaders don’t exactly tolerate lackeys who don’t get the job done. Conclusion: Cornero killed this man for his failure and this investigation is a dead end. We can’t prove that Cornero did it. There wouldn’t be any traces. Screw us, right?”
No one spoke after that as everyone just took in what I said. I surveyed the crowd and saw looks of admiration and of approval. I also saw deflated faces as this was yet another crime that had to be let go. Sarah was almost unreadable, but I could tell that even if she was taken back or awed she had concluded that my deductions made sense.
“Where’s the rope?” I heard someone ask.
I followed the direction of the voice. It was a young cop who didn’t seem to have a lot of confidence, and his voice wasn’t all that clear. But the question was there and everyone turned back to me.
“Good question,” I said, thinking about it, “I don’t know though. Maybe it got chewed off by a fish, maybe it tore or maybe the victim here got it off somehow in his final moments. I do know one thing. I guarantee you that if you put divers down there you’ll find it and the weight that it was tied to.”
“We can check on that some other time,” Sarah said at last, “We’re done here.”
The crowd shuffled away to get to their next tasks and carry out the standard procedures following a murder. Sarah walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“You did well, Jack,” she said and walked off in the direction of the car.
I watched her go for a moment. I knew how she felt. No matter what we did we either lost or hit a dead end. I had heard the appreciation in her voice just now. She was glad that I was here but it was not enough. Even if we got divers down into the rivers and found more bodies we couldn’t just march up to Cornero’s doorstep and declare that he was involved. Unless we wanted to get killed for disrespecting him of course. But I wasn’t going to take this. For me it was only a matter of time before I got one of these bastards. Sarah wasn’t yet ready to hear what I really wanted. She wasn’t ready to stop playing by the books. But sometimes you needed to play the game your opponent’s way and show them that you can win.
Just before I turned away to leave I noticed something sticking out of the drowned man’s right thigh pocket. How had I missed that? I had practically covered every inch of the body. Maybe I had been too close or thinking about too many things at once. I reached in and took it. It was just a loose piece of paper. The water had made it almost unreadable, but I could make out what appeared to be the word “meet” and a specified time afterward. What was this - some random date plan or specific instructions? I couldn’t make sense of it. I dismissed it as irrelevant then, flicked it back onto the body and followed Sarah to the car.
It felt as though I would never sleep again. The days passed and the work never ended. Things were worse than I knew before as I previously did not have access to the higher level investigative databases and case files back when I was just a cop. Dead ends, charges dropped due to lack of evidence or witnesses going missing and unsolved murders flooded it. There were few closed cases. There were so few victories.
“Jack, could you come to my office please?” Sarah called.
I sat up from my desk and walked into her office, seating myself on a windowsill against the wall and folding my arms.
Sarah smiled at me, “How are things at home?”
“They’re good. Everything’s good. Nicole wasn’t happy about me doing this at first, but she came around.”
“What about the little princess of the house?”
I laughed, “She’s well. What about you?”
Sarah gave a half-smile then. I briefly knew her history. I chose to respect her and not inquire about her personal life too deeply. I treated her the same way she did me. I wouldn’t probe, but rather let her talk to me if she wanted to. I did know that she had been married once before. It had ended in divorce. I was never really sure who instigated it or who was to blame, but my best guess was that the love had faded. Sarah had always been married to her work. As a female it was as though she always had something to prove, and she did by making it to the top. I hated the differential treatment, but it was often unavoidable especially in the police force; a male-dominated job in perception if nothing else. I worried about her sometimes. She was my friend, but I also knew that she was as tough as nails, most likely tougher. The two of us had always got along. Nicole and Sarah had gone to the same school. They knew each other and had been close friends before all of this. And that’s how I had first came to meet her.
“I’m alright. Could be better,” she said.
“Anything I can help with?” I asked.
“That’s not why I called you in here, Jack,” she said, brushing her shoulder-length hair aside and dodging my concern, “We’ve got another one and I hope it’s not a waste of time.”
I immediately snapped to attention. Sarah picked up what looked like a phone call transcript off her desk and handed it to me before saying, “Another one dead. And it’s another one of the guys we arrested at the docks who was involved in the smuggling operation. He was found murdered near to where we made the arrest.”
I remained silent as I browsed the transcript’s contents hurriedly. It was from a phone call made to the police by the civilian who had discovered the body.
“Jack this is the second killing of one of the involved members this week. That we know about at least. Let’s say you’re right and Cornero is behind it. Surely if he wanted to punish them for failure he just wouldn’t have given them bail and let them rot in prison? I mean he could even just keep them quiet. Their loyalty is bought so surely he could pay them off to remain silent behind bars or take them out in prison? Why bail them if he’s only going to kill them straight after?”
I shrugged, “To prove a point maybe.”
Sarah sighed and sank into her chair, “And what point would that be?”
“I’m not Cornero.”
“Maybe it’s just a middle finger to us. Like throwing a dog a bone so it feels like it has your attention for a while.”
“Maybe,” I said.
As I browsed the contents of the folder, I kept thinking about how little progress the police had actually made against the mob bosses and their entire syndicate. I was new here. I didn’t know the extent of it, but what I’d seen so far had not been encouraging. I wondered what kind of strategies the police had employed in the past. Had they gone to any extremes? A sudden thought struck me.
“Sarah, tell me something,” I started.
“Hmm?”
“Have you guys ever done anything extreme to catch these mob bosses?”
“Plenty of times. None of it worked. But I can see you have something specific in mind.”
I shrugged, “I don’t know. Have the police ever tried sending someone in undercover?”
She frowned, “Not that I know of. I wouldn’t put too much faith in a plan like that, Jack. These guys are ruthless and meticulous unlike anything you’ve seen. I don’t think any of our men would have lasted very long walking among giants.”
I went quiet after that and returned my attention back to the work in front of me. I admitted to myself that I was stumped on this case. But the only way we were going to know more was if we went to the crime scene and gave it a look. It would take about twenty minutes to get there. Sarah and I hardly spoke. We hadn’t worked together like this for all that long, but it was something of a routine for us. The silence. Almost like the calm before the storm in a way.
When we arrived the usual crowd was there. I stepped out of the car quickly, restless with my thoughts. After all the formalities were done we arrived at the body. The man was a bloody mess. His head had been beaten in with what I guessed was a baseball b
at or club. This was more like a mob’s work. His body was battered and bruised and his clothes torn. He’d most likely been assaulted by three or four men.
“Typical mob mess,” I remarked.
“Why not another drowning? Isn’t that Cornero’s style and all?” quizzed Sarah.
I shrugged, “I’d say Cornero is just smart enough not to make the pattern obvious. Most of the cases are loose; spread around. Almost like drowning is his indulgence...his treat.”
“You’re starting to creep me out.”
After the last murder I was doubtful we’d find anything of interest here. Our guys were good at covering their trail. But messes like these could often leave trails. I was just less confident this one had if a man like Cornero was behind it. I bent down to examine the body more closely. There was nothing immediately apparent at a first glance. But I had a sudden thought.
“Sarah we need to get this guy’s shoes to the forensics team.”
“Anything in particular you’re interested in?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet, but something tells me this isn’t going to be the last murder we find. A person’s shoes can be like a map that can tell us wherever they’ve been. If there’s another victim and we can find some matching element between the two it may help us.”
“It’s a long shot, Jack.”
“I know. But we don’t have anything to lose at this point. It’s worth a try.”
She nodded. I decided to search the man’s pockets. Tampering with evidence was moot at this point. But I couldn’t help a gut feeling that there was some kind of connection here or puzzle. I scrambled around the pockets and frowned as I touched a piece of paper. I pulled it out only half curious, expecting something irrelevant. But what I saw changed everything. I knew without a doubt that it was exactly like the piece of paper I had found on the previous victim, except now I could read it clearly and I knew what it meant.
“Sarah look at this,” I said as I beckoned her over and gave the slip to her.
She glanced at it and shrugged, “It’s just a note saying to meet here. What of it?”
I smiled, “Yes and I found a very similar note on our last victim. I just didn’t think much of it as it was water damaged and I could barely read it. Tell me: what’s significant about it?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but in a few moments I could see her make the connection.
“Are you saying these killings are organised? Time and place for each?”
“Yes. Each victim is given a specific location, which tells us that Cornero is not only killing those who were involved in the weapons shipment, but is also quite specific on individuals.”
“But why - what’s the point? Why not just kill them and be done with it? Why all the drama, and why the delays between their deaths? If he was punishing them surely he would have just killed them all?”
I stared at the body until my vision blurred, and I began to feel closer to the answer.
“Why do you kill your own men? These mobsters aren’t TV villains. They don’t just kill them for making a bad joke. Maybe they knew something. Something they weren’t supposed to. Maybe they betrayed Cornero’s trust. It feels like Cornero doesn’t seem to know who the guilty ones are. Think about it. He could have killed them just like that as you said, but the time delay between their deaths...it’s like he’s going through each individual who was involved in the operation like a person would a checklist. He kills them once he’s sure they deserve it.”
“Do you think these men were rats? Or rival mobs?”
“That would be my best guess. It would explain why there’s a delay between these murders, and why Cornero just had to bail them out instead of letting them rot in prison. He needs to find out what they know, who they’ve spoken to or whether they leaked anything to us or other mobs. He’s cleaning out the dirt alright, but it takes time to find it. It has to be that.
“And if we’re right, then Cornero for some reason didn’t want information about that weapons shipment leaking. It can’t be so secretive and mean nothing. If he didn’t want anyone from other mobs knowing about it then it must mean that they’re unsettled. That something big is going on. Maybe they’re at each others’ throats. Or maybe Cornero is planning something big on his own.”
“We’re making an awful lot of assumptions from a few pieces of paper.”
I laughed, “True, but somehow I don’t think we’re too far off.”
Sarah’s face suddenly fell. Her eyes widened, and her expression contorted into one of dismay. I knew that I was about to hear something I didn’t want to.
“Jack, the only thing we haven’t covered is why Cornero would have reason to suspect insubordination in the first place. Why he’s resorting to all of this.”
With a feeling of dread I knew. And she did too.
“The arrest at the docks. Cornero thinks there’s a rat in his mob; someone from that night who gave the game away to us - to me. He doesn’t think it’s possible I did it on my own.”
I fell into silence then as I processed the single, undeniable truth that I was likely the reason for all this. Who knew that sheer dumb luck would come back to haunt me in this way. Now I knew for certain that Cornero believed I, or at least the police, were informed by one of his own men and that’s how I had been able to make the arrest. My coincidence and my luck was an orchestrated treachery to him. Such is the paranoia of powerful men, I thought. Men who don’t believe in coincidence or luck or that competency and bravery still existed in the police. I looked up at the sky. Nothing but dark clouds. It was going to rain soon. And for the first time the big arrest that I had made did not feel like a victory, but like a hole that I had just begun to dig.