Singularity

by Eldon Farrell

  Odom shook his head. “That’s your problem.”

  “No, it’s your fucking problem. You want out of here or not?”

  Odom yielded. “Forty-eight hours. Not a minute longer.”

  “Where were you just now?”

  Nathan ignored the question. He sat at his desk, flexing his splayed fingers on its surface.

  Omar Singh marched over to him and asked, “Did you not hear me, Miller?”

  Nathan frowned at him and sighed. “I was in the john. You want to see the paperwork?”

  Singh glowered at him. “Do you remember our conversation about stepping out of line?”

  Nathan spun in his chair to face him. “Do you remember our conversation about the last captain?”

  “Where’s Quinn?”

  Nathan shrugged. “I’m not his keeper. But I can tell you he wasn’t in the shitter.”

  Singh pursed his lips. He looked around the clubhouse before returning his attention to Nathan. “Always the wise guy, Miller. The feed in interrogation one dropped for five minutes. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Stone-faced, Nathan answered, “Not a thing. Maybe check with IT.”

  Singh leaned over Nathan’s desk. “So, if I ask the suspect in there if you were in the room, he will say no, is that it?”

  “He might not,” Nathan said, “He is a drug dealer though—been known to tell a few lies.”

  Nathan flashed a faux grin, and Singh turned away in a huff. “If I find out you were in that room—”

  Nathan interrupted, “I’m sure I’ll be the first to know.”

  Singh wagged his finger at him. “We’ll see if you’re still this smug after I talk to Odom.” Nathan said nothing. “Yeah, did I not mention that?” Singh added, “Captain’s privilege. Odom is a Vice suspect but, something tells me he might have some interesting stories about a detective pain in my ass.”

  Nathan snorted. “Stories would be right. I don’t know him.”

  “Explain what you were doing at his place then?” Singh held his hand up to him. “Never mind, Miller. I’ll get it from the source.”

  Nathan watched him leave and returned to his thoughts. A sense of unease continued to grow in the pit of his stomach. Screwing his face up, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

  25

  Maria moaned a final time once Nathan rolled off her. Satisfied, Nathan leaned back against the headboard and let out a contented sigh.

  She snuggled up under his arm and tickled his chest with her lithe fingers. “That was, intense.”

  He squeezed her shoulder and exhaled. Her hair brushed against his nose. “Not too intense, I hope?”

  Maria kissed his chest a few times and smiled up at him. “No.” They laid in companionable silence for a long time until she asked, “You seemed upset when you got here, everything okay?”

  Nathan thought about it for a moment. He felt her heartbeat against his skin and the warmth of her pressed up against him. “It’s nothing.” He gave her another squeeze. “Just work stuff.”

  Her fingers roved in circles across his chest. “You want to talk about it?”

  Nathan placed his right hand on top of hers and said, “It’s nothing, really. Where’s Damien tonight?”

  She slid up further in the bed and clutched the sheets to her chest. “Out with friends.” Nathan gave her a disbelieving look, and she smiled. “I believe him. You really scared him straight.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. A slow, tender kiss followed by two more. “I’m happy to help,” Nathan said.

  Maria cuddled up to him and laid her head on his chest. Her silence said more than her words ever could. “What is it?” Nathan asked.

  Her head rose and fell in time with his breathing. She said, “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

  He ran his left hand along her spine and wished she were on his other side where the feeling would be more pronounced. “Why would I be upset with you?”

  She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “I got curious and did some digging on you.”

  Nathan stiffened beneath her. His eyes grew cold. “Just what did you dig up?”

  Maria lifted her head. “Please don’t be mad. I heard about the subway bombing and how you got this—” she ran her hand along his left shoulder and arm “—and wanted to know more.” Nathan relaxed a little from her touch. “Will you tell me about it?”

  Nathan traced the path of her fingers. “Not much to tell.”

  “Tell me anyway?” Maria placed her head back on his chest. “Please?”

  Nathan relented. He held her tight and allowed his eyes to gloss over in remembrance. “It was the last day I took the subway. Before then, I rode it to work every day. I enjoyed the quiet time to contemplate the day ahead or reflect on the day past. That morning, it was, cold. Unseasonably so. I saw him when I boarded the car. He sat near the front and seemed to be trying to avoid notice.”

  He paused a moment before he continued. “In my line of work, you get a sense for people or you don’t last. I knew he was wrong. I should’ve—I should’ve moved sooner.” Maria stroked his side, and he closed his eyes to the memory playing out in front of them.

  “I took a seat near the middle of the car and kept a watchful eye on him. The car swayed when we got moving, and I noticed he grabbed more than once for the bag beneath his seat. It was odd, given the bag was on the floor—where would it fall, right? Everything about him was off. I saw him sweating despite the freezing temperature. I caught his eyes once and recognized the fear there.”

  Nathan took a breath and said, “We were maybe a mile out from the next station when he jumped up and screamed some Arabic shit. I think it was Arabic, for sure wasn’t English. I knew what was coming. His shifty movements, the bag, all of it screamed terrorist attack. I sprang up and rushed him. The screams were all around me. I didn’t get there in time.”

  He opened his eyes and saw Maria staring at him. Her concern settled on him like a dead weight. “I tackled him, but he pressed the button on the way down. All I remember after that, was the heat. I’d never felt heat like it. I can’t describe it. The fire scorched the air I breathed. I was gone before the impact of the blast tore the car apart. And so were seventy-three other souls.”

  Silenced lingered between them. Nathan could feel her heart beating next to his, thumping at a faster pace. “Except I wasn’t, dead, that is. They brought me back from the abyss.” He raised his left arm. “They remade me against my wishes, and the rest is history.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Maria said. “You did everything you could. You’re a hero.”

  “Hero,” Nathan repeated. The word burnt on his tongue like ash.

  Nathan sat across the booth from Austin Cain. Gamblers hollered and cried as their fortunes came and went. Along the bar, working girls plied their trade while they eyed Nathan with suspicion.

  “Miller,” Cain said, by way of a greeting, as he removed the fedora from his head and stowed it, and the colorful feather in the band, out of Nathan’s sight. Nathan gave a low rumble in return. Austin snapped his fingers to attract one of his waitresses. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  Nathan tilted his head. “I’m surprised you’d offer me a drink again. How’s your head?”

  With a strained look, Austin touched the stitches on his forehead that ran along his hairline. “Yes, well,” he said, “no bottle this time.”

  When the waitress arrived in her barely-there skirt, Nathan ordered, “Whiskey neat.” Austin nodded to send her away. “You have a name for me?”

  Austin snapped his fingers again to summon one of his security detail. The shadow of the large enforcer reached their table long before he did. Once there, he handed an envelope to Austin and stood close by. Austin smiled at Nathan and placed the envelope between them.

  Nathan reached for it. “Before you do,” Austin said, “What is it worth to
you?”

  His hand hovered over the envelope for a long moment before Nathan leaned back in the seat and narrowed his eyes. “You trying to extort me, Cain?”

  Austin shook his head and showed his palms. “No, no, no. Don’t take it like that, Miller. Let’s think of it more like a finder’s fee. Perhaps the return of my share is in order?”

  The waitress returned and left a whiskey neat in front of Nathan and a red colored cocktail with fruit and an umbrella in front of Austin. She left and, while Austin eyed her backside, Nathan leered at the drink in front of Austin.

  “You’re pathetic.” Nathan spat on the floor before reaching for his drink. The enforcer took a step forward, and Nathan stared him down. “Thought I told you to get better help around here?”

  Austin lifted his hand to halt his enforcer. “Nothing wrong with the help.”

  Nathan took a gulp of his drink and slammed it down on the table hard enough to cause Austin to flinch. “Tell you what,” Nathan said, “you give me the name, and I’ll let you keep operating this establishment. You can even have your future share. Keep pushing me, though, and I will burn this shit hole to the ground and toss you in a cell so dark daylight will become a myth to you.”

  Nathan downed the rest of his drink. He snatched the envelope up as he asked, “Are we clear?”

  “Yes,” Austin replied with a grimace, “sounds like a good deal.”

  Nathan ripped the envelope open and read the name. He raised his gaze back to Austin and asked, “Leo Spagnuolo?”

  Austin spread his arms wide and smiled. “Your traitor. I trust you know him?”

  The paper crumpled as Nathan tightened his grip. “Who gave you his name?”

  Austin lifted his dainty drink and sipped of the nectar within. After he let out a satisfied sigh, he shook his head. “That’s not how this works, Miller. You have your sources, and I have mine.”

  Nathan bared his teeth, and Austin reconsidered. “Let’s just say, King trusted someone close to her whom she shouldn’t have.”

  Sliding out of the booth, Nathan stood at the end of the table and stared down at Austin. He jabbed a finger against the table and said, “If you’re wrong about this, it’ll be your ass.”

  Austin smiled. “I trust my source,” he said, “Leo’s your guy.”

  26

  Commendations covered the back wall and held Nathan’s attention as he entered the Commissioner’s office. Plush carpet and wood paneling lent a subdued feel to the room.

  Logue sat behind his oak desk and eyed Nathan warily. He lifted the steaming mug off his blotter and sipped at the coffee within. “You better have a good reason for being here, Nate.”

  Nathan sat in the sumptuous leather chair opposite Logue’s desk. The leather burped when he slid forward. “I have news. It couldn’t wait.” Logue continued to sip his coffee. “I have a name,” Nathan said, “According to my source, Leo Spagnuolo is the traitor.”

  Logue stared wide-eyed. Nathan said, “Yeah, as in that Spagnuolo.”

  “How reliable is the source?” Logue asked.

  “Hasn’t steered me wrong yet,” Nathan answered, “But I get where you’re coming from. I have my doubts about Mickey’s kid selling me out too. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “One way to be sure.” Logue set the mug on his desk. “I’ll have him rounded up and brought to the yard. If he’s your guy, he’ll talk.” A moment passed and the leather beneath Nathan burped again when he shifted his weight. “There must be more though?” Logue said, “You didn’t come here for this.”

  “We have a problem,” Nathan admitted.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Singh has Jax Odom in lock-up. He’s one of my dealers.”

  Logue shrugged. “Dealers get busted all the time. He keeps his trap shut, does his time, and life goes on. Why is this one a concern?”

  “I was terminating him when Singh interrupted. He’s threatening to talk.”

  Logue sat forward in his chair. His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. “Since you’re here, I take it he knows something?”

  Nathan nodded. “He knows enough for Singh to come after me with. And I promise you, Singh won’t stop at me.”

  Logue narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me, Nate?”

  Nathan leaned back in his chair, setting off a chorus from the leather cushion. “Only reminding you of how it is—I warned you about hiring Singh.”

  Tight-lipped, Logue said, “He wasn’t my choice. We can’t afford to have the AG snooping around our business and, after the Winslow murder, that’s what we were facing. Singh was the compromise.” Logue played at one of his cufflinks. “Perhaps if you had more control of the streets, we wouldn’t have to deal with Singh’s interference.”

  Nathan saw red. He pointed across the desk and said, “Don’t even try to go there. We both know the hit on Winslow happened at the request of Vargas.”

  “Yes,” Logue agreed. “Willie’s paranoia about Reggie running for Mayor has created nothing but problems for us. Tell me, Nate, how did Singh get involved in this termination, anyway?”

  Nathan calmed down. At length, he said, “Just bad luck.”

  “Why did this, Odom, need terminating?”

  “He broke my rule,” Nathan said, “He involved kids in the trade.”

  Logue ridiculed. “Your rule, something else creating problems for us.”

  “A problem easily solved,” Nathan said, “Assign me to Odom’s transport when Singh moves him.”

  Logue shook his head. “And you’ll what? Convince him to stay quiet? Or better yet, kill him before he reaches central holding? You need something better than that, Nate.”

  Nathan squeezed the supple leather armrest. “Well, at least get me the schedule and the route. Not like Singh will share it with me.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Logue motioned to the door with a tilt of his head. “I expect you to handle the problem—quickly, and before this Odom character opens his mouth.”

  Nathan stood. “I’ll handle it. You just get Spagnuolo to the yard. Leave Odom to me.”

  27

  Lights lined the wall leaving no room for shadows in the pristine hallway. An aroma of fresh linen permeated the air. Nathan’s nose crinkled from the scent as he waited for his knock to be answered.

  He glanced at the time. Quarter past nine—Quinn should be home. A door opened at the other end of the condominium, and an elderly woman stepped into the hall. Dressed to the nine’s in a fur coat and flowered hat, she held a teacup Yorkie in her arms. She gave him a strange look. Nathan attempted to smile but received none in return.

  The door in front of him opened at last and a wide-eyed Quinn said, “Nate? What are you doing inside the wall at this hour?”

  Not needing the reminder of how out of place he felt, Nathan grumbled under his breath. “We need to talk.” Nathan took a final glance at the old lady and her dog, then brushed past Quinn into his condo.

  Quinn stuck his head out the door and looked both ways before he asked, “How did you get here?”

  Nathan answered, “Public transportation works fine, Rook.”

  Quinn closed the door. “I thought I was your public transportation.” The jibe fell on deaf ears.

  “I’ve got a name,” Nathan announced.

  Quinn blinked twice before moving towards the refrigerator. He opened the door and bent inside to root around the contents. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  Resting his haunches on the back of a sofa, Nathan stared at his partner’s backside. “Stow it, Rook. Quit stalling.”

  Quinn slowly rose out of the fridge and bumped the door closed with his hip. Taking a deep breath, he said, “You have the traitor’s name?”

  Nathan watched Quinn’s gaze slide to the front door. His arms twitched at his sides, and he seemed unable to stand still. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  Quinn swallowed. “What—what do you mean?
”

  “You look nervous.” Nathan cocked his head to the right. “You look scared.”

  Quinn laughed it off. “After yesterday with Jax and Singh, I’m a little on edge, I guess.”

  Nathan smirked. “Well, don’t worry partner, we’re going to clean that mess up.”

  Quinn looked down at his feet and scratched the back of his neck. “So how’d you find the traitor?”

  “Austin came through,” Nathan said, “You wouldn’t recognize the name, but Leo Spagnuolo is the unlucky rat.” Quinn stared at him, his mouth hung slightly open. “I’ve spoken to Logue, he’ll round Leo up.” Nathan continued, “In the meantime, you and I have more pressing concerns. We need to bust Jax out of holding.”

  Quinn reached out for a stool around his kitchen island. Sitting down he said, “Come again? You want to break this punk out of jail?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be necessary if you had listened.” Nathan pointed an accusatory finger at Quinn. “I told you not to call for backup. Now, we only have twenty-four more hours until Jax spills his guts to Singh. You got us into this, so you’re going to get us out.”

  Quinn shook his head. “It’s impossible. There’s no way we can get him out of holding without being caught ourselves.”

  “Nothing’s impossible, Rook,” Nathan said, “Logue is getting us the schedule and route for Jax’s transfer to central. We hit the van on the road and we can pull this off.”

  “Jesus.” Quinn cradled his head in his palms. “When is all this going down?”

  “Soon,” Nathan answered, “Could be as early as tomorrow. Singh won’t want to keep Jax at the Clubhouse for long. Be ready to go when Logue gives us the info.”

  Quinn looked at him. “How are we going to pull it off?”

  Nathan sat on a stool opposite him. With a nod, he began, “We’ll find a quiet spot along the route and stage an accident for the van. One guard will have to exit the vehicle to check on the other driver. When he does, we nab him and use him to threaten the remaining guard out of the van. We’ll have masks on, of course.”