“Do you think maybe that lack of activity might have something to do with your goons chasing down johns right out front? Fuck, you’re upset you’ve been burned? That’s three weeks’ worth of intel gone. And this ring is going back underground. Fuck!”
Mike slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration.
“So how’s business, sister?” Sal tried to break the tension, shoving yet another handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth.
“Not bad. Three arrests since I got here. My backup,” Amanda pointed to a beat-up old van parked down the street, “is just over there, writing up.”
“Must be a good vantage spot,” Mike said sarcastically, “because our backup is in the sedan parked right behind yours.”
“Uh, aren’t you a bit… old… for this kinda work?” Sal asked, spitting shells in her direction.
“Fuck, Sal!” Mike whispered, suppressing the urge to shake his partner.
“No kidding. You think I want to be standing on the corner having assholes in Beemers with baby seats offer me ten bucks for a blowjob? Hardly. But this is what they have me doing, at least until I get cranked and they send me somewhere else.”
“On the list for promotion, eh? Mikey here is on the list, too, aren’t you, Mikey?” Sal said, emptying the rest of the package of seeds into his mouth.
“I’m just hoping they’ll let me stay in the unit when I get made.”
“Aww, you just like your partner.” Sal puckered his lips in a kiss.
“Listen, boys,” Amanda interrupted. “I’d love to stay and chat, but it’s a numbers game for me. Boss said ten arrests and we’re done for the shift. I may be old, but there’s gotta be at least seven lonely-hearts out there who’ll make up my ten. After that, I’m home to have a nice dinner with my babies for a change. Congrats on your promotion, officer. Now get lost so I can do my work.”
“You’re fucking joking, right?” Mike asked.
“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?”
“This is our corner. We’ve been on it for a month. And while you’ve probably already burned us, we’re not leaving. You are.”
“No, I’m n—” Amanda began.
“Yes, you are,” Mike interrupted. “We have some girls—no, make that children—to find. Real police work. Either take it somewhere else or…”
Amanda gave Mike a look that would have killed a lesser man before strutting further along the street.
“We spend weeks out here…” Mike fumed, looking for another spot to park.
“I dunno, Mikey,” Sal sighed, spewing the last of the shells onto the floor of the car. “Like she said: right hand, left hand.”
“Do you have to do that?” Mike looked over at his partner with disgust. “I mean, fuck, Sal—”
“Yep. Even when I’m driving. Look down.”
“No wonder the car always looks like the bottom of a bird cage. What is wrong with you?”
“At least, it doesn’t smell like a bird cage.”
“Don’t you ever fucking shut up?” Mike said, watching Amanda smile at a car that had slowed down for her. “And now we’ve got Morality fucking spinning the neighbourhood. Shit shit shit shit shit!”
“I don’t suppose you want any seeds?” Sal chuckled, pulling another package out of his jacket pocket as he watched the driver of the targeted car pull over and Amanda pick up her strut as she approached it.
“Get the fuck out,” Mike said, not taking his eyes off Amanda.
“What?”
“Get out!” Mike raised his voice, looking over at Sal.
“Fuck off!” Sal laughed as he tore open the package with his teeth and spat out a tiny piece of plastic wrap before throwing another handful of seeds into his mouth.
“Then shut the fuck up!” Mike ordered, throwing the car in gear. “And spit those goddamn shells out the fucking window or I’ll pick up each and every fucking one of them and shove them down your fucking throat.”
Just as he was pulling away from the curb, Mike saw red flashing lights in his rear-view mirror.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” he groaned as he pulled the car back over to the curb. The police cruiser stopped in textbook fashion, fifteen feet behind him.
“Driver’s licence, ownership, and insurance, please, sir,” the uniformed officer demanded, standing just behind Mike’s window, scanning the interior of the car.
“We’re cops,” Mike said, straining to look over his shoulder at the officer.
“Yes, I’m sure you are. Driver’s licence, ownership, and insurance, please, sir,” the officer repeated, unmoved.
“As I said, we’re cops. And you just burned us. For the second time this afternoon.”
“And as I said, I want to see your driver’s licence.”
Mike hesitated.
“Is this a police vehicle, sir?” The officer asked, his voice unchanged.
“Of course, it is,” Mike replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Then the documents that you are looking for will be in the glove box. Perhaps your passenger here…” The officer stepped forward just far enough to see the passenger. “Sal?”
“Goddammit! I thought it was you!” Sal said with a grin, spitting his shells on the floor between his legs. “I recognized your voice right away. How the hell are you, Ron?”
“You know, you coulda jumped in at any time,” Mike remarked pointedly to Sal.
“I’m good. How long has it been now?” the uniformed officer asked. Then, without waiting for a reply, he advised Mike, “I trained this young man when he first came on. Sorry for your luck. Ron Roberts. Traffic.”
Mike stuck his hand out the window to shake Ron’s. “Mike O’Shea. Juvenile Prostitution Task Force.”
“I didn’t recognize you from back there, Sal, so of course, when I saw the car with a couple of guys in it talking to that prostitute….” Ron shrugged.
“She’s also a cop,” Mike sighed. “The first today to burn us.”
“I thought she looked a bit old for this stroll,” Ron commented. “In any event, I assumed that you two were trolling. We get a lot of community complaints about it around here, and who can blame them, really? I mean, would you want johns rolling up and down your street at all hours of the day and night looking for—”
“Listen, Rob—” Mike interrupted, his eyes staring straight ahead.
“Ron,” the uniformed officer corrected.
“I don’t mean to cut you off, but…” Mike looked over at Ron for the first time, “between you and the trixie we just moved off this corner, there are far too many cops around—"
“So, Sal, when did you leave uniform?” Ron cut in, ignoring Mike.
“Me and Mikey here been working together for about five years, eh, Mikey?”
“Better you than me,” Ron sniffed. “Not my thing at all. Just leave me in Traffic.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Sal laughed.
“Well, since there are no tickets for me to write, I’ll let you get on your way,” Ron said with a slight smile. “Oh, and Mike? Make sure you signal before changing lanes, eh?”
With that, he strolled back to his car.
“Un-fucking-believable!” Mike shook his head, feeling his shoulders tighten as he watched the marked car stop briefly beside him before continuing on its way, Ron tapping his airhorn and flashing his roof lights as he drove off.
As Mike looked at the hold house, he was thankful that Amanda had not returned to stand in front of it, although he did see her backup van cruising past them like a land shark hunting prey. He watched as two burly guys wearing cowboy boots and black T-shirts that did little to conceal their beer guts bailed out of the van. Classic Morality. He was amazed, though, at their agility as they sprinted towards the car that had pulled over for their decoy.
Bloody hell, he thought. We get burned and fucking Amanda is about to get another arrest. Then, resigning himself to the fact
that there was no other choice but to call off this afternoon’s activities, he brought the radio mic up to his mouth.
“Project GFS. Repeat: Project Gone For a Shit.”
As he jammed the mic back into the holder under the dashboard between him and Sal, a scrawny young girl whom he had not seen before strolled awkwardly up to Sal’s window.
“Fuck off, girlie,” Sal said, “I’m not interested.”
Mike looked over at the girl and saw something glittering.
“Gun!” he yelled.
Sal grabbed the door handle and violently shouldered the door open. The girl flew back as Sal scrambled out towards the back of the car, ignoring the exhaust fumes as he took cover.
Mike pulled on his door handle with his left hand as he pulled the snubby from his back waistband with his right. The door wouldn’t open. It was the goddam sunflower seed shells! Wily little fuckers had gotten jammed in the mechanism.
Giving up on the handle, Mike turned his body and levelled the snubby at the open passenger door in front of him. Suddenly, the girl was in the car, her face inches from his, her little fists pounding on his chest.
Her hands were empty. No gun.
Mike shoved his snubby back into its holster with one hand, easily holding the girl back with his other arm as she continued to flail away frantically.
He heard yelling. Looking above the girl’s head, he saw Sal, Amanda, and Amanda’s backup officers, all with their chunks drawn and pointed at the girl—and, by default, at him. Sal and Amanda were screaming, their words scattering unintelligibly as one voice clashed with another.
Mike grabbed his young assailant’s tiny wrists.
My god, there’s nothing to you, he thought, reminded of his sister, Katie, and how easy it must have been for Petey to overpower her.
Mike shook his head to get rid of the memory and pulled the girl’s body in close, restraining her in a bear hug.
Of all the guns pointed at them, only one could make the kill shot. Mike saw Amanda’s shoulders rise. She was preparing to pull the trigger.
“Don’t shoot!” Mike yelled, finding his voice. “I’ve got her. Don’t. Shoot.”
“Don’t shoot me. Pleeease don’t shoot me!” the girl sobbed, her body trembling in Mike’s arms. “I don’t wanna die!”
“Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” Mike whispered. “You’re safe. We’re cops.”
“I know,” she wailed, her body convulsing, her face covered in tears and snot. “That’s why they sent me out.”
“Pass her out, Mike!” Sal approached the car, gun still drawn.
“Who sent you?” Mike asked the girl, ignoring Sal’s command and looking into her eyes.
She hesitated and then sobbed, “Malcolm. Said I was gonna die anyway, so, you know, suicide by cop.”
“Breathe.” Mike unwrapped his arms from the weeping child. “You’re safe now.”
“Pass her out of the car!” Sal repeated, reaching in for the girl, Amanda at his heels.
Mike waved him off, finally managing to open the driver’s door while again cursing Sal and his goddamn sunflower seeds.
Both car doors now open, Mike sat with the girl for a few seconds, then gently guided her out the passenger door to the waiting officers.
“You’re under arrest for—” Amanda began, shoving the girl face first against the hood of the car with one hand, handcuffs ready in the other.
“For nothing,” Mike said as he came around the front of the car and took hold of the girl. “Thanks for your help… Amanda, is it? We’ll take it from here. Sal?”
“Come on over, sunshine,” Sal said, taking the shaking girl by the arm. “You thirsty? Want some water or a pop or anything?”
“Mikey!” Julia Vendramini yelled, gun drawn as she ran up the street towards him, her partner several paces behind.
“What happened?”
“All good here. Go back and check the house!”
Both backup officers stopped running, confused. Sal approached them with the girl and gave them the thirty-second version of what had just happened. Julia nodded, then she and Hoagie ran to the hold house.
“Since when do we get all warm and fuzzy with would-be murderers?” Amanda demanded as she watched Sal and the girl walk away.
“It’s just the way we do business,” Mike replied, gently touching his face to check for blood or bruising.
“She just tried to kill you.”
“Maybe so. But she’s a victim, not a criminal.”
“And this?” Amanda asked, pulling a loaded handgun from her waistband. “Look familiar? Popped out of Sunshine over there’s hand when your sidekick clobbered her with the car door.”
“Okay. So she had a gun. And now we have it. What’s your point?”
“You gonna give it back to her for another day? Is that also how you do business in your unit?”
“She’s a victim, Amanda. And a child. And I want her alive. If she talks, I can get a bunch of other girls like her home to Mom and Dad in time for Christmas. If not, they’ll spend Christmas on a bed in a hotel with a steady stream of losers who’ve told their wives they’re picking up wrapping paper last minute before the in-laws arrive.”
“Yeah, I get it. And I’m onside with your vision, but holy shit, Mike, she could have killed you. And he,” Amanda nodded towards the corner where Sal was talking with the girl, “would have let it happen.”
“Nobody would have let anything happen, and Sal had no way of knowing that the door would jam.”
“I don’t know. I’d be pissed. Just saying…”
A line had been crossed.
“Brian Salvatore is a good cop. He’s also my partner.”
“Fine. Regardless, do you actually think someone as broken as that kid is even gonna be able to talk?”
“I don’t know, Amanda,” Mike sighed, “but I do know our cover is blown, and I bet every girl in that fucking house has been rounded up and hauled out the back door while we’ve been out here chatting. Which puts me and my team back to square fucking one. And now we have less than seventy-two hours before they jump jurisdictions.”
“But you think she’s going to turn over on her pimp.”
“And you say you’re an investigator, eh?”
“Pardon me?” Amanda’s back stiffened.
“Yeah. Well, I guess the way we do business is a bit more involved than the way you and your goons operate. Or maybe you just weren’t listening. She gave up the name of her pimp and confirmed that there are—were—other girls in the house.”
“And you think she’s going to give you a sworn statement saying all of that?”
“Uh huh. Right now, Sal and I are her only friends. She can’t go back. She’s got nowhere to go. We’re the only game in town. But you would know all about that sort of thing through your important work in Morality, right?”
Amanda stared at Mike in disbelief for a good thirty seconds before turning away.
“Fuck you,” he heard her mutter as she stalked off.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he called out. “You justify your existence by numbers. Cops like you nabbing rookie johns. Our mandate is to rescue these girls, not push them further underground.”
“Mike, that girl could’ve—” Amanda turned back.
“You stand out on the corner and charge, what… ten guys for soliciting sex and you’re done for the shift? Good job. No wonder you’re on the fucking list to get promoted. We spend months tracking these girls to get as high up the food chain of assholes as we can to stop the supply. Our success rate in numbers is not great like yours, but—”
“Yes, fine, I know. You’re all fucking heroes. Every goddamn one of you. Your unit sounds great on paper, but whoever put it together had his head up his—”
“That. Person. Was. Me.” Any degree of warmth Mike might have felt for Amanda had now completely disappeared. “And I understand policing and budgets and how society views some peop
le as expendable. When we succeed—and we do—it’s a beautiful thing. These kids go home. Get past the couple of bad breaks, bad boyfriends, bad choices—”
“All gone, Mikey. Every last one of them,” Julia interrupted, shaking her head as she overheard the two cops. “Me and Hoagie did the walkthrough. Honest to God, I don’t know how these girls survive in places like that. No heat. No water. No electricity. Place stunk like I can’t even explain.”
She paused to catch her breath, then did a double take as she noticed whom Mike was talking with. “Amanda? Amanda Black? Since when are you on the road? I thought for sure they’d have you inside doing admin duties or something while you were waiting to get promoted!”
“I was, but I got bored and volunteered to come out for a few sweeps. What about you? How is Keith? Are you pregnant yet?”
“Not yet, but God willing….” Julia forced a smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mike cut in, tired of Amanda Black and her bullshit, and feeling the grind of the last few weeks, “but Julia, would you help Sal and Hoagie with the girl, please? She’s vulnerable. Last thing we need is for her to say they touched her.”
“Of course, Mikey. What was I thinking? Well, actually, I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking how great it is to see you, Amanda. Keep in touch, huh? You have, what, two, three babies now?”
“Only two, and that’s the end of that line. Larry and I are splitting.”
“Oh! I am so sorry,” Julia sighed, absently pulling at the cross she wore around her neck.
“I’m not. He’s an idiot. Anyway, I still have seven more arrests to make before my shift is over.” Amanda walked off, then called back over her shoulder, “Good luck with everything, Mike.” And then, in a lower voice, “Asshole.”
Chapter Two
Saturday, October 29th, 2005 - 5:30 p.m.
“I still don’t get why you didn’t fucking shoot her,” Sal muttered as he walked into the conference/observation room carrying a tray of lukewarm coffees and a box of day-old donuts.
“And I still don’t know why you can’t fucking buy decent coffee instead of this crayon water,” Mike said as he sat down across from the massive screen on the wall.
10-33 Assist PC Page 2