“Yeah, well, shit happens,” Paco said.
“Shit happens? Is that the best you can say?” I asked, through gritted teeth.
“It’s a risk we were willing to take.”
“If you’re not gonna charge me, then fuck off,” I barked.
“We could charge you with the murder of Armando Sanchez.”
“Go ahead,” I shouted.
“Take it easy, Holmes. We can’t do that just yet. It would blow the whole operation.”
“What about Angel? She’s gonna go to war after losing her brother,” I said.
“Who do you think she’s going to war with?” he asked.
“Sullivan,” I replied.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, and blew out the smoke. “That’s the wrong answer. Her brother was shot in Jersey and she’ll be looking for answers there. Besides, her brother hit Sullivan’s whorehouse and everyone knows that the Irish would never let them get away with that.”
“So, where does that leave us?” I asked.
“Look, Bill, you saved my life. I mean I probably would’ve suffocated if you hadn’t helped me and I’m thankful for that. These other agents want to send you back to Angel to stir things up. I’m not going to let that happen, she would just kill you,” Paco said.
“Where does Kenny fit in?”
“Kenny made a deal with Angel to share information about Sullivan’s brothels. She’s wants control of all prostitution on the West Side. Her connection in Mexico is what I’m after. They send her fresh product every month. She has men watching the airports, and train and bus stations, looking for runaways,” he explained.
“Yes, the girl from Manny’s filled me in,” I said.
“So, we have an understanding. For now. You’re gonna keep quiet and we won’t put you away for the rest of your life, but…”
“But what?” I asked.
“Let me point it out again. One leak and its life in prison for you. Don’t be surprised when we call you to help. You are free to go.”
I walked out of the precinct and into the night. I found myself on 20th and Eighth. The agents had confiscated my weapons, leaving me vulnerable. Police cruisers were parked at angles all over the block. Patrolmen were clustered out on the street, telling stories and laughing.
I strolled over to a Starbucks on 23rd. As I opened the door, the combination of freezing air-conditioning and coffee aroma was intoxicating. I ordered a latte with an extra shot and sat in a cushioned chair.
As I sat sipping the coffee and looked around. Small groups were chatting, eating desserts, and drinking coffee. A couple of loners worked on laptops. I was envious of these people having their normal lives, where they didn’t have to look over their shoulder.
How could I continue to do assignments for Sullivan with the FBI up my ass? Kenny was going to be my new partner. He was unpredictable before, but now I had to worry about him ratting me out to the Mexicans, FBI, or Sullivan. He was always a crazy bastard, but this made it worse. Kenny was playing every side, and I needed to make sure I was far away when he went down.
I took a cab back to my car on the Lower East Side and noticed a parking ticket tucked into the wiper blade. As I grabbed the ticket, I noticed a shadow passing behind me. Then I saw a bat coming at my head in the window’s reflection. I ducked out of the way as the bat shattered the window, shards of glass flying everywhere. I kicked my attacker’s legs out from under him, and he spilled to the ground. We both scrambled to our feet, and moved onto the sidewalk. He came at me again, but this time I was ready for the swing. Jumping back, I moved in fast with a punch to his solar plexus. His breath came out in a big rush of air, the bat falling onto the pavement. While he was still gasping for air, I kicked him in the face. Blood sprayed out of his nose and mouth, and he collapsed to the ground.
A white van came to a screeching halt by the sidewalk and the side panel slid open. Machine pistols sprayed the street and cars. People screamed and sprinted for cover. I dove behind a parked car and crawled a few feet. The white van pulled up to follow me as the shooters reloaded.
I raced back to the Lincoln, started it up, and pulled out. Flooring the accelerator, I rammed straight into the back of the van, knocking one of the shooters out. I backed up and rammed it again. This time the van scraped against the parked cars. I stomped on the gas, the engine roaring to life, and I maneuvered out into traffic.
I just barely made it off the block when three police cars came wailing onto the scene, their sirens screaming and lights pulsing. I watched the police cut off the van from my rearview mirror. The shooters opened fire on the police, then more police arrived. I raced to the West Side, weaving through traffic, and sailed uptown.
When I pulled into the garage, the attendant greeted me with his mouth hanging open. His face was frozen with shock as I handed him the keys to my car with its nose pushed in, windows shattered, and bullet holes sprinkled across the driver’s side.
“Wow, what happened?” he asked.
“I had an accident and they were pissed. What can you do? I’ll get it fixed,” I said.
“This was a new car, man,” he said, taking off his hat and scratching his head.
“Yeah, it’s a shame. I’ll call a tow truck in the morning. Let’s keep it low,” I said, and handed him a hundred dollar bill.
Up in the apartment, it was dark and quiet. Something didn't feel right. Kenny turned on a lamp by the couch.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
“Where is Jackie?” I asked, panic in my voice.
“I sent her out, so we could talk,” he replied. “If you fuck with my game, I’ll skin your little uptown girlfriend.”
“You’ve got fucking balls coming here. You touch her and I’ll fucking skin you. What the fuck did you do to Jimmy? You got him hooked on heroin,” I said, and took a fast couple of steps towards him.
That’s when I noticed he had a gun out on his lap. He began to tap it on his thigh. “Like I told you before, we’re partners now. I wanted to make sure you understood the consequences of crossing me,” he said.
“Listen Kenny, I’m in just as deep as you. I just fought off a fucking Mexican hit squad,” I said.
“Yeah, I told Angel where your car was and she gave me this.” He held out a briefcase.
“So now you’re trying to get me killed?”
“I figured, if you’re as good as everyone says, then you’ll make it out and I’ll share this with you,” he replied with a smirk.
“You’ve lost your mind, Kenny. I didn't even have a weapon.” He lifted the briefcase and put it on the table. “See? That completely proves my point. Now stop being mad, come over and check out this out.”
He opened the case. There must’ve been fifty thousand dollars in it.
“Holy shit!” I said, and plopped down on the couch in shock.
“I know, isn't it awesome? That Mexican babe Angel has a real wet spot for you. Here, take your half.”
He counted out a large pile of cash, put it on the table, and closed the case. This was more money than I ever made in a year.
Kenny got up. “We’re just getting started, partner. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
Kenny left and closed the door. The apartment became quiet, and a chill went down my spine. I put the money in the armoire and grabbed a different gun. I took another Glock, a couple of clips, and a knife. The gun felt good in my hand and was a smaller gun than I was used to.
Kenny’s plans would either get me rich, killed or both.
I headed into the bathroom. Jackie came back while I was still in the shower.
“I hate that fucking asshole. What did he want?” she asked thorough the door.
“I don’t have a choice. Mr. Sullivan paired me up with him and now we’re best buds,” I said.
“Yeah well don’t trust him. He was Rudy’s partner before he was reassigned,” she said.
She left the room. After a while she came back with a drink in her hand. She took
a sip and lit up a cigarette.
“Kenny had Rudy running all over town,” she said. “He set him up with the Russian, then tried to get him killed, then collected money from both sides. When things got too hot, he turned him in to Sullivan and blamed him for the whole thing. They didn't believe Rudy and he was blamed for everything. Kenny made it seem like Rudy was ripping off Sullivan.”
I opened the shower door. Jackie let her clothes fall to the floor, and got into the shower with me. We fucked hard and fast, grunting like animals until she climaxed, then I did too. Exhausted, I sat on the floor. Jackie joined me, and we let the hot water roll over us.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day I went to check on Jimmy. He was being treated at a rehab center on the Upper East Side. The facility was all locked down, with metal doors at the entrance. The waiting room reminded me of a doctor’s office, without the alcohol smell. Wall-mounted TVs were at either end of the room, with magazines on small end tables.
While I waited, I watched the news. The TV was muted, but I read the closed captions. A story about a car bomb in the Middle East was followed by a local news story--police activity on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Three men shot at police and were killed, all believed to be part of a Mexican cartel involved in recent sex trafficking. “That’s fucking great.” I said, then covered my mouth and scanned the waiting room to see if anyone noticed. No one glanced my way.
The receptionist called my name. I was buzzed through the metal door and headed up to the third floor. Two nurses sat at a desk, working on computers. One was a pretty, older Latino woman, the other a heavy black man with a round face. The Latino woman stopped her typing and looked up.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.
“I’m here to see James Campbell,” I said.
“James is cleaning his room and making his bed. I’ll show you to the visiting area, and send him over when he’s done,” she said, smiling.
Jimmy cleaning his room and making his bed? Now this was a change. He must be miserable.
I followed the nurse to a large room where visitors and patients sat at tables on chairs with bright-colored seats. It was easy to tell who the patients were, they wore blue pajamas. Most of the visitors were parents of young adults in the program.
I sat and waited for Jimmy. When he got there, I noticed he looked better than ever, with clear eyes and a healthy color to his face.
“Dude, you've never looked this good. How are you doing brother?” I asked.
“I’m okay, but you gotta get me out of here,” he pleaded.
“Are they giving you anything to help you feel better?”
“I get a few different drugs. They’re giving me something to help me focus, a mood stabilizer and methadone.” He paused for a few seconds. I thought I’d lost him, but he recovered. “They won’t let me smoke or go outside and they’re making me clean my room,” he said.
A faraway look passed over Jimmy’s face. “I met a girl,” he said, a little embarrassed.
“A girl? In here? C’mon? That’s fucking awesome!” I said, and squeezed the back of his neck.
“She’s over there. Her name is Tracy. I really like her a lot,” he said, pointing and waving as they locked eyes.
She looked a little too young for Jimmy. Tracy was in her late twenties, with shoulder length wavy reddish brown hair. She was thin, with a pleasant face and average features. I looked and waved. Her parents in their early fifties didn’t seem amused. Her dad had a little gray in his sideburns and gave us a dirty look. Tracy’s Mom grabbed her hand and stopped her from waving.
“She looks real nice. Don’t screw it up. Hey, you want some books?” I asked.
“I haven't read a book since school. Comics were always my favorites,” he said.
“I’ll go down to Midtown Comics and pick some up,” I said.
Nervous and fidgety, he twisted the bottom of his shirt. “How are things going with the new job for Mr. Sullivan?” he asked.
“It’s the weirdest job I’ve ever had. More money than I know what to do with and people trying to kill me all the time. Other than that, it’s awesome,” I replied. “Be happy you’re out of the game, Jimmy. Kenny is all over me, and he’s completely lost his mind.”
Jimmy scratched stubble on his chin. “You know something? Now that I think of it, he went all crazy when Rudy was his partner,” he said.
We talked for a while about old times and how much he wanted to get out. Then it was time to leave. I gave him a hug. “I love you man, hang in there and this will be over before you know it,” I said.
After I left the rehab, I hailed a taxi and went over to see Dana at the Bryant Park Grill. I asked to be seated in her station. The host sat me inside at a small table. Dana came over. She didn’t look thrilled to see me.
“What are you doing here? I gave up on you ever coming back,” she said.
“I’m so sorry, Dana. I feel like that’s all I ever say, but I’ve had some serious work issues. I can’t wait to go out and spend some time together,” I said.
“Is this some kind of weird head game? I thought you didn't want to see me anymore,” she said, pouting.
“I can’t get you off of my mind. Are you busy later?” I asked.
“Come by my place at eleven tonight, but if you ditch me again I’ll find someone else to go out with,” she said, narrowing her eyes, a scowl on her face.
I ordered some pasta and a beer, and I watched as she worked her tables. I wished things could be normal, but I had to see her even though it wasn’t safe. I had no way of knowing if someone was following me and I couldn’t tell her why I had disappeared.
She brought me the bill. I paid and gave her a big kiss. “See you later,” I said.
She turned her face to the side and gave me her cheek. “We’ll see stud, you’re still in the dog house.”
I walked out into the street. Waiting for me at the curb was Kenny in his blue Ford. He rolled down the window. “Wow, she’s a real looker Bill. You’d better treat her right or she’ll find someone else. Now, get in, I need your help.”
I was barely in the car when Kenny gunned the engine and pulled out into traffic.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re going to pay a visit to some people that owe me money,” he replied.
He drove until we arrived at the same street as the drug house where Jimmy bought his dope. We sat in the car, waited and watched as clients came in and out.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“We have to get Mr. Sullivan some money. I thought this would be a good place to start,” he said.
This felt all wrong. “We’re gonna rip off these dealers? Are they Mexican or Colombians?”
“They're fucking scum and we’re taking them down. Now go over there and buy some junk,” he said.
“Are you trying to get me killed again?”
“No, just get going and I’ll back you up.”
I got out and crossed the street. Kenny followed me a few feet behind. As I walked over to the guys at the door, they seemed to recognize me. One guy said something in Spanish and I heard Angel’s name at the end. They started to reach for their guns when I heard two fast, muffled popping sounds. Kenny shot both of them in the head, a silencer at the tip of his gun. I pulled the Glock from my waistband and held it in front of me. These guys had to be Mexicans, the connection to Angel was clear.
Kenny took the lead and went right into the building. Inside, it was dirty and dark. We went up the stairs, to the second floor. Kenny knocked on a door. “Hey man, I was here last week and I wanna score some more. You got anything, bro?” he asked.
A guy cracked the metal door open, keeping the chain lock on. “Yo dawg, where you been? You want another eight ball?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Kenny said.
The guy stuck his finger through the crack. “Hand over the money first.”
Kenny moved so fast, I had no time to help. He kicked the door
breaking the sliding chain lock and sent the guy flying into the room. Inside Kenny quickly shot everyone in the apartment. No one had a chance to even get off a shot.
“Come on, Bill!” he shouted.
There was blood all over the floor. The guy by the door was shot against the wall and two more people were dead in the kitchen. One guy on the floor was shot in the throat. Blood poured over the front of his shirt. A girl was dead in a chair, head back with a bullet wound under her eye.
“Look around, there has to be money and dope somewhere,” Kenny said.
Kenny went into another room off the kitchen and started throwing stuff around. I pulled out the drawers in the kitchen, but didn't find anything. In the pantry, I noticed large cereal boxes and dumped them out on the kitchen table. The only thing that came out of the boxes was cereal. Under the sink were cleaning products and bottles of alcohol, mostly tequila and rum. I heard Kenny yelling something from the other room, but couldn't make it out. I looked in the freezer and found two large freezer bags of dope. One was filled with black tar heroin, the other was coke.
“I found it,” I yelled.
Kenny came rushing in with a gym bag, packed with something heavy. “Come on we gotta go,” he said.
As we came out, guys were waiting for us in the hall and on the stairs. Bullets started flying off the door and walls. We ducked back into the apartment.
I hope you’re ready. This is gonna be good,” Kenny said.
“Hold up,” I said, and started looking out the windows until I found a fire escape. “Tell them we give up and we’re coming out with no guns,” I said.
He gave me an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be joking,” Kenny said.
“Listen to me. There’s a fire escape off the bedroom. Let’s make a run for it. No one’s out there. Going out the front is suicide,” I said.
I went to the window, opened it and stepped out onto the fire escape. Kenny shouted something in Spanish and then came running to the window. We climbed down, our feet echoing off the metal of the fire escape. When we almost reached the street, they started shooting from the window. I laid down suppressive fire, shooting in short bursts, as Kenny made a run for the car. He pulled the car up, tires smoking, then jumped out and fired at the window until I got in. Kenny peeled out as bullets shattered the back and side windows.
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