Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1)

by Richard Nesbitt

  Harris’ car approached the warehouse he had come to find. He made a point of not looking directly at it or even slowing down in case he was being watched or there was a surveillance system in place. But he did notice tire tracks in the sparse bit of snow that remained. They ran from the street towards the back of the building where the loading docks were situated. There was a closed gate with a chained lock blocking the entrance so whoever had made the tracks must have unlocked the gate to get through and, once on the other side, locked the gate behind them. He did not see a vehicle but if Castillo was holding Emily here, he would most likely have pulled into the building.

  Harris made the first left and drove half a block down the side street. He came to a section of the building that rose three stories and had a windowless, red brick wall running directly to the sidewalk. He eased over and felt his tires touch the curb. Putting his car in park, Harris shut the engine down. He looked to each side and behind him. There was only one homeless man present, bundled in an old Army jacket and tattered pants, but he shuffled off in the other direction as he saw the car park.

  Harris opened the door and stepped out into the crisp, cold air. Thumbing the silver lever on the side of his driver’s seat, he pushed the seat back towards the steering wheel and leaned in to grab the AR-15 that lay on the floor. He straightened, keeping the assault rifle low and to his side. Harris closed the door softly and pressed his key fob just once so that the door would lock but not chirp. He then walked down the sidewalk and back towards the street he’d just left pressing the AR-15 tightly against the side of his body which was closest to the wall to minimize its exposure. The people who might notice were hardly the type to call the police, but why take chances, he thought?

  Harris walked casually, mimicking the movements of the vagrants. He did not want to stand out any more than he already did in his black outfit. He ambled with his head down until he came to the gate with the tire tracks he’d seen earlier. He looked at the chain and saw that it had some slack to it. Walking over to it, Harris pulled the left side of the gate. It pulled open to create a gap between the two sides. Harris stuck his leg through the crack but quickly realized there was no way he was going to fit his body through. He reached into his left breast cargo pocket and retrieved a small, black leather case. It resembled an elongated wallet although it had a black zipper which ran against three sides of the case. He unzipped it quickly and fished a master key from among the many small tools, and keys inside. He jammed the key into the padlock and pressed firmly, using leverage to jam the teeth into place. Keeping a tight grip on the key and the lock, he jiggled and twisted rapidly back and forth. After a tenuous moment, the key turned and the padlock popped open. Harris breathed a sigh of relief and scanned the area to see if he had attracted any interested onlookers. There were none.

  After putting the lock picking case away and removing the chain from one side of the gate, Harris pushed the other side open just enough so that he could pass through. He closed the gate behind him but left the chain unlocked and dangling.

  Now Harris moved more rapidly. He jogged to the left side of the loading docks and pressed flat against the building. Taking another furtive glance, Harris pushed himself up onto the loading dock and quickly regained his feet. There were several doors and windows which ran the length of the building. He moved quickly towards the first door and slowly tried the knob. Locked.

  Of course, he thought.

  He crept forward and tried a second door and then a third. All locked.

  The windows were large, multi-paned rectangles that tilted inward and outward to open. They were all filthy and it was almost impossible to see more than vague shadows through the glass. He pushed the first one at the top of the pane. It didn’t budge. Harris, keeping low, tried the second window.

  It moved.

  The top of the window pushed inward as the lower half pushed out. Harris peered cautiously through the crack the opening afforded. There was a small office. A lone desk sat in a corner but otherwise the room was empty. Luckily, the office door leading into the warehouse was closed. Gently, Harris pulled up on the lower half of the window which jutted towards the outside. The window continued to move easily until it was completely horizontal.

  He then swung a leg over the bottom of the window. Placing a hand on the hard, metal edge, he eased his way over being careful not to bang into the opening with his rifle. When his foot hit the floor inside the office he quickly swung his second leg through the open window and dropped to a crouching position. He was in.

  Moving quickly to the office door, Harris paused. He pressed an ear against the wooden door and listened. There was no sound other than the passing street traffic outside the warehouse. He turned the knob slowly and eased the door open a crack. Peeking out, Harris saw only a large, empty warehouse.

  What at one time must have been a bustling floor that received and held shipments to and from the Brooklyn port was now a cob-web riddled, dust-filled echo chamber. Harris moved the AR-15 into a combat ready position with his hand around the stock, finger just off the trigger. The other hand held the black, plastic cover which surrounded the barrel. He thumbed the safety to its off position. The hunt was on.

  Stepping out of the door and keeping low, Harris made his way down the warehouse keeping close to the stretch of offices. As he passed, he did a rapid, cautionary scan through each window although he knew from experience that if Castillo was here with Emily, they would be in a more secure location, away from any exits that could be stumbled upon from the street.

  Harris came to the end corner of the offices where the loading bays were located. It was in these bays that trucks would load and unload. He peeked around the corner and what he saw caused his pulse to quicken. Just inside one of the large bay doors sat a sleek, black Mercedes.

  Harris scanned the area for movement. He could not see inside the Mercedes as the windows were tinted dark black. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Harris shouldered his weapon and stepped quickly to the car in a shooters stance. The entire time he trained the AR-15 at the driver’s window. Should he receive any fire, he was prepared to return it without hesitation.

  Harris, keeping the rifle pointed towards the driver side, walked quickly and silently towards the rear of the vehicle. Although also darkened, the rear window was not as bold a tint and Harris could see inside the vehicle. It was empty. He released a long breath and crouched low. There, in bold letters, he saw what eroded his last shred of doubt. A cold, shiver started in his neck and ran the length of his spine and he grit his teeth as the finality of his mission came crashing down upon his shoulders.

  Harris let the anger wash over him as he stared at the U.N. diplomatic license plate. With the removal of this last nagging doubt, he felt a boiling fury as he knew now with certainty that it was Castillo. He reflected on the fact that this sick, twisted individual had kidnapped, raped and tortured an innocent young woman just to get revenge on her father for a business deal gone bad. It didn’t matter that the victim had not deserved what she’d endured. It didn’t matter what type of pain and suffering she’d been forced to experience. It didn’t even matter to this psychopath that she live or die. As long as Castillo’s ends were served, her life was unimportant. No matter how many other people her death would hurt, it didn’t matter to the man.

  Harris closed his eyes and replayed the videos in his mind. He saw Emily’s face, the wide desperate eyes crying out in horror, begging for help that never arrived. It was heartbreaking. And then he opened his eyes and the vision was gone. There was only the here and now. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Staying low, Harris crept around the car, examining the cement outside each of the Mercedes doors. Only the floor under the driver’s door showed a disturbance in the filth that covered the floor. A lone set of footprints led away to the far end of the warehouse. Castillo was alone, he thought.

  Stepping from behind the car, Harris walked quickly and deliberately towards a
group of office doors at the back of the large building. He knew instinctively that they would be unoccupied. A quick check confirmed his suspicion. At the end of these offices was a lone flight of stairs. They led to the north end of the building and to what he could only assume were more offices. He made his way towards the stairs slowly, his rifle ready for engagement should he be ambushed.

  Harris was about to step onto the landing of the staircase when he froze in place. His foot hovered in mid-air and slowly he withdrew it and backed away. Although they was extremely small, on the second and fourth steps sat two black devices. They were roughly the size and shape of double A batteries and they sat in the far corner of each step. Against the black paint of the steps they were almost indistinguishable. The two remote devices were angled outwards so that their invisible, infrared beams cut a diagonal path through the air.

  Wireless motion detectors, Harris thought. He’d almost tripped them. Scanning the rest of the steps from where he stood, Harris noted that there were only these two. Whatever else he was, Castillo was not a fool. These devices would almost certainly trigger an alarm wherever Emily was being held.

  Harris moved to the far side of the steps where the devices lay. With large, exaggerated leg lifts, he stepped high and placed his foot on the far side of the third step. Then he repeated the process onto the fifth step. The beams were directed at the center of the steps so it was easy enough to avoid them. Still, he paused, straining to hear if he’d alerted somebody. There was no sound. He continued up the steps, double checking as he went. The second half of the first landing turned back 180 degrees and another column of steps inclined at 45 degrees to the second floor. These were also free of any detectors and he crept up them quickly, arriving at the top in seconds.

  Harris crouched again, and surveyed a long corridor which ran the length of the second story. Several doors were spaced on each side of the hallway. To his left was another flight of stairs leading to the third floor. He gave the stairs a quick once over and noted that there were no detection devices. Smart, Harris thought. If somebody had figured out how to bypass the first two, they would certainly bypass others so what was the point?

  Harris forced his breathing to slow, in through his nose and out. Silence was essential. He began down the hallway using recon tactics he’d learned in the military. Stopping beside each door, he first listened closely and then tested the knob. Most were locked and those he was forced to leave. He couldn’t risk the noise it would make to open them. The ones that were unlocked, he pushed open slowly and peered into. Besides some old furniture that the previous owners must have deemed non salvageable, the rooms were empty.

  Harris came to the last door in the hall. He concentrated on slow even breaths to combat his quickening pulse. He placed his hand on the knob and was about to twist it when he heard a faint cry.

  He spun around to face back down the long corridor towards the stairs. The cry came again, this time louder and more drawn out. He could hear it above him as well, muffled through the ceiling. The third floor.

  Harris broke into a sprint as he made for the stairs.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  66

  Commissioner Gerland drove through the congested streets of midtown Manhattan. He headed south on 5th Avenue, barely noticing the gold, brown and red colored leaves of Central Park on his right. Making a left on East 57th, he headed towards Park Avenue. His destination was the Waldorf Astoria where he was having Thanksgiving brunch with his family.

  Although a fine suit may have been more than acceptable for a family gathering, Gerland preferred to wear his dress uniform. As with all officers with the rank of lieutenant or higher, he wore the customary white shirt, not the blue of Sergeants and below. His blue and gold enameled badge bore an eagle with five stars and the words CITY OF NEW YORK POLICE COMMISSIONER. The badge was a golden ticket, affording him the highest respect wherever he went in the city. People treated him like royalty when he wore the uniform. Without it, he was rarely recognized.

  Gerland pulled in to the Astoria’s prestigious drive just as his cell phone rang. He held a hand up to the valet who ran to his door as he answered the call.

  “Commissioner Gerland, here.”

  “Do you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing having Lieutenant Harris followed?”

  The question and tone caught Gerland off guard. He hesitated.

  “I’m waiting,” the Mayor said.

  “This is not exactly something I want to discuss over a cell phone, Mayor. For Christ’s sake it’s Thanksgiving. I’m just about to head into a brunch with my family.”

  “Did you really pull men from the Blumquist investigation to follow a cop who was specially assigned to the case by the D.A. herself? A cop you were instructed to leave alone?”

  “It’s not as simple as that. There is a valid reason for what we did.”

  “Such as?”

  “Mayor, this is really something I think we should discuss tomorrow or possibly even Monday. I can assure you that everything we did was in the best interest of all parties.”

  “Save it. The D.A. is out for blood and I want answers. Be in my office tomorrow morning at 9a.m. sharp and bring Dinkins with you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “For your sake, you’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”

  “Mayor, everything we did was in the best interest of the case.”

  The line clicked dead.

  Gerland nodded to the waiting valet who quickly opened the door and greeted him cordially.

  “Good morning, Commissioner. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he mumbled as he took the ticket the man extended.

  The valet jumped into his car and drove off as Gerland walked towards the entrance of the famous hotel. He’d known that this could blow up in his face and he was prepared.

  He strode through the large doors which were held open by two separate doormen. They both offered their season’s greetings. Making his way towards the dining room, the commissioner stopped and fished his phone from his pocket. He opened his texting and typed quickly.

  -Be in my office at 8am sharp-

  He sent the text and then switched his phones ringer to vibrate. There would be no further explanation for Dinkins. No sense giving him time to plot his own escape strategy.

  Commissioner Gerland put his phone back in his pocket and waved to his wife as he walked towards the large table filled with his family members.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  67

  Christi found Harris’ black Camaro with no problem. The GPS had guided her to the Brooklyn warehouse without incident. She circled the building twice and noticed the gate leading to the docking bays. She saw the chain hanging slack. She also noticed the footprints in the crisp white snow that had gone untouched on the other side of the gate. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.

  Now, she parked behind the Camaro and tried to calm her nerves. She looked down at the bulge in the low front pocket of her coat. Reaching in slowly, she closed her hand around the snub nosed revolver and swallowed hard. This wasn’t like going into Carlo’s back yard. This was something much, much different. What if Castillo was in there, she wondered. What if Harris had found him and Castillo had somehow gotten the best of him? She could find herself facing this psychopath alone.

  “Stop it,” she spoke aloud. She looked down again to her hands and noticed they were shaking.

  Christi heard a sound behind her car and almost came out of her skin, jumping violently with fear. Dear God, she thought as she put a hand to her chest. It was only a homeless man crossing the street. Her reaction was so sudden and unexpected that it caught the man off guard and he also leapt a foot in the air before quickly moving off down the street, checking over his shoulder as he made his escape.

  “Get a grip on yourself,” Christi spoke aloud for a second time as she fought to steady her nerves. She looked outside the car in all directions and other t
han the fleeing vagrant, there wasn’t a person to be seen. Now or never, she thought.

  “One, two, three…”

  She quickly opened the door, swung her legs out of the BMW and stood up in the chilly air. Okay, she thought again, that wasn’t so difficult. Now move.

  Christi closed the door quietly and walked quickly, following the same path that Harris had taken. Her breath came out in billowy clouds but although it was cold, Christi noticed that she was sweating.

  Approaching the unchained gate, she looked towards the loading docks, noticing for the first time the tire tracks in the snow. Somebody was here besides herself and Harris. Another prickle of fear stabbed through her.

  She reached to her right jacket pocket and, squeezing the gun again, felt relief that Sylvia had forced her to bring it along. Without it she was vulnerable to anything, with it she had a chance.

  You’re stalling, she thought. Don’t think, don’t think…just act.

  Christi ducked low and passed through the gate. She moved rapidly now and jogged in Harris’ footprints until she reached the loading dock. Instead of pulling herself up to the top of the dock, Christ ran around and found some steps. Taking them lightly, she moved quickly atop the long, cement loading platform which ran the length of the building. Her heart raced as she headed down the dock, passing office windows that were too dirty to see through. Christi stopped short. She had almost walked into the open window that jutted out from the wall. Horizontal as it was, it cut only a small sliver of a profile and blended into the background of the grime covered building. She moved cautiously now and approached the open window silently. Peeking in, she saw the near empty office.

  This has to be where he went in, she thought.