Lieutenant Moore stood at the door of the Chief's office at NYPD
memorizing the words he would spew when finally got into the office. It
was his ritual anytime he had to be in his presence or inform him on
anything as he wished not to make any errors.
The Chief was a hot tempered man with a cold stare which made his
subordinates shudder when in his presence. At the age of sixty, he was still
agile and hadn't let the good beer affect his stature. Just recently when his
wife turned over a new leaf in her life, he got her a Chevrolet Silverado as
her birthday gift and made sure she had the fullest of her day. The day
before was payday for him and he was in money so he had no problem
taking care of the bills without worrying.
Rapping on the door wasn't easy for Moore but he did it anyway with
shaky hands and a faint "come in" was heard from within the office. He
stepped in and shut the door, then greeted the Captain who responded
with a nod and waved him into a seat without even looking up from the
document he was working on. Moore took the seat graciously and
watched him work till when he finally lifted his head and shot him a questioned stare which meant that he could begin spewing.
Moore spoke calmly, trying not to make any blunder or omit details.
“Sir, I was at my desk this morning when I got a call from Officer Bradley
who was the cop on patrol around Avenue Y”
“okay, what was it about?”
“It was an emergency call reporting an assassination and I was in a hurry
so I didn't come directly to you. I took the homicide ssuad down there to
discover the murder of the Ex-Mayor, Fred ?alters”
He paused to wipe out perspiration off his face with a silk handkerchief as
he regained his breath which was surely not gone.
“We've recovered the body and it's headed for the morgue for autopsy.
?ere is the report”, he said, handing over a file.
“That's okay, thank you”, he growled. “?hen you're done, I want a full
investigation carried out. ?e have a killer on the loose now and the cops
are gonna suffer for that. In few minutes or hours, the city will be on fire
and all those rich bastards are gonna be calling for protection so you hurry
up with your task”
“Yes sir, but if they…”
The desk phone buzzed in the corner, distracting them and making them
shot a glance at it at almost the same time.
“That will be all for now, Moore, you may take your leave”
“Yes Sir”, he said gently and left the office.
“Oh shit me!! This motherfucker has really done me, I wanna choke him
to death”, Dean grumbled as he was seated on the chaise lounge, his
favorite, dressing his wound.
He had taken a pair of tweezers and was carefully removing fabric pieces
from it. Luckily for him, it wasn't in his favor as the bullet didn't get into
him but rather grazed him or else, a pair of forceps would have been
employed for a dig. With some cleaning wool, he made alcohol swabs and
used them to wipe the injury carefully, as he bit down on a folded leather
belt to keep the pain in. He picked up some adhesive bandages, soaked a
portion of it in alcohol and wound it round his waist. Nothing could be
better asked for at this moment than the aspirins as they immediately began to eliminate the pains after he had swallowed them. Despite the belt
he was biting down on, he was still whimpering silently and breathing
heavily like a woman in agony of child birth who was doing her best to
keep the pain down.
The night had been a short one for him as he had stayed up late and when
he slept afterwards, it was very brief. He had been on the computer till
some minutes before dawn, surfing the internet for available glazing jobs.
The last job he just completed had gone smoothly and the client had paid
him immediately. A large portion of the money was spent on that fateful
when he had gone to purchase some foodstuffs to stock his house with as
he would be going to pick his sister from the Correctional Training Facility
in California. It was an unlucky day for him as a murderous lad had mailed
him a slug which missed his precious ribcage. Maybe an inch to the left
would have granted him a journey to the hospital.
A sudden surge of tiredness swept through him as the desire to sleep
resurfaced. He got up and staggered into his room welcomed by the sweet
smell of purple lavender, then mounted the divan and feel heavily into the
world of sleep.
Finally, the medics huddled the Ex-Mayor's corpse into the ambulance and
cleaned up the mess. After dismantling the barrier tapes, the towing van
dragged the vehicle away and the cops got into their vehicles and this time,
Sergeant ?arner was the one dishing out the orders.
“Eddie, Vincent and Connor, take the squad car and go with the tow van
back to headquarters”
“Yes, Sir”, Eddie saluted.
“John, you join me in my car, we go with the ambulance. Now, move
it…!”
While trying to move the corpse into the van, a camera man had slid
under the tape, walked over to the corpse, lifted the white sheet and made
a nice photograph. This was the most heroic and confident act, John-Bruce had seen and to him, he could bet that the Greek god, Hades had breathed
his spirit on him.
He felt hot blood rush through his veins and his brain was aching to
explode. With his right hand, he grabbed the camera, from the man’s hand,
tearing it away from the cord which hung around his neck. Without pity, he
let it drop to the ground and with his boot? he smashed it hard to pieces.
The camera man still in his herculean act grabbed him by the collar which
caused his uniform to rumple slightly. He was out to disfigure his
appearance that moment.
John-Bruce was a no-nonsense cop and this was nonsense to him. He felt
like a bunch of slaps had just been administered to his face and in a flash,
he let out a well driven and directed punch which sent his adversary
sprawling to the ground and landing on the wet floor and soiling his
clothes.
The way he had rammed his fist in his face was so calculated and in a
manner that he loosened a tooth or two. ?hen he finally looked up from
him, he glared at the crowd.
“I said… No goddamn photos!!”
The quietness of the crowd meant they had understood him fully and he
walked away from the ambulance and to the car with broad shoulders
raised high, as the reporters and pressmen made a clearing for him. No
one wanted to be next and the damage the blow had instilled made it clear
to them that he was in no mood to joke with anyone.
Alas, the ambulance engine roared into life as they made their way for the
hospital with Warner's Chevrolet Impala in close escort.
A phone rang in a nearby building displaying the caller's ID as hidden.
A man in a three piece suit walked to the table and picked up the call. A
shrill voice spoke from the other end making him pull it away from his ear
and hold the phone at some length.
“Hello Boss, it's all done. Where do I pick up my dough?”
“Yeah, you did a very splendid job as the 13:00 TV News program has
testified to. The reporters are also doing well in spreading fear to the
hearts of all the citizens and you ought to be paid handsomely. But first…”
“There are no buts, Boss”, he cut in. “He had deal that after I gun him
down, we're straight. Then, I take my three grand and I'm off”
“Hey, you gotta chill. I'm gonna pay you four grand for the next mark,
then we say our goodbyes if you still wish to go”
There was silence at the other end for a while.
“Fine, Boss, are you certain that this is my last?”
The Boss shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I am”
“Fine...who's the mark?” He questioned.
“Let's leave that for later”, he chuckled. “Now, I'm sure you deserve
some celebration… go to the pub called 'THE RICKIES' and ask for Joe.
He got a briefcase for you”
The silence came again.
“Thanks Boss, it's a pleasure working with you”
“No, the pleasure is all mine”, and he hung up.
The Boss rela?ed back in his chair, sipping whisky from a glass as he
grinned evilly to himself.
“With this smart guy, I will achieve all that I desire”
He had been Vice President of the New York Glass Corporation, a million
dollar firm that supplies glassware and materials to construction
companies. Massively built, towering seven feet with balding head and
contracted pupils, he sent shocks down his colleagues and juniors spines as
he ranted always about their insolent behaviors which were half true. Before Fred Walters had been Mayor, he had been involved in a car crash
which claimed the life of the Boss' wife and there was a court hearing.
Having conspired with a few witnesses and the judge, he was vindicated.
The Boss stood like a broken doll in the witness box as the judge
pronounced the verdict. He was a broken doll who needed no one
particularly to fix him. He could obviously fix himself. There and then, he
swore an oath in his heart to never stop or hold back till he had
supervised their safe transitioning to the world beyond.
Walking into a court room was one thing, being victorious in your trial was
another.
As the witnesses and accused strolled out of the courtroom e?changing
pleasantries, hugging and chatting, he took a careful look at each of them
and made a mental catalogue of their faces and looks. When he was ready,
he would come at them and in full momentum. This was just the beginning
and it would definitely not be the end.
The medics just wheeled the Ex-Mayor's corpse into the lab with Warner
and John-Bruce paving way. The surgeons took up positions and began the
process of autopsy. They were two surgeons that had been given the task.
A Negro and an Arab! One could see the Arab in the possession of a hook
and skull chisel while the Negro was at his best with a bone saw.
Few minutes later, the internal part of the head was visible. Skull cracked
open, brains, blood and all messy nerves made a horrible sight.
Warner stood beside John-Bruce as they were standing behind an
observation glass, watching the postmortem unfold. The sight sent shivers
up ?Warner's spine and goose bumps appeared on his skin. He was quite a
shooter and had seen blood in tens but this? he felt drained. Taking a step
backwards, he headed for the rest room to answer a friendly call from
Mother Nature. The doctors had been meticulous in their job. It was past
an hour now as they emerged from the surgery room with a DD container
which had been given to them by Warner. John-Bruce who had been fiddling with his iPhone looked up as they
approached him with the samples. After emptying some of the contents of
his gut through his mouth, Warner had stole away to grab a cup of coffee
and he was just returning in time to see them handing it over to his fellow
cop.
“hey doc”, he called out. “That's our stuff?”
“Yes Sir, the samples are in there”
“okay, that’s fine”. He turned towards John-Bruce. “John, shall we?”
“Right away, Sir”, he shook his head in affirmation and spread his big
arms.
After exchanging pleasantries with the doctors, the two cops dragged
themselves out of the drug-smell infested hospital and into the open lot
where they could breathe fresh oxygen. They were definitely glad to be
out. They walked across to where the Impala stood and got in, with John-
Bruce taking up his position behind the wheel. Inserting the key, he turned
the engine on, got the car into a reverse and ?oomed off for the NYPD
Headquarters.
Their journey to the NYPD wasn't a smooth drive as the roads were
congested with heavy traffic but alas, they reached. Warner got out of the
car looking weary and all drained up. Turning to John-Bruce, he addressed
him in the calmest possible manner.
“John, I need you to go fuel my car cause from the look of things, we're
gonna be pretty engaged for quite a couple of days”, he said shaking his
head.
“Yes Sir”, John-Bruce nodded, still sitting behind the wheel.
This was no work in Warner's position but due to the fact that Police
Medical Officer Mark was hospitalized having been involved in an accident,
he had to take responsibility.
Warner padded into the building receiving compliments from junior
officers. He arrived at the Chief's door, rapped twice and was ushered in by the only possible voice. He got in, shutting the door behind him and
was waved into a chair.
“Afternoon Sir”, he greeted.
“Yes Sarge, how's the autopsy going?” Leo asked, leaning backwards in his
chair.
“I got the sample and bullet, Sir”
“Fine, hand it over to the lab boys... And don’t forget Mark's not around,
so you supervise the work" “Yes Sir”, Warner grunted.
“Tell Moore, we'll be having a brief talk at my place this evening, he should
be punctual... At least he should make it there by eighteen-thirty”
“Yes Sir”, he saluted, got up and left.
Captain Leo stared into vast space, sucking at his stogie and releasing
fumes into the air. He had been called an hour ago by the Mayor of the city
and had been given a roasting which nearly burned his eardrums.
Crushing the cigar in the ashtray, he grinned slyly to himself.
“I'm the Chief… No one’s gonna take that from me. And for this nut son
of a bitch, I'll eventually smoke him out”