True To The Game III

C.R.E.A.M.

Detective Cleaver stormed up to the table. “How the fuck could you lose her?”

Dick Davis peered up at him. “What?”

“Roscoe P. Coltrane couldn’t have fucked this one up! My one-eyed, one-legged grandmother could have kept up with her! She was at a fucking shopping mall!”

Davis rose from the table. Ellington grabbed him.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, asshole!” Davis told Cleaver. “You don’t fucking know me! You don’t know shit about me!”

“I know that Inspector Clouseau could have done a better job of keeping up with that bimbo!” Cleaver shot back.

“He wasn’t on her,” Ratzinger told him.

“What?”

“None of my people were on her.” Ratzinger repeated. “I had narcotics trailing her.”

“What?” Cleaver shouted. “You had those bumbling idiots shadowing her? They couldn’t kept up with their dicks if they weren’t attached to their fucking bodies!”

“We needed their manpower and resources,” Ratzinger told him.

“Dammit, Ratzinger! I thought we were all in agreement on this. No mistakes, and we keep this as tight as possible!”

“Narcs don’t know shit. All they were told was to trail her, and to call me at each stop.”

“And she just happened to lose you at her first stop.” Cleaver shook his head. “Brilliant, just fucking brilliant. She turned into James fucking Bond and made you look like Gomer fucking Pyle.”

“Watch yourself, Sergeant,” Ratzinger said sternly.

“Our money just disappeared, Lieutenant.”

“Guys, can we put away some of the testosterone here?” Ellington remarked. “This bickering is getting us nowhere. The broad pulled a fast one on us. She thinks she’s fucking Harry Houdini, so now we gotta be who we are. We’re detectives, so now it’s time to hit the street and act like detectives. We find this bitch, and this time we make sure that she doesn’t get away from us, that’s all.”

“We watch her twenty-four-seven,” Davis added.

Ellington shook her head. “Naw, we’re putting cuffs on this bitch when we find her this time.”

“What are we going to charge her with?” Davis asked.

“How about naming her as a suspect in the shooting of her little boyfriend?” Ellington smiled.

“What?” Cleaver was shocked. “What the hell are you talking about, Toya?”

“Her little boyfriend, Jerrell Jackson, was blasted in a motel about a month ago,” Ellington explained. “The room was trashed like there had been a struggle and Ms. Scott’s prints were all over the place.”

“How come nobody said anything about this before?” Cleaver asked.

“Why hasn’t Homicide swooped on her?” Ratzinger asked.

“I dug this up only recently. A friend of mine over in Homicide just confirmed everything for me this morning,” Ellington told them. “They haven’t swooped on her yet because they can’t find her. Oh, by the way, she’s not a suspect. She’s a person of high interest.”

“She’s not a suspect?” Davis asked incredulously.

Ellington shook her head. “Apparently Homicide is of the opinion that if by some miracle she did do him, it was definitely self-defense. Her blood was all over the room. Her skin was beneath his fingernails, and the victim had bite marks and scratch marks everywhere. And the kicker is, he or she-and they are guessing he-had rope, cement, acid, a saw, and all kinds of macabre shit tucked away in the bathroom.”

“Jesus!” Cleaver leaned back and tossed down a drink.

“Evidence suggests that he was going torture her, kill her, and dispose of her body,” Ellington told them.

“Torture her? Why torture her?” Davis asked.

“Information,” Ratzinger said.

“Information?” Davis lifted an eyebrow.

“He was going to torture her and get her to give up the location of the money,” Cleaver said. “Jesus. How many others are after this damn money? This thing’s becoming a fucking race to the finish. Like a damn hunt for buried treasure or something.”

“We can’t put out an all-points bulletin on her, because that’s Homicide’s job,” Ratzinger explained. “People will wonder why vice is putting out an APB for a homicide. It’ll raise too many eyebrows. I’ll be getting all kinds of calls from vice, from the captain, from everywhere.”

Cleaver nodded. “I agree. And we can’t alert patrol, because they’ll want to know why she’s wanted. We have to get out in the streets ourselves.”

“We could try to smoke her out,” Ratzinger suggested.

“How?” Davis asked.

“Press her grandmother.”

“She’s in the hospital,” Ellington said.

“What for?” Ratzinger asked.

Ellington shook her head. “Another surprise. A gentleman showed up at her door, looking for Gena. When they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell him where she was, he shot the cousin, beat the grandmother, and then raped her.”

Cleaver leaned forward. “Raped her?”

Ellington nodded.

Cleaver threw down another drink. “Jesus!”

“Someone else looking for the money?” Ratzinger questioned.

“You think?”

“You don’t rape an old woman for kicks,” Ratzinger said. “He did it to send a message. He did it to smoke her out.”

“How many other people are searching for this girl and this goddamn money?” Cleaver asked. “It’ll be like a damn madhouse when someone does find her. Hell, it’ll probably be the biggest shootout since D-Day!”

“Sounds like Ms. Gena’s days are numbered,” Ellington observed.

At the Philadelphia Federal Building on Sixth and Market streets in Center City, Agents Phil Covington and Josh Harbinger stood at attention in front of the desk of Special Agent in Charge Rudy Galvani. The SAIC leafed through a small stack of papers with a deep scowl embedded in his face. Finally, he peered up at his agents.

“You bugged the office of a vice lieutenant, two detectives, and an Internal Affairs detective, and you did it without my authorization?” Galvani asked.

“Sir, I thought that I had your consent.”

“And what exactly made you think that you had my consent, Agent Harbinger?”

“You gave me permission to see what I could dig up, sir.”

“Do you know what professional courtesy is, Agent Harbinger? When we conduct an operation of this nature, it is only professional courtesy to notify the chief of police, and perhaps the local district attorney.”

“Sir, the primary target of the operation is a sergeant in the Philadelphia Police Department’s Office of Internal Affairs. I didn’t know how many others were involved; in fact, I still don’t. Sir, what we’ve uncovered so far involves murder…”

Galvani held up his hand, silencing his agent. “I can read. The problem that I have with this operation, Josh, is that I signed off on none of it. You pulled in other field agents, redirected Bureau resources, retasked Bureau assets, and ran roughshod over standard operational procedures. Those procedures are in place for a reason, Agent Harbinger.”

“I know, sir. Please, just consider all of the evidence. They’re dirty, sir, and they’re planning on killing an innocent girl for money.”

SAIC Galvani sat and stared at his young agent for several moments before leaning back in his seat and waving his hand toward the chairs in front of him. “Okay, numb nuts, let’s hear it.”

A smile spread across Josh’s face as he seated himself. Phil wiped away the beads of sweat that were running down his forehead and quickly plopped down into his seat.

“We’ve got them, sir,” Josh said excitedly. “We have recordings of a couple of different conversations. And we’ve narrowed it down to this small cabal: the vice lieutenant, Cleaver, and the two vice detectives.”

“And you knew Cleaver was dirty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All of this time, you’ve had an itch in your pants for this guy. Why?”

“Sir, when I went undercover as a police detective, he approached me several times to join him in some very questionable activities.”

Galvani lifted an eyebrow. “Questionable?”

“Illegal.”

Galvani lifted the file and flipped through it again. “Well, it appears you were right about him.”

Josh swallowed hard and nodded.

Galvani handed the file back to Harbinger. “If you fart without permission, I’ll have you reassigned to the U.S. embassy in Sri Lanka. Do you understand me?”

Josh smiled and nodded.

“Good work, Agent Harbinger. Next time, remember who’s the SAIC of this field office.”

Josh rose and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Phil also rose.

Galvani lifted his phone and pressed a button. “Sylvia, get me the district attorney on the telephone, please.” He turned to his agents. “You get out, and you make sure you get these crooked sons-a-bitches off the street. You need anything, you call me. You got that?”

Josh nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The speakerphone came alive. “Sir, I have United States District Attorney Paul Perachetti on the line.”

Galvani lifted the receiver. “Paul, how’s it going? You’re not going to believe what I have for you today.” Galvani covered the receiver. “You two misfits, get the hell outta my office.”

Josh and Phil turned and headed for the office door.

“Gentlemen, one last thing,” Galvani said.

They stopped and turned back to their boss.

“Don’t let them kill her.”

Josh nodded and headed out of the office with Phil following close behind.

“I told you he wasn’t going to kill us.” Josh smiled.

“So, what’s next?” Phil asked.

“We make those assholes our new best friends.”

“What?”

Josh stopped and turned to his partner. “They are after this money. With a couple of FBI agents hanging around, they’re going to get really anxious about trying to get it. They’re going to be desperate to make their move, and they’re going to do something careless. And when they screw up, we’re going to nail their asses to the wall.”

“And the girl?”

“They can’t touch her with us around.”

“How are we going to pull this one off?” Phil asked. “They aren’t just going to open their arms and allow us to just hang out with them.”

“We become part of the new Federal Vice Task Force.”

Phil laughed. “There’s no such task force.”

“That’s never stopped us before. Besides, we know that, but they don’t know that. Wherever they are, we will be. I want that bastard Cleaver to make his move.”