by Eden Sharp
'All clear,' he said.
I checked just to make sure. Knox appeared to be back on Earth. No one appeared to be lurking in the shadows. We ran down the street to the next intersection.
Knox made it to the corner of Enterprise a couple of seconds ahead of me and practically collided with two men. I just had enough time to register one of the bangers lifting the automatic weapon in his hand to fire.
Knox launched himself at the man's arm, pushing it up and away from us. The sound of the discharge cracked in the air, amplified by the surrounding streets. I blotted everything else out and slammed an elbow into the second man's solar plexus and socked him to the ground. I continued pounding him over and over again until he was no longer a threat, until I was aware of muffled sirens off in the distance. They sounded like they were underwater.
Knox was grinding the gunman's wrist into the pavement with his foot. The weapon was on the ground. I kicked it away. Knox dropped to his knees and landed a few blows to the side of the man's shaved head.
John Knox
One minute Knox had been back in the desert killing the kid then the next he was on the ground hitting a guy in the head. He remembered a large tattoo. An image of a rabbit, its face masked by a bandanna sporting the letter “M”. Then he was aware that McGlynn was marching him towards a car up ahead he didn't recognize. Everything was quiet for a moment and then he could hear sounds of traffic and the city and he scoped Kelly hanging out of the vehicle's window.
He looked at McGlynn and saw she was shaking. He realized it was cold so he stopped, took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He felt his leg muscles seizing up from the cortisol. His right hand fizzed and throbbed. He felt drained.
'You know how easy it is to die McGlynn? One minute you're breathing, the next you don't exist. It's messy or painful or both.'
She was staring hard at him.
'And do you know what happens when you're not afraid Knox? she said. 'You have to ask yourself if you really want to live.'
THIRTY-TWO
Kelly shot away from the curb as soon as they were both on board.
'What the fuck was that about?'
'Strayed into some gangbangers acting out,' Knox said.
McGlynn stared out of the window, keeping quiet.
'You okay?' Knox asked.
No answer. Maybe processing.
'So what's with the clunker?'
'Mine's in the shop. You two wanna crash at mine?' Kelly asked.
Knox nodded. 'Okay with me.'
Knox took a sip of whatever Kelly had just given him. It reminded him of brown-stained water. He put it down next to his chair.
'Your coffee tastes like shit.'
Kelly grunted and handed McGlynn a cup then headed off to bed.
'What was your take on tonight?' she asked.
'At first, in the cab, I thought it was a drive-by. But they were all on the same side. All blue on blue. One eighty contact. Two firing points. Crazy motherfuckers were shooting into their own line of fire. Just as well they can't shoot for shit.'
'I think we were targeted.'
Knox nodded. 'Agreed. But why?'
'And also how? That's a whole other thing.' She looked across at him. 'What do you think?'
'I once read that organized crime bosses use gangbangers for cheap hits rather than risk their own guys. If the narcs are involved with Secora that tells us he's into drugs,' he said.
McGlynn nodded. 'I was told by the guy who taught me to consider every possibility no matter how unlikely until it can be disproved. So let's say Secora ordered a hit. A lot of hardwoods come in from South America so there's a good chance he's selling cocaine. It could be routed through Mexico. Sureños have Mexican mafia ties. La Eme. They'd do it for prestige and ranking regardless of payment. Maybe Secora has a connection there.'
Knox was stoked to be contributing. 'What if the Ukrainian mafia caught up with the carder for real and he had to bargain with them to save his skin? He could have put it on you.'
She shook her head. 'I don't think that's it. Neiger doesn't know my real identity.'
Stubborn. Frustrating. But not dumb.
'I can't drink this, Kelly better have something stronger.'
He went over to the kitchen area and started opening doors. In a corner unit, he found a quart of rum.
He held up the bottle. 'I found this.'
'I'll take it.'
He poured the liquor into a couple of glasses and handed her one, sat back down opposite.
'Must have been wild going to Japan when you were so young,' he said.
Something lit up in her eyes maybe. She took a slug.
'You have no idea.'
'Your folks must have been real proud.'
'They died when I was two.'
Way to go John.
'That's tough.'
She shrugged. 'I never knew them.'
Wow. She really was something else. He took a shot of rum, felt himself relax.
'So you were adopted?'
She shook her head. 'No relatives. Just foster families. Jeff really had to fight my corner to get me out there.'
'And you won medals. Kudos.' He held up his glass.
She did the same.
'So did you get to see much of it while you were there, the country, the people?'
'Jeff quit as coach after the competition. We stayed for nearly two years. Sixteen to eighteen. It was the happiest time of my life. I don't mean the medals. Just being somewhere different, getting into music, my first boyfriend, that kind of thing. Of course it didn't hurt that he had a Ducati and played in a rock band.'
That was new.
'Sounds like it was fun.'
It was time to get things straight.
'You want to know what I think? he said. ‘I think you were right. I probably would be better off out of it. But seeing as how I'm now in it, we need to keep things legal.'
Something close to a smile crept across McGlynn’s face. He tried to figure out if he should take it as agreement.
She fixed him with a look.
'Sure,' she said.
Knox drained his drink.
'I'm gonna hit the rack. Unless you want the guest bed? I can sleep on the couch.'
'I'm fine here.'
'Okay. See you in the morning.'
THIRTY-THREE
Angela McGlynn
I was coming down from the adrenaline, and tiredness and the liquor were kicking in. I ran through a few things in my head. What did we know? Someone wanted us dead but Secora had muscle of his own. Maybe the gang was part of the distribution and he was connected to Le Eme in some way. Difficult to know but Secora was definitely rattled.
I took the picture from out of my jeans pocket. The guy looked Hispanic. The key for now lay in getting an ID and seeing who needed Hayley out of the way.
I moved the drapes back a half inch and checked outside. There didn't appear to be anyone around. I took out my cell and dialed a cab. It was time to go home.
The driver called me to say he'd arrived, so I checked up and down the street and made sure he had a familiar face before I got in.
Night time in San Francisco was my favorite. The skyscrapers and bridges were beautiful glitter, lit like Christmas. The bad daytime views were transformed as if by smoke and mirrors.
My cell beeped. Kerpen. I'd promised him the card data, maybe now was a good time to play my hand. I answered it but didn't get the chance to speak.
'Can we talk?' Kerpen said.
There was an urgency to his voice. He sounded upset.
'Sure. You want to do it in person? I'm on my way home.'
'I'm at the Belstar Motel on Lombard at Cow Hollow but I'm on shift at midnight. Can you make it soon?'
'Be there in fifteen. See you shortly,' I said.
The motel had probably been hip in the 1950s. Inside it was the kind of place where they gave you the key before they charged you so you could take a look at the room and decide i
f you were going to stay.
Stuart Kerpen sat on the edge of the bed looking a little less boyish than I remembered. A few grays stood out in his sandy-colored hair. Dark shadows under tired eyes complemented a hollowed-out look and an unhealthy pallor.
A three quarters full bottle of bourbon sat next to a couple of glasses on the table. One used, one clean. I wondered how long ago both had been pristine and how sober he was for his upcoming shift.
The most serious crime had a window between ten in the evening and two in the morning. Therefore graveyard shift patrols worked mainly violent crime.
I sat on a chair squeezed between a TV and refrigerator.
'This is just temporary,' he said. 'I'm staying at a buddy's from next week.'
'What's going on Stuart?'
'You heard from Matt?'
Not the conversation I'd hoped for. I began to feel trapped.
'No.'
'He's not answering my calls.'
I searched for a platitude but Kerpen wasn't done.
'Am I doing the right thing here? I mean I never thought about how much shit I'd get from Debbie's parents about the divorce.'
He gazed down. His hands were clasped. One thumb was rubbing against the other.
'My own parents are worried. How am I meant to tell them?'
Oh boy.
'I don't think you need to tell anyone anything unless you want to, until you've worked out how you really feel,' I said.
'This is difficult for me you know? I never thought I was gay.' He shook his head. 'Jeez even saying it doesn't sound right.'
He stared at me like I might have all the answers.
'If any of the guys found out at work they'd crucify me regardless of how many sensitivity seminars they've sat through.'
'I think you need to focus on why you're not happy in your relationship with your wife first before anything else,' I said.
Kerpen blinked, averted his gaze. His eyes were watery.
'We met at high school, dated, got married. I think mainly because that's what was expected of us. I mean when I realized I'd made a mistake I had a few affairs with badge bunnies but it was just sex and I didn't even enjoy it. I mean you're meant to enjoy women throwing themselves at you right?'
'Yeah.'
'When I met Matt, I didn't even know he was gay at first, I mean you'd never know right? He's just like one of the guys. It's not like he's faggy or anything. We just really connected and talked and it wasn't even the liquor. I mean he didn't even want to, I just wanted to hang with him, talking. That first night nothing even happened. He just made me feel like something in me was making sense for the first time. I never thought this label would apply to me you know? I don't even want to be gay but I'm in love with a guy.'
He wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. 'Shit. I'm sorry.'
I took a deep breath. 'It's okay. You're feeling this stuff because you're having to re-evaluate your whole identity, it-'
'Gets better?'
'Basically everything changes over time.'
'You've known Matt for a while right?'
'A few years, yes.'
'Then why won't he return my calls? I mean everything was going okay, the last few months have been great. Well I guess it only amounts to five different occasions. I just wish he didn't live so far away.'
Not good.
'Matt's a nice guy but I can't pretend to know what's going through his head. I'll give him a call, see if I can talk to him okay?'
'Thanks.'
'Stuart? You don't have to come out until you've sorted things out in your head and figured out what you want. Give it some time. I'm sure there are some guys at work who are assholes and some who'll probably surprise you, but at least you'll know who your friends are right?'
'Yeah.'
'It's late, I need to go to bed. I'll speak to Matt and give you a call.'
Kerpen nodded. 'That thing with the Secora file. I had to go and see the lead guy on this op in the Investigations Bureau. I managed to play it off, made out I'd made a mistake with the name, a mix up with a traffic complaint.'
'Ortiz?'
'Yeah. I think he bought it.'
'What did you think of him?'
'Arrogant. Bit of a douche. Hopefully he won't be the one on any interviewing panel in the future.'
'Can you find out a bit more about him for me?'
'Like what?'
'Like his rep in the Bureau, if he carries any real weight, that kind of thing?'
'Sure. I'll ask around. I know how to be discreet.'
'If anyone asks, you can just say you're interested in joining his unit.'
I took out my cell and typed in a message. Kerpen's cell beeped somewhere.
'Details of the carder I was telling you about. There's a picture attached, unrelated to him, but when you get time could you run that for me as well?'
He laughed and nodded his head. At least he seemed a little brighter.
'You on the night shift all week?'
'No. I got tomorrow off then I'm back on days.'
I got up and squeezed his shoulder. 'We'll speak soon.'
I waited until I was at home to call Matt. Currently DC was three hours ahead. No way of knowing what his shift pattern was going to be so I just rang anyway intending to leave a message. He answered on two.
'Hey Ange.'
'You're up?'
'Yeah, I'm about to head out to the airport.'
'I just got in from having a chat with Stuart. He wanted to talk.'
'Oh yeah?'
'What's going on?'
'I don't know. Why are you asking?'
'Because the guy's in pieces Matt. You decided to do some missionary work, you can't just walk away from the fallout.'
'The myth of the straight.'
'It might just be a little whoring to you, but the guy's getting a divorce.'
'Hey no slut-shaming and the divorce is the problem.'
'You need to take his calls and talk to him Matt. He deserves that much.'
'You think I'm just dicking the guy around.'
'Pretty much.'
'Look. That's not it okay?
'So what is it?'
'I actually really like him. For the first time in my life, I really do. But this whole divorce thing, it's made me panic.' There was a pause. 'What if I'm wrong?'
'And what if you're right? It sounds like he's ready to give up everything he thought he knew about himself.'
I waited for a reply but only got silence back from the end of the phone.
'You need to talk to him.'
'I know.'
'Promise me.'
'I will.'
‘Thanks.’
'You okay Ange?'
'Yeah.'
'Sure?'
'Yeah. And Matt? It'd be nice to see you sometime soon. Give me a call next time you're heading west.'
'I got a dignitary trip to Brazil. When I get back I'll check what leave I’ve got due.'
'Try not to get caught up in any prostitution scandals.'
'Funny, them trying to pin that one on me.'
'Call him soon Matt.'
'Will do.'
But I wasn't okay. I was tired. I'd had too little sleep in the last few days. There was so much I needed to do but all I could manage was to crawl into bed.
THIRTY-FOUR
Inspector Dean Ortiz
It was early to be in. The overtime log was filled to crazy. Ortiz had hoped to get a little peace before Aaron showed but he was at his desk, worrying paperwork. Ortiz watched him pass one piece of paper from one hand to the other. Put one down with his right, pick another up in his left. No real time for reading or reflection in between. Making a show of being immersed in something though his actions suggested otherwise.
Ortiz was getting tired of firefighting the drama. Of carrying all the weight. He started unloading the files he had taken home. Making each movement fluid and deliberate. Moving each from his bag to his desk like par
t of a ritual or meditation. Enjoying the last thirty seconds of calm.
Aaron needed pacifying and he had worked out a solution. Because he was the brains, the cool, the control. Hence he was in early, ready to get the jump on the situation.
'That uniform who snagged on the Secora file,' he said.
Almost immediately Aaron's face read zero to sixty for stress.
'You said you'd deal with it.'
Ortiz tried visualizing a partner who was not so easily overwhelmed. Not so innately hot-headed. But then again Aaron had other qualities.
'I did.'
'And?'
'Claims it was a typo. That he was looking for another name similar to Secora. Traffic offense.'
Ortiz paused, partly for effect, partly because of the enjoyment of winding Aaron up like a coil before revealing the brilliance of his solution.
'But we got talking. His name's Stuart Kerpen and he's itching to sit the exam and join the Investigations Bureau.'
Aaron's eyes darted around like clarification might be about to appear in the air in front of him. He shook his head.
'So?'
'So he's a true believer. Smart but green and he keeps himself fit. And by that I mean he trains at a dojo in Haight. The one run by Angela McGlynn's business partner. I think we should invite him up for a tour of the department and a chat about his future. He's feeding her? We can feed him.'
A smile broke out across Aaron's face. 'When's he next in?'
'The rota says he just got back off patrol. I'm heading down now.'
Officer Stuart Kerpen
Kerpen uploaded the photo attachment Angela had texted him and set it up to scan. The facial-recognition system would analyze the shape of the eyes, the curl of earlobes and the width of the nose among other things to produce a digital template that could be compared with other faces held in the database. If the subject had a jacket he would score a hit. If he didn't, he would run it against DMV and he would get a hit that way. Chances were the guy would have a license. It was the next go-to for a photo ID. If not there were other avenues to try.
He had logged on using his buddy's username and password so he could log in to his own machine at the adjacent desk to write up his paperwork from patrol. The desks could be used by anyone but you could only log on to one machine at a time and Kerpen wanted to get the form filling cleared as soon as possible.
