by John Misak
I’ve seen a lot of guys come and go from this precinct. Most of them, I wouldn’t trust as far as I can throw them. You’re a good man John, and you’ve been given a bad rap. The least I can do is help you out. I am due for a break in half an hour. I’ll meet you at the deli we went to that one time. You know the one?”
“I do. See you then.”
I was nowhere near where I had to be, so I got off FDR drive, and shot to Second Avenue. The deli was on Madison Avenue, about fifteen minutes away without traffic. I had a feeling I was going to run into some. I always ran into traffic when I couldn’t afford to. I guess everyone did. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t leave Jacob, my newfound ally, waiting.
Jacob was sitting at the counter by the window when I got there. He had a sandwich sitting in front of him. It looked good, a Bindy special, something I had ordered from that deli many times. A Bindy special was a chicken cutlet hero, with cheese, crispy bacon, and drowned in Russian dressing. Healthy? Absolutely not. Good? You bet your ass. And it was better than it sounds, trust me. Jacob seemed to enjoy it, taking a hearty bite as I walked in.
“Hey,” I said, catching him mid-bite.
“Good to see you,” Jacob replied in a muffled tone. He continued munching. He was the sort of person that didn’t keep their mouth closed when they ate. I think this is one of the most annoying things any human can do. The last thing I want to hear is someone chomping like a cow. The funniest thing about it is the people who are guilty of this crime are never aware of it, and anyone I brought it up to vehemently denied it.
I didn’t see the need to bring it up to Jacob who was there to help me out. But it did bother the crap out of me.
“Thanks for meeting me. I really have no one else to turn to.”
“You sound desperate.”
“I am.” I was.
“You got the tape?”
I put the camera bag on the table. “It doesn’t use a tape. It stores things digitally, I think.”
Jacob opened the bag with his meaty hands. He fished out the camera and gave it a once-over. He raised his eyebrows.
“Nice piece of equipment,” he said, still eyeing it. “I know this model. It connects to the computer through a firewire cable.”
“If you say so.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded good.
“I have what I need at the office.”
I shook my head. “Not a good idea. What’s on there is not something you want playing at the precinct.”
“Just what exactly is on this tape?”
“You ready for this?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
“I’ve got Agnelli and Chapman discussing how they set me up. I’ve got it all right here.”
The news didn’t seem to affect him much. He just twisted his head slightly, then smiled. “Somehow, I had a feeling Agnelli was up to no good. He’s been around the department just a bit too much lately.”
“What’s he been doing?” I asked.
“Not much. Just breaking Geiger’s balls and looking over everyone’s shoulder. You know what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
“Agnelli is going to come out of the closet?”
Jacob laughed. “No. They are going to announce that they’ve closed the Mullins case as a suicide. No need to investigate further. It’s all done.”
“I knew that was going to happen. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
“It’s bullshit, isn’t it?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but from what I’ve found, I’d have to agree with you.”
“Why would these guys take a risk killing such a high-profile man? It doesn’t make sense to me. Someone’s gonna see right through this real soon, don’t you think?”
“I don’t really have the answer for you, but after you see this tape, you’ll understand a bit more,” I said.
He nodded, then went back to his sandwich.
I needed another favor from him. “Can you take a look at something for me?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, a small piece of food shooting out of his mouth and onto the window. Disgusting. I can’t say for sure if he noticed because he made no reaction whatsoever.
I reached into the bag and pulled out the lapel microphone. After thinking about my meeting with Steve a little, I realized that it might be a good idea to get it on tape. The lapel mike was the only way I could do it.
“Can I use this with a regular micro cassette recorder?”
He nodded. “You can, but it’s not the most effective way of doing it. Who are you planning to record?”
I told Jacob about my suspicions of Steve, including that he might have been the one to plant the money in the car. I also told him about his background, including the counter-intelligence stuff. This must have gotten Jacob’s attention, because he put down the sandwich and looked directly at me. He even took the time to finish chewing before he spoke.
“A guy like that is going to notice even the slightest bulge in your clothing. He’s going to eye you up and down. And he will notice a lapel pin microphone, like this one. I have some stuff you can use.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“I have a tiny remote microphone which can be placed under the collar of your shirt. I can sit across the street and monitor and record everything. The device is so small, no one will detect it, but it produces excellent-quality audio.”
“You don’t mind doing it?” I asked. “I’ve already gotten you involved further than you should be. I mean, just say no if you think this is too much.”
Jacob held up a hand. “Listen, this guy sounds dangerous to me. I think you’d be better off taking my help, so this way, you’re not alone.”
I couldn’t argue, even if I felt a little uneasy. Sure, Jacob seemed trustworthy, but that didn’t mean I could just freely put everything I had in his hands. Then again, I didn’t have much choice. I had to let destiny take its course. If it was meant to be that I would end up screwed by the one person I put my trust in, then so be it.
“You’re right. And I appreciate the help. Just don’t let anyone at the precinct know what we are doing.”
“Do I look stupid?” Jacob asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure if Jacob realized the risk I took by trusting him. It didn’t seem to faze him one bit, actually, and I took that as a good thing. It appeared he just wanted to help me out. I hoped that was the case.
Feeling the rumbles of hunger, I decided it was time to eat.
“I’m gonna get a sandwich,” I said, happily noticing he was finishing his. The last thing I wanted to do was eat next to him.
“I gotta get back. I’ll meet you here at six.”
“Okay. Thanks again. You don’t know what this means to me.” I wasn’t very good at thanks.
“Oh, I think I do.” He got up, shook my hand, and walked out, leaving me with a feeling that things were really looking up.
I walked over to the counter, one of those tall ones where the clerks stand a good three feet above you. It was like going up to the judge in court.
“Whaddya want?” a thin man with a thick Indian accent spouted. He talked like this often.
“Bindy special. Light on the Russian.”
He rolled his eyes, like my small request was too much for him to handle. I shrugged it off. I was having a good day, and didn’t want some putz who makes sandwiches for a living pissing me off.
He went over to make the sandwich, and I watched him through the glass showcase. There were about three customers in the store, and two other guys behind the counter. It was quiet for this time of day. You’d think the guy would be happy to have a customer. I watched him, and as I did, I noticed one of the chicken cutlets fell onto the floor. He bent down, picked it up, and did the unthinkable. He placed the damn thing right back on my sandwich. I didn’t say anything at first. I wanted to see if he was really going to attempt to sell me that sa
ndwich. He wrapped it up, and brought it over where I was standing,
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, I need something else.”
“What?”
“I need to understand why you put that cutlet that fell on the floor back on my sandwich.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I am talking about. I’ve been coming here for years. Don’t treat me like some idiot on the street. I saw what you did, so I suggest you haul your ass back over there and make me another one.”
I would say his face turned red, but his skin was too dark to notice that. He did get angry though. I saw that in the way his eyes bulged out. Like this guy had a reason to get angry.
“This sandwich is fine. There is nothing wrong with this sandwich.”
“Don’t give me that shit. Go make me another one before I hop over this counter and kick the life out of you.”
“I will not. You cannot come in here and threaten me with your bullshit.”
For some reason, I snapped. Maybe it was the overall lack of sleep. Maybe it was the garbage I was going through, maybe it was because I didn’t like snake-in-the-grass people like him. Whatever the reason, I reached up, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked his scrawny ass down toward me. He squealed a little bit, but didn’t say anything. The other guys behind the counter turned their heads. None of the customers said anything.
“Listen, this is real simple. I ordered a sandwich, and I am very hungry. I do not, however, want to eat a sandwich from the floor. So, you’re going to go back there, and make me another one. Got that?”
He looked at me, his eyes pleading for me to let him go. Then he nodded. I
