Break

by Ty Patterson

  He handed them their mugs and took his first sip of the day. His head throbbed and his body ached, but it was better than the alternative.

  ‘Walk us through it. Everything.’ Clearly his beverage hadn’t softened the cop.

  He thought of protesting but rejected the idea immediately. She’s persistent. Won’t give up.

  ‘Why did they escape? They could have killed you,’ Quindica asked when he had finished.

  ‘Don’t know,’ he shrugged. He wasn’t going to mention Darrell or his intervention.

  ‘Sheller?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘I didn’t think killing you like that was his style.’

  He peered at her over the rim of his cup. The FBI SAC was her usual stoic self, letting the detective do the talking. Her silence didn’t fool Cutter. She’s as sharp as Difiore.

  ‘I think it was a grab operation,’ he admitted. ‘You’re right. Finishing me like this would give him no joy. He’ll want his hands on me.’

  ‘Is that why your office is closed?’

  ‘Yeah. I persuaded Arnedra to go to a secure location. Somewhere far off.’

  ‘Blood results came back. Yeah,’ she chuckled mirthlessly, ‘your friend, the commish, expedited the tests once he heard it was you.’

  The cops had swabbed his face when he had told them some of the blood on him was from one of the attackers.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said bitterly. ‘He isn’t in the system. No prints. They were careful.’

  ‘And good,’ he pointed out. ‘That’s one of the best locks on my door. They picked it just like that.’

  ‘You could have shot them,’ Quindica said. ‘We saw the video. You had them. You had your Glock on you.’

  ‘He wanted them alive,’ her partner interjected. ‘He would have questioned them, tracked back to Sheller.’

  ‘Would you have shared his deets with us?’ the SAC queried.

  ‘Of course.’ He spread his hands widely.

  After killing him.

  64

  Darrell was distracted the whole day.

  He had crept back into the house late at night and crawled into bed, shivering with fear.

  He had slept fitfully, waking up every now and then to check the news on his phone. Cutter’s face haunted him. The shock at his arrival, the blood on it, the way he had fallen when shot.

  The media picked up the story at nine am, that the Fixer had been attacked at his home. The crushing weight on him lifted when he read the NYPD statement, that Cutter Grogan was injured, but not seriously.

  He went through the motions of the day, and when Manuel nodded discreetly at him in the evening, he joined his friend with almost a skip in his step.

  Nails was furious when they arrived at the Rockaway meeting point, but that anger wasn’t directed at him. In fact, he patted Darrell on the back. ‘That was good work,’ he complimented. ‘Without your warning, these—’ he turned scornfully at the three perps, ‘—would’ve been arrested. You couldn’t take down one person,’ he spat at them. But surprisingly, he said nothing more about it. He discussed gang activities, distribution and the daily take, and then dismissed them.

  Darrell split from Manuel and hurried back home. He checked his phone discreetly when he was away from the gang. Yeah, everything was recorded. However, it still wasn’t valuable enough to grant him and Mama witness protection.

  I need to give them Nails in action, or his boss. He had tried to find out who that mysterious figure was, but Manuel had shut him down every time. He pretends to know who that is, but I think he doesn’t know either. Only the senior, white hitters knew, and they wouldn’t give him the time of the day.

  The fifteen-year-old sighed and turned the corner to Sutter Avenue and yelped when a shadow crossed the street to meet him.

  Cutter!

  He took Darrell’s arm and marched him to his SUV. Went around the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  ‘I didn’t know it was your house. They weren’t going to kill you. I swear. I would have warned you if I had known. I shouted when I saw Duke—’

  ‘Duke, is that the one who shot me?’ Darrell shivered at the way Cutter’s voice had gone soft. Like a panther going into stealth mode before pouncing.

  ‘I can’t give their names.’ He looked away from the intense green eyes and the bruised face.

  ‘You’re in deep trouble. I kept your name from the cops, but how long do you think it’ll take them to piece it together? That a boy was there, too? They’ll check out security cameras, ask neighbors. The detective who’s in charge, she’s very good.’

  ‘There are no cameras there. Nails confirmed that. We got away clean.’

  ‘Why were you there?’

  ‘I told you. They wanted to get you and bring you to Nails.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I swear,’ he said, his voice rising when Cutter looked at him in disbelief.

  ‘To kill me?’

  ‘No! He was clear on that. No guns, no knives. They were going to knock you out. Duke,’—he had already blurted the name; no point hiding it anymore—‘he said, you attacked them, they acted in self-defense. They didn’t know you were wearing armor.’

  ‘So, they would have killed me if you hadn’t arrived?’

  Darrell looked away in shame.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question. Why were you there? Why did Nails send you and not anyone else?’

  He looked at Cutter in surprise. ‘Because we’re disposable.’

  ‘Disposable? What does that mean?’

  ‘Only white hitters go on important jobs,’ Darrell explained. Didn’t Cutter get it? ‘Duke, Trigger, Kelly, they’re like …’ he gestured at himself.

  ‘Is that the word they use?’

  That soft voice again. Darrell shifted uneasily on his seat. He didn’t like the way Cutter’s eyes had gone flat and hard.

  ‘Yes,’ he mumbled. ‘Manuel explained it to me. We don’t know much about the way the gang works. There’s no big loss to the gang if we get caught. If Marv, Chino, some of the others, or even Nails—if they’re arrested, then the gang goes bust. They know a lot more than we do, and the cops can make them talk.’

  ‘And you still want to be with them.’

  Darrell flushed and looked away. ‘Not anymore.’

  ‘You were on a grab mission. That doesn’t feel like you want to quit.’

  ‘I HAVE TO GET ENOUGH INFORMATION.’ His shame turned to anger. ‘UNTIL THEN, I HAVE TO GO ALONG WITH THEM.’

  ‘It will get you arrested or killed. Your mother … what will she do then?’

  Darrell’s rage exploded. ‘I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU.’ He escaped out of the vehicle before Cutter could react and slammed the door hard. He raced away and slowed down only when the Fixer wasn’t following him.

  * * *

  Cutter closed his eyes tiredly as the teenager ran away. He had flubbed it again. He should have taken a more understanding approach.

  He was on a kidnapping attempt, he flared at himself. Doesn’t he get how serious that is?

  He does. He thinks he can work out his exit.

  I should go to Carmel, tell her everything.

  Really? That will fix everything? She’ll confront him, drag him to the cops. The Lions will find out and send shooters and no cop will be able to save them. Or, Darrell might run from home. That will be worse.

  He had no choice. He had to let the teenager ferret out whatever information he could.

  He checked his cloud account and grimaced when he found Darrell’s phone hadn’t turned up anything useful. It had cloned with the three kidnappers’ devices.

  Nothing useful on them, he thought as he went through the messages and calls. Talk about the kidnapping incident. Drug deals. There was an upcoming one in the neighborhood.

  He created an anonymous email account and emailed the details to Difiore. She won’t know it’s from me. He was connected securely to the internet, and the email pr
ovider bounced the message off several servers before delivering it.

  Kelly, Trigger and Duke. He could go for them. They were older and might know where Nails hung out.

  He gunned his engine and drove out, his lips tight as Darrell’s description came back to him.

  Disposable.

  65

  Gunner met Nails in the Harlem bar with Cray by his side.

  ‘The cops don’t have anything,’ the Brownsville leader said as he finished his narration. ‘No description of our men, no witnesses, nothing. He had cameras. No other explanation for how he got there.’

  ‘I thought you checked out Grogan’s apartment,’ the Lions’ boss addressed the hacker.

  ‘I didn’t go there. I would have spotted his security setup if I had visited.’

  ‘How badly is he hurt?’ Nails asked. ‘TV says he’s recovering, no other details.’

  ‘I called a few contacts.’ Gunner sipped his beer and wiped the foam from his lips. ‘He was wearing armor. Nothing broken. Just a cut or two.’

  ‘We can go again. I can send better hitters.’

  ‘No. He’ll be alert. Cops could have a protection detail.’

  ‘I’ve got something,’ Cray announced and turned his laptop screen toward them. He played a video clip that showed Grogan running down Lafayette, his phone to his ear. ‘That was over a block away from the bodega.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Nails’ holdup. That day.’

  ‘What am I looking at?’ Gunner growled, even though he had worked it out.

  ‘Police reports say he was passing by when he sensed something off and confronted Nails’ watchers. This video doesn’t back him up. He’s running to the store. He’s making calls—’

  ‘You hacked his phone?’

  ‘No, but I’ve got the store’s records. Their line was busy. Grogan didn’t get through, if that’s who he was trying. That video … he wasn’t passing by. He knew there was a holdup going down.’

  ‘How did you get this video?’

  Cray smiled slyly. ‘There’s an amateur photographer and blogger on Lafayette. He’s writing about life in the city. I tracked him down and found he’s got a video camera pointed at the street. Twenty-four/seven, throughout the year. That clip is from his feed.’

  ‘Cops don’t have it?’

  ‘Nah,’ he snorted. ‘This dude’s got history with them. He’s not going to help them.’

  ‘You know what this means?’ Gunner turned to Nails.

  ‘You have a snitch,’ Cray cut in.

  ‘You’re reaching,’ the Brownsville leader protested. ‘He could be running for any reason. Heck, he could be going to the bodega for a cake. We know he’s friendly with the …’ His voice trailed off under the founder’s slitted-eye glare.

  ‘My gang isn’t the only one that held up stores that day,’ he tried again. ‘All the Lions’ cells did that.’

  ‘No. But you got interrupted. No one else did.’

  ‘Boss—’

  ‘I agree with Cray. You have a snitch. Find him. Bring him to me.’

  Nails swallowed and got to his feet. No one challenged Gunner, especially when he was in this kind of a mood.

  ‘And deal with those three hitters, the ones who failed to get Grogan.’

  The Brownsville man nodded stiffly and went out of the bar.

  ‘You really want to do this, boss?’ Cray asked when they were alone.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Get rid of Duke, Trigger and Kelly? They’re the men who went for Grogan,’ he added when Gunner gave him a mystified look.

  ‘We don’t tolerate failure in the Lions.’

  ‘But this was a test, boss. You said it yourself. You wanted to see how alert the Fixer was.’

  ‘I wanted him captured as well. They’re black, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘What are you complaining about, then?’

  ‘I’m not.’ Cray backed off. ‘Too many bodies. That’s what I am worried about.’

  ‘No one will worry about them,’ Gunner said dismissively. ‘About this snitch—’

  ‘He’s low-level, I’m sure of that,’ the hacker said quickly, eager to move on. ‘Otherwise, Nails himself would have been arrested by now.’

  ‘That’s what I figure, too.’

  ‘We can set a trap, however.’

  Gunner, interested, made a tell-me-more gesture.

  ‘Tizzard’s rally here. We could let our gang know that you’ll be there, making a brief appearance.’

  ‘It’ll get back to Grogan,’ Gunner mused. ‘But he may not turn up. He knows the kind of people who turn up. The event can turn hostile, violent. Anyone could get hurt.’

  ‘He will, boss. I’ve studied him. I have created a psychological profile for him. It’s too big a bait for him to pass on.’

  ‘He won’t be alone. He might come with cops.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter who he comes with. We’ll let him get away. Snatching him in front of hundreds of people, even if they are supporters, isn’t safe.’

  ‘We’ll get proof of a snitch, however.’

  ‘That’s right, boss.’

  ‘Do it. And check out Nails’ people too. Everything about them. Where they live, who they hang out with, their phones.’

  ‘On it, boss.’

  Gunner went out and made a call from his vehicle.

  ‘That rally,’ he told Mease when the strategist answered. ‘It’s going to get violent.’

  ‘I said I would get back to you on that. We haven’t decided—’

  ‘I have. My men need some action,’ he replied peremptorily and hung up.

  Grogan would escape, but not before he got roughed up.

  Gunner smiled to himself. He was toying with the Fixer. Testing him, probing, landing a soft punch occasionally.

  Preparing him for the finish, which he would deliver in person.

  66

  ‘What is it?’ Rubin asked when Mease had hung up.

  ‘It’s Gunner.’ The strategist helped himself to coffee and stood at a window admiring the Central Park view. ‘He’s decided his men are going to be present at Tizzard’s rally. I told him we were still thinking about it, but he said they would be there.

  ‘It’s the way he said it.’ He turned to the candidate with his cup in hand.

  ‘He and Tizzard go a long way back,’ Rubin shrugged. ‘He’s got to support his friend.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’

  ‘You think he’s getting out of control?’

  ‘Out of our control,’ Mease corrected him.

  ‘From a campaign point of view, any violence is good. It’ll play into our hands. If he wants to break away from us, what’s our loss?’

  ‘We lose muscle.’

  ‘We can get that from other gangs.’

  ‘Not many of them share our views. What we really think.’

  ‘I worry he’ll go after Grogan.’

  ‘We’ve told him to back off.’

  ‘Gunner is his own man.’

  ‘Let’s cut him some slack, see how he behaves.’

  Mease nodded. Rubin had a point. They were too far into the campaign for them to make any changes.

  'Besides,’ the candidate reminded him, ‘he’s got as much as us to lose. You’ve recorded all our conversations with him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mease brightened at that. Mutually assured destruction was great at controlling people.

  * * *

  Cutter decided to go after Duke.

  Not because he shot me, he assured himself, but because he was the eldest. He might have some seniority in the gang and just might know more of its operations and who Nails reported to.

  The hitter lived in a public housing project on the outskirts of Brownsville, between Atlantic Avenue and Fulton Street.

  Red-brick buildings, small parks, waist-high metal fences, children playing under the watchful eyes of parents and relatives.

  Cutter parked his SUV two bloc
ks away and walked down Herkimer Street. The program the twins had uploaded didn’t just clone the phones. It also tracked them, letting him know where they were at any point in time.

  At eight pm, the day after his confrontation with Nails’ men, the hitter was in his apartment on the sixth floor.

  It looked like he was alone, because his phone hadn’t interacted with any other. He had been worried the cloning software would duplicate any random device it came into contact with, but that hadn’t happened. Beth and Meg did some fancy programming. They hadn’t explained it to him, and he hadn’t asked.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he smiled and held the door open for a mom who was leading her daughter into the building. ‘This where Duke lives? A little shorter than me. Tatts all over him—’

  ‘Duke Posey? Yeah, sixth floor,’ she replied, sounding harried as she dealt with a restless child.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ I’ve got a second name for him now. ‘I’m a friend of his. Visiting the city. Thought of surprising him.’

  ‘You don’t look like any of his buddies.’ Her opinion of Duke’s visitors was clear from the way she sniffed. ‘I’ve seen some of them.’

  ‘We took different paths in life, ma’am. I haven’t been in touch with him for a long time. Now I’m wondering if I should have let him know.’

  ‘You’re here,’ she said grudgingly. ‘Just know that people change. What you know of him might be different to what you make of him now.’

  He checked her out as they went into the elevator and noticed her punch the sixth-floor button.

  ‘Ma’am, if you don’t mind being honest, has he fallen into bad company?’

  ‘Hell, yeah. He runs with a gang.’ She clamped her lips tight as if she had realized she had said too much.

  ‘I understand, ma’am. I’ll knock on his door. If he recognizes me, great, we’ll shoot the breeze for a few minutes, and then I’m gone. If he doesn’t, I’ll get out fast.’

  She looked at the door, clearly not wanting to engage anymore.

  Can’t blame her. I’m just a stranger to her. Must be thinking I’m with a gang as well.