by Ty Patterson
Broker sensed Chloe’s gaze on him and looked at her and nodded briefly at her expression. He walked out of the living room without a word, the other men following him.
‘Think she’ll go for it?’ Roger asked after a while.
‘If Chloe can’t persuade her, none of us can,’ growled Broker, his calm exterior breaking to reveal his impatience. ‘He’s been missing for months now, for crissakes. Surely she understands that at the very least she’s got to lodge it with the NYPD.’
Roger didn’t answer, and Broker turned to glare at him, and then his glare dissolved.
Lisa had her face scrunched against the window and was drawing circles on the glass; Bwana was drawing smileys in them, making Lisa giggle. He traded glances with Roger and Bear and firmed his shoulders resolutely and turned back inside just as the door opened.
‘We’re going in half an hour,’ Chloe announced, ‘as soon as she gets the kids ready.’
‘How did you manage that?’
‘That’s between women.’ Chloe smiled and then answered seriously, ‘She doesn’t have a lot of choice. We could have gone directly to the police, and then she would have been in deeper trouble; the Office of Children and Family Services could get involved.’
A tornado burst out the front door and glared at them. ‘We’re ready,’ Elaine Rocka said through clenched teeth, and then her face relaxed as the kids came through the door. Bear pulled the door shut behind them after an abrupt nod from her.
Bear opened their Tahoe’s door with a flourish and bowed deeply as Lisa and Elaine climbed in. ‘Milady.’ He gestured grandly at Chloe, indicating she join them in the rear.
Chloe nudged Lisa. ‘He’s never opened doors for me before. Stick around with us, honey, and maybe we’ll get him to shave that beard.’ Lisa giggled when Bear caught her eye in the mirror and winked at her.
After dropping the dogs off at friends of hers, Broker led them to a safe house, the setting sun bathing Triborough Bridge in gold, time standing still momentarily for nature’s work.
Far behind them, but keeping them in view, Tony pressed his earbud. ‘On the move.’
‘Roger,’ came back another voice belonging to a stringy man driving a compact a couple of car lengths behind Tony. Their job was to keep the lead vehicles free of tails, or warn them of any.
At One Police Plaza – Chang had wanted to meet them there once Broker had called him – Pizaka led them to an empty office, empty save for Chang. He shut the door after Bwana, Roger, and Shawn joined them, and crossed the desk to join Chang.
Pizaka and Chang were professional and ran through Elaine Rocka’s statement, disappeared for a few minutes – Checking on the school, Elaine Rocka’s manager and the garage, Broker surmised – and returned with an air of finality, indicating the interview was nearly over.
When their aunt led the children away, Broker lingered back. ‘You know the garage Shattner worked in was 5Clubs run? It was Brooklyn’s epicenter of crime. I’m sure you guys were keeping tabs on it.’
Chang’s sleepy expression didn’t change, and Pizaka had his game face on.
Broker shrugged. ‘Just saying. Shattner kept a journal, we just learnt. Wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be hot.’ He cut himself short when Pizaka and Chang looked over his shoulder; he glanced back and saw Shawn looking at him curiously through the half-open door.
An hour later, Elaine Rocka’s stony visage was still the same, though her stiff shoulders had relaxed fractionally. It was hard to relax when Lisa frequently blew the shiny whistle she had hanging around her neck. ‘Lee said I should use it if I’m in trouble, and they’ll come with their sirens.’ Lee. Detective Chang and her were besties now. Her friends at school would be so J.
Broker got sucked into meetings with other cops, intel that he’d passed helping their cases, and it was several hours before they could head out of the building.
‘Broker, why did you say that? Dad didn’t leave anything with us.’ Shawn glanced up at him.
‘I know, son, but I want them to work hard in finding your dad, and I’m dangling a carrot for them.’
Shawn nodded, unconvinced ‘Do you think…?’
‘I have dad’s key,’ Lisa said.
Broker stopped so abruptly that Bwana, a couple of steps behind him, ran into him. He knelt down. ‘Say what, honey?’
‘Dad kept his secret stuff in his locker. He gave me the key and said I should not give it to anyone.’
‘You’re lying. Dad always told me everything. He gave me his phone. He would have told me about his locker,’ Shawn said angrily. He had always been the custodian of his dad’s secrets, and it looked like now he wasn’t.
Lisa’s lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled. ‘It’s true. He gave it to me when he took us out of school. He made me pinky swear and stuck it inside my school bag.’ She brushed away a tear with her face and ran to the comforting embrace of her aunt. Elaine Rocka glared at them. See what you’ve done.
Bwana knelt beside Shawn, dwarfing him even then. ‘Do you trust your dad?’
Shawn nodded wordlessly, his eyes betraying his hurt. ‘Then you should accept that this doesn’t mean he didn’t think you couldn’t keep a secret. He had a good reason for this.’ He kept looking at Shawn till the boy nodded again, slowly and reluctantly.
Bwana patted him on his shoulder and rose. He knew a lot about trust and faith. They didn’t need to speak about it; it was just there, like sunlight and air.
Lisa had fallen asleep, the rush of traffic lulling her, when Elaine Rocka finally broke her silence. ‘Do you think he has anything in the locker?’
Broker shrugged silently, the thought was uppermost in all their minds. ‘We won’t know unless we–’
‘DOWN.’
‘DOWN.’
His window exploded.
Chapter 31
Eric, driving the compact, had flagged the bike to Tony, who in turn had relayed it to Bwana and Broker.
Broker had kept an eye out for it and had spotted it as it came in the range of his mirror, just as Bwana’s, ‘Watch your seven,’ came over his earbud.
A few blocks later, the bike was still tailing him and evasive action was called for, when the bike sped up and came alongside, the figure all in black straightened a right arm, and Broker shouted, ‘DOWN.’
Broker stomped the brake, hard, and swerved into the bike. The bike wobbled, not expecting the maneuver, straightened, and the bullet flew wide, puncturing Broker’s window, puncturing Bear’s window, disappearing in the darkness, its lethal flight in vain. Rubber howled and burned in protest, but listened to its master, and the Tahoe came to a stop, nose across the lane divider, shutting down both lanes.
‘Clear,’ said Bear, crouching down in the well in the front, legs braced for impact, left hand steady on the steering in case Broker was hit, right holding his Glock.
‘Clear,’ said Chloe, lying on top of Elaine Rocka, who in turn was lying on Lisa, who was prone on the floor.
‘All clear, he’s gone,’ came Roger’s voice softly, something in his voice saying anyone approaching them now had better approach slowly, carefully and peacefully.
Broker looked in the mirror and saw them parked two car lengths down, both of them on the running rails; one had his gun trained behind, the other had the front covered.
He inspected his window, a round hole in it surrounded by spidery cracks, the exit on Bear’s side similar, the holes large. Large caliber. Shooting like this is iffy; deflection, angles, speeds all play hell. Gunman probably thought of pumping several shots to make at least some count but didn’t get an opportunity.
New York blew in through the holed windows, horns baying, drivers cursing, fingers sticking up in the air as the traffic bent and straightened around them. Some of them slowed; drivers rolled down their windows to swear at Broker, saw something in his face, and sped on to home and a beer.
The first of the NYPD cruisers came and then another and another, and the night beca
me flashing red and blue.
Chang and Pizaka came. They checked on Rocka and the kids, who had moved to the second Tahoe. Lisa had gotten over her fear and was drinking it all in, Millie would die when she heard; Shawn kept looking around him, then at Bwana and Roger, and kept pulling on his serious face, but it fell and the grin came back on, it was all one big thrill for him. Elaine Rocka opened her eyes just once to look at Pizaka and say simply, ‘This is why,’ and closed her eyes and shut them all out.
‘Got a description?’ Pizaka asked Broker as he looked over the vehicle. Bear, removing shards of glass from Broker’s face, glanced in Pizaka’s direction and answered, ‘Black. All black and hooded.’
‘We didn’t ask his name,’ Bear added, sarcasm dripping.
Pizaka was as immaculate as ever, not a hair out of place, the crease sharper than a Jimmy Lile blade. He must have cloned himself.
‘Number plate?’
Roger recited a number, not that it would do much good. It would be a throwaway, and the bike was probably already in some scrap heap somewhere. ‘One of the sergeants said he would put a BOLO out.’ Roger nodded in the direction of the police who were the first to the scene.
The detectives kept quiet. Broker and his companions knew how the system worked, how investigations such as these worked. Seven out of ten times, a hit-and-run such as this was never tracked down, not if false plates were being used, there was no workable description, and no credible witnesses or camera footage.
Broker patted his face with a wet tissue gently and inspected the tissue in the light. No glass. Satisfied, he asked the two detectives, ‘This guy, Shattner. Was he one of yours?’
Both shook their heads simultaneously.
Chang said, ‘We don’t have anyone inside with that name. Heck, we don’t have anyone inside the gang. Tried it a few times, and lost a few good guys. First time we heard his name was today. We ran him through the system when you guys left, and got arrests for dealing – unlicensed firearms, narcotics – that sort of thing. Strictly small time, and this was soon after his release from the army. After that, nothing. We haven’t heard back from the FBI yet, if they have anything on him. We requested his army file, but that’ll take time. You got anything to tell us?’
Broker briefed them, but there wasn’t much more to Shattner. He was what it said on the tin. One of life’s losers who got caught in a gang’s grip. His children were now paying the price for that.
‘You mentioned a journal. What’s in it?’ Pizaka asked them.
Broker faced him squarely, the two of them filling his vision. ‘Now that. There isn’t a journal. I mentioned that to get a rise out of you guys… to see your reaction.’
They looked at one another a long time, silent but for the traffic and the police working to keep the crowd and the television vans at bay. Roger and Pizaka digested what that meant, and their faces tightened, but they didn’t say anything else. The attempted hit went down just hours after mentioning the journal to the cops.
Pizaka jerked his head back at the second Tahoe. ‘You’re aware you’ve put that family in danger by mentioning a nonexistent journal?’
‘Yes,’ Broker replied shortly. He didn’t need reminding about it.
They had a long discussion about this before going to the Rocka home and had all felt that this was yet another way of piling pressure on the gang. So long as Elaine Rocka and the children stayed with them till the heat died down.
They had looked doubtfully at one another when that animal raised its head. Knowing Elaine Rocka, they had decided it was best to be upfront with her and see whether she would be willing. Chloe had told her everything about themselves – their investigation, their course of action, their preference and the rationale behind it. To her utter surprise, Elaine Rocka had agreed to go along with their proposal.
Seeing Chloe’s bemused expression, she said fiercely, ‘I want to make him a hero in their eyes. No child should think less of their dad. Not one. If this can help…’ She walked out of the room without another word.
Maybe we’ve misjudged the battle-axe, thought Chloe as she looked at her departing form.
‘Ms. Rocka? She’s aware of the danger?’ Chang dug out a toothpick from his rear pocket, tore the paper wrapper, and started chewing away, his eyes as hooded as ever.
‘Yeah. And before we start, we know you won’t be able to spare bodies for their protection. We’ll take care of it.’
‘Well,’ drawled Pizaka, ‘we never said that. Of course we can spare a warm body or two. We have many trained in close protection, and most of the time they’re just going to fancy dos. This’ll be real work for them.’ The NYPD close protection division had the best trained close protection agents in the business, who were assigned to visiting heads of state and politicians of a certain rank. The division’s reputation had ensured it had a growing ‘private sector’ business, VIPs and celebrities, that earned it a good revenue for far lesser risk involved.
Broker laughed and declined the offer with a polite shake of his head. No way are they going to place a CPO, Close Protection Officer, with us. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve done this before. They’ll be safe with us.’
Pizaka looked at the controlled chaos around him; several cops were taking witness statements, a few others were clearing the asphalt of shards, making the street ready for the usual onslaught of traffic. The legwork would begin now, going through the witness statements, seeing if any cameras had captured the bike, following various stolen bike reports, chasing down ‘bike found’ leads. They needed a lucky break, but he wasn’t confident this time they would have much luck.
Broker read their body language. ‘Perhaps you should focus closer to home.’ Meaning the possibility of a mole in the NYPD.
Chloe asked quietly once they were on the way again, ‘Pizaka and Chang, how’re they?’
Broker met her eyes in the mirror, knew what she was asking. ‘Not them. I’ve heard of them and have looked at them myself, in the past, for another assignment. It would be too obvious in any case.’ In Broker-speak, look meant extensive background checks. ‘The gang has either a dirty cop or has hacked into their system. No other way could they have mounted an attack so quickly. Once they knew we were all at One PP, it would have been easy to have a hit team follow us.’
‘That wasn’t a very professional hit team.’ Chloe chuckled.
‘I think what happened was they knew we were with the cops, didn’t have a hit team ready, got someone to tail us, and that someone, a low-level guy desperate to earn his stripes, took a shot,’ Bear rumbled from the front, keeping his voice low.
‘Been thinking about it,’ he said defensively when they all turned to look at him. His reasoning made sense, and they didn’t have any other ideas, so they went with it.
‘All the more reason to keep away from the cops and FBI,’ Bwana muttered, echoing their thinking.
They had taped the window together as best as they could, but wanting clear vision, had left the hole in either window open. Lisa and Rocka, wrapped in a thick blanket, had fallen asleep finally, the adrenaline and the hush of tires lulling them.
Broker looked in the mirror at them and met Chloe’s eyes. Their mission had expanded now; it included keeping the family safe and finding out what happened to Shattner.
‘Tony?’ he murmured in his collar mic. Tony and Eric were still behind and had remained in the background throughout the attack and the subsequent questioning by the police. Broker had kept his mic open, and they’d heard everything go down.
‘Boss?’
‘Where’s the apartment?’
‘Five bedrooms, five baths, a rooftop swimming pool, uniformed concierge, the works… Bit embarrassing to call it an apartment, but that’s what they call it. You’ll love this place. Any guesses where it is?’
Broker blinked at Tony’s cheerfulness. ‘Tony, I’ve been shot at, interrogated, sworn at, and have been Elaine Rocka-ed. Let’s keep this simple. Why don’t you tell me w
here the danged place is?’
Tony laughed. ‘It’s smack dab in the middle of Marine Park, which is as good as cop town, lot of cops and firemen live there. The gang tries anything there, they’re likely to get a warm reception.’
Broker smiled slowly. That’s why he’s my number two. Tony had been working the phone ever since they left One PP, hunting accommodation for all of them, and this ticked all the boxes. Marine Park was in southeast Brooklyn, bounded by Flatlands Avenue and Gerritsen Avenue, next to the borough’s largest park. Its lack of subway access and small community ensured that newcomers would be quickly spotted.
Chloe settled Lisa’s head on her lap and stroked her hair as the girl shifted restlessly in her sleep. ‘You guys will retrieve her backpack tomorrow?’
‘Bwana and Roger will. We’ll stay back and go through some ground rules with–’
‘Boss,’ Tony broke in urgently, ‘another bike coming up on your seven.’
‘Got him. On his tail. Close. Real close.’ Bwana’s voice came through their earpiece; he could’ve been reading the weather for all the excitement in his voice.
Bear glanced back at Chloe and saw that she was wedged by the sleeping forms. Coming to a decision swiftly, he reached below the seat and pulled out a Mossberg shotgun. ‘Let them sleep. We’ll go on the attack.’
He swung his door open, stuck his left hand out on the railing above, and uncoiled out of the Tahoe smoothly, the Mossberg a toy in his right hand. A deadly toy.
He spotted the bike behind them, making its way straight between the flowing lanes of traffic on either side, the rider, clad in black leather, his dark helmet gleaming in the shadowy light, looking straight ahead.
If the rider was aware of the Tahoe looming large and close behind him, he gave no indication. If he saw Roger standing on the rails, his shooting arm as steady as if he was stationary, his Glock tracking the rider, he didn’t show it. The black bore of Bear’s Mossberg followed him, and he didn’t twitch.
