by Neil Hunter
“Hey, Cade, we made that deal?”
“I’ll see you go to a farm.”
“Little extra for you,” the perp said. “Don’t waste your time lookin’ for Brak in town. I overheard Jessup talkin’ to him on the phone. The way I figure it, they’re gone already.”
Cade rejoined Janek. The cyborg was giving details of the incident to the uniformed cops who had rolled up.
“We need to talk, partner.”
Cade outlined what the wounded perp had told him.
Janek watched the perp being loaded onto a stretcher and pushed inside the med-cruiser. “Loyalty isn’t too strong with people like him.”
“He’s nothing but a shooter, Janek. Paid to do a job. That doesn’t buy much else. He knows he’s on his way for a stretch. And he’s on his own. So he makes a deal for himself.”
“Sometimes, T.J., it’s a real pleasure watching the way the human race walks all over itself.”
“Don’t go bitter on me, partner. Hey, what have you got to gripe about? Look who you’ve got for a partner.”
Janek grimaced. “It looks like we go after Loren Brak, then,” the cybo said. “My info on him doesn’t make pleasant reading. Brak’s a nasty piece of work, T.J. His sheet is twice as long as any of his partners’. My profile of him suggests he’ll go to any lengths to get what he wants. Including murder.”
“He’s running true to type, then.”
“We go after him?”
“Damn right.”
Leaving the street cops to handle the scene, Cade and Janek climbed back into their cruiser. The vehicle groaned in protest as Cade reversed and swung across the street.
“We’ll get hell when we get back to the department,” Janek said. “This is the third car we’ve damaged in six weeks.”
“It’s been a busy time,” Cade replied.
He gunned the cruiser across town, sliding into the jam of traffic on Broadway. The broad thoroughfare was almost at a standstill. There were too many vehicles in a city choking on its own inadequacies. In line with other metropolises, New York had failed to upgrade the road and transit systems. The influx of people seeking the mythical protection of the big city had put New York on a perilous path. New problems made the earlier ones pale into nothingness. There were simply too many people. Overcrowding was the norm. And the lack of space led to tension, violence and criminals. Ever ready to exploit their fellow humans, they moved in with promises of better housing, better life-styles, better drugs to ease the pain of living.
It all added up to one big headache for the authorities. And for the law-enforcement agencies who were, as ever, the front-line troops in the ceaseless war against the lawbreakers.
Cade, hot and sweaty, finally wheeled the battered cruiser down into the underground parking lot beneath the Justice Department building. Bringing the cruiser to a shuddering halt in a parking bay, he cut the engine and leaned back in the padded seat, staring through the dusty windshield.
“Thomas? Are you okay?” Janek asked anxiously.
“Just taking a minute, partner,” Cade explained. He glanced at the cybo, unable to hold back the grin when he saw Janek’s puzzled expression. “It’s hot and sweaty. I’m feeling burned-out and sorry for myself. A human condition, Janek.”
Janek eyed his partner suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
“Yeah, fine.”
Cade climbed out, slamming the door. As he turned from the car, the droid who ran the department car pool legged toward the cruiser. The droid’s skinny legs wobbled as it pushed itself to the limit. Cade could see the disapproving gleam in its eyes as it scanned the damaged bodywork.
“Marshal Cade!” the droid called. “We have to talk about—”
“Marshal Janek can explain,” Cade said, neatly sidestepping the droid. As he headed for the elevator, he heard Janek’s groan as the droid cornered him. “See you in the office, partner,” he called back as the elevator doors slid shut.
Stepping from the elevator, Cade caught the blast of cool air from the department’s air conditioner and silently thanked the efficiency of the Justice Department. He headed for his office, passing members of the department, and rapidly became aware of the air of gloom that hung over the place.
He knew what it was.
The deaths of the three undercover Justice marshals would be felt by every operative. Harm to one marshal was felt by all, and three deaths in one morning would lie heavy on everyone’s shoulders.
Braddock, the department head, caught Cade’s eye and waved him into his glass-paneled office. Cade stepped inside and closed the door.
“I hate it,” Braddock said. “Something like this. What do you say to people, T.J.? How do you make it comprehensible?”
“You can’t,” Cade said. “It happened and nothing can make it any less painful than it is.”
“I guess so,” Braddock said. “You got anything yet?”
“Right now it’s in a mess,” Cade said. “But we’re starting to make some sense out of it. Looks like a takeover by one member of the Outfit. Trying to knock out his partners and grab the prize for himself.
“Antonio Villas was hit in the Outfit’s apartment. Then there’s the hit against one of the distribution centers where our undercover team was working. They were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Milt Schuberg almost bought it in the same strike.
“Descriptions of the hitman gave us a lead. Janek pulled a name out of his memory banks, which matched up to what we’d been told. Our hitman is Tate Jessup. Positive ID. I got that much from one of Brak’s hired guns. He’s contracted out to Loren Brak. So Brak is our maverick. Wants control of the whole operation.”
“Got a line on Brak?”
“Coming up. I’ll get Janek locked in to his computer banks. If there’s any information around, he’ll dig it out.” Cade hesitated. “One more thing. It looks like we got a bad apple in NYPD. I need to confirm it but I’m pretty sure,”
“Who?”
“Harrigan.”
Braddock leaned back. “I want you on this full-time. Anything you need, just ask. I’ve had it with these damn drug gangs fouling up the streets. I want this bunch out of business for good. The hard thing to swallow is the fact we lost three good guys just because some lowlife wants a bigger slice of a dirty business. They’re all yours, T.J. Take ‘em out. And that includes any dirty cop you find.”
Cade caught sight of Janek passing the office. “I’ll get back to you,” Cade said, and left.
Janek was peeling off his jacket, grumbling. “That was a lousy trick,” he said as Cade entered their office. “You know how I hate that damn service droid. It’s like having a crotchety grandfather waiting for you every time you come home.”
“Janek, hit those computer keys. I want every damn word that’s ever been put down about Loren Brak, his partners and the Outfit.”
Janek went through into his part of the office and slid into his seat. Flicking on the switch he activated his powerful computer station, watching the monitors flicker to life.
“Thomas?” Janek swung around to peer at Cade through the open doorway. The cyborg had picked up a mysterious somberness in Cade’s behavior.
Cade’s silence intrigued the cyborg. He walked back into Cade’s office and paused at the desk, his arms folded across his chest. He watched impassively as Cade yanked open a drawer and took out a pack of cigars they were always arguing about. Cade stuck one between his lips and fired it up, then exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke.
“Am I missing something here? I sense an atmosphere. You’d think someone died.”
The moment he’d spoken, Janek realized what the problem was. His instincts had failed to warn him. The cyborg let out a groan of embarrassment. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, unable to suppress the words as they rushed to his lips. “T.J., I’m sorry, I should have known. What a dumb thing to say.”
Cade scowled around the cigar c
lenched between his teeth. “You’re right, partner, it was. But don’t lose any sleep over it. It’s the kind of thing I’d say. Jesus, pal, you’re only human.”
Janek leaned over the desk. “I’m sorry, T.J. You lost some good friends today. It must hurt.”
Cade shrugged. “Well, they wouldn’t expect me to sit around feeling sorry for them. What we should be doing is finding the creeps who did it. Brak and his hired gun, Jessup. Time we shut that bunch down for good.”
“What else is there?” Janek asked.
Cade glared at him through the smoke, shaking his head. The cyborg never missed a trick. He seemed able to sense any mood change, or the fact that Cade had something on his mind. Like right now. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, and relayed the contents of Frank Cipio’s message.
“Hmm,” Janek exclaimed. “I told you back at the tenement I didn’t trust Harrigan. What are you thinking? That Harrigan’s on the Outfit’s payroll?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a cop’s rolled over. The longer I think about it, the more annoyed I get over the way Harrigan held the cops back from going into that building. Maybe he knew Jessup was inside. Maybe he was giving him time to do his job and get out.”
“If that’s true, you realize what it means?”
“Damn right. If Harrigan did delay the cops deliberately, he also allowed our guys to get themselves executed.”
“Let’s take this a step at a time,” Janek said evenly. “Agreed?”
Cade nodded, and the cyborg returned to his computer and began keying in details. He remained hunched over the keyboard for almost half an hour.
Cade left him to it. He had his own leads to follow. He picked up the phone and punched in a number.
“Harrigan, we need to talk. Right now.”
Harrigan’s solid features scowled at Cade from the vid-screen. His eyes were the giveaway. They advertised the fact that Harrigan was scared. Something had unnerved him. He was caught in some trap of his own making and couldn’t find a way out.
“We got nothing to say to each other, Cade, so get off my back. I got a job to do.”
“But who for?” Cade asked quietly.
“Look, Cade, I don’t know what game you’re playin’, but I’m pissed.”
“And you’re sweating, Harrigan. It’s damn near coming out of my screen. Now quit stalling. Either talk to me or I take this higher. And you know I’ll do it.”
Harrigan stared at the screen silently, his brain working overtime as he tried to come up with an answer that would let him slip off the hook.
“Don’t even think of hanging up. I know where your office is,” Cade suggested. He was taking a calculated risk, pushing Harrigan with nothing more to go on than Frank Cipio’s suspicions and his own gut feeling. “Take your time, ‘cause I ain’t going away. Maybe you want to call your friends again. The ones you called from that pay phone outside the siege building.”
“How did...?” Harrigan blurted out, then realized he’d said too much. “Can’t a guy make a call without everyone getting suspicious? For all you know, I was calling on official business.”
“Paying for it yourself when you’ve got a radio in your car? What am I, Harrigan? A dopehead?”
Harrigan scrubbed a fat hand across his gleaming face. His eyes wandered, searching for help that didn’t come. “I want a meet, Cade. Off the record. You and me. Nobody else. If I even smell a setup, I’m gone.”
“You’ve got my word.”
Harrigan nodded. “The Park Avenue Elevated. Under the slip road. Exit Six. You know it?”
“No problem.”
“Thirty minutes, Cade. No fuckups. I’m comin’ in armed.”
Cade hung up. “And so am I,” he said under his
breath. He passed Janek’s door. “Hey, partner, I’m out.” Janek glanced over his shoulder. “Need backup?” Cade shook his head. “Strictly one to one. Other guy’s rules. I’ll leave my location with the dispatcher in case I need help.”
“T.J., be careful.”
In the basement Cade climbed into the cruiser. He opened the dash cupboard and rummaged around, muttering to himself about untidy cyborgs, finally locating what he wanted. It was a touch-operated personal transmitter-receiver, small enough to be worn in his shirt pocket. He checked that the power pack was functional before stowing it away. On impulse he un-leathered the .357 Magnum autopistol to see that it was loaded and ready. He made sure he was carrying a couple of extra clips in his leather jacket.
Satisfied, he fired up the cruiser’s engine and coasted out of the basement, swinging around the building and into the traffic.
He arrived at the meeting place five minutes ahead of schedule and parked against a concrete support pillar. Overhead he could hear the rumble of traffic on the elevated highway. Cade lit a cigar and leaned back, his gaze centered on the rearview mirror.
He appeared relaxed but in reality he was checking and rechecking the area, just in case Harrigan was trying to pull a double cross. Cade had rattled the man, despite only having suspicion as the basis of his accusations. Harrigan obviously had something to hide, something that was becoming too heavy to keep to himself any longer.
Harrigan’s dusty cruiser nosed into sight and rolled to a stop twenty feet from where Cade was parked. The Justice cop stayed where he was, deciding to let Harrigan do all the hard work. After a minute Harrigan’s door swung open and the big man walked toward Cade’s car.
Cade climbed out and met him halfway. Harrigan gestured, and they stood close to the graffiti-covered concrete pillar. He seemed to feel safer with the concrete at his back.
“Okay, I’m here,” Cade said tautly.
“Real hard bastard, aren’t you, Cade?” Harrigan snapped.
“Am I supposed to make things easy for you?”
Harrigan sighed. He checked the shadowy areas under the slip road as if he expected each corner to be concealing someone.
“I had no choice,” Harrigan said suddenly. The words came out fast, unchecked. It was as if Harrigan had to get them out before they choked him. “I had to keep the cops out of that building. Someone had a job to do. I had to stall things.”
“Knowing those three undercover guys were in there? And Milt Schuberg?” Cade took a threatening step forward. “And you held back from saving them?”
Harrigan, sweating profusely, shook his head. “You don’t understand. Listen to me,” he blustered nervously.
Cade lost control and lunged forward. His hard hands slammed against Harrigan’s broad chest, knocking him against the concrete pillar.
“No more crap, Harrigan,” Cade yelled. “One more protest about having no choice, and I’ll retire you permanently. The game’s over. You’re blown, Harrigan. I’m going to enjoy writing your ticket for Mars.”
Harrigan’s beefy face paled as Cade’s words sank home.
Mars!
The penal colony!
“You wouldn’t, Cade. Not to a fellow officer.”
Cade’s eyes settled on him. Their cold gleam convinced Harrigan it was useless trying to talk his way out with excuses.
“I had no choice, Cade. Believe me, I really had no choice.”
“Everybody has a choice, Harrigan. Those three dead marshals had a choice. They volunteered to work undercover. What they didn’t choose was the way they died.”
“That was a bad mistake,” Harrigan admitted weakly. His options were falling quickly now, and he was desperately searching for a way out. “Listen, Cade, I wasn’t lying before. I’m in over my neck—big gambling debts I could never pay off. So I took money from police funds to try and cover myself. The trouble was it didn’t help. Next thing I knew, someone had bought up my markers and he had me by the balls. Jesus, he had it all worked out, Cade. If I worked for him, maybe he’d wipe out my markers. What else could I do? If he wanted, all he had to do was tip off the police commission and I was finished.”
Cade stared at the man in disbelief. “And you fell for that line? H
arrigan, the lowest rookie on the beat knows you don’t drop for blackmail. It’s a no-win situation. Once you join their team, it’s over. Doesn’t matter which way you turn. All you do is step deeper in the slime.”
“Damn it, I’ve read the book,” Harrigan said bitterly, “and I’ve bawled out enough people about caving in. But it’s different when it’s your turn.”
“Who picked up your markers—Loren Brak?”
Harrigan nodded.
“How long have you been on the hook?”
Harrigan’s massive shoulders sagged visibly.
“Close on six months.”
“Doing what?”
“Running interference. Tipping Brak when anyone came too close. Delaying investigations. Losing information.”
Cade turned away, trying to cool the wild, unreasoning anger threatening to explode into white-hot fury.
“And you knew about his takeover bid?”
“Yeah.”
Facing the cop, Cade asked, “Any idea where he is?”
“No. But I do know where he’ll hit next if he has the chance.”
“Where?’
As Harrigan’s lips began to form a word, Cade noticed a dancing red dot had appeared on Harrigan’s sweating forehead.
Red dot!
Laser!
The warning screamed through Cade’s brain, and he threw himself at Harrigan, shouldering the burly cop aside.
A chunk of concrete blew out of the pillar, spewing pulverized dust over Cade.
Someone was using explosive bullets.
“Down!” Cade yelled, clawing at his holstered Magnum.
Two more shots came, fired too hastily. They chewed more concrete from the pillar. Close by, Harrigan floundered in the dirt, looking scared.
The Justice cop pulled his .357 and flicked off the safety. On his knees he twisted around, searching the area behind them.
He couldn’t see anything moving on the far side of the highway, but the line of low, semi derelict buildings offered the only place a rifleman could hide himself.
“Cade, you got to get me out of this,” Harrigan demanded.
“You want to run that by me again?” Cade suggested.
“You know what I mean,” Harrigan said. “I’m in your custody. You have to protect me.”
