by G. K. Parks
“Eddie,” someone called from the adjacent room, and Mark dismissed him.
“So I was right, or at least that’s what the analyst thinks,” I said. “Does that mean I’m going back tonight?”
“Tomorrow morning. I want you to show up after the sun rises and get the hell out before the sun sets. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your instincts are still some of the best, Parker. But drop the attitude. It’ll get you into trouble.”
“I’ll try.” I leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. “What excuse do I have for my sudden disappearance?”
“If someone asks, you worked through the night and crashed with a friend because you were scared to go home.” He flipped through the latest updates on our intel. “There’s been chatter about an incoming shipment. It sounds like the KXDs are getting a new supply of drugs in the next few days, so we’re sending in an exterminator to spray your building and a few of the other apartment buildings in the area. And while we’re getting rid of the bugs, warrants have been signed to plant a few of our own.”
“Thanks for the heads up. Should I expect another appearance by Nicholson’s PO?”
“No. We can’t risk tipping off the locals. They don’t know we’re operating in the area, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He slid the stack of documents across the table. “Here’s some light reading before you leave.”
“Thanks.”
I opened the first folder, and Jablonsky left me alone with the reports. By the time I finished reading and memorizing faces, names, and prior convictions, the entire floor had cleared out. The actual agents went back to the federal building, and I was ready to go home.
Since I had an early morning appearance to make, I returned to my apartment, spent several hours working out and practicing basic combinations, ate something healthy, and went to bed. Sleep didn’t actually come easily, but I forced myself to remain in bed, mentally reviewing the information I read today. The investigation was still in its infancy. Contact had only barely been made with one of the KXDs, and I couldn’t push. Right now, the safest and most reasonable course of action would be to avoid Steele and his minions until he made another approach. Then we’d just have to take it from there.
* * *
When I arrived back in the ghetto late the next morning, the sidewalks were practically empty. The snow had stopped, and whatever accumulated had been shoveled into large, dirty heaps. At least it was quiet. My eyes darted around, casting wayward glances at nearby buildings and down side streets and into alleyways, but I didn’t spot anyone of interest.
As I entered the building, I offered a slight nod to one of my neighbors who was emptying her mailbox and continued up the steps. Francisco was seated next to my door. At the sound of my footsteps, he tilted his head in my direction and stood up. Based upon the sea of red surrounding his irises, he was probably on something or coming off something. Neither conclusion was particularly comforting.
“Now what do you want?” I asked, leaning against the wall with the doorframe separating us.
“Just making good on my word.”
“Didn’t you already do that?” I wondered if he expected some show of gratitude. I didn’t tase him. That should have been more than enough.
“What’s your name, chica?” He already knew. I knew he did. But it didn’t hurt to play along.
“Alexia.”
He smiled. “I’m Francisco.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that yesterday after your friends tried to welcome me to the neighborhood. Kinda funny how you just happened to show up when you did.”
“Fortuitous.” His eyes drifted from my head to my toes and back again. “You gonna stand in the hallway all day, or are you gonna go inside?”
“I don’t invite strange men into my house.”
He took a step forward, closing the space between us, but I remained leaning against the wall with my arms folded across my chest. “That’s smart, but I’m not a stranger. We just had a lovely introduction, and I did give you a gift yesterday.”
“That was some good shit.” I exhaled as if relishing in the memory. But he didn’t budge, and I didn’t want to see how he planned to force the point if I didn’t oblige. Thankfully, my purse contained a handgun, courtesy of the federal government. The serial number had been filed off just enough to make it untraceable to the casual observer. “Is that supposed to make us BFFs?” I quipped, maneuvering around him to unlock the door.
“I don’t know yet. We’ll see how things go, chica.”
Inside, the place was just how I left it. The surveillance equipment was locked away in a hidden compartment behind the false back of the closet, and the rest of the room looked like a cross between Oscar Madison’s apartment and a crack den. He followed me inside, silently taking in the scene before him.
“If you’re hoping to collect for the chill pill from yesterday, I don’t have much cash,” I began.
“That was on the house.” He picked up one of the empty prescription bottles from the floor, reading the patient name, Alexia Nicholson. “Do you still have a hook up?” He held up the bottle.
“No.” The bottles were dated six months ago. “After I got pinched, my contact at the clinic cleared out.”
“What’d the cops get you on?”
“Tax evasion, just like Capone,” I teased. He turned, narrowing his eyes and expecting a real answer. “Possession.”
“That’s it?”
“With the intent to distribute and felony murder.”
“Did you do it?”
“I was there when it happened.” I let out a huff and turned away. “Prosecutor wanted blood, but the judge was lenient. Mandatory rehab, a couple stints at a few halfway houses, and parole which led to a job and this place. Minus the random check-ins with my PO, I’m more or less free. Well, just as long as I can continue to find creative ways to pass the drug tests.” I spun to face him. “So since this is sharing time, what’s your story, Francisco? Fancy yourself as Robin Hood or something?”
“Like I said, I take care of this neighborhood. I grew up here, and we gotta take care of our own. The cops think we’re nothing more than lowlifes that deserve to die on the street like a bunch of dogs. They don’t help us or respect us. So our crew takes care of things.”
“The same way you took care of those guys yesterday?”
“Just watch,” he stepped close enough that I could feel his breath on my face and his finger tracing a line from the back of my hand to my shoulder, “they won’t hassle you again.”
“I hope not.” I looked into his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to cross you.”
He smiled and stepped back. “Good. That’s the point.” He gave the room a final glance and went to the door.
Just as he was turning the knob, I asked, “In case I have another rough day, how much next time?”
“We’ll work it out,” he met my eyes, “but I’m guessing you might be interested in other stuff, like some H.”
Smirking, I chuckled. “Don’t you know it?”
As soon as he left, I went to the door and locked it, shoving one of the chairs underneath the doorknob. Not that it was going to do much, but it made me feel better. I didn’t like one of Bard’s lieutenants snooping around inside my apartment. And I really didn’t care for the fact that he decided I was his new pet project. What did he want? At least I laid the right cards on the table. Now it was up to the powers that be to determine what my next course of action was. Things were moving a lot faster than anyone at the OIO intended. And I knew Jablonsky would think it was on account of my doing, but it wasn’t. Was something off, or had my luck finally changed?
Sighing, I took the handgun from my purse and placed it on the counter while I made some instant coffee. Then I took a seat at the table, leaving the gun within reach as I wrote out a report detailing as much of the conversation verbatim as I could remember. Once that was complete, I spent the rest of my time burning daylight by wor
king my way through a few dozen crossword puzzles before calling it quits.
With any luck, the listening devices would be planted soon, and I could return to working evenings and conducting surveillance. It seemed like a better way of spending my time than doing nothing productive to aid in the investigation. When I left, a few familiar faces lingered on the street corner, but no one made a sound or attempted an approach. Circling around the city in a haphazard fashion, I made the drop, went home, listened to a few voicemail messages, and returned Mark’s call to assure him that I made it home safe and sound. Someone needed to remind him he was my boss because he was overstepping his boundaries, but given our history, I understood why.
Eight
The rest of the week was quiet. Not a single person approached me. Steele remained aloof and distant. I spotted him once or twice, lingering near the dumpster or on the front stoop of the building, but he didn’t wait outside my apartment. The exterminator came to clear out the infestation and left a few mechanical bugs in their place. While I kept an eye out and continued to conduct surveillance, Cooper and his team were running point at the airports to check on incoming shipments. So far, nothing had panned out, but the word on the street was cross-border shipments supplied the KXDs with drugs. Then the raw materials were cut and mixed locally into some designer product, labeled, and distributed. Drug running was a business just like any other.
“Agent Parker,” Jablonsky called, stepping into the conference room, “the rest of your cover is solid.” He held out the updated paperwork. “You’re waitressing at the Black Cat.”
“Thank god. I was afraid you expected me to take center stage on the pole.” I glanced up, skimming through Nicholson’s work history. “And for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to calculate tips into my taxes, but then again, anything earned while performing a job for the federal government is government property, right? Hell, maybe Congress should pass a bill to employ an entire stripper brigade in order to get the country out of debt.”
“Shut it,” Mark growled. He wasn’t in the mood for my rambling. “This is your background. No one at the club knows you’re undercover. We had to squeeze one of the managers to put you on the books and then make sure he took a nice long vacation. So everyone’s in the dark. Make sure you keep it that way since there’s speculation that Bard owns a lot of the titty bars in the area. And if this is one of his establishments, we don’t want to tip him off to the investigation.”
“So I’m alone in the lion’s den?”
“No, considering the environment, we’ll be able to plant other agents on the premises. At the moment, there’s an inside man. He’s been inserted as a bouncer in case things get too rough, but he’s there in a limited capacity.”
“What’s the play?” I asked, wondering why I needed a fake job to go with my fake apartment.
“Your cover was pinged in a database. The IP traces back to the neighborhood. Apparently, Francisco’s been checking up on you. And from what we know about him, it wouldn’t be surprising if he shows up at the club to see that you’re telling the truth, which means you have to make this convincing.”
“He’s curious because I haven’t approached him to make a buy. The last time we spoke, he asked if I still had a dealer. And I told him no.”
“Then it’s time you get a fix.” Mark shook his head, never expecting those words to be coming out of his mouth. “Don’t screw this up. Don’t be arrogant. And don’t ask for more than enough to get through the night.”
“Okay.”
“Why’d it have to be Bard’s main guy?” Mark muttered to himself.
I pretended not to notice, instead turning my attention to SAC Cooper. “Any updates?”
“TSA and the DEA are monitoring airports and freight lines. They’re reading us in, but so far, no shipments have been confiscated. The DEA’s been asking questions. Apparently, they’ve decided that the FBI investigation into the KXDs might be bigger than they realized, and they were hoping to set up a joint task force,” Cooper said, causing Jablonsky to utter a string of disgruntled expletives.
“How soon do they plan to take over?” I asked.
“Director Kendall is dealing with that mess,” Cooper replied. “We’ve been compromised once. I doubt he’ll let another agency risk our security again.”
Mark collected a couple of files and went to the door. “I’ll find out. If something changes, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Anything else?” I asked, anxious to mentally prepare for this evening.
“Here,” Cooper reached down, grabbing a black tote bag off the adjacent chair, “your work schedule and uniform.” He smiled. “Have fun.”
“Fair warning,” I glanced inside the bag, “if you mention this to anyone or someone gets confused about how to focus the surveillance cameras and photos get spread around the office, I will hold you personally responsible.”
“Agent Parker, I’m nothing but professional.” And if those words had come from anyone else, I would have thought they were being sarcastic, but Cooper was far too monotone and serious to joke like that. The last time I worked with him, he proved to be a reliable agent, even if I spent many a day inside a conference room, forcing myself not to go into a coma from his monotonous discourses.
“Thanks.” I stood, unhappy with the new prospect.
“Be careful. If anything goes sideways, call it in. Casualties are not acceptable on my watch.” Nodding, I went to the door. “By the way, Parker, it’s nice to see those credentials back where they belong.”
“Too bad the badge clashes with my new outfit.”
* * *
The sun set an hour before I ventured back to the apartment complex in one of the shadiest neighborhoods in the city. There was no point in being afraid of the dark. Much scarier things walked these streets, and with any luck, I was one of them. I carried a mini duffel bag that held my clothing for later in the evening, my wallet, a wad of cash, and a government-issued firearm. What more could a girl need?
Glancing around, I spotted a few of the guys I encountered the other evening, but there was no sign of Francisco. As I continued past them, no one acknowledged my presence. Apparently Steele’s word was as good as gold. Continuing toward the building, I finally laid eyes on him near the dumpster in the alleyway next to the apartment building. He was whispering to someone in the shadows. Interesting.
Hurrying up the front steps, I burst into the building and ran up numerous flights of stairs to my apartment, unlocked the door, and gave the interior a quick glance before rushing to the kitchen window that overlooked the alley. By then, the other man was gone, but Steele was still there.
Taking a deep breath, I put my game face on, grabbed the cash and my keys, and went back down the steps. This time, I emerged slowly from the building. Steele was now speaking to a couple of guys. One of them must have tipped him off to my presence because he turned just as I cleared the few steps from the building to the sidewalk. He turned back to the group briefly, muttered something, and began his approach.
“Didn’t you just get in?” he asked, eyeing my shoulder as if wondering where my bag went. “Now where are you going?”
“I was hoping to see you,” I replied, watching as a few of the men scattered. Two remained, and I suspected they were poised permanently at that position, perhaps to keep tabs on the comings and goings in the neighborhood or to act as spotters in the event there was police activity in the area. “It’s been a rough week. I could really use a pick-me-up.”
He smiled, his eyes practically closing as he let out a snort and wrapped an arm around my waist, guiding me into the alley. “Well, step into my office,” he said, sounding smarmy. Once we were out of sight, he backed away, leaning against the edge of the dumpster. “I wondered if you’d reconsidered.”
“C’mon, man,” I rubbed my face, “I have to be at work in an hour. I just need a hit of something to take the edge off. Not a lot. Just a little something.”
“What’d you have in mind?” he asked, not offering any suggestions. It was too soon to determine if this was because he feared entrapment or if he wasn’t a pushy pusher.
“Maybe some H.” Slowly, I reached into my pocket and produced the wad of cash, peeling off the greasy, creased dollar bills one at a time. “Half a gram of powder.” I continued to count the money. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” His eyes darted around the alley. “But I don’t carry things like that on me, and since you’re in a rush and a new customer, it’s gonna be two.” He jerked his chin at the hundred that I already separated from the rest of the stack.
“Shit.” I considered my options. “One fifty.”
He sighed heavily. “Fine, but only because I like you.” He brushed past me, earning a confused look. “Not here. I’ll stop by your place in twenty.”
“Do you always do home deliveries?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m doing one now, unless you don’t want it.”
“I do.”
“Good. I’ll see ya soon.” He left the alley, crossing the street.
Nothing would have made me happier than to follow, but that would jeopardize the operation. Instead, I calmly returned to my apartment, unlocked the door for the second time in the last ten minutes, checked the entirety to make sure nothing damning was out in the open, and pulled out another fifty dollars. This would have been better if we could make the deal in the hallway in front of one of the surveillance cameras, but I didn’t have enough time to figure out the most logical reason behind a move like that. So instead, I laid my uniform on the bed and pulled out my makeup bag, full of glitter, eyeliner, concealer, and foundation. With any luck, he’d believe I was planning to cover my track marks.
Slipping out of my coat, I began applying my makeup while I waited. Ten minutes later, the doorknob turned, and I spun, inching slightly closer to the bag that held my gun. Steele entered, shutting the door behind him. Once he was certain we were alone, he held up a tiny baggie.
