A Deadly Game

by J. P. Bowie

  “Yeah?”

  “Talk to the people you know. Anything you hear, get back to me right away.”

  “Nick…”

  “I mean it, Tom. Don’t forget what you owe me. I’m pulling in all my markers on this one. Andy’s right there in the line of fire. You hear anything, you let me know. Got that?”

  A deep sigh sounded on the other end. “Okay,” came the mumbled reply. “But Nick… Garcia…man…he’s—”

  “I know what he is, Tom,” Nick said, his voice harsh. “I know only too well what he is. That’s why I need you on this. Andy’s life could depend on what you can find out. You owe him too, don’t forget.”

  “I don’t forget. Okay, I’ll be in touch.” Carradine paused then asked, “You all right?”

  “I’m fine, Tom. Just help me with this one.” Nick put the phone down and sank back in his chair. He closed his eyes…and let himself remember.

  Chapter Two

  Pittsburgh: 4 years earlier.

  The hunt was on. It had taken the FBI and the Pittsburgh Police Department a long time to put it all together, but now there was no calling it off. Francisco Garcia must go down. The man who had spread a network of drugs, corruption and murder throughout the East Coast for close to twenty years was about to be stopped.

  Nick Fallon, Andy Hawkins, John Petrosky, and Sam Valance had worked on this case together, and in conjunction with the FBI, for over a year. Now it was a go—the stakeout had begun. All they needed was the word to go in. And so, they waited. To get to this place had been a nightmare for all of them. Covert meetings with the dregs of the earth that had made Nick feel unclean for weeks; forced cohabitation with pimps, hookers, drug dealers, and anyone who had a legitimate beef with Garcia. The evidence against the man had piled up, and it was a constant source of amazement to Nick that nothing like this had ever been done before.

  Why had law enforcement waited so long to bring Garcia down?

  The answer became evident as they became more and more embroiled in the case. The law enforcers who had preceded them had been as corrupt as the man they now sought to apprehend. So many bad cops with outstretched and empty palms ready to do anything Garcia wanted. For Nick, this case was the answer to a prayer—something to totally consume his mind and everyday life. Something to take away the pain and loss of losing the one person in his life he could never have imagined living without.

  He had nursed his grief in the early days after losing Martin. He had nurtured it almost, unwilling to let it go. For in his mind, he felt he had never really deserved a man as wonderful as Martin. He had loved him of course. He had never doubted that—but had he really appreciated all that Martin was?

  After he’d received news of the plane crash, Nick had stumbled home, unable to believe that only that morning they had sat across the breakfast table from one another and Nick, ever quick-tempered, had become indignant as Martin tried to explain his reasons for accepting an invitation for the weekend with friends, without consulting Nick first.

  “It never occurred to me you wouldn’t want to go,” Martin had said with a gentle smile. “I thought you really enjoyed the guys’ company. I’m sorry.”

  And Nick had replied, in an offhand, desultory manner that eventually led to shouting and then a cold silence as he drove Martin to the airport, later that morning. There had been no last minute apologies, no hug, not even a kiss on the cheek. Just an abrupt, “Thanks for driving me…” Then he was gone.

  When Nick got home that night, numb with grief, still unable to believe the news of Martin’s death, the answering machine light was flashing. Listlessly he had pressed the play button, then had fallen to his knees as he listened to Martin’s voice for the last time in his life.

  “Sorry, babe. Sorry we left each other that way. I’ll make it up to you when I get back—I promise. Love you…”

  He had keened aloud then, a long and anguished cry of grief and rage and, above all, of hatred for himself—for what he had not done. It had taken him weeks just to try to start living again. His sister Doreen, his brother-in-law Rich, and his close friends, Jim and Donna Hollister, had gathered round him, trying to comfort and support him, but he could not shake the tremendous feeling of guilt that pressed down on him night after night while he lay, unsleeping, in the big bed he had shared with Martin.

  A year after the accident, the loss, and the memories, were still fresh in his mind. And so, when he was assigned to the Garcia case, and on seeing the dedication the other men were bringing to the job, he finally decided he had to try to pull himself together. If one thing was clearer than anything else, it was that this would only succeed if all of them worked as one. There could be no weak link. It was all or nothing, and he was determined that he would die, rather than let any of the other men down.

  Why then, had it all gone so wrong?

  § § § §

  Joseph Garcia was in love.

  The man he had met had captured his soul and made it his own. Joseph knew, as he always did, that it had to remain his secret. His family was not the kind that would accept his sexuality, even though their love for him was unconditional in all other respects. This affair, however, went beyond the merely unmentionable—the man Joseph loved was a cop.

  They had met so innocently, almost as if the Fates had decreed it, or so Joseph wanted to believe. One afternoon, in a coffee bar on Liberty Avenue, he had seen him and was instantly attracted. Always reticent, shy almost to painfulness, Joseph would never have made the first approach, but their eyes met and the man smiled, such a sweet, beguiling smile, and Joseph was lost. The man rose from his table by the window, slipped into the seat opposite Joseph and introduced himself.

  “Hi,” he’d said, holding out his hand. “Sam Valance…”

  Joseph had taken his hand, mesmerized by Sam’s beautiful smile and, somewhat shakily had answered, “Joseph. I—I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  They talked for hours. After leaving the coffee bar they strolled together down to the river where they sat on a bench, gazed at the city skyline and each other, and talked some more. Joseph had been startled when Sam told him he was a police detective, and took care to tell Sam only that he was at NYU studying law, avoiding any mention of his family. The fact that he was the son of a notorious criminal was not something he wanted to use as small talk on a first meeting. Joseph knew that he should not have let their friendship go any further. He knew he should have smiled politely and murmured something about getting together at some future date—and then run like hell. But he did not—he could not, for he was already imagining what it would be like to be held in Sam’s arms, and to taste the sweetness of his lips. It was so easy to slip into the affair he knew could only end badly.

  Yet, he could not resist. Sam was so incredibly sexy, with those big brown eyes, those full lips that were forever parting in the sweetest of smiles. Joseph hungered for him night and day, pined for him when they could not meet, longed only for the times when they could be together, their naked bodies entwined, their desire for one another always insatiable. And so it went, neither one of them knowing the complete truth of one another, content only in their meeting, their passion and their love.

  Sam told Nick of his happiness and his friend was glad for him. As far as they knew, Nick and Sam were the only two gay cops in the precinct and they had bonded, not only because of their sexuality, but also because of a deep respect they had formed for one another soon after they had met. They had both suffered from the homophobia that was rampant in the police force, but by sheer force of will and perseverance, they had survived the initial ordeals, the caustic remarks, the “fag” jokes and the put-downs from superior officers.

  Nick admired Sam for his supreme optimism and confidence. Whereas the tension at work could make Nick moody and hostile, Sam would find humor in some of the remarks thrown at them, and had a knack for turning the slur back on the name-caller. Once or twice, out of frustration, Nick had come close to locker room fistfights,
but Sam had diffused the situation with a well-placed humorous remark. Things were marginally better after they had shown they were worthy of the badge they wore and some of the guys, like Andy Hawkins and John Petrosky, had even extended the offer of friendship.

  Late one afternoon, Nick stopped in at a Starbuck’s, just off Liberty Avenue. As he looked around the small group of tables hoping he’d find one by the window, he found himself staring at the back of Sam’s head, and his eyes met those of the young man who sat opposite his friend. He watched as the young man murmured something that made Sam turn around.

  “Hey, Nick…join us,” he said, beckoning his friend over. “Joseph, this is my best buddy, Nick. Take a load off, Nick.”

  They sat talking for a while. Joseph was intelligent, slightly shy, but without a doubt, totally infatuated with Sam. Nick smiled to himself often during their conversation, noting the number of times Joseph would defer to Sam and how many times their eyes would meet in that soft, secret way that lovers have. Later, after he had left them and walked alone toward the station, he remembered how he’d felt sharing those same, early romantic moments with Martin, and his heart ached with loneliness. Still, he could not but hope that Sam and Joseph’s future held nothing but happiness.

  So, it was a bitter blow for Nick when he discovered Joseph Garcia’s true identity. Garcia was a common enough name in Hispanic circles, and the files they had on Francisco Garcia generally mentioned only his older son, Alfredo. Alfredo Garcia was his father’s son—a major part of the Garcia operation. In almost every file Nick had researched, there was no mention of Joseph Garcia, until an updated report was brought to his notice. Included was the name, Joseph Garcia, Hispanic, aged 24, 5'9", black hair, green eyes, olive complexioned, currently studying law at NYU.

  “Christ.” Nick had stared at that description, hoping against hope that he was wrong. It sounded exactly like the Joseph he had met just days before. Could it be that much of a coincidence? Nick didn’t think so, and did a little digging on his own.

  “We got a photograph of the younger Garcia son?” he asked the records clerk.

  “Not officially,” she told him. “No mug shots. The kid hasn’t got a record—yet, but I dug one up out of a college yearbook though.” She flipped through her records. “Here it is.” Nick’s heart sank as he gazed at Joseph’s photograph.

  “Can I put this in the file I just got?”

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it. Thanks.” He went back to his desk and sat looking at the photo for a time. Damn, he thought. How could this sweet-faced kid be a part of Francisco Garcia’s family? What the hell kind of future was he going to have when his father was arrested, and most likely sentenced to death? Everything he aspired to would be overshadowed by the scandal of having a murdering drug dealer for a father. One thing was certain; Nick had to bring this to Sam’s attention immediately.

  Walking over to Sam’s desk, he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder as he placed the file in front of him. He watched as Sam’s face turned pale and the hand holding the file shook with nervous emotion.

  “Oh my God, Nick,” he whispered, looking up at him with tortured eyes. “What the hell can I do?”

  Nick’s first reaction was to tell him to drop the kid like a hot potato and never see him again, but the anguished look on Sam’s face told him he already knew.

  “It’s for the best, Sam.”

  Even as he uttered the words, Nick shared Sam’s pain. The end of a loving relationship, whether by accident or design, is seldom a cause for rejoicing. Nick had been there and was still grieving. He knew it would take Sam a long time to get over this. To put his duty first was his only option. All else would be jeopardized if he continued seeing Joseph. They might be seen and recognized—it amazed both Nick and Sam now that it had not yet happened. How many occasions had there been when someone from either camp could have spotted them in a bar or restaurant, or walking in the park or by the river? Sam shuddered as the realization of what was at stake sank in. Leaving Nick with the assurance he would talk to Joseph right away, Sam went back to his apartment and made the call.

  “I have to see you right away,” he told Joseph.

  “Sure.” Joseph sounded pleased. “Your place?”

  A half hour later they were together, and Sam, his senses once more inflamed by Joseph’s mere presence, told himself that he could not do this without making love to him one last time. For Sam, the sex, wonderful as it always was, this time filled him with bittersweet emotion.

  For Joseph, not knowing what was to come after, it was simply another joyous time in his lover’s arms. He loved Sam. He loved the bigger man’s arms around him, the feel of his warm muscular body pressed hard against his own. Locked in that strong embrace, he felt released from all the pressure that surrounded him at home and at university. For the time he was with Sam, he could forget everything that was wrong with his life. He could even pretend his father was not a high profile criminal, but was just another loving parent, willing to let his son have the life he craved. With Sam deep inside him, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy, he could forget everything. Everything but the moment when Sam’s lips crushed his in a kiss of love and longing, when their bodies cleaved together as one, when their pent up passion exploded in a mutual, tumultuous climax that left them spent and breathless in each other’s arms.

  But this last time was different. Joseph sensed it in Sam’s caress, saw it in the tears that filled Sam’s eyes as he gazed at him, oh so tenderly.

  “What’s wrong, Sam?”

  And Sam, so loving, so sad, said, “I know who you are, Joseph.”

  And Joseph, not understanding, smiled up at him and put his lips to Sam’s ear. “I know who you are too, Sam,” he whispered, nipping playfully at Sam’s earlobe.

  “No, Joseph, you don’t—”

  Sam sat up in his bed and looked away, across the room to the window through which he could see the sky, darkening with the threat of approaching rain. How fitting, he thought, that the night would be as somber as the mood that was fast coming upon him.

  “I know your father is Francisco Garcia—and because of that, I can never see you again.”

  Joseph lay still and quiet beside him for a long moment, until Sam turned to see if he had heard what he had just said; and then his heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces when he saw the stricken look on Joseph’s face.

  “No, no, no, Sam!” Joseph threw himself into Sam’s arms, holding him so tight that Sam had to struggle to free himself.

  “I’m sorry, Joseph—so sorry,” he panted, holding the young man at arm’s length. “I know this is a lousy situation, but there’s nothing we can do to change it. You and I are on opposite sides of the law.”

  “No, we’re not,” Joseph exploded, tears welling in his eyes. “I’ve never broken the law. I can’t help what my father is.”

  “No, you can’t, I know that—but I’m a cop,” Sam said, trying to remain calm. “I have sworn to uphold the law, and my being with you in this kind of…relationship…it throws both of us into jeopardy.”

  “I don’t care,” Joseph yelled through his tears. “I love you, Sam. Don’t do this, please.” He clutched at Sam’s arms. “Come away with me,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “We’ll find somewhere to live where no one will know us. We can have a life together. I’ll make you so happy, Sam.”

  “Aw, Joseph—” Sam felt as though he were being ripped to pieces. He held him in his arms, letting Joseph shower him with kisses, wet with his tears. Why did it have to be this way, he thought, feeling Joseph’s shuddering breath against his chest—why couldn’t he have just been any other man’s son? But the grim reality was he was not just any man’s son. He was the son of the man they were planning to bring down in just two days. For a crazy moment he thought, maybe after all this is over—maybe then they could get a life together. Maybe. But then Sam’s heart twisted with despair, knowing it was impossible.
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br />   “Joseph…” he murmured, gently wiping Joseph’s cheeks with his fingertips, and Joseph, raising his head to look into Sam’s eyes, nodded his understanding.

  His arms tightened around Sam as he whispered, “Just make love to me once more—and then I’ll go.”

  § § § §

  Sam called Nick later and told him, “It’s done.”

  Nick listened to the desolation in his friend’s voice. “Sam,” he said, hearing the sadness in his own voice. “I’m sorry, man—I really am.”

  “I know…” Sam blew out a long sigh. “It was rough, Nick. I think it killed something inside both of us, you know.”

  “Don’t Sam. Just give it some time. It’ll get better.”

  “But it hasn’t for you, has it?”

  Nick had no reply. He could have said, “Yeah, but Martin and I were together for ten years—you’ve only just met this guy.” But he remained silent, unwilling to add to his friend’s despair.