Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) (7 page)

They listened to
his shoes squeaking away and the grunts of him heaving himself back up the
stairs.
 
“That was ingenious,” Frank
said.
 

Vic held out his
hand and said, “Here, hand me that.
 
Now
that you know what it is, I’m afraid you’ll do bad things to it when I’m not
around.”

Frank shrugged
and said, “This guy’s too small for me.
 
You can have it.”

“Just keep your
hands off my big black penis, Frank.”

“Anything you
say, sir.”

***

Vic knocked on
Chief Midas’s door and stuck his head into the office, waving his search
warrant.
 
“Boss?
 
We’re getting ready to hit the house on Oak
Street.”
 

The Chief looked
up from his newspaper, “Okay.
 
Have fun.”

“I’m going to
grab the patrol guys and have them give us a hand.”

“Did you run it
by the Staff Sergeant?”

Vic frowned and
said, “No, actually, I didn’t.
 
Is that
necessary?”

The Chief thought
for a second and said, “It’s his division.
 
You should let him know.”

Frank sighed as
they left the office.
 
“Some
division.
 
Twelve guys and two
part-timers.”

Vic knocked on
the Staff Sergeant’s door.
 
“You may
enter,” Erinnyes said.

“I need patrol’s
help on a search warrant.”

Erinnyes
interlaced his thick fingers over his belly and leaned back in his chair.
 
“Why?”

“Because it’s a
drug warrant.
 
The house is
occupied.
 
Where there’s drugs, there’s
guns, that sort of thing.”

“Do you have any
evidence of a gun being there?” Erinnyes said.
 

“No.
 
It’s just an accepted standard that with one
goes the other.”

Erinnyes waved
his hand, “Here you go, trying to exaggerate things again.
 
I prefer a low key approach.
 
I know you like to be the center of
attention, but did you ever think about the bad message it sends a community to
see a group of heavily armed police officers storming a house?
 
It makes them feel unsafe.”
 

Frank put the
knuckles of his fists on the desk and leaned forward, “Would you rather them
see cops getting shot at?
 
I’ve been
there and done that once already this year, sir.
 
It cost me the life of my best friend.
 
How about giving us some help?”
 
  

“How about,
instead of calling my house at four thirty in the morning to ask about a
goddamn car, you give me a little proper notice during reasonable hours?” Erinnyes
said.
 

Vic pulled Frank
back.
 
“Forget it.
 
We’ll do it ourselves.
 
Thanks for all the help.”
 

As they left the
office, Frank rubbed his forehead and his hand came away drenched.
 
He wiped it on his pants and said, “I need to
take my medicine.”
 
He drew a cup of cold
water at the fountain, his hands shaking from the time he pulled the
prescription bottle out of his pocket until he dropped several of the pills
into his hand and swallowed them.
 
He
threw the cup of water back and sighed.
 
“God, I hate that prick.”

Vic snatched the
bottle out of Frank’s hand.
 
Frank tried
to grab it back instantly and Vic pushed him away and held up the bottle to
read it.
 

“Give me
that!
 
It’s none of your business, Vic!”
 
Frank cursed when Vic grabbed him by the arm
and dragged him into the bathroom.
 
“You
better get your damn hands off me.
 
I’m
not playing with you.”

Vic shut the door
behind them and locked it.
 
He held up
the bottle and said, “You’re supposed to only be taking two of these every four
hours.
 
It’s half empty, and you just got
it filled a few days ago.”

“I will punch you
in the face if you don’t give me back that bottle.”

“You’re starting
to get dope sick when you don’t get enough of it, aren’t you.”

“No.”

“It starts when
the pills aren’t doing their job so you take more.
 
Then you need more than you get from the
doctor.
 
Then you start getting them off
the street.
 
Before you know it, you’re
snorting heroin from the evidence locker.”

Frank
laughed.
 
“Like that’s gonna happen.
 
Exaggerate much?
 
Maybe the Staff Infection is right about you.”

Vic grabbed Frank
by the shirt and held the bottle up to his face.
 
“What do you think this shit really is?
 
It’s glorified heroin, Frank.
 
It will make you do things you never thought
possible, and I won’t go through it again.
 
How bad is the withdrawal?
 
You
feel like you’ll puke if you don’t get it yet?”

“No—”

Vic shook him by
the collar and shouted, “Tell me the truth!
 
So help me God I will handcuff you to a desk in my office overnight and
force you into withdrawal.”
 
 

“All right!
 
I started taking more because the two at a
time aren’t working like they used to.
 
I
need to double it to feel any relief, and I can’t make it the whole four hours
before I start taking more.
 
I don’t know
what the hell to do.
 
But I don’t feel
sick or anything.
 
I’m not a freaking junkie,
Vic.”
 

Vic let him go
and put the bottle in his pocket.
 
“I’m
going to hold onto these.
 
I’ll give you
a few to take home with you to get you through the night.
 
In the meantime, call your doctor and tell
him you want a non-narcotic painkiller.”

“And what happens
when I wake up in the middle of the night in excruciating agony?
 
You going to come over my house with more
pills?”

“Take a couple
aspirins and drink a few beers.”

“Beer does not
erase the pain, Vic.”

“It does for me.
 
Especially when you mix it with whiskey.”
 

***

Frank lifted a
pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked through them.
 
The house was a stucco rancher with shutters
hanging off the windows and trash scattered across the porch.
 
There was a car in the driveway, but no signs
of movement.
 
“I’ve been to this house
before,” he said.
 
“They’re always having
domestics.”
 

Vic nodded and
yawned.
 
“Just keep watching for a little
while.
 
Once we can confirm someone’s
home, we’ll go in.”

“Hey, can you
take me back to the station?
 
I’ve gotta
take a leak.”

“Hell no, we
can’t break surveillance.
 
What if we
miss something?”

“Christ,” Frank
grumbled.
 

“You still in
touch with Hector’s wife?”

“Not really.
 
I think in some ways she resents that I lived
and he didn’t.
 
I know she doesn’t mean
to feel that way, but it’s the vibe I get.”

“Is that vibe
coming from her or you?” Vic said.

“Her.
 
Me.
 
I
don’t know.”

“If that were my
wife, there wouldn’t be any bad vibes, believe me.
 
She’d be happy as a clam.”

“Don’t say that,”
Frank said.

“It’s true.
 
All that insurance money they get for an
officer killed in the line of duty?
 
Kids
go to school for free.
 
It’s not a bad
deal, really.
 
Especially if you were
smart enough to get a life insurance policy.
 
I took out the maximum coverage when I had my first kid.
 
If I take a bullet, they are going to be
riding high.”

“Yeah, except you
have to die for them to get it.
 
You ever
watched someone die, Vic?
 
It’s not real
pretty.”

Vic turned and
looked at him, “Hey.
 
Relax.
 
I’m just making conversation here.
 
No need to get excited.”

“Yeah, well I’m
about to piss all over the seat.”
  

Vic picked up the
empty coffee cup from the cup holder and said, “This is what real cops do.
 
We improvise, adapt, and overcome.
 
Remember?”
 
Vic unzipped his fly and leaned up to lower himself into the cup.
 
“Rule One of surveillance, never throw out
your empty coffee cups.
 
Hey, what are
you, a fag?
 
Don’t look.”
  

“Are you serious?
 
Don’t do that.”

Vic held the cup
at a forty-five degree angle and started peeing into it carefully so that he
didn’t spill any.
 
The cup filled to the
brim and he said, “Christ!
 
I hate this
part!”
 
He grunted and stopped peeing to
empty the cup out of the window, then put it back under his lap and resumed.
 
“Phew!
 
Almost thought I wouldn’t make it.”

“You are
disgusting,” Frank said.
 

“I told you not
to look.”

“It smells like
piss in here now.
 
Can you at least get
rid of the cup?”

“No way.
 
That’s the piss cup now.
 
Your turn.”

“Forget it,”
Frank said.

“When you’re on a
stakeout, you can’t just call a timeout to run back to the station and
pee.
 
Be a man and piss in the cup.”

“I don’t have to
go anymore,” he said.
 

“It went away?” Vic
said.
 

“No, it didn’t go
away,” Frank mumbled.
 
“I can’t pee in
the cup.
 
I’m pee shy.”

“Pee shy?” Vic
said.
 
“What does that mean?
 
You can’t go?”

“Not if someone is
near me.
 
Not even if they talk to me.”

“What if I just
look out the window?”

“It won’t work,”
Frank said.
 
“Can we please just go back
to the station?”

“Look!” Vic
said.
 
He pointed over the dashboard at a
man wearing a bathrobe who emerged from the house’s front door and put a bag of
trash into a trashcan on the porch.
 
“That’s
Billy Helen.”
 
They watched him go back
inside.
 
“You ready to go in?”

“I don’t think
so.”

“Jesus.
 
You are like working with a two year old,” Vic
said.
 
“Jump in the backseat and turn
your back to me.
 
I won’t say
anything.
 
Will that work?”

“I’ll try
it.”
 
Frank climbed into the back of the
car and knelt on the back seat, facing the rear window.
 
The neighborhood was a glorified trailer park,
busy with people walking in and out of their houses who weren’t burdened by
working a day job.
 
Frank ducked low in
the seat and unzipped his pants.
 
He
sighed with relief as water started hitting the bottom of his cup
immediately.
 
  

“Hey, Frank?”

The sound
stopped.
 
Frank groaned and said, “God
damn you, Vic!
 
Shut the hell up!”

“Sorry,
buddy.
 
Just wanted to say I’m proud of
you, and to keep up the good work.”

“So help me God, Vic,
I will dump this cup on your seat.”

“Ok.
 
I’ll be quiet.
 
Honest.
 
Starting now.
 
Being quiet, here.
 
Right now.”

“SHUT UP!”

***

They parked the
car down the street and hurried across the lawn.
 
Vic dropped a large toolbox under a tree and
both men pulled their weapons, keeping them low to ground but ready if they
needed to fire.
 
“Sixty seconds, right?”
Frank whispered.

“What?”

“For the knock
and announce.
 
You have to knock and
state your purpose for being there, and if there’s no answer, we can go in
after sixty seconds.”

Vic scowled at
him and said, “Just watch my back, rookie.”

Frank took the
corner of the house by the porch, keeping a low crouch, while Vic crept up the
front steps.
 
He bladed himself to the
side of the door and knocked gently on the screen, keeping his back against the
wall and staying out of view.
 
 

Vic smashed
against the door with his fist several times, hammering it loud enough that a
neighbor across the street peered through the window.
 
Frank held up the badge around his neck and
pressed his finger to his lips, waving for the person to go back inside.
 
“Put that away,” Vic hissed.