Taking the Highway (9 page)

Bernstein blinked rapidly. “A what?”

“Like a tantrum?” Madison asked.

“It’s an acronym, Fourth In Trouble. If one fourth is in a bad situation, the others back him up. Are they in competition? Sure, technically. But nobody has a turf, nobody could hold one if they wanted to. Cars choose fourths, not the other way around.”

“I’m sorry,” Bernstein said. “You’re hardly an expert on—”

Andre stood, pulled out his fourthing badge, and tossed it on the table. “I’ve been a working fourth for three years. And I never go begging for a ride. Tell me, Mr. Bernstein, do you know the difference between first rush and second rush? The timing of exodus? Do you know why every ride-share app has failed?”

Talic and Kosmatka looked at each other and scoffed.

Andre thought maybe he’d ordered the table wrong. It wasn’t cops versus politicians. It was reasonable people versus idiots. He’d put himself and Sofia on one side. Perhaps Mother Mad too. Talic and Kosmatka could go sit with Iago Bernstein in his ivory tower where theory trumped reality.

He turned his back on them and helped himself to the taxpayer’s coffee, which was hidden in a thermal pot on the cart in the corner. As soon as he broke the seal, the smell of fresh-brewed wafted into the room. He gestured toward the pretty little cups. “Anyone else . . .? No?” He leaned against the wall and took a sip. “Let me ask you a question, Mr. Bernstein. You’re not from Detroit, are you?”

“Ah, no.”

“By the accent, I’d say not even Michigan.”

“My degree is from Stanford. I’ve lived—”

“Been here long?” Andre asked. “Do you like it here?”

“It’s fine. It’s pleasant.”

“Yes, but do you like it?”

“I said, it’s fine.”

Mother Mad pursed her lips, getting ready to separate the unruly children. “It doesn’t matter where Mr. Bernstein is from.”

“I love this city,” Andre said softly. “I love walking along the riverfront, watching the boats. I love buying my dinner ingredients from the markets in the vertical farms. I love new deco architecture, the way the skyline seems to roll instead of cut. I love apple pie at Autumnland and curry hoagies at Satler’s and the way we open doors for each other and say ‘bless you’ when strangers sneeze.”

He took a sip of coffee. “All fourths love this city. Those carpools don’t just need us. They want us. Of course there are more of us trying for rides than will ever get one. That’s the beauty. Every fourth wants to improve. Every fourth
has
to improve. No carpool ever picks up an undesirable rider just to fill the car. Do you honestly think the city would be better off without us? Forget half. If even a quarter of us quit, there won’t be the critical mass of fourths you need to get the carpools onto the highways. There would be unimaginable gridlock on surface streets. Lose half of us and you might as well roll up the sidewalks and turn out the lights.”

“I resent the implication that I don’t—”

“Sergeant LaCroix is correct,” Madison said, rolling right over Bernstein. “We need fourths.”

“As I’ve indicated, preliminary data is still—”

“Thank you, Mr. Bernstein.” Madison’s arms were folded, her body turned away from him.

“—inconclusive as to the efficacy of these paid riders.”

“Yes. Thank you.” She shared a significant glance with Talic.

Bernstein opened his mouth to say more, but Talic was there first. “Mr. Bernstein.” He held Bernstein’s eye. “Stay or go, but keep your mouth shut.”

Bernstein’s jaw dropped in surprise. He blinked rapidly but no sound came out.

“Shut it,” Talic said.

“I just—”

“Out.”

Bernstein paled and gathered himself and the contents of his briefcase with a futile attempt at dignity. Andre enjoyed his discomfort, but didn’t like owing Talic for it. Bernstein was obviously struggling with his urge to have the final word, but the way Talic’s eyes never left him seemed to discourage him. He trundled to the door and was gone, leaving an awkward but welcome silence.

Madison rested her forearms on the table in a circle, as if physically gathering her team. “Now, if you’ll turn to page six, you’ll see that all the murder victims listed ‘fourth’ as their primary occupation.”

Andre returned to the table and scooted his chair in next to Sofia. He lifted her copy of the report and flipped to the relevant page. Sofia had already scrawled a
WTF?
in the corner.

“Not many fourths do that,” Andre said. “Put fourthing first. The one group of fourths who make a point of it, even if they also have more lucrative careers, are those trying to unionize.”

Sofia drew another question mark and underlined the W.

“Ah.” The noise escaped Kosmatka and his frown leveled out into a crooked smile of understanding. “You think certain people might be trying to help ‘organize’ this union?”

Andre shrugged. “Don’t they always?”

Sofia had written the word
mob
in the margin and followed it with
you could have told me.

Discussion of the theory was ranging around the table on its own, so Andre took a stylus and wrote
You’d have figured it out, of course.
He did not tell her that he had just now figured it out himself.

She fumed for a moment, then seized the pen and drew a round face sticking out a tongue at him.

“The most convincing fact is the cash,” Kosmatka said. “Most criminal enterprises are run on a very cashy basis.”

Cashy?

Kosmatka raised a hand. “I’m thinking money laundering.”

Talic spoke up. “Who would be interested in a fourth union doing their laundry?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Kosmatka pulled out his datapad, got a warning look and a head-shake from Madison, then reached for a stylus. “Tocco. The Koscheis. Clan Monaghan. Whoever gets there first gets to do everyone’s wash for them. Real laundromats run on quarters, but the guy collecting those quarters makes a pile.”

“So why kill fourths?” Talic asked Kosmatka.

“If the mob is trying to run them and they won’t play ball . . .” Kosmatka flipped through the report again. “If they whacked five guys just to send a message, someone must have really pushed the wrong buttons.”

“Fourths are pretty independent,” Sofia said. “It’s easy to imagine them pissing off the wrong people at the wrong time.”

Ouch,
he wrote. “We need to find out who’s been doing the pissing. And who is pressuring the organizers.”

Kosmatka shook his head. “If these guys are afraid for their lives, they’re not just going to name names in an interview. Do you know who they are, the union organizers?”

“Not yet,” Andre admitted. “I haven’t paid much attention.” He turned to Madison. “But I can find out, quietly and quickly.”

Sofia’s stylus tore at her side of the paper, but he didn’t look.

“You’re thinking undercover.” Madison looked thoughtful.

“Technically, yes. Practically, I’d just be doing my regular jobs anyway.” He saw the skepticism on the faces around the table. “You’ll never find someone else in time. Just training someone to be a convincing fourth could take weeks.”

“Approved. We don’t have weeks. We don’t have
days
.” Madison tapped her stack of papers. “Lieutenants Talic and Kosmatka are too visible in their divisions.”

Sofia pointed with her pen. “But—”

“Sergeant Gao,
you
will be the head of this task force.” Madison held the room with her suddenly non-maternal gaze. “Each of you will take your cues from Gao, report only to her, and she will communicate your progress to me. I expect regular updates. Put together your support team. Make sure we have the tightest security—networked but private.”

Sofia was drawing smiley faces for the Os in the hasty SOBs she’d scrawled a moment ago. Andre rewound the conversation in his mind, trying to see at what point he’d given her the task force. No, he hadn’t given a millimeter. Madison had swept it out from under him and handed it to Sofia on a platter.

Madison stood and the rest of the room followed. “Don’t let the mayor down.” She turned and crossed the room, disappearing into the mayor’s private office.

Kosmatka shook Sofia’s hand. Talic folded his arms and smirked. “Sucks to be you.” Andre wasn’t sure if Talic meant Sofia, who would get the lion’s share of the blame if things went wrong, or Andre, who would be not only the grunt, but would be the undercover grunt whom nobody acknowledged. No matter. Blame and glory were beside the point. Putting a stop to the killing was all that mattered.

He picked up the copy of the report and wrote down a name. “This is the tech guy you want. Jordan Elway can make any system sit up, roll over, and play dead.”

Sofia studied the paper. If Andre had tried to bring up Elway—or any suggestion—at the beginning of the meeting, Sofia would have told him to go to hell. Now, she showed Elway’s name to Talic and Kosmatka, earning nods of approval. “You think he’s available?” she asked.

Andre nodded, already thinking about tomorrow’s ride in.

T
alic watched with carefully
hidden amusement as Madison Zuchek held up one finger and beckoned him into the mayor’s office. He followed along behind her, stepping silently on short pile carpet the color and texture of astroturf. The dark paneled walls were broken by windows in an alternating pattern, casting striped shadows on the heavy wood desk. The effect seemed overly masculine, but Mayor Smith had never redecorated. There was something to be said for tradition.

He wondered what the mayor would think of Madison’s appropriation of her space. But Smith was on one of her endless diplomatic tours, showing Detroit’s face to the world, leaving the city manager to do the true work of running the city.

“I thought the plan was to let LaCroix head the investigation,” Talic said.

“You should be pleased. I know you don’t like him.” Madison crossed to the ever-present coffee cart, a twin to the one in the outer office. She poured two coffees and mixed cream and sugar into each.

Talic took the offered cup, cradling the delicate china in his hand. “LaCroix’s a peacock. He couldn’t care less about working homicide, but somehow he stays dry when the world is trying its hardest to piss all over him.” He took a sip of the creamy, sweet coffee. “It’s Gao I’m worried about.”

“Exactly why I put her in charge.” Madison moved to the windows and stared down at the city. “A little extra work to keep LaCroix off balance, a little power to keep Gao smug and steerable.”

“With me following them wherever they go.”

“No need to sound bitter. When LaCroix put the pieces together there was nothing else to do.”

Talic felt a tightness in his shoulders. He tilted his neck to one side, then the other, to ease it. It wouldn’t have occurred to him—or Madison—that anyone else could link the dead men. That was what worried him. What else was he missing? “Now that I’m officially on board, I can use this union connection to find the others.”

“You should have found them by now. We shouldn’t need this task force.” Madison moved to the coffee cart and put a hand on the edge, leaning into it. There was only one chair in the room, behind the massive desk, and neither of them sat in it. Madison loved using the mayor’s office for its privacy, but carefully avoided any hint that she wanted its power. Nor did Talic. They were the kingmakers, not the kings, and both knew they could serve the city best without the constant need for public approval.

“You’re thinking like a police officer, Jae Geoffrey. This is no longer waiting for a mess and then cleaning it up. This is preventing the mess in the first place.” Madison set her coffee cup at the very edge of the table. “All it takes is one. LaCroix arrests a single terrorist and suddenly that terrorist is all over the media. Then he has a platform. If he’s a fourth as well? Even worse.”

“You really believe that fourths are
that
important to the economy? Bernstein said—”

“Bernstein’s an idiot. Bernstein’s from California.”

Talic nodded, wondering if those two things were a single descriptor.

“Bernstein thinks economics is numbers and formulas. He doesn’t know the first thing about human beings.” Madison picked up her cup and stared at him over the rim. “Let me tell you what drives the economic engine. Movement. Trade. And above all, confidence.”

“Agreed.”

“I will not risk panic.”

“You can stop it?”

“Easiest thing in the world. I stop it by doing nothing at all.” Madison circled the desk and planted herself in front of him. “Do you have any idea how many times this economic justice group has contacted my office? As long as we don’t acknowledge them, as long as we don’t give them legitimacy—”

“They sabotaged Overdrive! You can’t wish that away.”

Madison reached forward and touched his forearm. “If you do your job, I won’t have to.”