Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) (12 page)

Without thinking, Mann stood up and shouted, “Stop, Police!”

Both men opened fire on him. He ran up the stairs and tried the office door but the knob wouldn't turn. As a bullet lodged in the door beside him, he made a decision and threw himself at the window to the right of the door. He crashed through the glass and hit the railing. He tucked himself around the video camera and rolled down the stairs.

Hitting the pavement knocked the wind out of him. Two men burst out through the side door under the stairs. Expecting a bullet any second, Mann heard running feet and two voices.

“Freeze, police!”

Mann heard the two men from the warehouse shout, “Police, undercover.”

The two uniforms weren’t having any of it. “Put your guns down now!”

The suspects put their guns on the pavement and raised their hands. “Its OK, We’re undercover. That’s our suspect,” Number One said, pointing at Mann. “I’m going to reach for my badge.”

“Don’t move!” the older of the uniforms shouted, coming forward quickly. “Keep your hands on your heads.”

A third cop skidded to a stop at the top of the alley. While the newcomer pulled his gun, the older patrolman approached the two guys and holstered his. “Davis, you cover these guys. Jefferson, cover the guy at the bottom of the stairs.”

“I’ve got them, Mike.” Davis assured his partner.

The two guys were kneeling on the ground when Mann’s wife arrived with the boys in tow. She started into the alley and Jefferson blocked her way. “That’s my husband! He’s a cop. Is he hurt?”

Mann finally got his breathing under control. “We need an ambulance. There’s a guy shot in the warehouse.”

Mike looked at Mann’s wife and kids. Making a quick decision, he stepped back from the suspects on their knees. “Jefferson, check it out.”

Jefferson ran into the warehouse and they heard him shout, “Man down!”

Davis used his shoulder radio to call for an ambulance. Davis’ partner walked up to him. He showed him the ID from the two kneeling suspects and pointed to one name. “Get the Lieutenant down here. We are deep in it. This is going to be way beyond our pay grade.”

Before the Lieutenant could arrive, Mann started to give his story. When he mentioned the video tape, Number One started shouting.

“That video is part of our investigation. I don’t want anyone touching it, in case they erase it. You understand, Officer?” he asked pointedly, looking directly at the older man in uniform. “I don’t want anyone to accidentally erase that tape.”

“I understand totally,” replied the older cop.

He popped out the tape. “Officer Davis, are you witnessing this?”

“Uh, sure Mike,” Davis said, clearly not understanding what he was witnessing.

“Officer Mann. Do I understand correctly that removing this small tab will prevent the tape from being erased?”

“Yes, sir,” Mann said.

Mike snapped the small piece of plastic off the tape. “There, that should take care of any of your concerns.”

“Do you know who and what you are screwing with?” Number One asked.

“I know exactly who you are. And I am guessing this tape will prove exactly what you are.”

*

“Mike showed me what it took to be a cop, that day,” Davis said. “Luckily, he missed most of the fallout. That was reserved for Mann.”

“That was Commissioner Anders’ son, wasn’t it?” Degget asked.

“Yup. Mann had gone and videotaped the Commissioner’s son shooting a kid over a drug deal. Felony attempted murder. Would have been murder if Mann hadn’t told us about the kid in the warehouse when he did. As it was, the vic almost bled out before the ambulance got there. Jefferson saved him.”

“What happened to Mann?”

“The Commissioner tried to do everything he could to discredit Mann. Perhaps, he thought that would help get his son off or maybe he was just pissed. But nothing was getting his son off. He went down and did some serious time. By the time the investigation was finished, the Feds were involved and he ended up doing Federal time too. But the damage had been done, Mann was tainted. That wasn’t the worst of it.

“Anders’ partner, Billy Jones, knew he was going down. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box but he did know if anyone was going to fall hard, it wasn’t going to be the Commissioner’s kid. And there wasn’t much defense against the video tape. Billy wasn’t a bad guy, just greedy and easy for Anders to manipulate. He rolled over on Anders and the whole operation. That meant that Angelino’s new organization was going to take a big hit. He had just come to power, having eliminated most of the competition. There were still some very fresh corpses around and Jones knew too much. Angelino had Billy killed.”

“That hit Gregg hard,” Ruby said.

“Why? The guy was dirty, right?”

“Guess you had to know Billy,” Davis tried to explain. “Like I said, he really wasn’t a bad guy. He just got in way over his head and didn’t know how to get out. Gregg felt responsible in some bizarre way. Don’t get me wrong, Billy wasn’t an innocent but he shouldn’t have been killed like that. Gregg was really pissed off that it happened. He has wanted to get even with Angelino ever since. He knows the dirty cops, the deaths, they all stem from the drug money. Angelino is the one that Gregg will chase forever. It cost him a lot.”

“And what the Italian bastard didn’t take, the bitch Gregg was married to did,” Ruby said. “She figured Mann should have played the game so he could have moved up into the big jobs. She saw herself as the Commissioner’s wife some day and wanted Mann to play along so he could move up. When they got together, Mann talked about being Commissioner some day. For Mann, it was just talk. He was a cop but she wanted a bureaucrat. She soon realized he was never moving very far…not far enough for her. She took the boys and poisoned their minds.”

“But none of that matters to you,” Davis said. “All you need to know is that you can trust Mann and his motives. Stick with Mann and he will help you. You want the same thing and he might even keep you alive while you get Angelino. I got you on that task force so you can get back in the game. Don’t waste it.”

Degget nodded. “And I appreciate it.”

“Just be careful,” Davis cautioned. “And remember you don’t have to do this all by yourself. You’re family and that matters more than anything.”

Where is the dwelling of the lions and the feeding place of the young lions, where the lion, even the old lion, walked, and the lion’s whelp, and none made them afraid?

He wandered through the financial district along the busy streets. Everywhere he went, people shoved and jostled him as they rushed past him. Each of them hell bent on getting ahead of the other guy. They walked like they did everything – with no regard for their fellow human beings. They produce nothing. They create nothing. They thrived by tricking others into buying things for more than they paid for them, having added no value them.

They lived in a world of lies, destruction and greed. And greed, Mr. Gekko, is
not
a good thing.

Greed and envy breeds bullies.

To find the lion, you must enter unto the den of the lions.

Businesses were finishing for the day and people were hurrying home or to the nearest bar. Brokers and investors wore frowns of despair. The market had been unusually volatile making investors unsure where they would stand at the opening bell tomorrow. The brokers secretly smiled knowing that they would make their commissions either way and blessed the flurry of trading that marked the uncertain times.

Truly, this was the den of the lions.

In this place of greed and avarice, he would find his foe. Among these bullies, uncaring souls, rapists and pillagers, he would find those who had tormented him for so long. They created nothing and destroyed everything. They cheat and lie. They spread false hope – only profiting by someone’s misfortune.

He flowed with the crowd and entered a bar. He tried to move slowly, trying not draw attention to himself. He did not belong. Others would sense that. The lions quickly smelled out and slaughtered the sheep.

But this sheep had claws!

*

Three hours later, he still sat at the bar – ignoring his own advice. Strategically located beside a large potted plant where most of his nine drinks had ended up, he made himself invisible. This was Kesle and nobody approached a lone man slumped over his drink. But the hours of waiting had not been in vain.

He consulted his small book and compared the picture with his target across the room. There he stood – his next target.

The scum was holding court, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. The arrogant worm gestured extravagantly, voice booming, while those around stared in wonder and awe.

Preston had found perfection and felt himself harden. He got up and wandered over toward the tight knot of people. Suddenly, the crowd erupted with laughter and he regained his senses.

Just how badly do you want to get caught?

He immediately veered to the left, almost knocking the drink from the hand of a designer suit. Ignoring the icy stare and mumbling an apology, he headed for the door. What was he thinking? Where was his brain? His cock was too big. His erection had drained all the blood from his brain. Be invisible.

He immediately left the bar and walked across the street. Standing in the recess of a shop door, he began to wait for his prey.

He was excited. He had actually found David Kraemer.

Now he needed to make a purchase.

Giovanni “The Hinge” Angelino considered himself one of the new breed. Gone were the days of fat old men sitting in cigar-filled rooms with torpedoes lounging around waiting for the next hit. The game had changed. Angelino had capitalized on that change.

Two generations ago, his predecessors would have been scandalized at the extent of his legitimate enterprises. His empire included publishing, advertising, computer technology, medicine, food services, and flashlights. Each business was legal and very profitable. Every year, his organization made millions from these companies. He also contributed to art galleries, children’s hospitals, and wildlife concerns. In fact, he sat on the boards of three different charities.

His office, located in his own building, was the height of respectability. He looked down on Fifth Avenue far below and, without even straining, the marinas at South Bay. He had three secretaries – none of whom he was sleeping with – and a collection of lawyers and accountants working to close deals, not keep him out of jail. The office itself was a masterpiece.

One of Kesle’s top designers had designed it. The desk was the state of the art, brought in from Japan. He could access the computer of any one of his companies by pressing a couple of buttons. The rest of the office was just as modern but not sterile like so many he had seen. For some reason, space age meant uncomfortable to most designers. For him, space age meant more leisure time and greater comfort.

Comfort and security – his office gave him all that. He looked at the paintings on the walls and the fresh flowers in the vase. Then, he turned around in his chair. When he passed his hand over a patch on the wall, a light flared in a recessed section. A huge crystal glittered in the lighted alcove.

The crystal was over a foot in diameter and almost three and a half feet high. Greens and blues, evidence of chromium and aluminum, sparkled in the lower half. The upper spires cast red shadows as the light caught the iron traces in the crystal. Perfectly balanced, the crystal was power, strength, and intelligence. He gently stroked it and felt the power suffuse his body.

He swung back to the desk, picked up the small racquetball and patiently squeezed. He could feel the muscles in his forearm press against his fitted shirt. Power, strength, and intelligence were the key to his success – the perfect blend.

Angelino had always been a large boy. Since his early years in school, he was bigger and tougher than the other boys. And he always hung with the roughest crowd. Most of the fathers were connected in some way or another. Being the only child of a widow, he lacked the influence of a father. He made up for this by making deals with the other boys. He supplied protection in return for contact with their fathers and the business.

Most of the other kids, and their fathers, assumed he was stupid. Stupidity went with size and brawn; everyone knew that. He didn’t fight the insult; he used it. Thinking him too stupid to understand, his friends would discuss things in front of him that he shouldn’t have heard. Each little nugget of information, he filed away.

Angelino wanted what those kids had. The kids always ended up with something that fell off some truck. But, he had more ambition than his friends. He didn’t want the little gift that fell off the truck. He wanted the whole freaking truck.

Brainpower wasn’t exactly legendary among his friends’ fathers. Like most of their ilk, they lived from job to job. Most had never finished fifth grade. Spending money was their favorite pastime. As soon as the money came in, it was gone. Nothing planned beyond the next score. Make a score, spend the money.

Meanwhile, Angelino spent his time plotting and planning. He read everything he could – philosophy, art, psychology, mathematics, physics and history, especially the history of war and conquest. He led a careful double life, hiding his books the way some of them hid their drugs and money.

He planned while they took stupid risks out of boredom and some ridiculous macho code. Yung taught him that self worth came from within. Angelino was not interested in their approval beyond entrance to the inner circle. He impressed them with his ruthlessness and quick violence. They missed his intelligence in the flurry of beatings, blades and bullets. A three-year stint, knocked down to nine months with good behavior, proved his loyalty

Meanwhile, he quietly finished College courses in business.

He created his business plan complete with organizational charts of competitors’ operations. He had a long-term plan that he executed flawlessly, adjusting and adapting like any good general.