Fury tightened Mike's features. "How the
hell can you ask me that?" he snarled, slinging the copies
back in her direction. The everpresent anger
rose in him, dark and corrosive, leading him to lash out
at her again, as he'd done in the weeks
and months since the dark days after his shooting and his
partner's kidnapping. "God, you're a bitch,
Cait."
She smiled, coldly professional. "I think
we've already established that, Mike," she snapped,
recognizing the familiar anger and damning
Alex Krycek for the thousandth time. "The question is
why the NYPD has two different evidence
lists for the same crime scene, with your signature on both
of them."
"It's not my signature," he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "At least one of them isn't."
"Right," Caitlin said scornfully, glancing
at the copies again. "It's not like I haven't seen your signature
before. I think I'd recognize it."
"I didn't sign both of them," he exploded
quietly. "Dammit, Cait, I wanted him behind bars as much as
you did." He paused as a sudden thought
rose in his mind. "What the hell are you doing with these
anyway?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Sullivan's going after
the NYPD's corrupt precincts, or haven't you heard? Seems
he has some majorly influential friends
in the Bureau, and he has some of our forensics experts
checking out evidence trails."
Understanding dawned in Mike's eyes, and a flicker of distaste crossed his face. "Ransome."
"Yeah," Caitlin agreed. "He thought I might want to know."
"I wasn't the only one on this case," Mike
reminded her quietly, an unpleasant realization nipping at
the edges of his mind. "Lennie and Curtis
were, too. And-"
Caitlin nodded, her mind following his thoughts.
The nagging little voice of her intuition was nudging at
her. "And Faith," she finished for him quietly.
The following headlines appeared on
January 21:
"Investigators Arrest 15 Police Officers;
Find Considerable Evidence of Corruption in Police
Precinct No. 31"--The New York Times
"JUDGE SULLIVAN CLEANS HOUSE IN BUCKET-OF-BLOOD
PRECINCT"--The New
York Post
"PIGS AT THE TROUGH! 31st PRECINCT A STY
OF DIRTY DEEDS!"--The Five Boroughs
Daily Gleaner
"31st PRECINCT JUST TIP OF ICEBERG"--The
New York Ledger
Lt. Anita VanBuren scaned the 1/2
dozen or so newspapers that had been laid on her desk. The
headlines on the New York Ledger and the
New York Times were the one's that caught her
attention the most.
Picking up the New York Times, she turned
to page 2 so she could read the dreaded artical about
the Investigaters that arrested 15 Police
Officers from the 31st Precinct.
*Judge Sullivan accepts no boundary's when
it comes to police corruption. Amoung the 15 officers
that were arrested was his own nephew, Detective
Andrew Sullivan.*
"Well now, that son of a bitch, to think
he would even distroy a member of his own family. I guess
the rest of us haven't got a hope or a prayer."
VanBuren thought.*When contacted, Judge Sullivan's
only commit was...*
The knock on her door stopped her from continuing
with the artical.
"Come in." she responded. The door opened
and in walked a young woman she hadn't seen before.
"Lt. VanBuren. I'm Detective Cassi O'Connor.
Could I have a few minutes of your time? Please, I
guarantee you will want to hear what I have
to tell you."
"Sure Detective, come in. What can I do
for you?"
Cassi smiled at the Lt. as she sat down in
the chair in front of the Lt.'s desk.
"So Detective, Tell me, what have you come
here to tell me."
"Lt. I used to work here at the 2-7. It
was breif, but I got a chance to get to know several of the
officer's in the house and I would really
hate to see anyone else around here go down for anything.
Especially, at the hands of a vindictive
Judge who is only after his own gain." VanBuren instantly
knew who she was speaking about,the one
who had already gone down from here a couple years
back,Profaci.
"Okay, Detective O'Connor, I'm listening."
"To start with, I'm a friend of Detective
Logan's and I know you were his supervisor here after
Cragen left."
"Yes I was, does he have somthing to do
with why you're here?" Cassi nodded her head.
"I know Sullivan is cleaning house on the
NYPD. He is going to comb thru all the old cases in all the
Precinct's and I know that no one will be
protected, he is going to ruin alot of good cops. To get to
the point of my visit, it has come to Mike's
attention, from a source within the FBI, that there may be
a discrepancy involving one of his cases,
when he worked here at the 2-7. You know the Hill case,
the one where a cop killer was set free."
"Oh yes I remember that one like it was
yesterday. From what I remember there was no concrete
evidence to show he was guilty even though
everyone knew he was."
"Precisely Lt."
"Okay, I'm listening Detective. Please continue."
"Well from somewhere a second evidence sheet
surfaced with Mike's signature on it. On this
evidence sheet was a blood stained hankerchief,
a piece of evidance that could have put the cop
killer away."
"But, at the trial there was no hankerchief
submitted into evidence."
"We know, Mike swears that it isn't his
signature on the sheet. I know him and I know he would
never with hold evidence from any case,
little lone one involving a cop killer." VanBuren nodded her
head.
"Mike and I may have had some tension between
us while he worked here, but I do know he was
and still is a good cop."
"Precisely Lt. Mike concured. He said you
are an honorable cop as well and the reason I came here
today was to inform you that this may come
up when Sullivan finally gets to this Precinct. I figure with
the way things are going, having his own
nephew arrested, no one is safe. As good cop's we all need
to have the hands up on him, so we will
be able to protect ourselfs."
"Thank-you Detective O'Conor for stopping
by. I'll have to check into this."
"If you need to get in touch with me, I
can be reached at the 110." VanBuren shook Cassi's hand and
then Cassi was out the door.
"Hiram Modesto Sullivan for President. I like the way that sounds," said the Judge.
"Sounds fine to me," said Commander Deitz, who hoped that he was still a good liar.
The two were in a private booth at Amid's,
a posh Middle Eastern dining establishment near
Rockefeller Center. They were eating lamb
mansaf, which the Judge had recommended. The spices
were giving Deitz heartburn.
"Tell me, Commander, how's Captain Schurz?"
"Fine. He was promoted to major a month ago."
"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten," said the Judge with subtle yet definite insincerity.
Part of Deitz went back in time. Back to
1983, when a frightened teenage punk named Benny Schurz
Jr, son of a Senator, had been caught DUI
with some $3000 worth of stolen goods. The boy had
been brought before a stern police lieutenant
who would gladly have made him face felony charges,
except that Lieutenant Deitz had been deep
in debt. Money from the elder Schurz squared away
Deitz's problems. Young Benny became clean
without intervention from the justice system, and was
now a respected member of the Marine Corps.
"Your credit rating, it's fine now, isn't it?" said the Judge with his always-gentle smile.
"Tops," said Deitz, just slightly thicker than he'd intended.
"Good. We have lots of work ahead, you and I."
Deitz desperately wanted the privacy of his
office, where he kept antacids.
"Why are you getting inter-office memos from
Tick Calvert?" Kelson asked curiously, tossing the
yellow envelope on Caitlin's desk.
Caitlin shrugged, tearing open the flap. "Because he did me a favor, under the table."
Kelson shook his head, grinning. "I'll have to add that to my list of unusual places-"
The words died in his throat at his partner's
withering look. Caitlin slid several sheets of paper,
spreading them over her desk. The envelope
contained the two NYPD evidence sheets, as well as an
official Bureau lab report. Tapping a finger
absently against her lips, Caitlin perused the report, then
handed it across the desk to Kelson. "Here.
What do you think?"
Adjusting his reading glasses on his nose,
Kelson read through the report. Caitlin had had the two
eveidence lists run through by the FBI's
handwriting experts, in a round-about manner using a smaller
Bureau office in Georgia. The experts had
concluded that the signatures were not written by the same
person, and by comparison with an actual
sample of Mike Logan's handwriting, they had further
concluded that he had not signed the sheet
listing the bloody handkerchief. "I'd say Logan never
knew there was a handkerchief," Kelson mused
slowly. He glanced up, meeting Caitlin's gaze
uncomfortably. He was no big fan of Mike
Logan, but he didn't like what he saw happening, either.
"And I'd say someone was going to a lot
of trouble to make Mike look like a crooked cop."
Caitlin sighed. "I know," she said, frustration tightening her jaw. "But who?"
Kelson leaned back in his chair. "Rey Curtis?" he offered hopefully.
"I wish," Caitlin smiled slightly. "I'd like
nothing better than to shut that bastard away in a hole for
several years, but I don't think he's corrupt,
Kel." She shook her head, thinking of how badly Curtis
had treated Faith Morrison for years. "His
unethical activities are limited to lying to his wife about his
sexual fidelity."
The phone rang insistently on Mike Logan's
desk. Grabbing the receiver impatiently, Mike growled.
"What?"
"That's a fine way to saound, detective. You know you need to work on your people skils, Logan."
Hearing the soothing voice made Mike smile
for the first time today. "Cassi, I work with rapists,
murderers and any kind of scum you can think
of. I don't really want to impress THEM."
Laughing softly, she lowered her voice. "So what's on the agenda tonight?"
Mike leaned back in his chair, grinning his infamous cheshire grin. "Dinner at my place?"
"Sounds great. Oops, I have to go. I have something VERY important to talk over with you. Bye."
"Bye". Mike replaced the receiver. Staring
out the window, he wondered what Cassi was being so
mysterious about. He never knew what she
was up to.
Mike opened the door to his apartment and
the place was pitch black inside.
*Dammit, I'm sure I said dinner at my place
tonight when I was talking to Cassi on the phone.* Mike
thought to himself as he turned on a light
near the door. He walked over to the phone and picked it
up to dial, when Cassi walked out of his
bedroom. A huge smile spread across his face at the sight of
her. She was standing, propped up against
the bedroom door, wearing his wool socks, one of his old
sweat shirts and her hair was ruffled.
"You're the nicest sight I've seen today."
Uttered Mike.
"Now that your all relaxed how about we...a...maybe
go back into the bedroom and...well..." He
stopped when he saw her shake her head.
"I don't think so. At least not right now.
Cragen is coming over here in about 1 hour. I have lots to tell
you and I still have to get dressed." She
could tell that she had let the wind out of his sails by the
exasperated look on his face. Snorting a
laugh he inquired.
"Okay, I'm curious as to why Cragen is coming
over." He walked over to her and snuck a kiss. Then
he placed a smile on his face.
" And I would really like to know what you
wanted to tell me that was very important."Cassi also
cracked a smile.
"Well I wanted to tell you that I went to
VanBuren ,like you asked me too."
"And how did it go?"
" It went great. She seems like an intelligent
woman. She is going to check into it. I think she wants to
be one up on Sullivan as well. After all
she has a group of Detectives to try to protect." Mike placed
his arms around Cassi.
"Good, I'm glad you are here and helping
me like this."
"Well Mike, that's what friends are for.
If it wasn't for you, Donnie and Phil, I'm sure I'd be locked
up now, myself." Mike pulled back from Cassi.
"Yes Cassi we're friends and I was your
friend long before you really knew it. Now, why is Cragen
coming over."
"Donnie was going to do some checking on
some things today, involving Sullivan and this crusade
mission Sullivan is on, he called me, he
wanted to fill us both in on what he found out. So I told him to
come over. Now if you'll excuse me I want
to go have a shower and get dress. We can talk some
more in awhile." Giving a little wink, Mike
just had to ask.
"Would you like it if I came into the shower
and... maybe... helped?" Giving her head a shake she
replied.
"We only have an hour Mike. I don't think
so."
As if the day weren't bad enough, Commander
Deitz's regular secretary was housebound with flu.
Her substitute was an earnest but awkward
young woman named Carol Bonneau.
Deitz barked in his harshest tone, "Miss
Bonneau, my eight-year-old could have downloaded those
files in less than half..." He noticed that
her eyes were watering.
His anger broke for the first time since
that long lunch with Sullivan. "I'm sorry, Miss Bonneau, it's not
really about you."
Normally he would have left the apology at
that. But locked in his desk was a 12-ounce bottle of
vodka which he'd drained by a third. And
there were other factors.
He said, "Hiram Modesto Sullivan, the God-almighty
Judge, wants to be President. And he doesn't
care how many people he destroys. Yes, he's
burning some bad apples, but I was just talking to
Deputy Chief Alomdovar at IAB. His people
tooth-combed the 31st a few months back and found
evidence against only ten cops.
They found nothing to indicate that Detective
Sullivan was anything but clean. The Judge's own
nephew, for God's sake!"
"And tomorrow he'll strike the 27th. He's
going to hit Detective Green first. He's already drawn up a
warrant which will be executed at dawn tomorrow.
Green's assets will be frozen and his belongings
seized for inventory. He may use warrants
against some of the other cops also."
Deitz shook his head. "He doesn't even see
his own people as people. He calls them a pack of
sharks, who are taking appetizers. Hell,
even old Senator Schurz is afraid."
Deitz had spoken to the Senator two hours
ago; though well past 80, the Senator had a harshness
which even Deitz was hard pressed to match.
"Let me tell you one more thing: Nothing
would make the Judge happier than to see Detective
Briscoe stripped of everything, including
freedom."
Deitz continued to gaze firmly at Bonneau
and said, "Understand this: Everything I've told you is
confidential and not to leave this room.
Don't let me or the Judge catch you disclosing a word.
Dismissed!"
He wondered what would happen next. He knew
that Carol Bonneau was the youngest sister of
Anita Van Buren.
The Commander felt dreadfully certain that
his career would join the careers of others down the
Hiram Sullivan chute. He returned to his
desk and the waiting bottle.