Reckless Ambition
Part 6

 
  Apartment of Mike Logan
  New York City
  7:03 p.m.

  Shoulders slumping wearily, Mike dumped his coat on the couch, pulling off his holster as well.
  Sullivan was really turning up the fire under his investigation, and Mike was intensely aware of
  his colleagues' scrutiny. They knew about the suspensions at the two-seven, and they were
  wondering about him.

  The message light was blinking on his machine, and he punched the play button on his way to
  get a beer. Cassi's voice filled the room, and he stopped, regret tugging at him. "Logan, this is
  Cassi," she said, her voice hard. "I think I've found something. Call me when you get this
  message."

  Punching in her number, Mike listened to her phone ring and ring, unanswered. Shrugging, he
  replaced the receiver and gulped down his beer. He needed a shower, and he headed for the
  bathroom, pulling off his clothing as he went. He'd call Cassi later, he thought. Maybe even try
  to convince her to have dinner with him to discuss what she'd found. It shouldn't be that hard to
  get back in her good graces.

  Dinner and maybe breakfast, too.

  Stepping under the hot spray, he let it beat down on him, washing away the incredible tension
  of the past few days.
  **

  West 46th Street
  New York City
  7:31 p.m.

  "It's too dangerous," the well-manicured man said sternly, his steely gaze pinning Hiram
  Sullivan like a butterfly on a mounting board. "It has to be taken care of."

  For the first time, Sullivan faltered. "I don't think-"

  "That's right," another man spoke. "You didn't think. You let your ambition blind you to your true
  task."

  He exchanged a glance with the well-manicured man. In the corner, a fourth man watched,
  smoke curling up from the cigarette in his hand, a package of Morley's on the shelf beside him.

  "It's time to call him," the well-manicured man said, nodding at the smoking man.

  The smoking man merely nodded and left the room, the scent of cigarette smoke lingering
  behind him.
  For the first time since he'd entered into this unholy partnership, Hiram Sullivan felt an icy finger
  of fear slither down his spine.
 

  As the smoking man left, an unexpected encounter was taking place at Bianchi's Cafeteria half
  a block away.

  Atlanta Willow was busy at the cash register. A stocky man with a face she knew was ready
  to pay for his selection of take-out chili dogs, bagels, and coffee. He was Detective LaMotte!
  Atlanta had met him at the 27th Precinct the night she'd saved Chelsea.

  Atlanta started to speak, but checked herself on seeing LaMotte's blank expression, the kind
  that cops on the job often have. Instead, she worked the keyboard and read the total. She
  blushed at the thought that she'd almost given LaMotte away.

  Morris LaMotte remained expressionless as he carried his food out, but his mind was turning
  with anxiety. For one horrible second it looked as if Atlanta would shout his title and name.
  She'd caught herself in time, but Morris was reminded that the little things like a surprise
  meeting or an overlooked detail could ruin an operation. Or worse, get people killed.

  So far, Force Plodder--created nine hours ago by Oromocto and Schurz--was having a good
  day, but it would need a whole series of these to make much headway against the Sullivan
  crisis.

  Cragen, Deitz, Schurz and the Plodder waited for Morris and watched the meeting from their
  darkened office across the street. Schurz worked a tripod-mounted telephoto camera. Deitz
  held binoculars and grinned at the sight of Judge Sullivan on the defensive.

  Then Deitz reminded himself that a Judge under duress might be even more dangerous. And
  there were the other men in that room to consider. Force Plodder had to find out who they
  were and what they did--fast.

Ben met Cassi by the lake in Central Park.

  "Hello, Cassi, it's been a long time. You're looking good as always," Ben said as he kissed her
  on the check.

  "You're not looking half bad yourself, Ben. Thank you for coming out to meet me," Cassi
  answered.

  "Why did you chose such a public place?" Ben asked. "You know you have no reason to be
  afraid of me."

  "Actually, it's more for you protection than mine." Cassi answered. "If Judge Sullivan caught us
  together, you'd be dead meat. You're in for a long grilling as it is."
 

  The wind whipped through the park causing Cassi to shudder. Ben's quiet blue eyes took her
  in. "Cassi, what's wrong? I know you wanted to warn me about Judge Sullivan, but there's
  definately something else on your mind." He plodded gently.
 

  Cassi took his hand into hers. "I guess you coming here has me confused. But, in a good way.
  You were always my rock, Ben. When my world comes apart, you are always there helping
  me make sense of it." She smiled shyly, feeling a bit like a school girl with a crush on an older
  teacher.

  Ben gently reached across and pulled strsy strand of hair from Cassi's face. He had missed
  her. THing were crazy when he left the DA's office. Felling guilty over the witness's death, he
  had closed everyone off, including Cassi. Now he felt her desperation. Ben knew Cassi was
  strong but something had Cassi bugged.

  "Is everything working out for you Cassi?" Ben knew that she had started to date Mike Logan
  recently and though he was against it, he felt he had no say in her life anymore.

  "No. Everything is not ok." Cassi laughed bitterly. "I thought I knew what I was getting into
  when I started to go out with Mike. He's everything I had heard about. And more."

  Silence lapsed filling in voluminous voids that separated them. "I have to go, Ben. I have to
  meet Mike." At his alarmed face, she explained quickly. "I have to give him some information
  he asked me to get. I have to go." Hurrying quickly, before she stayed there, confessing too
  much, she ran a few paces but stopped. Something made her stop. Like a giant hand lifted
  her, she felt compelled to go back to him.

  "Thanks, Ben." Quickly, she kissed him softly. Opening her eyes, meeting his shocked but
  pleased gaze, she grinned. "We can talk later."

  Cassi ran out of the park feeling better then she had before. She had her foundation back.
 
*****
  Eugene Masucci met Hiram Sullivan for lunch at Hoffmann's, a small diner near the northern tip
  of Manhattan.

  "My dad built this place," Eugene said. "Bought the lot in '64 and put up this building. Named
  the restaurant after *his* dad--Alcide, the man who brought him to this great country."

  The Judge said, "I take it the reason you brought me here has something to do with its name
  change?"

  "Exactly," said Masucci. "The change of name and ownership was carved in stone--Ben Stone.
  He put my dad in prison nine years ago, and that's where he died."

  The Judge had studied Stone's career and knew that Eugene was talking about Frank
  Masucci, who'd been imprisoned in early 1991. Cancer claimed him just before Christmas that
  year.

  Eugene went on. "Our family was practically ruined. It's taken us all this time to claw our way
  back."

  A fat waitress brought their meals--typical American diner fare. Hoffmann's chicken-fried steak
  was edible enough, but if Eugene had his way the place would serve Mediterranean cuisine
  under his dad's name.

  Right now the best that could be said of Hoffmann's was that it had a nice view of Inwood Hill
  Park. The freshly-fallen snow formed a pretty tracery on the bare branches and twigs. Eugene
  thought he saw movement within the woods, but the falling snow was playing tricks with his
  eyes.

  Eugene handed a thick envelope to the Judge. "This should help you against Mr. Stone. And I
  trust it's not too early for a political contribution."

  "Not at all." The Judge widened his smile by a millimeter or two.

  Eighty feet away, the camouflaged Major Schurz watched the transaction through a telephoto
  lens and heard the satisfying noises of his camera at work as he kept a finger on the button.
 
At 2:20, the Judge's attorney Duncan Porteous received former detective Ted Parker, his son
  Kevin, and their lawyer Ross Fineman. The four went into Porteous's office, where a thick
  folder waited on his desk.

  Porteous opened the folder and said, "Let's go back in time, gentlemen. Destination 1994."

  The meeting lasted an hour and a half. The men talked about the death of 14-year-old Angel
  Ramirez, Kevin's subsequent trial, and the suspicious death of a witness named Ricky
  Morales.

  Porteous accused Kevin of violating Angel's civil rights and said he had enough evidence to
  bring both Parkers to trial for the murder of Morales. Detective Briscoe either knew of the
  conspiracy against Morales or shot the man himself, said Porteous.

  In the end, a deal was reached in which the Parkers would stay free and testify against
  Briscoe. By 4:00, the warrant was ready: Lennie Briscoe was to be arrested for the murder of
  Ricky Morales.
 

Part 7