Betrayal

It was a twenty minute walk for me from the motel. Lanny was going to bring the squad car from the station. The walk in the cool morning air allowed me to clear my head and to tell myself that I was running out of second chances at the station. Nicky was clearing one of the tables when she saw me come in. I could see her look of disapproval from across the small dining room.

"Don't say it Nicky..." I scolded her.

She put her hands on her hips as she looked me top to bottom. "You look like shit Max."

"That seems to be the consensus."

Nicky was not one to mince words. "Rachel's moved on... you need to as well."

"I know," I conceded willingly.

"Lanny coming?"

"Yep."

"Let's get some food on those bones," she pronounced. She wiped her hands on her apron and went back into the kitchen. It wasn't but a few moments later that Lanny came in. He scanned the dining room and behind the counter.

"Nicky in the kitchen?"

"Yeah."

"Busted your chops already?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Does she know I'm coming?"

"I told her."

Nicky brought out a hearty breakfast for both of us. For me, two scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns and three pieces of bacon. Lanny got his usual waffles. He always put too much syrup on them, but he was happy. The food took the taste of vodka out of my mouth. The light banter with Lanny got my head into the game. If you lacked clarity and purpose in the West End, you'd likely end up like Dave Martinez, in the hospital with a gunshot wound. I wasn't going to let that happen to Lanny, or to me.

There was an OD to start the day. A 911 call from an abandoned house. Narcan brought her back. Looked like she was in her forties... maybe a soccer mom who started with Vicodin and ended up here. The paramedics loaded her up in the ambulance. I was watching when a call came in.

"... 10-68... 357 Front Street..." our radio crackled. A person in distress.

It was two blocks from us. "556... on our way," I told the dispatcher.

"Let's go partner," I told Lanny. We hustled to the squad car.

"Light it up Lanny."

Lanny flicked on the berries and cherries and hit the gas, fishtailing as he sped down the street. We turned the corner onto Front Street and flew past parked cars until we saw a young woman running down the middle of the street, her shirt torn, hysterically screaming, and waving her arms to flag us down. Lanny pulled over into a vacant driveway. I jumped out of the car and she ran into my open arms.

"I... I... I... got... got... away..." she stammered between heaving sobs. Her arms were around me and she was squeezing me like a boa constrictor.

I let her continue to cry in my arms until she relaxed her hold on me. Lanny was holding up the traffic to allow me to guide her to our car. She was a cute little thing. Couldn't have been more than twenty. Dirty blonde hair. Tight fitting t-shirt, now ripped open, and skin tight jeans. Maybe a trick gone bad. She was still shaking like a leaf.

"Easy now," I reassured her, letting her stand on her own. "Tell me what happened."

"I got into a car... and the man... the man started ripping off my clothes." She had stopped her hysterical crying and was breathing fast.

"What kind of car was it?"

"I don't know... a black car."

"Do you know what kind of black car?"

"N... n... no."

"Was the man driving?"

"No, he was in the back seat. Someone else was driving."

"Did you get a good look at them?"

"I don't know... some white guy... wearing a suit..."

"How big?"

"They were both big. The driver... he was...". She pointed to Lanny. "About his size."

"And the other man?"

"Bigger. Heavier."

"Anything else?"

"It happened so fast..."

"Got a name?"

"Brianna."

"Last name?"

"Watson."

"Look Brianna Watson, I'll have someone take you to the station where they'll take a formal statement."

"Do I have to go?"

"Only if you want us to try to catch them."

"OK."

Back-up arrived. McCluskey and a new partner I didn't recognize.

"Mac... do me a favor and take Miss Watson to the station. Have someone take her statement and then take her home."

"Right Sarge."

* * *

I spent the rest of the day gathering intelligence on Jumbo. Rousted a few corner boys that I knew, and soon developed a better picture of his operation. He controlled most of the West End drug trade as well as prostitution. There were also oblique references to connections "higher up," though no specifics. I was sure that was the case given Steph's gun permit and Jumbo's general lack of concern about getting arrested. Someone was providing him with cover.

I was part of a drug task force before I got unceremoniously booted off and wanted to hit up my contact there, Maddy Barnes, about their intel on Jumbo. I went back to the station and found her working on her computer. She turned her desk chair around to face me.

"Hey Maddie, what do you know about Jumbo?"

"Nice to see you too Max."

"Yeah, sorry. How are you doing?" I was never good at the social niceties.

"Fine, thank you. And thank you for asking."

"Still with Joshua?"

"You haven't been in the loop, have you?"

"I guess not."

"Split a month ago."

"Sorry."

"Cop's life." She pointed to the stack of files on her desk.

"Understood." I truly did. Cost me my marriage.

She tilted back in her chair. "So Jumbo... why are you asking?"

"Patrolling West End."

"Ah yes," she chuckled. "Plum assignment."

"Please Maddy, no shit from you."

She chuckled again. "Couldn't resist." Then her face turned somber. "Heard about Rachel."

"Yeah..." My voice drifted off.

"How's she doing?" she asked hopefully.

"Fine, as far as I know." There was no lilt in my voice. She understood I was still hurting.

"What happened?"

"She told me she found someone else." It still hurt for me to say it.

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Know who it is?"

"Not really. Saw a picture of her. Young, and better looking than me."

"Wouldn't take much."

Everyone gave me a hard time.

"Fuck you."

I, on the other hand, have no problem telling people to fuck off.

"Right."

I needed to steer the conversation away from my shortcomings and towards what I need to know. "So... about Jumbo..."

"We know he's controlling the West End drug trade..."

Boring.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She was going to dole out the information with a eyedropper.

"He has a well placed source in the administration."

"I figured that. Do you know who?"

"Someone in the Mayor's office."

That was news to me. "And?"

"That's all we know."

That's all she was willing to tell me. I'm sure they already knew and were working it. I needed to catch up.

"Anything else?"

"FBI's running a task force as well. They're not telling us shit about what they're doing."

"Did you expect them to, seriously?" I asked. We both knew there was a perpetual turf war.

"No," she admitted.

"And did you share any of your information with them?"

"Fuck no. Do you think I'm crazy?"

Point made.

* * *

"What'd you find out?" Lanny asked. He was standing outside the door waiting for me. I pulled him aside to a quiet part of the hallway.

"Mayor's office," I told him.

"I know how we can find out who," my partner offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I used to work on concealed weapon permits. A captain or above can approve, or one of the people on the police commission."

Lanny's idea was a good one. He was growing up to be a good cop.

"Does the Mayor sit on the commission?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you know who is sitting in for him?"

"No, but it'll be easy to find out. Let's pull Steph's permit."

"Right."

Lanny just seemed like a goofball. Underneath were solid instincts.

"Whoever signed off on it is somehow connected to Jumbo."

"Can you do this?" I asked him, impressed with his good and quick solution.

"Yeah, I know the person who took my job. She'll tell me."

"Do it."

* * *

The next morning was better. I only had half a bottle of vodka before I went to sleep. I was actually early for my shift and brewed some fresh coffee for me and my partner. I handed him a cup as he finished straightening his tie, looking into the mirror mounted on the inside of his locker.

"Alan Parsons," Lanny said, gratefully accepting the hot cup of joe.

"What about Alan Parsons? Who is he?"

"He's the guy who approved Steph's permit."

"And..."

"He's the Chief Deputy in the Mayor's office."

Fuck. Way high up. "That's tricky."

"I imagine," he confirmed.

"We've gotta be careful." I think I was talking to myself as much as with Lanny.

"Fucking A right." Lanny threw the photocopy of the gun permit in his briefcase and slammed the lid shut. "So what's the plan boss?"

"They're going to meet after hours. Not during the work day and not in either of their offices. Why don't we each stake out one of them for a few days and see what happens."

"Late nights?" Lanny asked, knowing the answer.

"It's just you and me brother. I don't think we want to bring anyone else into our working theory."

"I'm in," said Lanny. "It's ours on the down low. I don't want to spend the rest of my career writing parking tickets from a little scooter."

"You got that right partner."

* * *

We were on duty the second night after absolutely zippo on the first. I called Lanny late, after my coffee ran out.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Nothing... boring as shit. I need a shower."

"Let's see if I can shake the tree."

"Sounds good," said Lanny. "Gonna see if I can get a nightcap with Tianna."

"Tianna?"

"How do you think I got the gun permit info?"

* * *

The next morning I took a more frontal approach, going to the Mayor's office. I was greeted by the aide to the Chief Deputy, an attractive young woman, probably an intern.

"Yes ma'am, can I help you?" she asked, displaying a perfect set of white teeth.

"I'm here to see Mr. Parsons."

"Do you have an appointment?"

I flashed my badge. "Official business."

"Just a moment." She dialed a number.

"Yes... yes," she said into the receiver.

"Uh huh...". She twirled a pencil between her fingers.

"Cincinnati police..."

"Uh huh..."

"He'll be out in a minute."

Alan came out, flashing a fake toothy grin and extending his hand. He was a little motherfucker, probably two inches shorter than me. He was balding, and combed over the few hairs he had left across his head. I didn't like him from the moment I met him. I took his small, clammy hand and gave him a firm handshake.

He winced. His eyes squinted like a rat.

"Alan Parsons... and you are?"

"Sergeant Pemberton."

"Ah... yes... and how can I help you?" he asked, rubbing his hands together. Two people who were talking to each other brushed against us as they passed us.

"We're working on big initiative... could we talk about this somewhere in private?"

"Sure... sure... I'm sorry."

He led me through a keypad guarded entry to the executive suite of mayoral offices. Alan occupied the office right across from the Mayor. They shared a secretary. He held the door open for me and showed me into his spacious dark wood paneled office. It was designed to impress and it did. I sat in one of the guest chairs appointed with glove soft leather.

He sat behind his desk with his hands folded. Sitting on his chair, I'm not sure his feet were touching the floor. Shithead politician.

"I have just a minute," he said as he looked at his expensive looking gold watch. His tone was more impatient then when we were in the lobby under prying eyes. It was clear he viewed me as an annoyance. There wasn't any upside to talking to the police. He wanted to get rid of me in the worst way.

"I'll make this brief. We've got an ongoing initiative in the West End, and we're planning a large scale raid on Jumbo Williams. It's going to exceed budget guidelines by 10% and we need the Mayor's office to approve the overage."

"I'll be happy to review it... and then I'll make a recommendation to the Mayor's office. But... you know... with this little detail you've given me, it would be difficult for me to persuade the Mayor to go along if I came to a favorable recommendation." He gave me another fake smile. He was starting to make me feel ill. What a fucking weasel. We both knew the Mayor would rubber stamp his recommendation. He wanted details. It was exactly what I wanted to give him.

I held out a folder. It contained the details of the planned raid and an itemized budget. It was stamped "Highly Confidential," which required the highest level of security clearance. Lanny and I had worked out all the details. It was a good plan. But it had a higher purpose.

"I've got to make sure you hold this confidential...," I told him, dangling the folder in front of him like a piece of cheese.

I think he took affront to what I implied... oh well.

"I've got Level 1 security clearance, as well as my assistant. I intend to speak directly with the Mayor so no one but me and my assistant will be involved." He pushed a button on his console. Moments later a tall brunette with striking features walked in. She sat in the other guest chair.

"This is my assistant, Heather Murtaugh," Alan announced. Heather gave me a little wave. Her long legs were crossed to show me most of her shapely, tanned thigh. She was sexy and she knew it. I knew it too.

I handed him the folder. "Can you get back to me soon?"

"I will," he lied. It was annoying to deal with this asshole, but the meeting accomplished its purpose.

* * *

I staked out the underground parking lot that held Alan's car. I knew the make and model of his car as well as his plate number. I waited on the street in an unmarked car. It was getting dark. I cursed when I discovered I forgot to refill my thermos with coffee. About an hour later the security fence started rolling up and his silver Lexus exited. I followed it at a discreet distance, but it was clear the driver wasn't watching for a tail. The car went into an area rife with abandoned warehouses and cars on cinder blocks. It stopped on one of the streets. I pulled over a block away.

Someone got out of the car. A dark shadowy figure that, to my surprise, turned out to be Heather, not Alan. A black SUV pulled up and a tinted window rolled down. I saw Heather leaning in the window and talking to someone and then handing over a brown envelope to whoever was inside. The car pulled away and Heather got back in her car. I followed the other one.

The car fastidiously obeyed the traffic laws so it actually made it a bit hard to follow. Most of the traffic was passing us and I got caught at a stoplight as it went through and I didn't. I hit the steer wheel with my fist. But then I remembered there was a short cut to Jumbo's house. They were taking a slightly longer way where the roads were better. I nailed it through a couple pothole filled alleys to catch up. I made a quick left and folded into traffic, spotting the SUV four cars ahead. The car made a couple stops, both at modest houses with guards posted outside. A runner would come out with a guard carrying some heavy firepower. The runner would hand a bag inside the open window. No one got out, and I couldn't identify anyone through the heavily tinted windows.

An hour later, the car pulled onto Jumbo's street and stopped in front of his house. From a block away I saw the big man himself get out, holding the brown envelope in his hand and a big satchel in the other.

Bingo.

* * *

Chapter Two

You fuck with me, I fuck with you

Now I knew it was Alan. He was using Heather as a go between. I doubted Heather knew what was in the envelope or what she was telling Jumbo. Alan didn't want to get his hands dirty.

Alan wasn't going to make it easy for me. He could deny his involvement and let Heather take the fall for him. The police task force wasn't going to do shit. Alan sat as the Mayor's proxy on the task force and there was no fucking way he was going to investigate anything that would implicate him. I had to do this off the radar screen.

* * *

My first stop was to go back to the Mayor's office. I wanted to see if I could get a meeting with Alan again, or at least the comely Miss Murtaugh. I asked the receptionist for Heather Murtaugh. They would appreciate me respecting the hierarchy there and I wanted to spend some time with Heather anyway. I'd learned that the city was really run by the politicians' administrative assistants. They were the grease that made the wheels of government turn.

Besides, she was hot. I hadn't been with a woman in over three months, and I didn't even remember her name the next day. Besides, I could dream. Heather was a red Ferrari. I was a F-150 with 50,000 miles.

I was sitting in a nicely appointed waiting room, flipping through a dog eared magazine, when a stunningly attractive woman approached me. I stood up at attention.

"Good afternoon," Miss Murtaugh said, giving me a small wave of her left hand (that had no engagement ring on it). I took a much more careful look at her. She was striking, like a model in build, tall and thin with smallish breasts and legs that went forever. She was wearing heels, and that just made our already significant height difference much more pronounced. Her platinum blonde hair was long, wavy and shiny. Her all black business suit was well cut. She reminded me of Kim Basinger in LA Confidential.

"It was... Sergeant Pembroke if I remember correctly," she said incorrectly, but with confidence.

I wasn't a Corgi, though she was making me feel like one. "Pemberton ma'am, but thank you for remembering me."

She gave me a friendly smile. "Of course."

She took me to her office. It was in the non-secure area of the floor, a room much smaller and less lavishly furnished than her boss's. There weren't any pictures of a boyfriend or girlfriend. Only pictures of her hugging her dog, a golden retriever. She was a dog person. I liked her as much as I disliked Alan.

"I'm here to follow-up on that budget request we made of the Mayor's office. It's been two days and the operation's scheduled to begin a week out. We'd really like the time to prepare so it would be great if we could get an answer soon. Can you get back to us?"

She gave me more of a forced smile. That told me the plan wasn't going to be approved. It didn't matter. We weren't going through with it anyway since we knew the details were leaked to Jumbo.

"I'll be sure to get back to you the moment I know," she said in a reassuring tone. It was complete bullshit. They were sitting on it. "The Mayor's really busy," she added, as if that was going to make me feel better.

Then she fidgeted behind her desk. I knew she was uncomfortable about what she was telling me. She wanted to tell me the truth. I could sense it. I decided to go for it. No harm.

"Would you be around for a drink tonight? I could answer any questions you have. I know a club where we can talk."

She looked relieved when I made the offer. Maybe she was going to tell me something important or maybe she just wanted to spend more time with me.

"Uhh... sure... what about seven?"

"Perfect. The Bearcat Club... it's..." I started to say.

"I know where it is," she interrupted.

"Fine. See you then."

I was going to spend some quality time with Heather Murtaugh. It was a win, whether or not she told me anything useful.

* * *

The Bearcat Club is an old line club founded in the 1920's by the supporters of the University of Cincinnati. I was a member since I graduated. My status with the Club allowed me access to a private lounge adjoining the bar. Complete privacy. I used it on occasion for official business (or for less honorable business). I got there an hour early to make sure that everything was in order. Of course making sure the room was reserved only took five minutes so I had the rest of the hour to buy drinks at the department's expense. I bellied up to a fine wood carved bar, dark teakwood worn smooth by the thousands of hands who touched it before me.