"Going Straight" (closed)

[PennySaver]

"Going Straight"

Link to the OOC Thread

(closed)​

(OOC: Please excuse the out of context image below. Imagine her in those clothes but standing in a mom-and-pop cafe.)

(Also, I recently learned that some of the pic links from Imgur do not work. If you have come across one that is not functioning correctly, and you want to see what was supposed to be there, please PM me name of the link -- person, place, or thing -- and the post number. I will do my best to fix it and then let you know of the repair. When I open them, they work just fine, so I can't know which don't work unless I am told.)

Emelia D'Angelo stepped up to the table at which her prospective business partner sat, munching away at his pre-dawn meal. She knew he'd be at this place at this time as she had had someone following him almost 24/7 for the better part of two months.

It was a mom-and-pop diner that wasn't the type of establishment in which she would typically take a meal. Oh, it wasn't because she was too hoity-toity for a greasy spoon, of course. It was simply that, until recently, her father didn't allow her to patronize the type of rough-and-tough, crime-ridden neighborhood in which it sat.

That had always seemed a bit ironic to Emelia, though. After all, the D'Angelo Family ran the protection rackets in this neighborhood. Any local thief in the know understood that wronging a D'Angelo-protected business was akin to suicide. Wronging an actual D'Angelo would result in a punishment that made the Iraq-war era extraordinary renditioning and subsequent enhanced torture techniques look and feel like a playdate at Chucky Cheese.

Emelia waited for the man to look up from the remains of breakfast special to smile politely to him. She wasn't wearing typical breakfast attire, obviously, and -- knowing he might wonder -- she explained her sexy, revealing clothes by saying, "Forgive my appearance. I just came from an after after party. May I?"

She asked her question as she gestured to the bench seat opposite him. She didn't wait for an answer to sit, though, instead sliding into the booth uninvited. She looked up to one of the four men who'd entered the cafe with her, asking, "Phillip, will you ask the waitress to bring me a black tea ... and maybe a slice of apple pie ... or peach ... anything without seeds."

The man nodded his understanding and turned. As he did, his jacket opened slightly, flashing for just an instant the Beretta semi-automatic 9mm in a holster dangling below his armpit. One of the other three men with her, sitting at the counter looking directly at the man with whom Emelia now sat, was similarly armed.

Her father had wanted her to be extra protected, though. For this reason, the other two bodyguards currently in the cafe carried automatic machine pistols. One of the men had entered before Emelia, walking casually from the entrance all the way to the back. He'd checked each and every patron, considering them as potential threats. Then, at the far end of the establishment, he'd opened the door to the men's room, checked it, and repeated the security check even with the women's room.

The second of these heavier-armed men had entered last and now sat at the counter seat nearest the door. From there, he could see and communicate visually with the last two members of Emelia's protection detail. Each of them stood at the driver's side door of one of Emelia's two-car procession. They, too, were armed with a rapid-fire automatic submachine guns.

Looking to the man opposite her, Emelia smiled and commented about her choice of sunrise dessert, "Don't ya hate when the seeds get in your teeth?"

She studied him a moment, then got to business. "I'm sure you know who I am. And I, of course, know who you are ... Detective."

Emelia hesitated a moment to see if he needed to respond to her knowledge, then continued, "I'm going to tell you something that only six other people on the planet know at this moment. My father..."

She went silent for a moment, drawing and holding a deep breath. She tried to fight the anxiety that struck her every time she thought on her new situation. The effect of the deep breath was to emphasize her generous and well displayed bosom, until she let the breath out again and continued. "My father is Enzo D'Angelo, as you are already well aware."

Emelia had come to this particular law enforcement officer for a very specific reason. He was an up-and-coming detective in the City's Organized Crime Bureau. He'd been with the force for several years, but not long enough to have allied himself with one of the many cliques of cops who did favors for one or the other of the City's many organized crime families. She was also aware of the fact that he'd recently been moved to the team that was working specifically on what the Department lovingly called the D'Angelo problem.

"What you won't be aware of yet is that my father recently suffered a stroke," Emelia continued. She'd lowered her voice, not wanting others in the cafe to hear. This was not information she wanted to get out yet, of course. "He is, um ... let's call it incapacitated for the moment. Actually ... the doctor's don't expect him to recover ... ever."

She hesitated, overwhelmed for a moment by her emotions. Emelia had always loved her father dearly. She'd very much been a daddy's girl. She'd also been raised with a clear understanding of what the Family did to earn a buck. Complications during her birth had left her mother unable to bear more children, and her father had had no intentions of going to another woman to bear him a son. So, Emelia had been raised with the understanding that one day she would lead the Family.

She cleared her throat, regained herself, and continued. "You may have heard the rumors ... maybe not ... that my father had been contemplating taking the Family straight. An end to the protection rackets. An end to the extortion. An end to the narcotics trafficking, particularly. And end to ... well ... all of it."

The waitress arrived with a cup of steaming tea and a small plate with a slice of Pie à la Mode. Emelia looked to the scoop of vanilla ice cream for which she hadn't asked but most certainly appreciated, then looked up to the waitress. The young woman explained with obvious reverence, "I know who you are, Miss D'Angelo. I was, um..."

She hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with what she'd been about to reveal. She unthinkingly caressed over the last vestiges of a bruise that had once occupied much of her forearm as she spoke in vague terms, "I had a problem with an ex-boyfriend. Your father sent a man to ... deal with it. He did. Please, tell him thank you."

"I will," Emelia said. She reached out to grasp and reassuringly squeeze the woman's hand. "I will, and I'm happy things worked out." She reached into a tiny pocket hidden in the waistband of her tight-fitting skirt, withdrew a card that featured only a phone number, and offered it to the other woman. "You ever need anything at all, you call that number."

The waitress smiled, thanked Emelia, and departed, clutching the card as if it was a treasured Christmas gift.

Emelia looked back to the man opposite her. She told him, "I want to fulfill my father's dream. I want to take the Family straight. But in order to do so, I will need to do a few things that are ... let's call them ... morally ambiguous. I need a partner in Law Enforcement to help me get past certain hurdles."

She studied him a moment, then continued with a serious and sincere tone, "I'm not looking for another dirty cop. The Family already has plenty of those. I'm looking for someone who can see the big picture ... and understand that sometimes, to achieve what's good for the community in the long run ... it's necessary to do some things that ... bend the law a bit."

Emelia hesitated a moment before adding, "I can compensate you for your assistance if you wish. Like I said, I'm not looking for another dirty cop. But ... sometimes ... people need help with things ... personal issues ... professional issues ... financial issues. Anything you need ... you have only to ask."

She hesitated one last time, smiled to him, sipped at her tea, and as she sunk a fork into the pie for a bite, she asked, "Do you think you're my man?"

 

[Gabe619]

Marcus Cole had seen the small motorcade pull up and the men get out scanning the street. Curious he had watched while not staring, evaluating the men, how they moved, how the behaved. Professional, possibly ex-military, trained for sure. Eyes that saw everything and bulges under their expensive jackets to show they meant business with the sharp end of whatever portable cannons they wielded. He forked some more of his eggs and slipped them into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as one man entered and checked out the place smoothly with no fuss, almost unnoticed unless you had been looking for him. Then the entry of the others, two staying by the cars, one probably keeping the engine warm in the drivers seat in case a quick get away was required. Standard protection detail. However the one thing that did surprise him was the young lady who walked in with them.

Emelia D'Angelo. Her surveillance photos did not do her justice was his first thought as his eyes quickly scanned up and down her figure as she approached and sat opposite him. Marcus quickly did a mental check to see if he had pissed the D'Angelo's off any worse than normal recently, no, no he came up with nothing. In fact he hadn't been on their task force long enough to ruffle many feather other than low level grunts. She was a beauty though and going on some of the language used around the office more than a few of the detectives on her families investigation wouldn't mind being this close to her. He caught a whiff of her perfume, not overbearing, sweet but not cloying, he liked it, it fit her he thought

Marcus Cole was 35, a detective for three years, a patrol officer for six, a Marine before that for eight years having joined up at eighteen. He had aced the Police Academy with little difficulty, in fact the physical aspects had been a walk in the park. They had given him some stick for being an older recruit until he left the younger ones in his dust. His training officers had at first called him Hollywood for his looks and the fact he came from LA, but then everyone got labelled with some nickname and the hazing in the Marines had been a lot worse. He had risen up the ranks pretty swiftly thanks to his intelligence and street smarts and, he was not ashamed to say, his looks. Though he had never slept with a senior female officer for gain, he had had the odd suggestive encounter, but he had kept his nose clean, he didn't need that kind of trouble. And now sitting across from him was exactly the same kind of trouble just from the other side of the law.

When the OCB had come calling he had jumped at the chance. Having only been a detective for a short period of time it had surprised him, but a year in he felt he had given them hard work and clean arrests. He knew some of his colleagues, both in the OCB and in the precincts themselves were dirty, it was unfortunately part of life in the big city. He knew names, he knew places, he could bring it all down if he had gone to IA, but then he would have been ostracised by the rest of the police officers he had to work with every day and most probably be found dead with a shot to the head in a back alley not long after. No, he had always thought that he could do more good on the inside than on the outside. Emelia's sudden appearance and opening offer gave him pause though.

This could be it, the silver bullet that would if not cure crime in the city then severally damage it, possibly for good. But what she proposed was a huge undertaking, and he knew she must realise that. If the other families even sniffed that her father was out of the picture they would assume the D'Angelo territory was up for grabs and a huge turf war would begin killing hundreds, a lot of whom would be innocent bystanders. But it wasn't just her rivals outside the Family she had to deal with. A lot of the Bosses working for her made a good living with their criminal enterprises, they wouldn't be happy about this 'going straight' idea. The fact she was here asking for his help told him a lot, maybe that she needed an ally outside of the D'Angelo family for exactly that reason, she wasn't 100% sure of all those under her authority. She wasn't scared to reach out for help and she wasn't adverse to taking a calculated risk. After a few moments of silence as he looked at her thoughtfully before using a napkin to clean his lips, he sat back and pulled his mug of coffee to his lips and drank before replacing it on the table between them. He made sure his fingers never went anywhere close to the Glock 22 in his shoulder holster, you never knew if one of her guards had an itchy trigger finger.

"Ms. D'Angelo, I have to admire your boldness. Coming down here, telling me all that." He shrugged, a small smile curling his lips. "Although I am not on your payroll I might be on one of the other Families. What's to stop me from letting them know your father is ... unwell? Why exactly did you choose me to make this offer to and not one of your currently well paid informants in the OCB? Wouldn't that of been safer for you?"

He fully realised that she could probably have one of her men shoot him right here to stop him talking to anyone and no one present would lift a finger to help or tell the police what happened. He would end up one more statistic in the ledger of fallen cops. But somehow he didn't think it would come to that. As he looked across the table into her eyes he could tell she was smart, she would have done her homework on him. She probably knew everything about him, it wouldn't have been hard for one of her moles to get his record for her to read through, the good and the bad. She would have been pretty sure of him before stepping inside this restaurant. And he had to admit to himself, it was a very enticing offer, but as dangerous for him as it was for her. Not only would he now be fighting crime, but would be fighting those of his colleagues on the other Families payroll. If the Families didn't kill him one of his supposed friends in the OCB just might if they found out what he was doing.

 

[PennySaver]

"Ms. D'Angelo, I have to admire your boldness," he began his response to her offer. He spoke about possibly already being on the take with her rivals. Then he asked why she didn't go to the Family's existing OCB connections. "Wouldn't that of been safer for you?"

"I can't rely on those already serving my Family from within the OCB," she said, confirming what he already suspected. She glance around to the men who'd accompanied her. "These four men and the two outside are the only men who know I'm meeting you here this morning. I came here directly from my prior event because I knew that no one would be watching me, either from my Family or from your Department."

She studied him a moment, adding, "I'd like to keep this strictly between the two of us--" She glanced about again, smiling as she added, "--and them, of course. No other member of my Family will know that you and I are working together. And, I would hope, you would not involve anyone at the OCB. If you do need help from the Department at any point, I would ask that you get that help from outside the OCB ... and that they not know I am involved."

Without waiting for a response, Emelia slid out of the booth and stepped closer to Marcus. She pulled another of her cards from the waistband, wondering whether he'd let his gaze drop to take in the view of her figure. "In an effort to prove to you that I am on the up-n-up ... there is a narcotics sale going down at 15th and Springfield in--"

She looked to her #1 man. He looked to his watch and filled in, "Twenty-two minutes."

"Twenty-two minutes," Emelia repeated. She reached out and, with a bit of an intimate touch, slipped her card into his shirt's breast pocket. She patted it playfully, telling him, "Give me a call afterward. We'll talk more."

And without waiting for more from him, Emelia turned and headed out of the cafe. She gestured to the waitress, who came over to meet her at the door. She gestured to her Man, who slipped the young woman a folded quartet of hundred dollar bills. Emelia said, "Take care of yourself, call me if you need anything ... and I'll be back for more of that pie."

The two made their farewells, Emelia loaded up in her car under the watchful eye of her men, and she was gone off into the city just as quickly and mysteriously as she'd shown up.

 

[Gabe619]

Cole couldn't help it, his gaze dropped to her cleavage as if her perfectly firm breasts had some form of gravity to them. He hoped she wouldn't poke his eyes out, and she didn't, in fact she seemed amused. Well, he wouldn't have been the first to admire her figure, any man with a pulse would. That woman could make the Pope sit up and taken notice. The lingering warmth of her touch on his chest brought his eyes from watching her ass leave the restaurant to the card in his pocket. No time to look at it now ...twenty-two minutes, fuck, he would have to speed to even get to the address. What was it again, 15th and Springfield?

He stood, dropping cash to the table to pay for his breakfast and quickly left, jumping into his Ford Mustang Fastback and gunning the engine. He turned on the siren and lights to at least get him there faster, he would move in quietly though so as not to spook the bad guys. He grabbed his radio.

"Detective Marcus Cole, I have a code 10-200 at 15th and Springfield going down in ..." He glanced at his watch, "Eighteen minutes. Request backup, any units." He replaced the mic as he heard dispatch acknowledge his call and send out an all units to that location.

Ten minutes later he turned his siren and lights off and melded into the traffic. It was light around here so he pulled over a block from the address scanning the people. Seemed quiet enough, but they wouldn't be doing a drug sale out in the open. His eyes fell on an alleyway off to the right. Slipping from the car he nonchalantly began walking toward it when he saw a man appear in jeans, white tshirt and a black jacket. He recognised the perp as a low level D'Amato Family runner, but luckily the two had never met face to face. In the distance the sound of approaching sirens made the mans head rise, paying more attention. Marcus was a few feet from him now.

"Hey!! Tommy, my man, how's it hanging dude?" Marcus was all smiles as he approached the now confused look out.

"I don't know you man, walk on." Tommy Marreti stated gruffly.

"How can you say that? Remember last April, at the party, that sweet chick ..." By now Marcus was close and still all smiles as he rammed the flat of his hand into Tommy's throat.

Instantly the man started gagging. It hadn't been enough to crush his larynx, but it was enough to stop him shouting an alarm. Cole grabbed the mans hair and face planted him into the wall. As Tommy groaned and slid down the brickwork unconscious, Marcus pulled his Glock and peeked around the corner. Well, it seemed Emelia had been as good as her word. Standing half way down the alley were for men. One with an open briefcase resting on a trash bin and Marcus could see the white baggies from here. Another man held a duffle bag, the money bag as it turned out as Cole watched him unzip it and pull out a wad of cash. The sirens were close now, the patrol cars would be coming in from the other end of the alley and up the street he stood on if the cops had any sense, so it was time for introduction. Gun out and pointing he eased around the corner and had made it almost all the way to them before any of the men saw him.

"Stand right where you are gentlemen." He stated in a smooth friendly voice, the business end of his Glock aimed right at them. "If that's a gun your reaching for, Bud, believe me, you'll be dead before it sees the light of day." He told one of the men who had been inching a hand inside his coat. "Detective Cole, OCB .... it just isn't your day is it?"

Ten minutes later the black and whites had arrived and everyone who needed to be was in cuffs and being put in the back of cruisers. One of the Sergeants walked over to Marcus as he examined the briefcase.

"That's quite a load you have there, Cole. How'd you know this buy was going down? Narcotics would have taken this themselves if they had known." The man was a veteran, he knew the streets and he knew something didn't smell quite right with Cole making this bust. "And what happened to that guy?" He jerked a thumb at where Tommy was being groggily helped up by two patrolmen.

"He was walking and texting, ran right into that wall." Cole stated straight faced, glancing at the man with the broken nose. "As to this? Let's just say a little birdy told me and leave it at that, ok, Sarge?"

"Uh huh, a little bird, huh? Must be some fucking bird." The Sergeant gave a short sharp laugh.

Cole smiled. "Oh, she is, quite the fucking bird. Book it in for me please? I'll do the paperwork later."

"Whatever you say, Detective."

Marcus walked back to his car and slipped into the drivers seat closing the door and reaching for his phone. He finally pulled the card from his breast pocket, it smelled of Emelia, that same perfume he had admired earlier. Dialling the number on the card he waited for the call to go through.

"Ms. D'Angelo, Detective Cole. It seems your intel was right on the money .... we should talk."

****

Three days later Marcus pulled his Mustang off the road and up to some formidable looking gates. CCTV cameras were situated on top of the wall to one side looking down at the gate, another inside the gate at the height of a driver so whomever was watching could see their faces. Seconds later the gates silently opened and Cole drove through. Who said crime doesn't pay he wondered admiring the beautiful house and its surroundings. He pulled up in front of the house where two men stood waiting in expensive fitted suits, hands clasped before them. He slipped out of the car leaving his brown leather jacket on the passenger seat. Now dressed in a tight fitted white t-shirt, black jeans and black boots. His holster obvious as nothing now hid it. One of the them gestured to the Glock.

"You are expected, Detective, but I must ask you to give me your gun. It will be returned when you leave." He asked very politely.

Cole hesitated a moment, a cop was never supposed to surrender his weapon, but these were unusual circumstances. He shrugged and slipped the entire gun rig off, handing the holster and gun to the man.

 

[PennySaver]

Three days ago:

Emelia was lounging poolside at the Family Compound when her cell rang. She set aside the financial report of a business in which she was about to invest $30 million of Family money to answer. Philip Russo, the bodyguard who most men simply called Miss D'Angelo's man, told her in cryptic terms, "It's done."

"All went well?" she asked.

"Seems so," Philip answered. "I'm across the street. Your friend seems to have made a hero of himself."

"Good," Emelia said, more to herself than to Philip. "The D'Amato's will think twice before moving into D'Angelo territory again. Come home, Philip. You need sleep."

Philip had been at the club with Emelia all night, then at breakfast, and now at the most recent OCB bust. He hadn't slept in almost 24 hours. At least Emelia had napped before going out on the town the previous evening.

She ended the call but didn't set the phone aside. She had a feeling it was going to ring again shortly. Actually, she had a deep hope it would ring again shortly. And ring it most certainly did.

The Caller ID told her it was Marcus Cole. He probably would have been surprised to find that not only did she already have his private cell number but that she'd programmed it into her cell as Uncle Mark. She answered simply, "Yes?"

"Ms. D'Angelo, Detective Cole," Marcus introduced himself unnecessarily.

"Detective, good to hear from you," Emelia said with a sincere tone. She asked, "Everything is okay I hope?"

"It seems your intel was right on the money," he reported, confirming what Philip had assumed based upon his observations. "We should talk."

"I would love to," she responded with a chipper tone. "My place, Saturday. Come for lunch. I'm pretty sure you know the address."

Just as she'd simply walked out of the cafe earlier in the day, Emelia simply ended the call without the need for farewells. She stood, donned a robe about her otherwise naked body, and headed for the mansion's back entrance. She was badly in need of sleep...


Today:

A soft chime from the security panel on the wall of her bedroom alerted Emelia to someone's need to speak to her. She activated the two-way communicator by simply responding, "Yes?"

"Your guest is arriving, Miss," came the report over a speaker from one of her Bodyguards.

"Please show him to the veranda," she instructed. "Let him know I'll be down shortly."

Emelia finished dressing before walking to the window to look down upon the backyard of the home she shared with her father. It was modest compared to those of such men as Dimitri Alexanov Greshenko, Yosaro Osaka, and Giovanni D'Amato. In order, they were the patriarchs of the Russian, Yakuza, and fellow Italian crime families that were the D'Angelo's most significant competitors for control over the City.

But the estate called Elmhurst was far more than necessary now that it was just Emilia and her father. Well, and the staff, of course. Including indoor staff, outdoor staff, and security, there were rarely fewer than 20 people on the grounds during the day and at least half that at night. Most of those on the property after dark were, of course, part of Emelia or her father's bodyguard.

Emelia caught sight of her man escorting the Detective. Philip guided Marcus passed the north end of the pool, then to their right until they reached the covered seating area where Maria had already laid out lunch. It wasn't a veranda per se as the roof was simply parallel 2x12s that offered a bit of shade but did nothing to prevent those under it from getting soak if a rain broke out. But Emelia had always liked the word veranda, and identifying it as such since she was a little girl had stuck.

She made her way down to the pool and, eventually, to the man awaiting her there. She wore a one-piece bikini that was modest in how much skin it revealed yet still emphasized the wonder of her young, firm, C-cup bosom. A semi-sheer sarong was tied about her waist, the opening up one side revealing a long leg emphasized by comfortable, 3 inch, casual heels.

"Maria, thank you," Emelia told the woman who'd been standing by, ensuring that her guest had all he needed. "You can leave. Please let the rest of the household staff that I am done with them for the day."

The woman nodded acknowledgment, smiled to Marcus, and made her way back toward the house. Emelia moved to sit at an angle from where her guest did, smiling with delight that he'd come. She got right to business, asking, "I hope things went well for you regarding the information I provided you the other day, yes?"

 

[Gabe619]

Cole simply nodded. He wasn't exactly awe struck by his surroundings, he had served warrants and arrested people at much bigger and more affluent looking places than Elmhurst, but what it had that the others didn't was a sense of peace. Enclosed by the trees, which he guessed must be a migraine style headache for security, they helped give the place a grounded feeling. The air smelt fresh and he found himself taking a deep lungful and smiling as some of the tension from the drive up here faded away. Then of course there was his hostess. As she had walked toward him he had allowed himself the liberty of again admiring her body. Emilia D'Angelo was a piece of art. Forget Michelangelo's David, she should be in an art museum for people to admire and love. If nothing else in his previous life of crime it seemed that Enzo D'Angelo had given the world Emilia and for that Marcus was truly grateful.

The light lunch prepared looked good, he poured himself a cup of coffee, smiling as Maria had tried to do it for him but politely brushing her off. He had seen that Emilia seemed to care about people, the girl at the restaurant a few days ago, her staff, all treated with kindness and respect. That gained the woman another point on Cole's score board. He waited for her to sit then had done so himself, facing her more directly as he sipped the coffee.

"I am sure you have been fully briefed on what happened, Ms. D'Angelo." He smiled with real humor in his eyes. "But yes, things went well. No one died which is always good when these things go down. We bagged $50,000 in money and drugs and arrested a couple of Vincent D'Amato's goons. Small fry, but every dent I can make feels like I am actually accomplishing something and if what happened made old Vincent pissed off then I am a happy man."

He lent back now, relaxing more as he looked out over the swimming pool and the grounds. In the dark shadows of the trees he occasionally saw the outline of a guard and he wouldn't be at all surprised if they were being watched right now. His gun might of been taken from him, true, but he could still hurt or kill Emilia with his bare hands, something he knew her head of security would be fully aware of. Not that he would of course. Just the thought of such a thing repelled him. He had hit and killed women before, he wasn't squeamish about that. If they presented a clear and present danger to life then they went down as fast as the men did. But Emilia ... he just couldn't imagine her light snuffed out, she seemed so alive.

"How is your father?" He asked, both to be polite and from an actual want to know. If Enzo was as ill as Emilia suggested he could die. If he died then it would be next to impossible to keep that from the other families and then a gang war would ensue. What Emilia wanted to do was bold, brave, big picture stuff, but depending on Enzo D'Angelo's life expectancy they might have a time limit on fulfilling this quest of hers.

 

[PennySaver]

(OOC: I don't know if you noticed, but I stared out calling her Maria and then switched to Emelia. Sorry. I was using Emelia in another story line and got the two mixed up. I have gone back and corrected all of the references to her to Emelia.)


About the drug sale he'd broken up, Marcus said, "I am sure you have been fully briefed on what happened, Ms. D'Angelo."

Emelia couldn't help but smirk just a bit. She'd had Philip sitting in a blacked-out sedan just half a block away, of course, watching the bust go down. She confirmed, "I have heard a little something about it, yes."

"But yes, things went well," he said with a smile. "No one died which is always good when these things go down."

"Yes, true," she agreed.

Emelia felt the same as he did about the taking of life. Or, at least, the unnecessary taking of life, particularly innocent life. It was one of the reasons her father had wanted to take the family straight. Too many deaths. Too many innocent deaths.

He reported the specifics, including the D'Amato Family's participation. Again, Emelia smirked a bit. The best part of the entire incident was that the D'Angelo's territory had been cleared of an intruding party.

It might have seemed contradictory to be protecting territory while simultaneously trying to go straight. Emelia didn't see it that way. Her plan was to take near total control of the whole of the City ... then give it up to law and order.

He finished his talk about the bust and his feelings about his job with, "...I am a happy man."

"I'm happy that you're happy, Detective," she said, using his work title. She hadn't yet used his name even once since their meeting three days ago. She would show him his due respect by referring to him this way until he told her to do otherwise, just as he had been calling her Ms. D'Angelo. "Law and order strike a blow."

He asked politely, "How is your father?"

Emelia didn't immediately answer. Her happy expression faded to a more solemn one. She'd been a daddy's girl all her life. He'd been the most important person in her life all her life. It was hard to see him the way he was now.

"His condition hasn't changed," she answered. "The doctors don't suppose that it will anytime soon. The stroke was a serious one. If he does regain consciousness again, he will likely have lost the ability to speak ... the ability to easily control his motor functions. Memories may be--"

She choked up on the word gone. A tear began to form in the corner of one eye, but she reached up casually to intercept it with her cloth napkin before it threatened a quick trip down her cheek. She smiled and chuckled short and sharp.

"You might be wondering about me and my father, Detective ... the whole age gap between us," she said, feeling a need to explain a bit about herself. "I'm sure your files say something about this, of course."

She sipped at the coffee Maria had poured before leaving, then continued, "My father had been married with three children when he first met my mother. That same year, his father -- then the Don -- was killed, and Enzo took over the family. He was just 34."

Emelia's grandfather, Giuseppe D'Angelo, had been gunned down in a dramatic hail of automatic gunfire as he left a romantic Italian restaurant on Valentine's Day evening. His wife had been killed as well, as were three bodyguards and two innocent bystanders. It had sparked a 3-year long war between the Families that, by its conclusion, had taken 120 lives, half of them innocents.

"She, my mother, Francesca ... was a 20-year-old college student at the time," Emelia continued. She smiled at the memories of her mother and the relationship her parents had had. "She was making her way as a waitress. They met one night as she was serving him and his business associates. My mother told me that one smile from him ... and she was lost in love." She chuckled. "I think it was lust, myself. My father, as I'm sure your file's photos reveal, was quite a looker back then."

Emelia sipped from her coffee again as she looked out over the glassy smooth surface of the pool. "He had fallen in lust, just as she had. He began showering her with gifts, behind the back of his wife of the time. They began an affair. He got her pregnant. I was born. Somewhere along the way, lust had turned to love. Who could really know when it actually happened."

She looked back to Marcus, smiling. She leaned forward and picked up a small plate of berry scones and offered it his way. "Maria makes these herself. She's up every morning at 4am to ensure that I have them fresh for breakfast, but she always makes enough so that I can have one cold for lunch as well. If you don't eat one, she will be offended. If you think offending a gangster is dangerous, try offender her cook."

Emelia couldn't help but laugh. She only every used the words gangster or mob or other similar terms in humor. She took her state of legal ambiguity seriously. She knew full well that what her Family and she in extension was illegal. But she also knew that in her heart, she was a good person. She hoped that Marcus saw that.

"His wife at the time had been killed in that train crash that had killed so many people when I was a little girl," Emelia continued. "I'm sure you know the one. By that time, his first children had left to begin their own lives. They'd had no interest in continuing in their father's footsteps. Truthfully, he'd pushed them away. He'd wanted something better for them, too. My brother is a lawyer in LA. My eldest sister is a fashion designer in Paris. The youngest, who is still 20 years my senior, is married with children of her own in Tampa."

Again, another sip of coffee, then, "My father hadn't wanted me to follow him either. But even as a little girl, I knew and understood who and what he was and insisted on being part of that part of his life. I was raised with a full knowledge of what the Family did. I was groomed to replace him. The best private school, an Ivy League education ... and an understanding of what the D'Angelo's did in the shadows as well.

"My father had decided to go straight clear back when his own father was gunned down like a dog in the street," she said. Her tone had become a bit colder for a moment, but it cleared up again. "It has taken nearly three decades ... but it's time now. I'm going to do what my father will likely never be able to do ... what ... what he may never even see done."

Again, a tear threatened, only to be wiped away casually. Emelia looked Marcus in the eyes, smiled, stood, and walked closer to him. She refilled his coffee cup, set down the pot, and carrying her own refilled cup walked over to stand at the edge of the pool. Her firm, pear-shaped ass, was only slightly hidden from his view by the semi-sheer fabric of her sarong, while one long leg was revealed in its entirety up to the lower reaches of her bikini where it hugged that side's cheek tightly.

She turned to face him after a moment, saying boldly, "I'm going to help you take down the other Families, Detective. I'm going to help you drive them out of the City."

Telling Marcus nothing he didn't already know, she continued, "The other Italian family, the D'Amatos ... the Russians ... the Jews ... the Romanians ... even the Greeks and the Colombians ... they didn't start their operations here in our City. They have bigger operations in New York, Chicago, LA, Atlanta ... outside the country. I'm going to help you convince them that they should return to their places of origins. And then, after that, I'm going to retire my own Family's operations. Drugs, gambling, prostitution, extortion, high end robberies ... it will all come to an end."

A devilish smirk spread her lips. She sipped at her coffee again, finishing with a happy tone, "I'm gonna make you famous ... Detective Cole. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be the director of the F ... B ... I."

She headed back to her chair, dropped into it still smiling with hope and pride, nodded her head toward the table, and said, "Eat a scone. They're delicious."

 

[Gabe619]

He had listened quietly, but with a deep focus. He knew every word she said could be vitally important to him at some point. He still wasn't 100% sold on this 'going straight' dream of hers, but the end result was simply to good for him to ignore. She could simply be using him of course. Bring down the other families and then the city belonged to the D'Angelo's. There would be no one to stand against them as they would no doubt of bought off enough cops and judges to be immune to convictions even if some boy scout cop had the balls to try. By that point of course his usefulness to Emelia would have come to an end and he would end up facing down a bullet when he least expected. Hero's death, funeral, blah, blah. He was a cynic, but in this city it was hard not to be. All he had done since becoming a cop was chip away at the mountain of crime. Trying to do each day some good. It could be soul destroying at times seeing people you arrested get off due to back handed payments to the right people, but he had come to terms with it a long time ago.

He picked up a scone and bit into it, his eyes widening as he tasted it. He nodded and smiled. "Wow, these are ... amazing. Please tell Maria her cooking has a new fan."

Wiping crumbs from his lip he watched her walk to the pool edge, the light framing her like some oil painting. Her skin looked flawless, smooth, her toned muscles highlighted. And legs that seemed to go on forever. His eyes took advantage of her not looking at him to fully appreciate what he saw. There was that old saying that a woman so beautiful men would fight and die for her. Now he knew it to be true. He wondered how many of the people in the D'Angelo employ loved her and would die happily for her just so she would hear their names mentioned.

"It's strange how peoples lives can mirror one another." He finally said breaking the comfortable silence between them as she had retaken her seat. "My family is old school military going back generations. My dad and my mother met in the Army, my grandfather was a colonel, his dad was a Master Sergeant." He waved a hand to indicate the list went on and on. "But in my immediate family I was the only one who wanted to go into the military. My two sisters had no interest in it so dad focused on me, the only son. Even before I went to Marine Boot Camp I was pretty much trained." He laughed a little remembering his youth. "When other kids were out playing ball with their dad's I was being shown how to field strip an M16 in the garage. I was late to my school prom one year because Dad had taken me out on a five mile run and we got back late and I had to shower and dress before I went ... my date was NOT a happy girl ... well, she was later, but not when I picked her up." He winked at Emelia to suggest he made up for his tardiness by rocking his prom dates night later on.
"I never went to an ivy league school, but I graduated from the school of hard knocks with honors. I saw things while serving over seas ... well, things that stay with you, that you see in the darkness of the night when you can't sleep. They never leave you and part of me thinks they never should. So when I got back Stateside rather than reupping my term in the Marines I left and joined the police. Dad wasn't happy, but he understood. I just wanted to do some good. After seeing all the bad I had witnessed I NEEDED to be doing something positive with my life."

Marcus looked at her now, expression curiously needy like a child asking for a favor from his parents. "Does that make any sense to you? You have offered me the chance to do the most good I could ever hope to achieve with my life. You asked me once if you had the right man? You couldn't of chosen a better one for what you want to do."

 

[PennySaver]

Emelia was impressed with Marcus's background. He had a family history of wanting to do right by others. He told her flatly, "You couldn't of chosen a better one for what you want to do."

She smiled wide, tickled with what she was hearing. "I'm happy to hear that, Detective. Very happy."

She looked back toward the house, found her main man standing near the back entrance, and waved him her way. When he arrived, he handed her a file folder. She excused him but then stopped him. "Philip, will you please retrieve the Detective's firearm and return it to him."

The bodyguard looked from Emelia to Marcus, studied him a moment, then looked back to his employer. He was hesitant but didn't argue, instead only nodding acknowledgment before turning to do as he was told. She looked to him, saying only, "I trust you." Then smiling wider, Emelia added, "I might need you to protect me one day, too. Would you do that for me, Detective ... protect me?"

 

[Gabe619]

"Protect and Serve, that is what I swore an oath to do, Emelia." He used her first name, it just slipped out as if it was the right time. He paused looking to see if he might have overstepped some agreed upon though unspoken boundary then continued. "That means everyone, on both sides of the law, but yes .... yes I will protect you."

Oddly he realised as he heard himself say the words that they were heart felt and true. Was he falling for her looks as well? Was that why he had just told her he would protect her above and beyond anyone else? For a moment his eyes looked off into the distance as he tried to clarify for himself how he felt for this stunning women. And then it hit him, it wasn't just her looks, though they dwarfed even the mythical Helen of Troy. It was the entire package. He had met her just twice, face to face at least. He had read her jacket of course from front to back several times, but a lot didn't make its way into a folder. She was brilliant, kind, caring and brave. Yes indeed, a complete package. If any man could win Emelia D'Angelo's heart he would be a very, very lucky guy indeed, and Marcus realised it would also make him rather jealous.

Not that he harboured any fantasy that she would fall for him. He had the looks sure, the girls loved a bad boy image and with his four day stubble, shining eyes, cheeky almost boyish smile and body that showed how much work he put in at the gym he wasn't short of partners when he wanted them. But to compare himself to her? It would be like the Pauper winning over the Princess. He told himself her friendly demeanour to him was simply to win him over to her plan, and he was fine with that as long as she came through on her promises. He looked up as Phillip returned with his holster. He smiled and nodded to the man and slipped it on over his shoulders, making them flex and bulge a little as he sat it in place snuggle beneath his left armpit.

 

[PennySaver]

Emelia didn't fail to notice Marcus's use of her given name. She smiled a bit, wanting him to know that it pleased her to hear the word come from his mouth, as did his vow to protect her, despite their existences on opposite sides of law and order.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Yes, they did exist on opposites sides of the law. But on order, they were very much the same. Although the public didn't understand it, organized crime was an exercise in maintaining order. It was in the name, after all: organized crime.

Still, though, it was crime, and Emelia was determined to remove that descriptor of the Family. She leaned forward and offered Marcus the folder that Philip had brought her. She explained, "This is some of what we know about the operations of the other Families. There's enough there for you to make major arrests of key personnel in each of the organizations."

Emelia hesitated before adding in a solemn tone, "And yes ... information about the D'Angelo Family in included as well. In order to prevent the other Families from believing that someone within my Family is providing this information, it will be necessary for you to conduct operations against us, too."

Should he act on what was in the last pages of the file, Marcus would be able to take down a huge part of the D'Angelo's drug trafficking ring. The take in seized cash and drugs -- cocaine, heroine, and Ecstasy -- could reach almost $3 million dollars.

That amount of money could be replaced in just weeks, of course. Emelia knew that, and Marcus surely knew it, too. The real lose to the D'Angelo's would be the network and personnel itself. The information she was providing could result in the arrests of more than 30 key players in the trafficking organization, assuming the OCB and -- if they were included -- the Vice Squads pulled off their bust without any leaks.

That was the risk, of course. The City's Police Force was so rampant with corruption that passing the information on to just one informant before it went down would spell disaster. This led Emelia to gesture a finger toward the folder and inform Marcus, "Last two pages ... a list of dirty cops employed by the D'Angelo Family. You might want to avoid involving them."

She smiled devilishly, adding, "Or ... if you wanted to have some fun ... you could send them on a wild goose chase chasing something else." She shrugged and chuckled. "I've always liked practical jokes."

One of her men had been approaching and reaching her he said softly, "Miss ... it's time."

Emelia nodded acknowledgement and told Marcus, "I'm very sorry, but I need to call this short. My father ... well, he has a procedure for which I want to be present."

She stood, moved a step closer to Marcus, and looked him over conspicuously. She gave him a flirty smile, and using his given name for the first time asked, "You're a good-looking man, Marcus. How is it that you haven't been scooped up by--"

"Miss, I'm sorry to interrupt," the man said with obvious hesitation to interrupt her. "But the doctor..."

"Yes, yes, of course," Emelia told him. She looked back to Marcus, smiled again, then almost demanded, "You'll answer that question when next we meet."

She turned and headed off toward the house. She put a little extra sway in her ass with each step, certain that he'd be studying her backside. As she passed Philip, who'd been heading the opposite direction, she spoke softly to him. Her man came out to where Marcus was and dropped a fat manilla envelope on the table near him.

"This is not a bribe," Philip said. "Miss D'Angelo wants me to make that clear to you."

The envelope wasn't sealed, and anyone who'd ever seen large amounts of money before -- which typically included cops with the OCB -- could tell that there was at least $50,000 there. Philip continued, "This is meant for you to use in whatever way you need to accomplish those things you are about to do. Payoffs to snitches, bribes to gain access to critical areas ... equipment ... anything you need that you can't get through the OCB ... or are afraid of asking for because it might tip off some of those members of the Force who aren't as professional as you are."

Philip turned aside and politely gestured Marcus forward for his exit from the estate. He smiled politely, though, unlike Emelia's expressions, it was a bit forced.

 

[Gabe619]

As he sat in his car, the wad of cash beside him on the passenger seat along with the folder, Marcus took a slow deep breath and then let it out equally as slowly. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the head rest. Immediately his memory replay Emelia walking away from him, those hips of hers sway, that ass ... he stopped himself cold as he felt his cock start to harden but he couldn't help smiling. She was certainly a tease, but that was ok because he loved a tease, he was known to have done it himself a few times.

Glancing at the money and folder he got serious. What he had sitting beside him amounted to, in criminal terms, a nuclear bomb. If he set it off it would damage the entire criminal underworld in this city and as all of the Families had operations elsewhere in America, Russia, Italy and so on it meant he would be hurting their global operation, even if just slightly. The big question then became what would be the blowback. The obvious answer would be that one of the Families would simply order a hit on him, but it wasn't quite as simple as that. Taking out each others people was simply a crime that they would be prosecuted for if they got caught, but the only people chasing them would be the police that they had already paid off. However if they started taking out a detective in a highly visible position who's job title was to literally bring them down then that could bring in the Fed's, and they wouldn't want that. It would bring heat that would make running operations smoothly almost impossible.

So what would they do? Threaten his loved ones? He had no wife, now, he had no kids, his mother had passed away a few years back and if they went after his father who currently lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere who's population loved him and who's population also happened to own the most guns per capita anywhere in America then, well .... good luck to them. It would make their options very limited indeed.

However the most important question they would want answered was how did he have the intel to take out so many of their most important enterprises? The criminal ones of course, not the legal ones. All of the Families had legal companies and firms to make themselves look decent to the every day citizen, it also made it easier to launder money. In fact in some circumstance if certain Families decided to go straight, as the D'Angelo had, they could survive and still make a healthy profit souly on those up front legal businesses. Of course the issue was that with these people more was always better. Simply turning a decent profit each year when you could triple it doing nefarious activities would always appeal.

He picked up the folder and slowly leafed through it. That was their problem, his was how to use this intel sensibly. If he just went back to the office and listed off places and people to arrest and take down then first of all all those places and people would drop off the map as the dirty cops ran back to the masters to warn them. He felt himself grit his teeth at that thought. All those cops had taken an oath to protect and serve the innocent law abiding people of the city, not protect and serve the organised crime families who preyed on them. They were the worse type of people Marcus could think of, breaking their vows just for money, or power. He remembered Emelia saying he could play a joke on the corrupt police, sending them chasing their tails, but he could also thin out the scum in the department if he sent them into a trap.

If he used the list of dirty cops to go to IA and have them investigated then it wouldn't just be them who suffered, so too would their families. However if they died in the line of duty then they would be sacrificing themselves, however unwittingly, for the greater good. They would get an honorable funeral and their families would be able to claim their pensions. Really it was a win/win. It got dirty cops off the street and so limited the Families power in the precincts, and also saved innocent families being considered pariahs by the people they had once known and thought of as friends.

He started the engine and drove from the D'Angelo estate and back onto the highway. He had to come up with a way to use the information Emelia had given him in such a way as to protect her as his source and not let the other Families get their hooks into him and his people. He remember once asking a veteran sergeant why the police allowed organised crime to flourish when they all knew what they were doing. The reply had been that there would always be crime, no matter how hard the police worked, so it was better to have it organised. That way it was less dangerous to the normal people walking the streets. That answer had satisfied Marcus for a while, but then he remember gang wars breaking out when two Families went to war over a street, a block, a piece of land and how many innocents got taken out in the cross fire.

He had to use the same way of thinking though. If crime could be organised to limit the danger to the Families from outside, why not the police? Why not himself? He remembered a lone Treasury Agent back in the 1930's by the name of Eliot Ness who gathered to him a small band of other Federal Agents to take the fight to Al Capone. They couldn't be bought off and so garnered the name in the press as The Untouchables. True, Ness and his team hadn't brought Capone down, the mob boss had been arrested for tax evasion, but they had damaged his infrastructure and Capone had never known when he would be hit next or from what direction. Maybe Marcus could use the same tactics. If he could find a Judge or a DA with enough balls to back him and give him the authority to from his own team of cops then he would be free to use the intel he had in his lap without fear of comeback. As none of his team worked for the Families then how he got the information he used to hurt them would always be a mystery and it gave him the added benefit of having people at his back he could trust.

The money Emelia had given him also gave him room to work off the books without requesting funds through the normal channels. He could buy more info from snitches, buy equipment that the police usually wouldn't have access too. It gave him freedom. As he drove he began to smile as his plans slowly began to fall into place.

 

[PennySaver]

A few days later:

Emelia sat at bedside over her father, watching him sleeping peacefully. He was in no pain. That was the good news that had been with them since the stroke. Better news was that he had regained consciousness the night before last. He'd only been awake and aware long enough for Emelia to speak to him and, it seemed, get a response in a lopsided smile.

She'd drifted off a bit earlier, but now she flinched awake as the gentle touch of her father's hand at the back of her hand. She sat up, smiling in delight, whispering, "Daddy ... how are you? How do you feel? Can I do anything for you...? Water ... pain relief? Do you hurt?"

Emelia was rambling, simply excited that her father was conscious and aware of her presence. He gave her another lopsided smile as he gently tapped a fingertip upon one of her hands while she held the other in her own hands. He didn't speak to her, but she could sense he had something he wanted to say.

"Nurse..." Emelia called toward the door. "Nurse!"

The nighttime nurse hurried in, quickly checked Enzo D'Angelo's vitals, and chatted with the man, looking for answers regarding comfort and pain. She asked if he could blink some answers but only got that crooked smile in response. When she finished, Emelia thanked her and let her return to her station across the hall.

Emelia began chatting with her father about recent events. She'd had the room swept for bugs by Philip, so she was able to freely speak about Detective Marcus Cole. She told her father about making the connection, passing the intel and working funds, and even that she thought the man was handsome. She chuckled softly, adding, "If only he wasn't a cop, daddy, I would say that I'd finally met a man you'd like."

The entire time she'd been talking to her father, her father had been talking back to her ... only Emelia hadn't realized it. When she was a child, they'd sometimes wanted to speak privately with one another while in a family or public setting, so Enzo had taught her the Morse Code he'd used when he was a young man in the US Army. During a lull in the conversation -- in her monologue, anyway -- she suddenly realized that there was a pattern to the ever-so-gentle tap of his finger to the back of her hand.

"Daddy...?" Emelia whispered with excitement. She took a moment to remember what he'd taught her, tapped out talking?, and repeated the question verbally, "Are you ... are you talking to me?"

She felt his fingertip tap out yes. She gasped in delighted shock, her eyes instantly filling with tears and flooding them down her cheeks. She looked to the finger, which she'd earlier thought was only trembling, and both watched and felt its actions. Emelia laughed aloud as she realized he'd told her Do not cry, baby girl.

"Oh my god, daddy," she cried out as she rose to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh god, I'm so tickled ... I'm shaking, I'm so tickled."

Her tears had dropped onto his face, and when she pulled back, she laughed while she wiped them from his old, wrinkled face. She felt him tapping again, but didn't understand. He seemed to be repeating the same letter over and over again: H. Then, he paused, and began again. This time, Emelia realized she'd missed a letter and the message had actually been Shhhhh.

"Shush?" she asked, receiving an affirmative answer. She whispered, "I don't understand. Shouldn't I get the nurse?"

It took a while, but Enzo was eventually able to get across to his daughter that, for now, his ability to communicate should be kept between them. She asked, "Why, daddy? You're getting better. I mean, it seems like you're getting better. Shouldn't we tell the doctor?"

No, Enzo tapped out. He explained simply: Secret now. You. Me. Secret.

Emelia didn't quite understand, but she told him, "Okay, daddy. Secret, between you and me."

He then tapped out, Tell me more. Detective.

She told him everything about she knew about Detective Marcus Cole of the Organized Crime Bureau and about what she'd put in motion involving him. When she'd finished, she asked with a hopeful tone, "Was that okay, daddy ... what I did, I mean?"

He answered yes. Then, he tapped out, Shelf. Top. Bible. Now.

The D'Angelo's were Catholic, of course, but they'd never been overly religious. Sure, they went to Mass on the holidays and on the anniversary of both her mother's birth and death. And they gave the Church close to a $1 million dollars annually in cash, goods, or labor on Church projects, such as the new Youth Center that bore her father's name.

It shouldn't have surprised Emelia that her father would become more religious at this moment when he was potentially facing his death. She went to his library and found the book of which she thought he was speaking. It was a large bible, a couple of inches thick and a good 10x14 inches in length and width. It occurred to Emelia that she'd never taken note of it before.

Emelia used the sliding ladder to get up to it. It took both hands to bring it down. She took it unopened to her father's side, asking him about it after putting her hand in place to receive more messages. He tapped out, Open.

She did, and what Emelia found inside surprised her: it was a small and obviously old revolver, with a sealed letter that read For Emelia, upon my death. Below the message was Enzo's signature. She asked, "Daddy ... what is this?"

He tapped out that she should read it, then told her, Tired. As she watched, he closed his eyes and slipped into slumber once more. Emelia opened the envelope, found a letter in her father's handwriting, and began reading. As she did, her eyes began widening ... her mouth fell open with shock ... and ultimately her every emotion and expression shifted toward obvious anger and fury.

Emelia slipped the letter into a pocket, withdrew the pistol, and closed the Bible. She set the book on the nearby lamp table, kissed her father again, and whispered, "I'll see that this gets done, daddy."

Two hours later:

Marcus Cole was busy working on creating his Untouchables when he looked up to find Philip standing nearby, staring directly at him with a knowing expression. Emelia's man turned and walked to a sedan with blacked-out windows and stood near the back door expectantly.

"I need your help, Detective," Emelia told Marcus when he sat in the car next to her. She offered out her father's letter, in which Enzo D'Angelo explained to his daughter that her mother had not been the innocent victim of a tragic traffic accident but had instead been gunned down by men acting directly under the commands of Giovanni D'Amato himself. "This was kept from me, Detective ... this was kept from everyone ... because, as the letter explains, at the time the Italians -- the D'Angelo's, the D'Amatos, the Rossi, the Bianchi -- they were under great pressure by the other Families and there was great fear that their hold on the City would be lost.

"The Rossi and Bianchi Families are, of course, defunct now," she continued, not telling Marcus anything he didn't already know. "What remained of their Families' operations after the last gang war was given to my father to control ... by Giovanni D'Amato ... in the hopes that my father would not seek vengeance for his wife's death ... my mother's death."

Emelia had to look away, knowing that a tear was forming and not wanting Marcus to see it. She wiped it away, looked back to him, and said bluntly, "I'm going to kill Giovanni D'Amato ... with this gun--"

She lofted the weapon that had been sitting unseen by her thigh. She continued firmly, "--and you're going to help arrange it."

Emelia looked to Marcus for his reaction, then said, "Anything you want. Money ... men ... if you need a private place out of which to operate, you'll have it."

She didn't know about his Untouchables yet, but Emelia was sure that Marcus would need an office someplace from which he could work unseen by his nosy and likely dirty cop associates. She personally owned a building just three blocks from his Precinct that included a cafe that wasn't patronized by too many police officers. (It had had a health inspection shutdown once after half the precinct had gotten sick on bad ravioli.)

If a person was to head toward the Men's Room and take a left instead of a right, they could access a hall and a door and a staircase, another hall and yet another door and yet another staircase, and eventually arrive unseen in a three room, 3rd floor suite that no one else would know about.

"Anything you want or need, Detective," Emelia repeated. After a moment, though, and more softly, she told him with a sincere, almost desperate tone, "Marcus ... I have to do this. Please ... I know you're a cop ... but you have to understand this ... right?"

 

[Gabe619]

Cole had spent the last few days going through records, police records. Normally he would be doing the opposite, searching through criminal records trying to connect people to activities, but he no longer needed to waste his time doing that thanks to Emelia. No, what he needed were a few good men, or women, and someone in power to give him the leverage he needed to work outside of the OCB. He had thought of going to the Fed's, but realised they would just assume he was a low down detective trying to fabricate something to make his name, they wouldn't give him the time of day. No, first he needed to rack up some scores locally, within the city, and for that he needed either a highly placed Judge or the cities DA.

He had a couple of options already, people he had already met during his time as a police officer. His top pick was Laura Shovelli, one of the cities top DA's with a track record of putting away mob enforces and taking no shit from anyone. She had prosecuted a number of high profile people a several of which had made threatening remarks about her and yet she had never flinched from her oath of office. All he had to figure out was a way to convince her to give him what he needed, the power to start his own team outside the normal justice system of the city. The DA had the power to assign investigators to their office, these people would work outside the police force and report right to the DA. That would be perfect and maybe give Marcus an in with Shovelli. He hadn't met a DA yet who didn't harbour political aspirations for their future. The more successful one was the more chance they would succeed in a bid to gain political appointment, either to a Mayor or even a Governor position. If Cole helped Shovelli rack up solid prosecutions then she could give him the leverage he needed to bring Emelia's goal to a successful end. All three would win. Perhaps he should mention Shovelli to Emelia, see what she thought of his idea.

But he also had to put together his team. Getting a powerful advocate was one thing, but if he didn't have the muscle to use his new position it would all be for nothing. He felt a team of five or six would do. Anything bigger risked the chance of someone being a mole, or being bought off. To small and the team wouldn't have the manpower to operate. He had to be sure of them too, just one bad apple and it would overturn the entire cart. It was a big responsibility. Thanks to Emelia's intel he knew which were the bad cops working for the D'Angelo family, but that still left the bad cops working for the other families. A look at IA records would help him narrow his list, but he also had another plan which might garner him one or two people for his team. A wise man once said if you're afraid of getting a rotten apple, don't go to the barrel. Get it off the tree. He was still friendly with a few instructors at the Academy so he would ask them their opinion of the people they were training, perhaps pick a couple out of the graduating class before they had a chance to go bad.

****

When Emelia had dropped by again as he sat having breakfast he hadn't been completely shocked when Phillip appeared standing over him. He just smiled at Emelia's right hand man and stood, following him out to the car sitting outside. He slipped into the back seat hoping no one was watching them. They might not know the car, but odds were they could identify Philip as he never left Emelia's side it seemed. Marcus briefly wondered about their relationship, was Philip in love with her? Was theirs a simple employer/employee relationship? A thought for another day he decided as he looked into Emelia's eyes and instantly noticed this wasn't like their other two meetings. There was a sobriety, a seriousness to her look and expression and as she explained why she had called on him he felt his stomach go cold.

What she was asking him to do was aid her in cold blooded murder. This wasn't the same as catching a bad guy in the process of committing a crime and killing them in self defence. He didn't even consider it the same as his idea of sending corrupt cops into traps which would end up in their deaths. That was business, they had broken the code and it was mere retribution for that. But this? He licked his lips a she looked at the gun in her hand. He had heard myths and legends of how Italian women sort revenge for the deaths of their family members. They could be even more vicious at times than the men so he didn't doubt for one moment that Emelia was capable of putting a round into D'Amato's head as she looked him in the eye. Finally he broke the silence.

"I DO understand, more than you might think." He brought up a hand to cover the one she held the gun in, bringing it down into her lap again, his eyes on hers. "But your father never acted on this, if he didn't seek revenge for your mothers death do you really want to do it now, just when we're starting off on your crusade to go straight? You're asking me to help you commit murder, Emelia, I don't ... I'm not sure I can go that far for you."

He felt so conflicted. Part of his mind was asking him why he was so squeamish about letting her kill D'Amato, it wasn't like the slime ball didn't deserve it, not only for what he did to Emelia's mother, but to countless others. Another part was coldly telling him it was a line that once he stepped over it there was no going back.

"The Chinese have a saying, 'When you set out for revenge make sure you dig two graves' ... I happen to think it's true. Killing him won't bring your mother back, but seeing him languishing jail for the rest of his life with no power? Wouldn't that be a better revenge? Everyday seeing him suffer?"

 

[PennySaver]

Emelia was disappointed with Marcus's answer. She wanted Giovanni D'Amato dead, and she wanted to be the one whom made him so. But, at the same time, she understood why the Detective was reluctant. She looked down at the gun held in her hand. Then, she looked at the hand holding her own. She raised the other hand to rest atop his. It was the most intimate touch they'd had since the day Emelia had slipped her personal contact card into Marcus's shirt pocket and let her fingers caress his chest for just an instant.

The touch of their hands sent erotic thoughts racing in her mind. She'd had thoughts about Marcus, of course. He was hot, and she was single. She was hot, too, of course. But hot or not, the thoughts would have still affected her.

Emelia knew this was not the time for such things and pulled her hand back from Marcus, letting it fall back to her side. She murmurred, "No graves, then." Then, pausing, she added, "For now."

She slipped the revolver into her purse, then looked Marcus in the eyes. "But you make me a promise. A promise...! You make it now, right now ... or Philip drives me from here to the D'Amato Compound right now for a pow wow ... and I put a bullet right between that asshole's eyes."

Emelia was beginning to become emotional, which she never did in front of men other than her father. She looked away, settled her emotions a bit, then looked back. She told him firmly, "You get D'Amato first ... now ... as soon as you can. You take down his Family ... but when the dogs at the top go running back to LA or New York or even all the way back to Sicily, you don't let that man get away!"

She reached out again to grasp one of Marcus's hands, stressing, "Promise me."

 

[Gabe619]

He squeezed her fingers softly, his eyes not leaving hers. "It's a promise ... and I keep my promises, Emelia. D'Amato first. I'll focus my attention on his outfit before anyone else's. I swear to you I'll bring him down, for the both of us."

He had felt his heart melt as he had seen this strong woman start to tear up then collect herself. He knew appearances were important for people who rules over crime families, she would never let any of the hired help see her cry, the fact he had almost made him wonder if it had simply been the subject that got her to the edge of tears, or whether she somehow felt she could let down her guard with him. He didn't know, they were still so much strangers, but getting to know her better would be a pleasure, Marcus thought. He brought one hand up to cup her face gently, a thumb tracing her cheekbone under her eye where the tear would have fallen. He gave her a small smile, one of support.

"I have a plan, I was going to call you to arrange a meeting to go through it with you ... do you have time now?" He asked.

Maybe getting off the topic of revenge for a moment would help her settle herself.

 

[Gabe619]

Jumping into his idea, he hoped Emelia would agree, it would make things easier if he had a high placed ally in both the criminal and legal world.

"I assume you must have heard of DA Shovelli? She has put a lot of your people behind bars and is renowned for her harsh penalties for those who push her to far, both in the courtroom and out." As he started to talk the thoughts fell into place in his mind. "My thoughts were that if I could get her to assign me as one of her investigators that would give me the power to work outside the regular police and the OCB. I would still be able to use their resources as I would still be technically a detective, but I wouldn't have to report to my Chief, just to her. I could bring in a small group to work with me as well. I don't have to tell her about you of course, I'm not sure her thinking is broad enough to take help from someone she considers a mob bosses daughter."

He sat back in the car thinking something through.

"I would need to give her something though, something big to make her believe my idea has merit. She knows the police are riddled with corruption, even some in the IA division aren't straight, so the basic idea of working outside of those restrictions might appeal to her, but .... I just think if I can go in there with a good reason for her to back me it will make my sell a lot more enticing. Do you have any ideas?"

 

[PennySaver]

"I assume you must have heard of DA Shovelli?"

A short, sharp snort escaped Emelia before she knew it was coming. Yeah, she knew Laura Shovelli. Knew her all too well. And Marcus was right that she'd put several D'Angelo members in jail.

"I think this is a marvelous idea," she responded, as if a teacher reviewing a student's project proposal. She realized what her tone had sounded like, smiled, blushed even, and rephrased, "This is a good plan, Marcus. I approve, one hundred percent."

He explained about needing something big to go with her about. Emelia thought about it for a moment. A smile spread her lips. She looked to Marcus and asked, "What about a dirty State Senator?"

She saw his reaction. It said Go on, please. She told him, "State Senator Eric Davis. He's in the pockets of the D'Amato Family. I can get you what you need to catch him in the act ... pants down with a hooker while high with a bag full of cash nearby. I mean ... literally! This is a monthly occurrence."

 

[Gabe619]

Marcus felt his eyes widen at the suggestion. Davis would be a perfect sacrificial goat. There had been rumors surrounding the Senator for years, even once a possible censuring that got nowhere as supporters for that act fell away. At the time everyone had just assumed that Davis had been innocent so the accusers had backed off with no proof, but hearing D'Amato held the Senators leash it made everything clear. D'Amato probably leaned on those accusing his pet Senator.

"If you can get the goods on Davis there is no way Shovelli would let it go. She has probably wanted to bring a case against him for ages. She would snap up the chance if we can bring her concrete evidence of wrong doing." Marcus's smile widened a little. "The guy's married, has a family, that will play against him if we have photographic proof, or video footage of him bedding a known hooker, with cash and drugs maybe alongside? It isn't much, a scandal at best, but it would be enough to get him kicked out of the senate ... but I wonder ..."

His gaze looked off into the distance for a moment, then returned to Emelia's beautiful eyes.

"I might be able to get a little something else. I was reading the files you gave me on D'Amato. One of his people works for Senator Davis, a secretary. I was wondering what D'Amato's angle was putting one of his people next to Davis, now we know. She is probably the go between. If I can get her to play ball she could access his computer and send us, or copy, all the files of his dealings with the D'Amato crime family. He wouldn't just be kicked out of the Senate, he would face real jail time."

 

[PennySaver]

"If you can get the goods on Davis, there is no way Shovelli would let it go," Marcus said, confirming his interest. He talked about it more, then brought up the D'Amato associate working in Davis's office. "If I can get her to play ball--"

"I'll work on that," Emelia interrupted. "I know exactly who you are talking about. Her name's Camille Carlton."

Emelia smiled a bit wider, considering things that she knew that Marcus likely didn't. He might have known of the woman's existence, and he might have even known her name. But Emelia knew the woman.

"She could access his computer and send us, or copy, all the files of his dealings with the D'Amato crime family," Marcus went on. "He wouldn't just be kicked out of the Senate, he would face real jail time."

There was a light tap on the outside of the car's window, and a moment later Philip cracked the door and reminded Emelia, "You have a thing, Miss."

Emelia smiled, looked to Marcus, and repeated with a comical tone, "Sorry ... I have a thing."

Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed Marcus on the cheek. Pulling back, she realized how forward that had been and instantly blushed a fiery red. She giggled embarrassingly, looked a way, pulled back away from him, and apologized, "Sorry. It, um ... the moment ... it ... it got the better of me."

She called out to Philip just loud enough for him to hear her through the glass, and he opened the door wide for Marcus's exit.

 

[Gabe619]

For a second Marcus too was swept up in the moment, the warmth of her body against his, the smell of her perfume, the scent of her hair, the warm touch of her lips on his cheek. As she pulled back and giggled and tried to explain what happened he simply took her hand in his and kissed her fingers gallantly before looking up at Philip who seemed to have a disapproving look on his face as Marcus exited the car.

"I'll get to work forming my team for when we get Shovelli on side, and I'll leave Ms. Carlton to your gentle touch. Take care, Emelia .... see you soon."

Philip closed the door before Marcus could add 'I Hope'. The two men swapped a look, Cole's one of innocent amusement, Philips one of annoyance.

"Drive safe now, you hear?" Marcus called out to Philip as the man slipped into the drivers seat of the limo.

Chuckling to himself as the car pulled away, he had an evil sense of humor sometimes, Cole turned and walked off to his own car to head back to the precinct. He would have to take some files from his desk drawer which although lockable he didn't feel was a safe place to keep anything connected to Emelia. Knowing the people who were on the take any of them might decide to peek at what he was hiding in that desk draw. For now he would take them home to his apartment to work there, but he would have to find somewhere to base the team out of. Somewhere quiet where they wouldn't be noticed coming and going, somewhere to park their cars and have access to them when needed fast. Emelia had given him the money to use so maybe he would hunt around ... unless she had something she could offer he wondered.

 

[PennySaver]

Two days later:

As was becoming a habit, Philip showed up at the entrance of the cafe Marcus favored for his morning breakfast special. Emelia's right-hand-man made eye contact with the Detective, then turned and departed. He returned to the sedan with blacked-out windows, parked kitty-corner to the diner and waited

"Take the long way home, Eric," Philip told the driver once Marcus was aboard. He glanced back over his shoulder to Marcus, saying with a smirk, "Let's see if we've attracted any attention from your friends yet ... or from ours."

They spent the next 40 minutes driving all about the downtown area. They turned left and right, retraced their route down the already-traveled roads, took the occasional illegal turn or ran through a red light, and even entered parking garages only to then exit them immediately without stopping, other than to pay their fee at the gate.

Eventually, they entered a fourth parking garage without leaving it. It took an electronic security card to enter and had two gates, requiring the first to close before the second opened to prevent unwanted guests from slipping in with a visiting car. It was underground, poorly lit, and practically empty of other vehicles. Philip half turned his head to tell Marcus, "No one uses this unless we give them a pass card."

They parked near a stairwell access. Philip exited and headed for the nearby door while the driver remained at the car. He waited for Marcus to join him before he ascended three flights of stairs. The building was old and desperately needed redecorating. Wallpaper peeled from some locations while paint did the same in others. A rat scurried across the hallway, only to squeal a few seconds later after the sound of a snapping trap ended its life somewhere out of sight.

"One less neighbor to worry about," Philip joked.

He stopped at an unmarked second floor door. It might have looked like the others but it wasn't. The ugly paint and style seemed the same, but this was a heavy metal security door like those mandated for fire protection in new construction. Philip used a key to open the door, then tossed the key to Marcus.

"It's the only one," he said, entering the room. "Copy how ever many you need for your team."

Inside, they found a room that seemed appropriate for what they'd already seen of the building. Old furniture, old paint, old wallpaper, old fixtures in the kitchen that was attached to this, the main room. A pair of doors, currently opened wide, revealed a large bedroom that was devoid of furniture other than an ancient metal bed frame and a bureau with a broken mirror and no drawers.

In the other direction, a single door led to another, smaller bedroom. This one had a complete full-sized bed set but lacked bedding. However, there were several shopping bags from a downtown store that Marcus would find was filled with everything from bedding to towels and rags for both the bathroom and the kitchen.

"This is to furnish the place," Philip said, dropping an envelope of cash on the kitchen island. It wasn't nearly as thick as the one Marcus had been provided earlier. "Cooking needs, organization boards ... those little push pins you coppers like ... oh, and string, too. I like the red, but ... you use what suits you."

He looked to the other man with a smirk. When this all started, he didn't like the idea that Emelia was aligning herself with an OCB Detective. But so far, Marcus had worked well with his boss and, most importantly, shown her the respect Philip would expect from any other associate of hers.

"So, regarding security," he began. "We got you started..."

He moved over to what appeared to be an old bookshelf full of equally old books. It wasn't anything of the sort, though. The faux front opened up to reveal a bank of security monitors, two large ones and six smaller one. They were already filled with images of the streets, alleys, and parking garage. Some of the images came from cameras that were obviously mounted on the building in which they were standing, but others showed views of the building and were obviously coming from somewhere else.

"...but you're probably going to want to add to it," Philip continued. "There are no cameras inside the building with the exception of the garage. And if you want internet service ... wifi and those secret IP address things -- I'm not a nerd -- then you're going to have to bring in your own Tech."

He took a look around at the very unfurnished room and added, "If you're going to move in couches and tables and such, you might want your team to take care of it, as opposed to a moving team. Never can tell who to trust."

Philip wasn't telling Marcus anything he didn't know, of course. He simply didn't want all the hard work that his team had done to go to waste because the Detective hired out the work to a furniture transport team that by a wild chance included an informant to one of the families and/or a common thief with a tendency of returning to places where he'd worked to rob them.

"I'm out of here unless you have a need for something more from me, Detective," Philip said, heading for the door.

 

[PennySaver]

State Senate Building

Camille Carlton entered her boss's office with a stack of files under one arm and a cup of espresso in the other. Her boss, State Senator Eric Davis, was on speaker phone, arguing with some developer about the new stadium project. Through a variety of methods, from extortion to bribery to simple glad handing, Davis had wrangled control over the financing of the $1.1 billion project.

The D'Amatos were highly involved in the project as well. They secretly controlled or publicly owned a dozen companies that were involved in the project, from the people who provided the cement for the foundation to the people who provided the hot dogs for the concession stands.

Multiple government agencies, from the District Attorney's Office to the State Attorney General's Office knew that the mob Family was involved. And yet, nothing was being done to removed them from the equation because there were simply too many people in the mix who were on their payroll, including State Senator Eric Davis.

Camille worked for Davis as his Executive Assistant. She had another boss, though: Giovanni D'Amato. Gio had personally recommended Camille for the position in Davis's office after it had become vacant after the previous EA had mysteriously fallen down a flight of stairs in the Senate building. Mysteriously was the word that had been used to describe the incident for good reason. In more than 8 years on the job, the EA had only ever chosen the stairs over the elevators twice, and that had only been because State mandated fire drills had shut down the elevators.

Camille wasn't the typical D'Amato associate, of course. First, and most obviously, she wasn't Italian, let alone Sicilian. The D'Amato's had traditionally put people of their own ethnicity in the most important positions, of which Davis's EA was one. But Davis had a very specific type when it came to women: He liked them black, he liked them top heavy, and he liked them with faces as perfect as a China Doll. Camille had fit that bill, obviously.

She'd originally come to Gio's attention because her then-husband was Sicilian and had worked for the D'Amato's. He'd become a made man shortly after the couple had been married. Camille had had no idea what her husband did for a living. She'd thought he was a limo driver for a very secretive tech billionaire, not the head of the D'Amato Crime Family.

She would only come to learn the truth after her husband fucked up. He screwed up a deal between the Italians and the Russians, leading to the loss of six men and more than $10 million dollars in narcotics. Being a made man had done nothing for him. He'd gotten a bullet to the back of his skull while his horrified wife stood by, screaming.

After that, Camille had involuntarily become Giovanni D'Amato's plaything. She'd rarely left his compound, making herself available to him 24/7. Only when she got traded to the State Senator did she return to a somewhat normal life out in the real world.

As Davis argued with the man on the phone, she set the files and drink down, then turned and headed for the door. She'd hoped to get away before he made any more demands of her. No such luck, though.

Behind her, the Senator snapped his fingers several times to gain her attention. She turned to find him making a familiar gesture. She close the door, locked it, and pulled her dress's straps off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor about her feet. She stepped out of it, moved to a couch sitting beneath the south facing window of the Senator's office, and struck a pose before waiting for him to finish his call.

Davis didn't wait for the conversation to end, though, before he began shedding his own clothes. He was still arguing and/or negotiating with the man when he got down to wearing only his ugly dress socks. He moved over to the couch, knelt upon it with his knees outside of Camille's thighs, and spit down into the impressive cleavage into which he then inserted his cock.

While still carrying on the speaker phone conversation with the contractor, occasionally indicating to Camille that she needed to lube up her tits with a bit of her own saliva, Davis fucked the beautiful, bosomy, black girl's tits until he was just seconds away from giving her a pearl necklace.

Camille knew what to do now, of course. She leaned forward, took Davis's cock into her mouth, and stroked him until he grunted out loudly in ecstasy. The man on the phone went quiet for a moment, then asked with an annoyed tone, "What the hell's going on there, Davis."

Davis ignored the question, instead just continuing to enjoy the euphoria exploding through him as the other man returned to his side of the argument without further concern. Camille cleaned up her boss's cock, milking every last drop from him, then -- as he stood and moved away -- gathered her dress and went to his bathroom to clean up.

She reported back to him, only to be waved out of the office. It was almost lunch anyway, so she headed down to the corner coffee shop for a cold sandwich and an espresso. While there, a beautiful Italian-American woman approached, sat across from her without asking for an invitation, and offered out her hand.

"Hello, Camille. My name is Emelia," the woman said, smiling wide. She didn't give her surname, though, by the time the conversation was offer she would. Instead, her next words were, "I'm here to tell you how you're going to bring down State Senator Eric Davis ... organized crime family don, Giovanni D'Amato ... and walk away from it all with a nice little bonus. Shall we say ... $1 million dollars?"

The two women would talk well past the official end of Camille's lunch hour, and by the time they stood and went their own ways, Emelia had quite a nice piece of information to share with Detective Cole.

 

[Gabe619]

Two days later:

The apartment Emelia had gifted him for the work he would be doing certainly removed one headache. Now he had his 'Bat Cave' to work out of that no one knew of but her and a few trusted D'Angelo soldiers. It was off the grid, secure and big enough for the small team he had in mind.

After taking it all in and spending the few hours he had spare after his day job to get a good look around the place he knew the first thing he should do was fix it up. Aesthetics might not seem that important when creating a secret hide out, Batman had, after all, located his base in a wet, dank, dark cave populated by bats that left a layer of guano everywhere. However if you were going to ask people to work in a place, for a good long length of time, they should at least have decent toilet facilities.

The man he had in mind for this fixer upper fit two slots on Cole's team. He had the skills and knowledge Marcus would need to get the base up to spec. He drove his mustang into the large busy yard of the construction company, parked in front of the main building and after glancing around at the vehicles, supplies and people working headed inside. A lady at the desk looked up and smiled as he entered, unconsciously smoothing down her hair. She was in her late 50's Marcus would guess but still had a great body on her, her red hair bright and fiery, her eyes green and calculating. Ok, she had a few lines on her pretty face now, but time was the enemy you could never beat, you just had to come to an understanding.

"Detective Cole, its been to long, honey." She stood and walked around the desk to hug Marcus and if this company had an HR department he might have reported her for sexual advances as she squeezed his ass in his jeans.

"Diana, I swear you look hotter every time I see you." Cole smiled and kissed her cheek actually making her blush a little. "Is he around?"

"The lord and master? Yes, he's in his office, you can go on through, you know the way." She stopped a worried look suddenly coming into her eyes as she took Cole's hand. "Is he in trouble again?"

Marcus smiled and squeezed her hand and kissed it. "No, he isn't, I just need to pick his brain a little."

Diana snorted in laughter. "Short visit is it?"

Marcus laughed and walked down a short passage to the white office door at the end. He knocked and walked in, closing the door behind him. Before him sitting behind a large solid wooden desk was an older man with thinning hair, dark eyes and a few days stubble. His large belly prevented him from sidling right up to his desk, having to leave a good few inches between his computer keyboard and the belly. He was currently yelling at someone on the phone.

"You signed those fucking contracts, Hank, if you don't deliver I know some friends of mine who would just love to come pay you a visit." With that he slammed the phone down on his deck before looking up at his visitor.

The angry expression faded immediately to be replaced by a wide grin as he stood and spread his arms.

"My wayward boy." He rounded his desk and took Cole's hand in one of his making Marcus wince slightly.

Despite his age and outward appearance of obesity, Greg Abbot was very strong. He was 61, had worked construction all his life starting for his dad when he was just a teen and now having owned the company since his fathers death a decade ago. He worked hard, played hard, treated his people fair and was the devil to cross on a deal. Abbot had come to Cole's notice on a case concerning a loan shark who had the nasty habit of crippling those who didn't pay up. Abbot's one weakness was gambling, he had been trying to stop for a long, long time, having promised his wife Diana (the handsy receptionist) that he would. It took a dark night on the docks with his hand held down on a metal barrel as one of the loan sharks goons was about to bring the business end of a hammer down on it to make him finally wise up. The only reason he still had the use of that hand was the timely arrival of Detective Cole on the scene. Abbot had pretty much adopted him from then on, despite Cole's attempts to tell him he owed the detective nothing. The loan shark had been put away and Cole had kept Abbot's name out of things letting him stay clean and keep all his city contracts.

"I need your opinion on something, Greg. I've come into some property, it needs work, but I can't just have anyone around its ..." Cole paused, trying to find the words to describe what exactly it was. Abbot saved him the trouble.

"It's an off the books safe house I am betting. One only you know about? So you can't just have Joe Blow the builder wander in and fix it up for you .... am I right?" Abbot relaxed back in his chair with a smile.

Not for the first time, Abbot's almost supernatural ability to read between lines Cole hadn't even realised were there came to the fore. Marcus shrugged and nodded. Greg smiled and stood.

"Show me." Was all he said.

Four hours later the two men stood in the middle of the apartment, Greg running a hand through his silver thinning hair as he looked at the notes he had written down.

"Well, for one you need high capacity electrical cabling for what you are gonna do here. Wifi of course, high speed internet cabling too. I'd reinforce the windows and ceiling, the floor should be fine, these old buildings tend to have steel reinforced beams anyway. Drainage and water needs upgrading, gas lines too, the decorating obviously, but that's not important. The main door is good quality, very good quality, it's like finding a gold needle in a manure covered hay stack. You said you wanted to be able to have six people work out of here? I would put in kitchen facilities, maybe bunk beds in that bigger bedroom. Keep the smaller one for your own use." At this he winked and smirked. "It's not going to be cheap, son, even with the families and friends discount. I can do you deals on some of the material, but the city keeps tight leashes on builders these days, I can let some things slide under their radar, but to much and, well, they send auditors and you KNOW how I hate auditors."

Marcus walked to an old delipidated set of draws and pulled them open. Picking up the envelope of cash Philip had given him he handed it to Abbot who simply stared at it with wide eyes.

"Will that be enough?" He asked with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah more than enough. Marcus, you're ok, right? I mean this amount of cash on hand ... you aren't into anything dangerous are you?" Greg asked worriedly before Cole led him to two chairs and lowered the older man into one.

"I have a story to tell you, Greg, you're going to like it I think. It will appeal to your sense of justice."

Just under an hour later Abbot left with a wide smile on his face, the cash stuffed into his jacket pocket.

 

[Gabe619]

The Academy driveway brought back a lot of memories for Cole as he drove his mustang up it. Mostly of early morning marches and running in units. It was actually fun, and as he had done the same thing at Boot Camp he had no trouble keeping pace with the other younger rookies. He parked at the main entrance to the admin building and got out, watching a new team of cadets out on the main lawn practicing take down holds.

"Takes you back, huh?"

Marcus smiled and turned to see an older man walking toward him in PE gear, dark blue sweats and a white tshirt with the Academy logo on is. Sergeant Harold Bates was a thirty year vet and the only reason he had been taken off the street was after his knee cap was blasted away by an armed robber. Instead of keeping the streets safe himself he moved into teacher the new generations how to do it as they came through the big black gates of the Academy.

"It really does. How you been Hal?" The two men shook hands.

"Getting by, I hear you're in the OCB now, chasing down organised crime? I always knew you would make it. I can tell things about people." Harold stated as he lent against the mustang with Cole and watched the rookies. "So, your call said something about needing a couple of graduating cadets for special assignment?"

"Yeah, hopefully within the week I'll have clearance to make it official, but right now I wondered who your top two marksmen are and if they show skills in investigation work that would be even better."

"Kennedy and Yarrow." Hal stated without even considering the question. He smiled as Marcus gave him an incredulous look. "I told you, I know things about people. Actually that's them over there, the short blond taking down the line backer and the slender guy who needs a haircut."

Marcus zeroed in on both of the individuals as he watched them. "Which is which?" He asked.

"Jennifer Kennedy, 20, single in case that matters, top marks on marksmanship and unarmed combat, she nearly beat your record on the shooting range with a rifle."

"Ted 'Teddy' Yarrow" Hal pointed to the other cadet, "the joker of the current crop of cadets, there's always one as you will remember, but a top notch mind and the kid has good gut instincts. His shooting with a handgun is only second to Kennedy. If you want the best two I have it's them."

"Can you give me their files?"

"Now you know that's against policy, Cole. I could get suspended, even fired." Hal stated as he pulled his hand from behind his back, a hand which held two manila folders. "I figured you'd ask, just get them back to me before someone misses them, ok?"

"I owe you a beer." Marcus said taking the folders and putting them in his car.

"You owe me a case of beer, nothing less. And one day tell me what all the cloak and dagger crap is about, ok?"

"It's a deal, Hal. Say hello to Abby for me, tell her I miss her home cooking." Cole said as he slipped into the drivers seat.

"Like hell I will!! If I tell my wife her home cooking is good, even if its from you, she'll be cooking more of my meals ... I don't think my stomach could take it."

******

Sitting in the new base of operations, the sound of work being done all around him as Greg and one of his most trusted guys went about updating, well, everything in the apartment, Marcus read the files Hal had given him. He was right, on paper both of these kids were perfect material. Smart, instinctive and able. He could mark two off for his new team. But he needed more than just young muscle, energy and looks, he needed street smarts and he needed someone who could find their way around a computer. He had two who topped his list on both, but getting them would be hard. He just hoped he could be persuasive enough.