Bad Cop, Bad Cop
Reed’s
Realm
“
In his
right hand he held the binoculars that he was using to watch the warehouse for
signs of people going in and out. With
dusk creeping across the sky and the sun’s light dimming, the beat cop was
finding it harder and harder to see the areas of the warehouse that were now
hiding in the ever growing shadows.
“Hey, it’s
Reed. Where are you at?” Reed asked from
the other end of the line.
“I’m
actually parked in a lot across the street about a half a block away from
warehouse 22 at the moment. Where are
you?” Martin asked, leaning forward to get a better angle at a person walking
out from behind the warehouse.
“I’m
standing right beside you,” Reed said stopping next to Martin’s open car
window.
The beat
cop jolted in his seat. “Ah, shit! Man, what the hell are you trying to do? Get shot?” Martin yelled. “Did anyone ever tell you not to creep up on
people like that?”
Laughing,
Reed said, “So, are you going to shoot me with your binoculars or your cell
phone?”
“Dude,
that’s not even funny,” Martin returned, still holding the slim cell phone to
his ear.
“You know,
I think that you can stop talking into your cell. I can hear you just fine from here,” Reed
said.
Martin
closed his cell phone, rolled up the windows on his car, and got out, closing
the door softly behind him. He said
nothing to Reed, and was purposefully not looking at him, but a hint of a smile
played on the darker man’s lips.
Martin put
on his police issued navy blue windbreaker and gave Reed his best “go to hell” look.
“Are we ready?”
“What?”
Reed asked, trying to look innocent.
Despite his best efforts, he slowly broke into a full fledge smile, and
then chuckled.
“You suck,
dude. That’s what,” Martin returned.
Reed could
not hold back his laughter any longer and busted out a huge rolling laugh that
could be heard for about a block. Martin
could not help but to start to laugh too.
Two men laughing hysterically typically wasn’t a good thing on a stake
out, but no one seemed to be around to notice.
“Alright,
what is our next move, Reed?” Martin asked as they started to walk in the
direction of warehouse 22.
“Well, I
thought that we might ask some of the citizens who hang out at the port at
night if they have seen Willings,” he answered. “Did you come up with anything today?”
“I went
around with Willings mug shot and asked the dock
workers if they had seen him around. No
one recognized him, which isn’t surprising,” Martin said.
Reed shook
his head, “So, you came up empty.”
“Maybe not
totally empty,” Martin replied as they arrived at the road that crossed in
front of the warehouse.
After
looking for traffic they started across the road.
“This
might be a shot in the dark, but a lot of the dock workers said that this area
was worked by a dealer named Todd Jones.
He’s a popular native of
“I don’t
guess I have ever had the pleasure of meeting this TJ,” Reed said.
”You’ll probably recognize him when we pick him up tonight. He’s a frequent guest at the luxurious
Reed
stopped and looked seriously at his friend and colleague, noticing only
peripherally that they were at the northeast corner of warehouse 22. “And why would we pick him up? We don’t even know if this TJ person has
anything to do with all this. I’m not so
sure we should waste time looking for this guy.
We’re not trying to bust a drug dealer.
We’re looking for a murderer.”
“Yeah, I
see what you are saying, but this is our best option the way I see it,” Martin
said. “Think about it. If this area of the port is TJ’s turf, then he is going to know everything that happens
here. He’ll have good eyes out day and
night making sure that no other sets are trying to work his zone. Either TJ knows what happened in this warehouse,
or he had a hand in it. Right now, what
else do we have to go on? Since you
haven’t said anything, I take it that you didn’t hit the jackpot at Drake’s
today, either.”
The
detective shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “I pretty much came up empty there, but I do
have some leads to follow up on. I am
going to be meeting with Warin Drake himself. I’m hoping that I might be able to get some
answers from him,” Reed explained. He
wasn’t sure taking the time to track down the drug dealer would be fruitful,
but they had little to lose. Given the
lack of information the Drake’s had put forth so far, Martin had just as much
chance finding something as Reed did.
“I see where
you are coming from, Martin, and if you think that we can find this TJ fella and he can shed some light on all this, then I say
let’s bring in the drug dealing bastard.
It never breaks my heart to give a guy like that a hard time.”
“Now you’re
talking my language, man,” Martin said as he flipped his black Kangol cap backwards and adjusted his shoulders. “First thing we got to do is find one of these
‘good eyes’, and that shouldn’t be very hard to do,” Martin said. “Follow me.”
A ‘good
eye’ was a staple for drug dealers, and almost as bad of a plight on
society. A good eye acted as a look out
for drug dealers, and would do anything it took to get a message to their boss
that the cops were putting heat in a certain area. Good eyes usually worked for their next fix,
which meant they were loyal to their dealers, but only up to a point.
Martin and
Reed walked up the boulevard toward the nearest busy intersection that was only
about three blocks away. With the sun
nearly gone and a cool breeze blowing across the river, not many people
remained on the streets. Most of the
people who legitimately worked in the area were already at home with their
families.
“How will
we know a good eye when we see him,” Reed asked.
“I’ll show
you,” Martin responded, intently studying the conspicuous group on the
corner. “Move over here,” Martin said as
he ducked behind the building that they were walking beside so they would be
out of sight.
“Look,
here is the plan,” Martin said. “In five
minutes, I want you to go back out and start walking towards those guys. Make sure that you have your coat open and
your badge showing on your belt clip.”
“What are
you going to do?” Reed asked. Martin’s
plan sounded more like an attempted suicide.
“I’m going
to work my way around the building and to the other side. When they see you, the good eye will take off
running. If they are all good eyes, they’ll
all run in a different direction. We
want someone who runs,” Martin said.
Martin
pulled out his 9mm and popped out the clip, giving it a quick glance before
sliding it back into his hip holster. He
then looked back up at Reed.
“If they
all run, which one do we get then?” Reed asked.
Martin
smiled, “The slowest one.”
It was
Reed’s turn to give the “go to hell” look.
“You know no one likes a smart ass, Martin,” Reed responded.
Martin
laughed and clearly enjoying the triumph of revenge fom
Reed’s window scare.
A wide, boyish grin covered the darker man’s face.
“Remember,
in five minutes you start up the street,” Martin reminded.
Reed
looked down at his watch and preset the alarm for five minutes, then looked back
up to Martin, “Five minutes to the second.”
“Setting
your watch? That is so you,” Martin said with a wink before leaving to make his way
around the building.
Reed
started to feel that little rush down in the bottom of his stomach that let him
know whatever he was about to do would be dangerous. He pulled out his weapon and checked the clip,
and then returned it to his holster as Martin had done moments before.
Reed
glanced down at his watch. Almost one
minute had gone by. Reed took a quick
look around the corner to make sure that the targets were still at the
corner. In that split second glance, he
was able to see all three of them standing at the corner talking.
Reed could
not help but think about his days back at
Normally,
during his training, Reed had been very focused and
hardly nervous. On the day he was set to
run the course, though, he had been a nervous wreck. It didn’t have anything to do with his
certification test, but with the conversation he had with his wife before leaving
the house.
“Reed, could you just stop for a
minute and talk to me. Is a minute of
your time too much for your wife to ask for these days?” Samantha asked, an all too familiar venom in her voice.
Reed, without looking at her, quickly checked
his gun
Case, which he kept
beside the bed.
“ Look, Sam.
You know I’m in a hurry to get to the range. I’m already running a little late.” Reed looked up at his wife. By the look on her face, he knew the
conversation was not going to end quickly.
“Can you image what they would do if I didn’t make my certification
time? They could make me retake the
whole course if they wanted too,” Reed added.
He picked up his case and walked over to Samantha.
“When I get back tonight, we can
sit down and talk about whatever you would like, okay? But right now I have to go,” Reed said, kissing
her on the left cheek.
Samantha stood there motionless,
her shoulders slumped in defeat. Reed
was almost to the door when Samantha finally spoke up. “I won’t be here when you get back tonight.”
“Where are you going?” Reed asked.
“I am sorry, Reed. I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving here. Leaving you,” she added.
“What are you talking about?” Reed
asked, dumbfounded. “And why are you
springing this on me right now?”
“I’m not happy and if you were ever
home, or ever gave me any attention at all you would know that I hate it here
and I’m miserable,” Samantha said. Her
shaking hand brushed her long blonde hair back from her face. Tears welled up and then began to streak down
the same cheek that Reed had just kissed.
“But again, that would require you
to stop living and breathing the FBI for a moment, and we couldn’t have that,
could we?” Samantha asked as more tears ran down her face.
“Well, what do you want me to do
here, Sam?” Reed asked. He held the gun
case at his side.
“Just go, Reed. That’s what you want to do,” she said.
Reed sat the case on the floor and
crossed the distance to Samantha. He
wiped away some of the tears from her face.
“Sam, I love you. We can work
this all out. I know we can, okay.”
Samantha looked at the floor as
more tears ran from her eyes. “Just go,”
Samantha said again.
Reed turned and walked back to the
door, picking up his case along the way. He looked at Samantha again and said,
“Everything will be okay, Sam. I’ll see
you tonight. We’ll talk this all out, okay?”
Reed watched as Sam shook her head,
wiped her face, and walked into the kitchen of their small home without another
word.
Reed’s
mind came rushing back to focus with the sound of his watch going off,
signaling that five minutes was up. He
turned off the alarm. How ironic that he
set his watch as a little joke for Martin, and yet it turned out that he really
did need it.
He shook
his head in disbelief, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He turned and walked up the sidewalk towards
the three guys that were still standing on the corner. Reed unbuttoned his coat and opened it so
that his NOPD badge was in plain sight clipped to the front of his belt. Although
he was trying to act calm and collected, his heart was pumping a huge amount of
adrenaline through out his body.
It wasn’t
fright that set him on edge. He just
knew that any moment, one of these guys would notice him and the chase would be
on. He only hoped that Martin had enough
time to get into position.
Reed
slowed when he got around fifteen yards from the three of them. They still hadn’t seen him. He was close enough to hear their voices and
laughter, but could not totally make out what they were saying. All three of the men looked to be in their
late teens or early twenties. Two of
them were dressed almost exactly alike. They
had black jeans on with blue hoodies. The third guy was wearing a blue pair of Nike
basketball shorts, a white tank top, and a white with blue pin striped New York
Yankee’s baseball hat pushed and tilted to the left side of his face so that
the front bill was half way between his left eye and left ear.
Reed only
got two steps closer when one of the hoodie twins
caught sight of him. His eyes squinted
in the oncoming darkness and then went wide.
It was obvious that he saw the street lights glimmer off of Reed’s
badge.
“FIVE-O,”
he yelled as he took off running.
The other
two glanced at Reed and then began running as well. All of them scattered in different
directions. It was the Yankee’s hat guy
that turned and ran down the side of the building where Martin was supposed to
be waiting. Reed hoped that when he
turned the corner, he would see that Martin had already caught the guy.
When Reed
followed, all he saw was a street walker and Mr. New York Yankee blasting down
the sidewalk at full speed. There was no
sign of Martin.
Even
though Reed knew it would not do any good, he yelled, “Freeze. NOPD!”
The runner
never looked back and never slowed his sprint, which was a lot faster than
Reed’s. At least until the Yankee started
passing the alley way. Something moved
across Reed’s field of vision in a blur, followed by a pro football like collusion. Martin had been waiting for just the right moment
to take Mr. Yankee down.
Martin rolled
him over and cuffed him before Reed made it there to assist.
“Get off
me, mother fucker,” the punk kid said, jerking and still trying to get
away. Martin put his elbow in the
criminal’s back. “I said get the fuck
off me man,” he yelled once more.
“Hey, shut
your mouth,” Martin returned, putting more pressure on the kid’s ability to
breath.
“Don’t
tell me what to do, bitch. I know my
rights, and you ain’t got no right hassling me,
pig! I didn’t do shit. I know my fucking rights,” the street punk
yelled.
“Oh, you
know your rights, huh,” Martin said as he picked him up, pushing his cuffed
hands backwards towards his head before dragging him back into the darkened
alley way. Martin then slammed him up against
the wall with such force that his Yankee’s hat went flying off his head.
“Your
rights,” Martin repeated, pushing him against the wall and leaning in close
behind him so that his mouth was right behind the punk’s left ear. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be disregarded
as bullshit, and if you keep resisting me you will have the right to have my
foot in your ass! Any
questions about your rights now?” Martin asked.
Reed stood
at the entrance of the alley to make sure no one had thoughts of intervening
and being a hero for the punk. Reed
wasn’t too surprised to see that no one seemed to notice or care.
“What do
you want from me, man? I didn’t do nothing. I swear, man,
I don’t know what this is about,” he pleaded, calming as he realized there was
no escape.
“You want
to know what this is about, huh? I’ll
tell you if you chill the hell out. It’s
about your boss, TJ. I need to know
where I can find him,” Martin responded.
“T
who? Man, I don’t know no
TJ. You got the wrong guy. I don’t know nothing,”
he answered.
“Well,
shit, I guess we do have the wrong guy,” Martin said looking over and winking
at Reed, who walked over to the two of them.
“Yeah!
Yeah, man. I don’t know no TJ. So can I go
now?” he asked.
“See,
there’s a little problem. I can’t let
you go and have you run to the NOPD and tell them about this little
misunderstanding. That could hurt a guy
like me. If the Internal Investigations
ever even found out I was lookin’ for TJ, it could
land me in prison. I just can’t have
that,” Martin said.
“Whatcha mean, man,” the Yankees runner said, a hint of
worry in his voice.
“I think it’s
time you went for a swim in the Ole Miss,” Martin said.
“What?”
the street punk asked, now scared as hell. “You can’t dump me in the river man, you’re a
cop.”
“That’s
why we’ll get away with it. Look, I’m
really sorry, dude. It’s just a case of being
in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Martin shrugged his shoulders. “Hey
partner, cuff his ankles and I’ll go get the car,”
Martin said to Reed.
“What if
he starts to yell and make noise while you’re getting the car? Remember that last guy? He almost blew it for us when a patrolman
overheard his squealing,” Reed responded, trying not to totally crack up as he bent
over and put his cuffs on the kid’s ankles.
“Oh, shit,
man! Come on, y’all. Please don’t—,” was
all he got out before Martin interrupted.
“You’re right. Let’s cap him now and I’ll get the car. Then we can drive him ten or so miles out and
roll him into the river,” Martin said.
“Sounds
good to me,” Reed agreed.
Martin
then grabbed the punk by his shirt and started to drag him further into the
alley. “Let’s do it behind the dumpster
here,” Martin said.
The Yankee
fan began kicking and screaming. “Please
don’t do this, man. I won’t tell. Please,” He pleaded.
Martin put
him facing the red brick wall of one of the buildings backed up to the alley.
“Here we
go,” Martin said, drawing his gun.
“Okay! Okay!
I’ll tell you where TJ is. Please, just
don’t kill me, man,” he yelled.
Martin
looked over at Reed, his face away from the kid, and smiled. “You’re bullshitting me. You don’t know TJ. You already said you didn’t,” Martin told
him.
“No, man,
I do. I do. TJ is Todd Jones. He’s a dealer. He works the dock area here. Please man!
I’m telling you the truth.
Please,” he said.
“Tell us
where he is,” Martin demanded.
“He stays
at the Fairmont Motel over on
“What room
is he in?” Reed asked.
The kid
just faced the wall and looked down at the ground, saying nothing in response.
“The room number
or the deal is off,” Reed yelled.
The Yankee
punk shrugged his body in a frustrated fit.
“He’s in room 117. Now can I please go?”
“Just one
more thing,” Martin said. “What’s the
knock?”
Again, the
kid said nothing. Martin grabbed his
head and pressed it to the wall, his nose and face contorting.
“The
knock?” Martin
asked again.
“Three,
one, and then two, twice,” he replied.
“Good
job! That didn’t hurt too much now, did
it?” Martin said. “Now here is the
deal. We’re going to let you go
now. Don’t ever let us catch you down
here again!”
“Okay, man,
y’all won’t,” he said, looking from Martin to Reed.
“And, if
by some chance you lied to us,” Martin paused to finish taking off the
cuffs. He spun him around so that they
were eye to eye. Martin just stared at
him before he finally continued. “When
we do find TJ, we’ll tell him that you wanted us to send him your best. You understand me?”
“Yeah, but
I swear he is there, man. He’s cutting
and weighing, getting ready to hit it tonight.
He’s there, I swear,” the punk said.
Martin
reached down and took the cuffs off his ankles.
When he was free, the punk grabbed his New York Yankees hat and took off
running like a shot down the alley.
“Remember,
we can find you where ever you hide,” Martin yelled as the kid rounded the
corner.
Martin
looked back to Reed when the good eye was gone.
“Well, what do you think?” Martin asked, raising his eye brows and
smirking a little.
“I think
we’re going to hell. That’s what I
think,” Reed returned, shaking his head and laughing. “Now let’s go and get TJ.” Reed waved a hand toward his friend and they
both began to walk back down the alley in the direction of their parked cars.
“Hey
Martin,” Reed said.
“Yeah,” he
responded.
“You ever
do anything like that before?” Reed asked.
“Do you
really want to know?” Martin asked.
Reed
looked over at Martin for a brief moment before returning his focus back in
front of him.
“No, I
guess not,” Reed said. “I’m just glad
you’re one of the good guys.”
“Amen to
that brother,” Martin said with a smile. “Amen to that.”