

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2001-2004 by Rodney Mountain

Reedit Copyright © 2017 by Rodney Mountain

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author.

Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

The Accidental Immortal

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Durell's Insurrection

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all of the characters who run around in my head and make these books what they are. Without them and the ways they push me and make the events turn out these books would be among the dullest piles of pages you would ever get your hands on.

Prologue – January 1, 2001 – Early Morning

The bare white bulb completed the aura of the interrogation room. It looked like the police interrogation room that everyone has seen on episodes of every police procedural drama since the 1980s. Three men were in the room, one sitting slumped on the table, one fiddling with a video camera and one smoking a cigarette and looking at the man sitting down.

"How long have you been undercover, Miller?" he asked the sitting man.

"Since May fifth ," Miller muttered without looking up.

The man identified as Miller was in his early thirties. His sandy blonde hair was short, but unkempt, with streaks of dirt and blood though it. His left arm was in a sling that hung down below the table. His clothes were as dirty as his body. In fact, he looked more like a corpse than a man.

"You don't look so good, Miller," the officer working the camera told him, "do you want to do this later?"

"The sooner we get this over with," Miller grunted, "the sooner the record will be set and the safer I'll be. If they kill me after the whole mess is on public record they'll lose the chance to try to discredit me on the stand."

The cameraman nodded and finished setting up the equipment. The top of Miller's head appeared on the monitor as it came into focus. The cameraman indicated he was ready and Miller managed to pull himself up and looked directly into the camera.

"Damn," he said, "I really am a sorry sight, you know that?"

"You look worse than the raccoon I saw in the highway this morning," the other officer joked, "but I'm ready if you are, Mike."

"Still waiting for the US Attorney," the other one said.

"You're not waiting anymore," U.S. Attorney Terry McCord said as he entered the room, "is everything ready? Are you ready, Miller?"

"Let's do it," Miller said with a solemn nod.

"Ok, here goes," the officer standing next to Miller said into the camera, "this is Deposition #43234, US Attorney Terry L. McCord deposing Detective Lieutenant Michael J. Miller on January 1st, 2001, start time 9:10am. Detective Mason Stone and Officer Jim Entragian are present as official witnesses."

Miller looked at the three people in the room and suppressed a scowl. He had known since day one that this would come, but it didn't make him like it any better now that the day was here. He lighted a cigarette and remained silent until McCord spoke.

"State your name and any known aliases for the record please," McCord asked Miller.

"Michael James Miller," he stated, letting out a stream of smoke, "For the past seven months I have been living under the name of Raymond Nester."

"For what purpose did you assume the name of Raymond Nester?" McCord inquired, for the record ,of course.

"On May 5th, 2000 I assumed the identity of Raymond Nester to infiltrate organized crime elements in this city," Miller said, "I was given a rock solid background that made Nester a perfect fit for the syndicate."

"Deep cover?" McCord asked.

"As deep as it gets," Miller confirmed.

"For background information why did you take this assignment?" McCord asked in a near monotone, "Why did you agree to become a criminal to smoke out other criminals?"

"Good question," Miller said with a chuckle, "I was freshly divorced and without much direction. My bitch of an ex-wife took away my rights to see my son by proving that he wasn't mine, leaving me no legal right to fight for custody. I had been placed on administrative leave to give me a chance to get my head straight."

Miller laughed at the thought. He knew that the administrative leave had been the most damaging thing that could have been done for him. If he had been allowed to work, he would have gotten through things a lot faster. The main reason he had taken the offer for the deep cover assignment was to have something to do.

"Let's save some time," McCord said, "I'm sure you're tired, Miller. Why don't you tell the story of the last seven months in your own words? I'll ask questions to fill in the gaps when you finish."

"Fine with me," Miller said with a shrug, "It all started while I was on administrative leave last April..."

Chapter One – April 28, 2000

Mike Miller was still on his forced vacation when Thomas Richter stopped by his apartment. Miller was unsure how Richter had found him, as he still had not even notified the records department of his address change. He had been in the middle of a game of Counterstrike and grumbled at having to leave his multi player game to answer the door.

Miller looked out of the peephole and saw an older man. The man looked sort of like Adrian's no good brother in Rocky. Miller had never seen him before and asked who he was. He held an official ID up to the door, which looked real enough to Miller. Miller invited the man inside, especially after since he held a high rank in the department.

"So you're Mike Miller," he said, "You look different from I expected."

"Which section do you work for?" Miller asked curiously, "I've never seen you down at the precinct before."

"We'll get to that later Miller," he said with an authoritative voice that really didn't go with the unkempt appearance, "It seems that this hasn't been a particularly good year for you."

"Shit happens," he shrugged, "at least I quit smoking."

"Admirable," Richter said with a crooked smile, "but seriously, Mr. Miller, do you have any family left? Records said that your only relatives are your wife and son, which from what I hear is no longer accurate."

"My parents have been dead for four years now," Miller said as he sat back in his easy chair, "my brother overdosed on heroin back in '83. And this year I find out that my wife is a slut and that the kid isn't even mine. Seems that family just plain isn't my thing."

"Precisely why I'm here, Detective Miller," Richter said as he sat up, "I work for the special operations division. Do you know what that is?"

"Not exactly," Miller lied, "but rumor has it that you're the people responsible for that screw-up on Franklin Drive that got six officers killed last year."

"An unfortunate mess, but one that couldn't be avoided," Richter said with a pained look on his face, "what you probably haven't heard is the fact that our division has destroyed three crime families, several drug rings and caught twenty-seven syndicate murderers since our creation fifteen years ago."

"Bully for you," Miller said dryly, "what does that have to do with me?"

"We need people to go undercover," Richter said, "I prefer men with no family ties to complicate matters. Makes it easier to stay undercover longer."

"Also lets them form personal ties to the criminals," Miller said, almost disapprovingly, "How many have you lost to the other side?"

"One or two," Richter admitted slowly, "but that is very rare. Our job is to take down the worst of the worst. You know the type. The type that the regular officer can't touch, the ones that think they are beyond the law."

"Keep talking," Miller said with interest as Richter had hit upon one of his pet peeves.

"Any cop can catch a dumb criminal," Richter continued as he stood up, "it's the smart ones that take effort. Well, the truly smart ones organize and make it even more difficult, Miller. They are the sons of bitches that we are trying to stop."

"You can't stop them, Richter," Miller said with a chuckle, "not in the system as it is today. The system protects their rights, and they use those rights against us."

"You have to play by their rules sometimes, Mike," Richter said, "that's why this unit was created. I've talked to your supervisor and a few people who have worked with you in the past. I don't think your views on this are much different from mine."

He sat down in triumph, working on Miller like a master. He knew he'd made his point and Miller knew at that point that his life would not be the same again. He knew he would agree to join this unit. It sounded as if it could be a little bit of fun, and it was something different. Miller knew it could be dangerous, but he felt that he had nothing to lose. Thomas Richter knew this as well, which was why he'd chosen Miller to make this offer to.

"I'm in," Miller said and then thought better of it, "what exactly do you want me to do?"

"You'll be informed of it later," Richter said, "How much longer are you on administrative leave?"

"Another two weeks," Miller said with a chuckle, "they told me to take some time to get my personal life straight. I hadn't taken a vacation in six years, and they thought that I needed one. Biggest mistake they've made yet. I'm going crazy without something to do."

"I can understand that," Richter said with a grin, "Come on in next Thursday "

"Wait a second. It usually takes weeks to set that in motion," Miller said slowly as he realized that Richter had known he would take the offer, "you must have submitted the requisitions days ago, even if you do get preferential treatment."

"Like I said earlier," Richter said as he continued to grin, "sometimes you have to play by their rules, and sometimes you have to turn their rules against them. Report to Jack Lewis down at Central Headquarters on the fourth, sometime between eight and eleven in the morning if possible. He'll send you my way, and we'll get the operation off the ground."

"Wait..." Miller said, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to assure Miller that he made the right choice, "You'll like the results."

He then shook Miller's hand and left him sitting in his easy chair. He thought long and hard about what had just happened. Miller knew he had just made a major life decision, but what bugged him most about it was that he did not care. In some ways, he was even looking forward to it. He eventually settled back into his chair and pulled his computer keyboard into his lap. It was time for him to do a little research on the Internet.

Chapter Two – May 4, 2000

Miller enjoyed the last of his forced vacation and tidied up his life a little. He had never had very many friends, and most of the people he had known off the job had decided that they would rather associate with his ex-wife. Truthfully, he had no problem with it. It just showed him who real friends were and pointed out the sorry truth that there were not very many of them.

«Incorrect Perfect Participle. » When the fourth of May rolled around Mike Miller woke up and started getting dressed. Knowing that he was probably doing undercover work Miller dressed in casual civilian clothing and skipped his usual date with the razor blade. He also did not feel like impressing his new boss too much, as he still was not sure he was ready for this. Miller locked up his little one room apartment and went down to the old beat-up dodge that he had purchased for $400 after having to give the family Taurus to his ex-wife Julie.

He slowly drove down to the central headquarters building, the Mecca of the local police departments. It was the first time he had been back there in about three years. He did not think he had actually been there more than two or three times in the decade since he took his oath, mainly because his old precinct had been across town. Miller parked the beat up dodge in the visitor's section and walked into the building.

Miller actually knew Jack Lewis from way back, as Lewis was the head of human services for the city's police divisions. Lewis set up Miller's previous two insurance revisions personally. Mike knew that he should have come by earlier to pull Julie and Eddie off his insurance and wondered if Lewis would take him to task on that.

He walked in and went to the elevator. The central building was a very nice one, having been built only twelve years previous, and it was modern in all respects except one. An old black man ran the elevators. The same guy was there every day and had been since Miller had joined the force. Miller told him which floor he needed to go to and was dutifully brought there in silence.

Mike Miller walked through the offices which, unlike the precinct houses he was used to spending his time in, were neat and clean and did not look and smell of misuse. Miller went to Jack Lewis' secretary and asked to see him.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked him as she looked down at her appointment book.

"Thomas Richter sent me," Mike informed her, beginning to wonder if Richter had screwed him over.

"Let me tell Jack you're here Detective Miller," She said with a nod and walked into the office.

Miller shrugged and sat down. He looked around the office for a minute and then reflected on where he was. It did not surprise him that he had to start in human resources. Everything in the bureaucratic nightmare that passed for a modern police department went through human resources at one point or another.

The secretary came out and smiled at him while waving him into the office. He stood up slowly and smiled back. He had been divorced only a few months and was still new to this being single thing. He had not even dusted off all the rusty moves that single men normally give to a pretty girl who smiles at you. With a, further nod he walked into Jack Lewis' office.

"Mike!" The human resources man said as if he were happy to see Miller, "I see that you've signed on for Tom Richter's program."

"Yep," he agreed solemnly, "He told me to report here first."

"New recruits for his program always do," he said with a nod, "Undercover work is dangerous and there is a whole pile of papers you need to sign before you can begin work with Richter's division."

"Great," Miller said dryly, "I have to sign my life away, huh?"

"Not to worry," Lewis said with a smile he could not possibly feel, "We do our best to keep you alive."

"Small comfort," Miller grumbled, not liking the sound of it, "Ok, let's do it."

Jack certainly was not kidding about the amount of paperwork required to start the process. He dragged out a binder that had at least 100 pages in it, more than half of which required Miller's signature. There were waivers, insurance forms, new tax structures and new ways of holding pay until the undercover assignment ended. Jack led Mike to an empty conference room to give him time and space to wade through it all with instructions to just come on into his office when finished.

In that binder along with the financial stuff were at least two-dozen secrecy agreements. Miller knew then that he was in for a strange ride just for that reason. In the past other participants in the program had burned them by either defecting to the enemy or going to the press. The crazy thing about it was that he was still looking forward to the challenge of undercover work, despite the warnings. It almost sounded like fun.

Miller finished with the mound of paperwork and put it back in the binder. Looking at the clock on the wall, he winced a little when he realized that he had spent nearly three hours with that pile of paper. He then walked into Jack's office and interrupted a meeting with a young female officer. Jack asked the patrolwoman to wait outside for a few minutes so he could finish with Miller. She nodded and went out to the waiting room.

"Brain turned into tapioca yet, Mike?" Jack asked with a grin.

"Just about," Miller said with a shrug as he dropped the binder on his desk with a loud bang, "What's next?"

"The last bit of paperwork," he said and then saw the look on Miller's face, "Don't sweat it, I'll fill it out. I just need information and a signature from you."

"Ok," Miller said, his face showing a look of relief, "What is it?"

"The touchiest piece," Jack said with a slight grimace, "It's the death benefits. I stopped putting it in the binder because I had too many people decide against joining Tom's unit when they read it."

"I wonder why," Miller chuckled, "Lay it out then."

"I won't kid you, Mike," he said seriously, "Undercover work is dangerous, especially the type of it that you're going to be doing. As a result, the top brass have put together a very generous death benefit package. I have already filled out the particulars of the paperwork, but I need to know who your beneficiary will be."

"How much are we talking here?" Miller asked him out of sheer curiosity.

"You really want to know?" Lewis asked.

"Sure," Miller said with a mischievous grin materializing on his face, "It's always nice to know what your corpse is worth."

"$250,000," Jack said while showing disapproval of Miller's tone, "Initial payment within three weeks of death. Your survivors get 75% of your salary paid as a death benefit for six years after death."

"What is my new salary?" Miller asked him, though money wasn't the prime factor in him taking this job.

"$77,500," Jack Lewis replied, "Probably about double what you make now. And when you are undercover, you live off your various enterprises and us completely. Your salary will go into a special holding account until you are out of the life, just as you should have read in the paperwork."

"I take it this is a deep cover assignment?" Miller asked, still not knowing exactly what he was doing there.

"That's up to Tom Richter," he said, "This unit does both. Anyway, the risks are there on both types. Who would you like the benefit to go to? Your wife?"

"Hell no," Mike shuddered, "I don't want that bitch to get a cent."

"Divorced?" Lewis asked, noting the quick tone.

"Yes," Miller nodded, "Is there any way I can have it go to Bobby without his mother being able to touch any of it?"

"Your son?" Jack asked.

"Sort of," Mike nodded, "Not legally anymore. Not biologically either, but I would still rather it to go to him. Nobody else left that I really care about."

"We can set it up as a trust for him," Jack said after a moment of thought, "With the proviso that Julie can't touch a penny of it ever."

"Do that," Miller said with a smile, "As long as she gets none of it I don't care what happens to it after that."

"If Bobby either can't or won't take it I'll set it up to revert to the Patrolman's Benevolent Association," Jack said with a grin, "That way she can't touch a dime in any event."

"That's fine," Mike said with approval, "Where do I sign?"

"I need to set up the paperwork," Jack said, "Go up and talk to Tom about what you'll be doing next. You can stop by to sign it on the way out."

"Sounds good," he nodded, "Now where do I go?"

"Floor 13," Jack said, "Go talk to George and tell him you're one of Tom Richter's boys. He'll see that you get to the right place."

Miller nodded and stood up to walk out. He was just about to go out the door when a thought struck him. This building had no floor 13. It was a well-publicized fact. Miller stopped, did a quick double take and looked back at Jack who could not help smiling.

"It wouldn't do to let the public know where our undercover operations center is would it?" Jack chuckled, "George will get you there, don't worry."

Mike Miller was puzzled by the need for secrecy, but he shrugged and walked back out to the elevator. He made an effort not to think about what he was getting into. When the elevator had made it to the floor, he was on he got on and stood next to George the Elevator Man. There were two other people in the elevator were going down to the main floor.

George made eye contact with Miller and put his finger to his lips to keep him silent. Miller did so and stood there while he brought the remaining passengers to the ground floor. Luckily for Miller there was nobody waiting on the ground floor and George quickly closed the doors and started them up.

"Mike Miller, right?" he said and held out his hand, "I hear you're joining Tom Richter's team."

"Elevator Man, huh?" Mike said as he looked the man over, "I was wondering about that."

"Nobody ever looks twice at me," he said with a chuckle as he opened a panel and pressed the hidden button that signaled up to the thirteenth floor, "I've headed off more incidents from here than any of the guards in this building."

"Ex-special forces, right?" Miller noted when he saw the professional look in George's eyes, "It shows when you talk normally instead of like the slow elevator man."

"Two tours in 'Nam," he admitted, smiling and showing a perfect set of white teeth, "You're sharp Miller. I think Tommy recruited well again."

Nothing else was said until the elevator stopped, and the doors opened on the thirteenth floor. George smiled as Miller looked into his new professional home. Disappointingly it looked just like the other sterile office spaces in the building. What he did not realize at the time was that he wouldn't see this place again for another seven months.

"Not what you expect is it?" George said with a chuckle, "Nothing ever is in this business. You'll do well to remember that, Miller. You'll remain alive longer."

"Thanks, I think" he replied.

"Good luck," George told him, "Tom Richter's office is on the other side of the room. He'll be expecting you."

Miller nodded and walked towards the office apprehensively. He knew that this was a fairly insane and rather suicidal thing to do. But, overall, he was still looking forward to it. Mike Miller had no other life to go back to as he had lost it all to his ex-wife and the ineptitude of his PBA attorney.

Thomas Richter was sitting in his office talking on the phone looking just as rumpled as he had been the last time Miller seen him. He saw Miller approaching the office and waved him inside to a chair. Mike saw little that he could do but sat down and wait for Richter to get off the phone.

"So Jack's mountain of paperwork didn't scare you off, huh?" Richter said, as he looked Miller up and down, "Good. I knew you wouldn't lose your nerve. You even dressed for success, I see."

"Sounds like you have a job in mind for me," Mike replied, not feeling like making small talk, "Probably had one when you recruited me."

"That I did, my boy," Richter said with a big grin, "A job you were born for, Miller."

Richter tossed a folder onto the desk so that it slid into Miller's lap. Mike cocked his head in wonder and picked it up. Miller knew within seconds why he had been chosen for this assignment. The name on the folder said it all. Howard Bronson was the subject of the folder. Miller flinched as he opened the folder and looked at the photo of a man he knew all too well.

"You son of a bitch," Miller said softly as the memories flooded back.

Howard Bronson used to be a police officer before he was tossed off the force during a corruption scandal in 1985. He had been a senior detective at the time he was tossed and no fewer than twenty convictions were reversed after he had left the force. He had also made a memorable entrance into Mike Miller's life before he disappeared off the public radar.

After his public disgrace Bronson had started working for the family that had been paying him off. By 1992 Bronson was working directly for crime boss Charlie Bullock. One day late that year Mike Miller and his partner Eddie were patrolling when they answered a disturbance call. It turned out that Bronson and company were beating down someone who had crossed one of Bullock's business associates; namely, Big Jack Kirby.

Miller's partner in those days was Eddie Carmichael, a good kid who had grown up in the same neighborhood as he, though was a couple years younger. He saw that the man leading the beating was good old Howard, someone whose head the police brass had wanted on a stick for years. Miller himself was about to call for backup when Eddie did his usual stupid thing and ran right in to break it up. The unfortunate rookie had delusions of grandeur and thoughts of the glory that arresting Howard Bronson would bring.

Miller was not the most experienced cop on the beat, only being in the business for about two years at that point, but he did what he was supposed to do and called in for backup, doing it quickly so that he could follow his partner and save his sorry rear. As soon as he could he drew his revolver and followed into the alley.

It really did not make a difference. Just before he got there he heard three quick shots. Miller sped up and rounded the corner just in time to see Howard's outstretched gun arm. Bronson saw Miller move in the dark and fired twice more, though he was not sure whom he was firing at. The shots were good enough; however, as Miller took one in the right leg. Miller was lucky as Bronson decided that he'd rather take off instead of shoot another cop that night.

Instead of chasing him, Miller went over to his partner who was dying on the ground. His curly black hair had taken a reddish tint from the blood pooling up under his head. Carmichael looked at his partner and tried to talk, but the bullets from Bronson's gun had destroyed his lungs. Miller called in a 10-33 code, followed by a request for an ambulance. It was too late, all Miller could do was sit there in the dark alley holding his dying partner's head until the ambulance arrived and pronounced Eddie Carmichael dead.

Warrants went out for Bronson immediately, but it turned out to be a moot point. Supposedly Howard ran to the people he worked for, and they decided that he was not worth keeping around after killing a cop. His charred remains were supposedly found two days after Eddie's funeral and were identified through dental records. At least, that was what the official story was, back in 1992

"I thought Howard Bronson died years ago," Miller said, after he finished remembering the mess, "They found what was left of him in a warehouse fire."

"Someone switched his dental records," Richter said as he tossed a new stack of photographs on the table, "One of our people took these photos last year. The man on the left is Charlie Bullock, and the woman is Elise Steele, sometimes referred to as the shadow girl."

"Why the shadow girl?" Miller asked after he looked at the photograph, "Other than the dark hair. I'd think that with a height and physique like that she'd be hard to miss."

"You'd think so," Richter grunted, "But that's one of three photos we have of her. We call her the shadow girl because nobody knows exactly what she does. We think she works for Freddie Pena, but we're not quite sure."

Miller nodded and looked at the photographs that he had put down. It was Howard Bronson without a doubt. He could remember the look in Bronson's eyes when he finished shooting Carmichael. He had aged a few years, and he did not have nearly as much hair, but it was the same person. Miller tried to hold back his rage as he looked at Richter.

"You knew he was alive and didn't bother to pass the information on?" Miller asked incredulously, "That son of a bitch killed a cop."

"And several others as well," Richter said, "The thing is, we need information. We don't know whether he works for Bullock directly or not. We know he used to work for the organized crime elements in the area, but damned if we know what he's doing. Hell, we don't even know what identity he's using now. We also thought he was dead until we saw that picture."

"Are you watching him?" Miller asked, hoping to get another shot at Bronson after all these years.

"He's a slippery one," Richter said with a growl, "We lost track of him after that fiasco on Franklin Drive. We think he was one of the shooters, but damned if we know what connection he had, except it was one of Charlie Bullock's operations we were trying to get into."

Miller nodded. It was starting to make sense. They had not just recruited him for his abilities and for the fact that he was newly without family. They wanted him because they knew he had a real animus towards Howard Bronson and would do anything to get him, or at least the people who controlled him.

Mike Miller was a little annoyed at the way that Richter was playing this situation. He thought that Richter should have brought Bronson in but knew that they were playing for bigger game. As far as they had known, Bronson was nothing but high-powered muscle, Charlie Bullock was the one that was calling the shots.

"So what do you want me to do?" Miller asked, "Go under and try to find Bronson?"

"Would Bronson be able to identify you?" Richter asked him, "Did he see you that night?"

"If he had, I'd probably be dead now," Miller admitted, "I was a horrid shot at the time."

"You were?" Richter said and then went groping for his file, "It says here that you're an expert with most types of handguns."

"That came as a direct result of Eddie's death," Miller said with obvious regret, "I missed Bronson so badly that I decided that I needed to work on my weapons skills. It became a hobby for me, and I've gotten a lot better since then."

"Haven't missed since, huh?" Richter said with a wry grin.

"Not when it counts," Miller agreed coldly, "Why do you want to know if he can identify me?"

"It's the organization he works for that we want you to get into," he said calmly, "This will be a long term operation. Take as long as you need and get as much information as you can until your safety is jeopardized."

"Basically run with it until it's about to fall apart," Miller, ever direct in his appraisal, summarized, "Are we going for total takedown?"

"Absolutely," Richter said with a smile, "Take as many of those bastards down as we can."

"How far am I supposed to go into character?" Miller asked him, "I can't stay lily-white and still be accepted by them."

"You do what you have to do," Richter said, "Part of the job is full immunity for crimes committed. Just try not to kill anyone if you can help it. The small stuff is just part of your cover, but if you kill anyone they'll tear you apart on the stand unless it's self defense."

"How many people have you lost to the life?" Miller asked, "I'd be willing to bet that this life can be seductive."

"A few," Richter admitted, "But they screwed themselves in the bargain. All we had to do was leak their duplicity, and the syndicate took care of it themselves."

"Ouch," Miller chuckled, "So when do I begin?"

"Tomorrow night," Richter told him, "We will be running a sting on some of Charlie Bullock's boys. They seem to make friends in the lockup. We'll let you choose which one to latch on to and how you want to make your approach."

"Sounds good to me," Miller agreed with an appreciative shrug, "What do I do in the meantime? Is there any special training for this?"

"You have to go through a psych evaluation," Richter told him, "Its policy. We want to make sure you're up to the strain of living a lie. We gave up on training you about it though. We've found the more training we give the quicker the cover gets blown."

Miller nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He had a special hatred in his heart for psychological tests, but he had realized over the years that they were unavoidable. He had seen the results of what happens to officers who go over the edge with nobody noticing. People usually had a nasty habit of ending up dead when police officers lost control.

"Cindy Jones will handle the psych evaluation," Richter said, "She's on staff here full time. If you need to talk to her and can get away without blowing your cover she is here for you. Don't be afraid to use her."

Miller merely shrugged in reply as Richter gave him directions to her office. He completed the evaluation, though it really didn't make a difference to him. Going undercover in this form is, by any reasonable definition, a completely insane thing to do.

Chapter Three – May, 5, 2000 – Afternoon

They let Miller go for the day to catch up on his sleep before he went under. He knew what organization he would be infiltrating, but he still had not been informed on exactly how they planned to get him in. Miller returned to the office the next afternoon and was promptly directed to a conference room.

Thomas Richter and three other people he had yet to meet were sitting in there talking randomly. Mike scratched the itchy beard growth on his chin and pulled up a chair. The talking stopped and everyone took a good look at the man that they would be putting into hell.

"Aah," a young blond man said, "Looks like you made it through Cindy's mental meat grinder. You ready for action Miller?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he shrugged, "How are we going to get me in?"

"First," Thomas Richter said, "Let me introduce the support team to you."

Miller nodded and looked around at the people sitting around the conference table. Not an impressive crew from outward appearances, but if they were working for Richter they probably were among the best. He had a good reputation for supporting his people, despite the fiasco on Franklin Drive last year. Two men and a woman were sitting there returning the looks. Miller knew damn well that his life was probably going to depend on these three doing their jobs correctly.

"The blond guy is Eric Craig," Richter said indicating the one who spoke first, "He is an expert in communications. If you need to be bugged for any reason or if you are going to plant bugs he's the person you'll be dealing with. He will also monitor and disseminate any information coming in electronically."

"Pleased to meet you," Miller said with a nod, unsure of how to deal with a police officer so young.

"Likewise," he said with a nod of his head.

"Albert Martinez will be your backup," Richter said about the mid-sized Hispanic man leaning back on two legs of his chair, "You wouldn't know it to look at him here, but he's one of the best shadows we have. He's very good at disappearing in a crowd."

"I took a short turn doing what you're about to," Martinez put in with a voice that contained very little accent at all, "It didn't go so well. The cavalry had to come in and keep them from killing my sorry ass. Rest assured though, there ain't no one better at doing a discreet tail than I am."

"Am I going to be tailed all the time?" Miller asked worriedly; the last thing he needed was a 24-hour watchdog to trip him up.

"Hell no," the woman put in for the first time, "We don't want you to be shot. You'll be operating pretty much independently. We'll keep track of you from farther back."

"And the last member of this team is Tracy here," Richter managed to get out before she took over.

"I'm the one who runs interference for you," Tracy said, interrupting Richter and speaking quickly, "If you need something to enhance your street credibility, such as a false arrest record or information on something or other, I'm the person you call."

Miller looked her over for a bit. Tracy was probably still in her late twenties, but she had the pushy personality of someone a decade older. Her reddish blonde hair hung back in a hasty ponytail, and her gray eyes looked him up and down just as intently as he did her. Miller's first impression was that she was as professional as could be and most likely cold as ice. He did manage to notice that she could also be rather pretty if she put time in it.

"They may not look like much," Richter said, "But these people will keep you alive. Trust them because they are all that's coming between you and the street."

"Let's hope it's enough," Mike said dryly.

"Has the sting rolled yet?" Richter asked.

"They booked the first batch an hour ago," Eric Craig said, "Perfect timing. They'll be in the hooch until Monday morning at the earliest. Plenty of time for us to plant Miller here with them."

"Do you have an identity worked up for me?" Mike asked Eric "Or do we have to create one before I go in?"

"I've been working on this for about four months, though I only began filling the holes in the files in the week since Tom fed me your jacket," Craig said and pulled a folder out of his case and handed it to Miller, "Raymond Nester is your name. To cover the institutional training that exudes out of you we put in a military background."

"Not too bad," Miller said as he began flipping through the folder, "I spent about a year in the army before I was injured anyway."

"I know," Eric said with a grin and passed him the folder, "Anyway, you haven't turned out so well after the military. You were given a dishonorable discharge for actions during the Kosovo conflict last year. You just now got out of the stockade and were released from military service."

"Giving me ex-con status without having to list me as having been in a prison that I'd be known from," Mike said approvingly as he glanced through the packet, "I like it already. No family to speak of, no real past, no real future. Sounds like a winner."

"Ray Nester is pure scum," Tracy said, a twinge of distaste dripping off her lips, "He should be a big hit in the circuit, especially if you make nice-nice with someone in lockup."

"Who are you putting me with?" Miller asked them, "I want to know as much about them as possible beforehand."

"That part is up to you, Mike," Richter told him, "You're the one who has to become Raymond Nester. You choose which one of the people picked up will best suit your character."

"Got the jackets on them?" he asked as he was eager to get to work.

Craig slid four more folders onto the table. They were prepared beyond belief. Miller had not guessed why they had done it all beforehand There was always a chance that the operation could fall apart. Richter did not want Miller to be able to reveal anything damaging if he were found out and tortured for the information. It was a sad thing to prepare for, but they had lost two undercover operatives to a similar situation about ten years before.

The meeting broke up quickly and Miller started going through the jackets. The four they had chosen as candidates were very different individuals. Two were pimps, one was a drug dealer and the last one was the underboss they worked for. It was not a hard choice for Miller, as he had a lifelong loathing for drug dealers since his brother's overdose. He removed the dealer out of the pile out of hand because if he had seen someone deal drugs to a child he figured that the dealer would die outright.

The two pimps would probably have been doable, but for the fact that they were really too damn low on the totem pole to be any use. It would have taken too long to work through the ranks and get near the top. That left their boss, of sorts, a gregarious ape of a man by the name of Harrison Luponi, better known on the street as Crazy Harry Lupo.

Miller himself had heard of Lupo in the past, but never had the opportunity to meet him. Lupo had a reputation of being a little crazy and very ruthless. He was also known as an up and comer in the outfit. He had managed to skirt into the position of being Big John Kirby's successor by sheer luck and guile.

What Miller did not know and could only guess at was that the pile was rigged. Richter had intended for him to choose Harry Lupo all along, he just wanted to make sure that Miller was as smart as he had hoped. There was no choice, and every one of them knew it. Miller figured it out as well, as he was going to go for Harry Lupo. He just had to come up with the right method of doing so.

Miller walked out of the conference room and looked for the others. Strangely, there were no names on any of the office doors, which made locating people a real pain in the rear. He growled for a minute and then caught sight of an open door with Al Martinez sitting inside talking on the phone.

He went over to the door and knocked quickly, still a little nervous around new people. Martinez looked up and waved him inside. Miller sat down in the spare chair and waited for him to finish before saying anything else. Martinez finished up quickly and then turned back to the new undercover man.

"You ready to rumble?" Martinez asked Miller "Who are you choosing?"

"Lupo," Miller said, "The others are too far down on the totem pole."

"You shoot big, don't you," Al whistled, "Looks like I'm going to lose my twenty. I thought you would go for the drug dealer myself. Tom called it right again."

"You bet on this stuff?" Mike asked incredulously.

"Sure," Martinez said with a chuckle, "Though I don't know why I bother. I've yet to beat Tom Richter on this. He's a better judge of people I guess. That's what makes him so good at this."

"How'd he get into this?" Miller asked, curious about the man who had dragged him into this mess.

"He did four years of deep cover for the feds," Martinez replied, "Became an underboss for the Gambino family of all things. Brought down a total of thirty of the scumbags. He was a big part of what caused the power vacuum that brought John Gotti to power."

"He decided that he hadn't had enough after that?" Miller asked him, "He must be dedicated."

"Dedicated is one word," Martinez shrugged, "Fanatical is more like it. Tom lives and breathes this. When the feds retired him he came to the city and pitched a similar program. The mayor at the time was fed up with the near impunity the crime families were enjoying. He gave Tom the mandate to set this program up. That was fifteen years or so ago."

"I see," Miller said with a thoughtful nod, "How many have you lost since this has been started?"

"Don't think about that," Martinez suggested, "Think of how many lives we've saved by putting these bastards away."

"Sometimes I think I'm crazy for doing this," Miller said, still unsure about how to take everything.

"You are," Martinez said with a wily grin, "But look at it like this. You get to live the life of the men you are sworn to put away for a while. If you make it out and decide to go back to being a regular cop, you'll be a better one for it."

They sat there for another minute or so as that thought slipped in. It was still a rather surreal experience for Miller at this point. Martinez sipped on his coffee while Mike looked around at his office. Martinez wasn't fooling anyone, though. He was almost as worried about what would happen as Miller himself was.

"Another thing," Martinez said, "Has anyone ever taught you how to fake the ingestion of drugs?"

"No," Mike said, surprised at the question, "Is this something that I'll need to know?"

"Possibly," he said, "It's what blew my cover when I was in your shoes."

"How hard is it?" Mike asked him, "I've never worked for narcotics, so I never had occasion to learn."

"Fairly easy actually," he said, "Now that I know how."

Miller spent the next hour or so learning the basics of how to fake a snort of cocaine and how to take in smoke from a crack pipe without actually letting it go to his lungs. Using cigarettes and baking soda Martinez drilled Miller and they practiced until he could do it correctly and look as if he'd done it before. It seems to be a simple thing, but Al Martinez was right; the small things could be the difference between life and death.

"How do you plan to approach Lupo?" Martinez asked soon after.

"I don't," Miller said with a shrug, an inkling of a plan eking through his mind, "I plan on creating a situation where he'll have to come to me."

"How's that?" Martinez asked him, wondering what was going through his head.

"It depends on who else is in lockup," Miller said, the plan materializing as he said it, "If possible I want a third person, the most aggressive criminal we can find, to be put in with Lupo and myself."

"And you think that if you give Lupo a hand he'll warm to you," Martinez said with a smile, "Tom was right. You're going to be good at this. That's probably the only way to get in with Lupo without him becoming suspicious."

"You two plotting without me?" Tracy asked as she poked her head into the room.

"Come on in, Tracy," Al said with a grin, "Pull up a chair."

"Can you get me a list of who's in lockup for the night?" Miller asked her, figuring that he'd see just how much she could do.

"Names, Jackets and their shoe sizes if you need," she said and then thought better of it, "Why?"

"More to the point," Miller asked cautiously, "Can you move whoever I need?"

"Do you want Lupo alone?" she asked incredulously, "That would tip him off most likely."

"Slowly remove the other prisoners from the cell over the next few hours," Miller told her, his confidence growing, "Basically I want Lupo in there alone when you put me inside."

"I still think it will be suspicious," Tracy said, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Not really," Mike said with a grin, "But it will work better this way. I want you to do it slowly and remove the last two or three while I'm being processed."

"You don't go through processing..." Tracy said.

"Like hell, I don't," he said, horrified at the thought, "I'm going to go down to a seedy joint and raise hell. I want to be brought in just like a drunk and disorderly and damn it I want there to be evidence. There is to be no sign of a put up job."

"You think they'll check on you?" Al said and then answered his own question, "That's probably true. It wouldn't be too hard to get someone to tell you whether a prisoner was totally processed."

"But we lose control if he does that," Tracy protested, "It's too dangerous."

"And I could lose my life if I don't do that," Miller growled at her.

Mike thought at the time that Tracy Howard would become a royal pain in the ass. Obviously, she was a control freak, though she did seem very concerned about his well-being, which gave him confidence in her. Talking to her at the time might have grated like sandpaper to him, but that personality type would ensure that anything he needed to stay alive would get done in time.

"Point taken," she said grudgingly, "But if we leave you two alone all night he'll get suspicious."

"Not to worry, Tracy. After about two hours," Mike said with a grin, "You'll move someone into the cell. It will be the biggest bull queer of a sexual predator that you can find. If I remember the file Harry is definitely smaller than I am, correct?"

"Yes, he is," Tracy said and then put together what he was up to, "Wait a minute, Miller. You plan on having Lupo assaulted? Are you mad?"

"I plan on preventing his assault," Miller said with what could only be described as a sadistic grin, "In a situation he wouldn't suspect us of planting on him."

"That could be dangerous," Tracy warned him, "The guy could turn on you."

"This whole thing is dangerous," Mike chuckled, "Besides, Al will be walking the beat just out of sight to put a stop to it if it gets out of hand."

"Ok," she said, conceding defeat, "It's your funeral. I'll get a list together. You need to go talk to Eric to get Raymond Nester fully fleshed out."

"Where can I find him?" Miller asked, "This is still my first day. I don't know the place yet, and nothing here is marked."

"Turn right out of the door and it's the third door down on the right," Al said.

"We'll get the list compiled for you in the meantime," Tracy said and turned back to Martinez as Miller left the room.

Mike walked down to Eric's office and stepped into a different world. It was nothing like the austere nothingness of Martinez's office. Eric Craig obviously spent a lot of time working on it and probably spent a large chunk of time in his office. It was decorated with a whole bunch of rock posters, mostly from late 80's hair bands like Guns and Roses, Cinderella and Motley Crue. There was even a Winger poster in the mess, a band that Miller himself had not heard in years.

Eric was crashing on a small Government Issue couch on the side of his office. He had the earphones on and Miller heard the sounds of an 80's hair band wafting out. Miller had grown up during the 80's and tried to forget most of those bands existed, but Eric still worshipped the excess that most of those bands had stood for.

Mike chuckled and pulled out a hardback chair and turned it backwards. He sat down and waited a second until Eric realized someone was in the room with him. When Eric looked up and saw Miller sitting there he jumped up as if someone had hit him with a brick.

"Sorry Mike," he said sheepishly, "Just getting a little relaxation time before you go under tonight."

"Not a problem," Miller said with a laugh, "I see you are big into the old hair bands."

"Yeah," he said wistfully, "Wish I'd have been old enough to see them in their heyday."

"How old are you?" Mike asked him, almost afraid of the answer.

"23," he said with a touch of sadness, "Most of the good ones were either reformed, dead, or dried out by the time I got a chance to see any of them."

"Trust me kid," Mike said while trying to fight back the laughter, "You didn't miss much. Most of them were too drunk to give a good show most of the time."

"Did you see any of them?" Eric asked Miller ,hopefully.

Mike dutifully spent the next twenty minutes relating the experience of having gone and seen Cinderella and Motley Crue a couple times with friends in the late 80's. He was enraptured by the accounts and Miller could easily tell that he had made a good friend by the time he finished. That is always a good thing when your life depends on somebody else.

They spent the next two hours going over the history of Raymond Nester. Mike Miller had to learn and remember everything by rote and make sure that he could hold onto the information and keep it from twisting in his mind, a difficult thing to do, especially when you have to live the lie. For someone as young as he was, Eric was very good at this part of the deal.

They drilled it repeatedly until it became second nature to Miller. They went over everything from the routine in Leavenworth to the rape that Ray Nester supposedly committed in Kosovo. Miller would go out with five hundred bucks in cash, obtained by unspecified illegal means. The people Miller would be with certainly were not going to be asking questions about previous capers.

When the sun came down it was running towards the time for Mike Miller to go out on the streets and get himself arrested. He certainly was not ready for it, but all in all that was a good thing. If he had ever been truly ready for this, it was unlikely that Thomas Richter would have let Miller go out at all.

Tom Richter, Eric Craig, Tracy Howard, Al Martinez and Mike Miller met in the conference room one last time before he went under. Miller was decked out in military surplus by then, issued by Tracy Howard a half an hour earlier. It was the same sort of clothing that they released you with when you leave a military prison.

"Ok," Thomas Richter said as he looked Miller up and down, "Did you hand over all of your identification?"

"It's in my desk," Al said before Miller could respond, "He has a wallet with a dated military ID and a little bit of well-used cash, enough to party with tonight and maybe enough to pay his fine on Monday if he's lucky. He doesn't have to worry about finding a place to stay since he plans on getting arrested."

"Good," Richter said, "Is everything ready for his arrest?"

"Yes sir," Tracy said dutifully, this being her department, "Eric has gotten a list ready for Mike to make a choice from. Everyone else either has been removed or will slowly be removed in the next few hours. He will have Harry Lupo to himself for a bit."

"Let me see the list you compiled," Miller asked her.

She handed it to him and he started to glance over it. Richter continued to make sure that all the basics were being taken care of. Eric made a final check of the computerized record catch programs that would pull any official inquiry to Ray Nester into him.

"Has everything been taken care of in the computers?" Richter asked Eric as he saw Eric poking around in the computer.

"Everything having to do with Raymond Nester has been electronically redirected to me," he said, "If a request comes in from anywhere I can take it, send back the appropriate information, and log where the request comes from. The side benefit of this will be the tracking of anyone who is leaking to criminal elements."

"Just make sure that all you do is track them until I come out from under," Miller said unnecessarily, "Any arrests like that will put me at risk unnecessarily."

"Roger that one," Eric agreed, "I just log what happens. When one of these operations ends we usually lay about two months worth of investigation on Internal Affairs and the District Attorney."

"Mike," Al asked, knowing whose butt was on the line, "Do you want me to cover you in the bar or in the jail?"

"Can you become a guard for the night?" Miller asked, "I can't afford to have you at the bar. I need to raise hell on my own there and you might not be able to hold yourself from joining in."

"I'll keep an eye on Lupo and be there to receive you when you come in," Al confirmed, "Tracy will have to drop you downtown."

"I'll take a cab," Miller said, overruling that suggestion, "She can drop me down in Ridley Heights somewhere that nobody will notice. I'll handle it from there. No need to leave any more tracks than I have to."

"I need to know which club you plan to break up," Tracy said, "I have to have two of our people in the area in a marked car to pick you up."

"Can't let the regulars do it?" Miller asked incredulously; he wanted this to look absolutely real.

"No way," she said with a vigorous nod of her head, "I want you able to walk when this is over, Mike. Too much risk in letting someone uninformed take you in. This way I can know what's going on and be there to subtly push the paperwork in the right direction."

"Just so long as nobody knows what is going on," he cautioned, "I want this to look as real as possible. I'm treating everyone but you four with suspicion from here on out. I figure the paranoia may keep me alive."

"Don't worry," she said with a wry grin, "This actually isn't too far out of the norm. They will just think we want Lupo to stew for a while. They think I'm an ADA down there, so I carry weight in the jail. As for the rest of it, as far as the world knows you will be the subject of a perfectly legitimate arrest."

Miller nodded at her, but his mind wasn't there at all. It was time to do the nasty. He looked at them and grinned. Miller and Tracy Howard then left the room and departed for his fateful trip into the abyss.

"Tom," Al said after Miller was gone, "You have any second thoughts about this one?"

"After what happened to Price last time," Richter said, the concern beginning to show, "Of course I am. We have to keep trying though. Word on the street is that Freddie Pena handled Price himself after he blew it."

"I'll settle for finding out just who the hell Pena is," Martinez said, "If Miller can stay in long enough to figure that out, it'll be worth it."

"Don't think that far ahead," Eric noted, "He isn't even on the street yet."

"I'll bet 20 that he pulls it off," Richter grinned, "Anyone want to take that one?"

Neither Eric Craig nor Al Martinez was willing to take him up on it. It was a rare moment when Tom Richter was willing to bet on something so early in the game. When he was, it was a sure bet that they would lose. Besides, neither one wanted to bet against Miller. They wanted a crack at the Bullock organization as bad as Richter did.

Chapter Four – May 5th to 6th, 2000

After spending an hour wandering around Ridley Heights on foot Miller hailed a cab. He told the Cabbie to bring him downtown to the Lucky Lion bar over on 32nd and High street. It was a seedy dive of a place, too low class for most of the organized thugs to use. For that reason it tended to be where wannabe thugs hung out. Miller himself had used the place on occasion to meet snitches. He hoped that nobody remembered him from previous appearances.

Mike walked in and took a corner seat on the bar, ordering a vodka rocks to start with. His plan was to stick with vodka and avoid beer entirely. He was blessed with a constitution that could hold massive amounts of vodka, though beer in most quantities made him badly ill.

When the first one came; he downed it quickly. He grimaced for a second, as it had been a while since he had last had a drink. When it had settled he joked a little bit with the other patrons and downed four more in quick succession. He really did not have to fake being more than a little on the tipsy side. Even with the divorce he had never been an excessive drinker. He was hoping that he would not just plain pass out before he had a chance to make trouble.

At around ten or so, after he had been there for nearly an hour, two buffoons came in talking big and made genuine pests of themselves. Miller did not recognize them, but he knew that they would probably do the trick. He was still ordering drinks, but putting them down a lot slower because he'd reached a nice equilibrium between drunk and sober. He was plenty toasted, but still had enough of his wits about him.

They were a real Mutt and Jeff team, one about the size of a linebacker and the other a little pipsqueak of a guy. As usual, the pipsqueak had the biggest mouth of the two. The big one, a mug by the name of Shawn Costello, glared at Miller as he walked in. His little friend, Richard Bundy, made a few cracks but ignored Miller for the most part.

Bundy and Costello went to the bar and continued to make asses of themselves. Miller smiled to himself, knowing for sure that he would be able to start a fight with these two clowns if he tried. He took a minute to gather up his courage and moved closer.

Miller decided on his approach and went to the seat next to them, accidentally bumping into Bundy's arm. He cursed at Miller incessantly afterward. Mike just grinned and flipped him the bird. This, of course, was the wrong thing to do if you were not looking for a fight.

"You son of a bitch!" Bundy yelled, "I'm going to pound you!"

Mike took the first shot, figuring it would look all the better when the cops showed up. He let off a powerful right hook to Bundy's jaw that knocked the small man almost up on top of the bar. Costello, however, did not take kindly to this assault on his friend. The monster of a man stood up and got ready to try to pummel Miller.

Luck was on his side when the little shit got up and pushed his friend back. Bundy badly wanted another shot at Miller himself. He stood up and took a couple of clumsy swings at Miller, missing both as Miller dodged. Mike was about to swing back when he felt someone come up from behind and they started pulling him away. The single bouncer then tried to try to stop the fight.

Miller glared at the Bouncer. He wasn't going to have any of that and stepped on his foot, executing a perfect foot, balls and throat combination. The bouncer went down gurgling in pain and Miller's attention went back to Mutt and Jeff who were more than ready to continue the battle.

"You're going to be hating life punk," Costello said as Bundy backed away a little, rubbing his jaw.

Mike's head was clearing quickly as the adrenaline hit his system. He hadn't been in a bar fight in over a decade, but the principles of the style were quickly returning to him. He took a few quick blows in the head and chest to make it look good and then rammed his knee into the Costello's groin.

"You're dead now motherfucker!" Bundy yelled and broke a beer bottle on the edge of the bar to use as a stabbing weapon.

Miller, hesitating for only a second, was about to do the same when he heard the words that he had been waiting for.

"Freeze!" a uniformed officer yelled, "Drop the bottle scumbag."

The young officer who could not have been but a year or two out of the academy, was aiming his service revolver right at the three of them. It was a tense moment before the little guy dropped his bottle and raised his hands. Miller dropped his bottle without hesitation and waited for the officer to go to the next step.

"Raise your hands, asshole!" The officer yelled, "I'm not going to ask again."

Mike growled, as someone in that situation would do but complied with the request. He stood there with his hands in the air as the second officer came around and pushed him against the table. Miller was cuffed first, being the furthest away from the one with the drawn gun.

Mike did a passable imitation of what he had seen suspects do over the years after an arrest. A little grunting, a little shuffling, a little growling, it was all rather humorous to him. He had seen this happen from the other end so many times that he had never thought about what it was like. Miller had never been arrested before, but suspected that it would not be the last time for him.

Miller was dragged in through central booking and booked for both assault and drunk and disorderly. Tracy was there keeping a watch over the process, but she did not try to interfere anymore than she had to. Eric Craig and Tom Richter had evidently decided to sit this one out because Miller didn't see them anywhere.

Miller barely remembered going through the motions. Fingerprinting, picture taking and everything else was just a blur for him. The adrenalin had worn off, and the aftereffects of too much alcohol had set in. The next thing he truly remembered was being led from the photo area. Al Martinez had him by the arm and was leading down the hall.

"Having fun yet?" Martinez asked him as they walked.

"Fuck you," Mike grumbled to keep from laughing.

"Good," he said in approval, "Don't let anything rattle you out of character. Lupo is alone, took the last gomer out ten minutes ago just as I heard you were brought in. When do you want me to let mongo in there?"

"Give me an hour alone with Lupo," Miller said, his senses coming back, "And stop talking to me before you blow my cover."

"Good luck," he said quietly as he roughly tossed Miller into the cell.

He quickly removed the cuffs and pushed Mike further into the cell. In the semi-drunken haze Miller was in he lost balance and went tumbling into the concrete cell. Al locked the door and walked away, probably going just out of sight to listen in on any conversation that occurred.

Miller picked himself up and sat down on the bunk across the cell from Lupo. Lupo was awake and looking around, mainly glancing at his new cellmate. He had served a two-year stint in the state prison for assault about ten years earlier. Paranoia is a way of life for a prisoner and skills like that are not forgotten once learned. Miller was a threat until he proved himself otherwise.

It was a whole lot of nonverbal communication at first. Two men locked in a cage who have no reason to trust each other will stalk around until they figure out if they actually want to speak or not. Lupo was actually in a good mood despite the fact that he was in lockup. Not surprising, really. He would be released as soon as he could be put in front of a judge. His mouthpiece would see to that.

"What are you looking at?" Miller grunted at Lupo and leaned against the concrete wall.

"Looking to see who they put in with me this time," Lupo said with a shrug.

"I got a little carried away at the bar," Mike said with a wry smile, "Cops showed up and now I'm cooling my heels here."

"It shows," he chuckled, "How bad is the other guy?"

"The little one is going to have a rotten headache tomorrow," Mike grinned, "The cops showed up before I could lay out the big one."

"Two on one," Lupo said, appreciative of the situation, "Not very sporting of them."

"Fuck em," Miller growled, "Not like I have much else to do in this town."

"New in town?" Lupo asked.

"Yeah," he replied, "Figured I'd head east after they let me out."

"Prison?" Lupo asked incredulously, "That's south of here isn't it?"

"It may be in this state," Miller shrugged, "It wasn't them who fucked me, it was the fucking politicians who decided that having a little fun was a friggen court marshal offense."

"Ah," he said knowingly, "Court Marshal, huh? Must have been in the military."

"Yeah," Miller said again, "The goddamn president was dipping his noodle in an intern while I was getting court marshaled for doing the same thing with a local girl in Kosovo."

"Should have stuck with professionals," Lupo observed, "Nobody would have known."

"Hell," Miller said with what he thought was an evil grin, "I thought she was a professional. Not like I speak the language there."

They talked for the next few minutes on the same vein, sort of a getting to know you thing. Miller was making points and the chemistry seemed to be there. The image that Miller was projecting appealed to Lupo. Miller personally found Lupo a disgusting individual, but the part of him he put out as Nester seemed to warm to Lupo fairly well.

Al Martinez who was bringing another prisoner to the cell, interrupted them a few minutes later. The new prisoner was not the one Miller had requested, however, but a teenager who looked a little scared and a lot doped up. Martinez showed no emotion whatever as he dropped the kid into the cell. Richter had been right; however, the man could disappear into a role.

The kid looked at both Miller and Lupo and was trying to decide where to go. The kid looked as if he could not have been in for anything serious, maybe unpaid parking tickets or something stupid like that. Miller was trying to figure out if he had accidentally brought in the wrong person for a sexual predator.

"Hey kid," Lupo said, "What did you do, steal an old lady's purse?"

"Or did you spit on the sidewalk?" Miller put in to keep on Lupo's side.

The kid ignored them and walked to the back of the cell and sat down on the floor. Lupo threw out a few more snide remarks at the kid and then gave up. Miller stood up and walked around a little, trying to stretch and keep his footing from the alcohol.

Miller kept waiting for them to bring the big guy in so that his plan could be put in action. Unfortunately, he never came. He kept Lupo in conversation for while longer, trying to keep on his good side, but was running out of things to say. He also knew that if he went too far he would blow the deal and make Lupo suspicious. He was walking a fine line, and he knew it.

Miller knew that he still had at least twelve more hours, probably more. He leaned back up in his bunk and let his head clear out for a bit. He kept his wits and stayed awake, feigning sleep for a bit. Lupo was ignoring the kid and doing the same. The kid curled up against the wall and just sat there, neither moving nor going to sleep.

Miller was relaxing and grousing at the fact that this was probably slipping through his fingers. He and Lupo were getting along well, but nothing traumatic had occurred to really cement things between them. Miller was thinking about this and letting his mind one-track. It took him almost a minute to realize that there was a commotion going on across the cell.

Miller still was slow in reacting and simply cocked open an eye to look to the other side of the cell. The blurry image just did not compute on the fuzzy computer of his mind. He was not sure, but he could have sworn that he saw the kid trying to strangle Harry Lupo. Mike opened the other eye and saw that the first eye was not lying to him.

He sat up quickly and saw that the kid really was trying his best to kill Harry. Miller got up and ran over to the kid and pulled him up off Harry. What he saw was the most heinous look he had ever seen in his life. The kid looked at Mike and let up off Harry for a minute.

Mike was just shocked as the kid stood up and started stalking him. Miller didn't know who the heck the kid was, but after the way he was trying to strangle Harry Lupo, a man who was supposedly no slouch in the violence department himself, Miller wasn't about to take any chances with him.

"Why don't you just cool it before we all get in more trouble," Miller growled.

The boy said nothing as he smiled and looked Miller over. It was easy to see that whatever he was on had made him truly psychotic. Miller kept his distance and dodged a couple quick feints. Mike tried to get a lick on him, but the kid was very agile, especially with the help of the drugs. He danced around a few times and tried to kick Miller's legs out from under him. Luckily Mike was swift enough to dodge that maneuver.

Harry was coughing but not able to get up and help yet. Mike was cursing the orders that the guards probably were given. Tracy Howard probably had them dancing on strings to keep them out of the way. Miller just hoped that he could hold out until someone realized something was wrong.

The kid then jumped in a way Miller could not anticipate. He was caught a little off guard by the attack and went backwards despite the fact that the kid could not have weighed but 120 pounds. It was a bold move, but Miller managed to make it backfire on him. Mike used his momentum to flip the kid backwards against the outside bars of the cell.

The insane teenager did not even scream as he clanged against the bars. He crumpled onto the floor in a heap, but did not stay there long. He was up and moving almost before Miller was able to right himself. The kid then saw that Harry was starting to get up and decided to let Miller stew for a minute and finish him off.

Harry was better able to fight him this time, but he was still weak from the earlier strangling. Mike went over to them and pulled the kid off and threw him as far as he could. The adrenalin rush Miller was under at the time was enough to throw him hard at the concrete wall. This time it had an effect on the psychotic son of a bitch.

The kid, through some unnatural force, managed to get up again, but it was slower this time. Miller had distinctly heard several bones break and was in shock that he could actually still stand. He did not wait for the kid to take the offensive again, though. Miller let into him full force. Now, he was not Ray Nester. He was not Mike Miller. He was not anyone. He was simply a man that was pissed off and wanted to survive.

Mike lay into him with some well-timed punches and even kicked him in the balls once. The kid was unable to defend himself at this point, and Miller was still pounding on him when Al Martinez opened the cell door and rushed in with four guards behind him. It took him and another guard to separate the exceedingly pissed off Miller from the insane kid. The other three had to fight to keep the kid down on the ground, despite the fact that he should have had several broken ribs and other assorted broken bones.

"Get that kid under restraint!" Martinez yelled, "I'll take this one to interrogation room one. Have the medics look at Lupo, he doesn't look so hot!"

"Neither do you," Lupo muttered, though he was still a little peaked.

Mike fought a little bit, his adrenalin was still raging, but Martinez and the other guy kept him pretty well in check and handcuffed him. They dragged him to an interrogation room and unceremoniously dumped him inside. The adrenalin was running out by this point, and the pain from the fight was starting to register.

He managed to get to his feet despite the handcuffs and sat down in the chair. He did not have to wait long. Thomas Richter walked into the room and waved off the two other people standing outside. He pulled up a chair and sat down and looked at Miller, whose face was bruised and looked terrible.

"Son," he said slowly, "You are about the sorriest sight I've ever seen. You OK Miller?"

"I'll live," Mike shrugged as best he could while handcuffed, "Is my cover blown?"

"No," Richter said, silently glad that was Miller's first thought, "Everyone outside still thinks you're Ray Nester. Do you want me to keep it going or do you want out now?"

"It didn't go how I anticipated," Miller said, "But I think we got the desired effect. That is if Harry Lupo is all right."

"The medics said that he's going to be fine," Richter confirmed, "You probably saved the miserable bastard's life, unfortunately. What did he do to provoke the kid?"

"Nothing that I saw," Mike replied, clueless as to what had started it, "Unless I badly passed out, which I don't think I did. I still want to know what the hell that kid was on."

"PCP most likely," Richter said with a shrug and pulled out a cigarette, "He probably took it just before the cops arrested him, which would explain why it took so long."

"Harry's ribbing probably set him off," he nodded, "He went at the kid harder than I did."

"What do you want me to do?" Richter asked him, "This probably wasn't a good start."

"Actually," Mike said with a wide grin, "Although I would never have planned it this way, this was probably the best result. I saved Harry Lupo's life. He's probably going to be pretty grateful."

"Possibly," Richter agreed, "But if you show up after this, he's going to be suspicious."

"I don't think I'll have to, Tom," Mike continued, "Put me through the system. I'm willing to bet that one of Lupo's mouthpieces will be there to get me out."

"You're a bit confident on that," Richter warned, "What makes you think so?"

"Look at it this way," Mike told him, "You are a minor league crime boss. Not high enough to be a major target, but high enough to be afforded some protection. Some lunatic tries to murder you for no reason. Another person nearby beats your attacker into submission. You know from earlier conversation that your savior is just as crooked as you and is in a little jam. What do you do?"

"Spread a little grease in gratitude," Richter nods, "You think one of his people will get you out?"

"'Tis possible," he smiled, "Worth a try at any rate."

"All right," Richter said, "I'll give a mostly truthful statement on your behalf and get you put in solitary for the rest of the night. That will be a fairly normal police response, and it will give you a chance to get some sleep safely."

"Make sure that I'm towards the end of the Monday morning docket," Mike cautioned, "And make sure Lupo is towards the beginning. Give him a chance to get out before I do. We'll see what happens."

"Tracy will take care of it," Richter said, "She's got a contact over at justice that can juggle the docket a little."

"Good," Mike said, "Hopefully she'll do better at that than she did at putting the right person into the cell."

"Oh," he said, "That wasn't her fault. Your mongo got himself killed in the shower by another inmate an hour before you got there. That's why people have been going nuts tonight. The kid was thrown into the cell with you two because they didn't want to put him into general population and figured that you two were probably harmless. Little did they know that he was more dangerous than the rest of the population."

"Great," Mike said with a shake of his head and dropped back into character, "Put me the fuck back into my cell so I can get some goddamned sleep."

Richter grinned and nodded his head. He left the room and motioned for them to take Miller back to a cell. Al was lighter with him this time and Miller didn't fight him very much as he was led down the hall. Al said nothing as he opened the solitary cell and pushed Mike in. Once the door had been, shut he went over to the cruddy little cot and went promptly to sleep. It had been a long night.

Martinez met Richter over in the interrogation room and sat down. Richter looked very worried about the way things had gone. He was sitting in the chair smoking a cigarette as Tracy entered the room and shut the door.

"Good lord, Tom," Tracy said as she sat down, "This isn't a good start."

"Miller wants to continue," he said as he blew out smoke, "I think we should let him run with it."

"Does he think that Lupo will take notice?" Martinez asked.

"Miller is betting Lupo will send someone to spring him on Monday," Richter said, "I don't know whether to bet against him or not."

"If you don't know," Martinez said, "Then I'm going to go with him. I think his instincts are as good as yours."

"Ditto," Tracy agreed, "I take it that he's going to court, right?"

"Yep," Richter replied, "Are you two going to be able to stay with him tonight?"

"I'll stay nearby tonight if Tracy can do it tomorrow," Martinez said.

"I can," Tracy replied, "I'll watch his progress through the system in the morning. I'll catch some sleep on the couch in the office. Call me in the morning, Al."

"Will do," he said.

"Nothing more for me to do tonight," Richter said, "I'll go let Eric know what's going on before I go home."

"Don't worry about it," Tracy said, "You go on home, Tom. I'm going up to 13 anyway. I'll tell him."

With that the three of them left, Martinez going to the cell block to patrol around, Tracy going up to her office to sleep and Richter going home. They knew that this was just the first night of what could be a long operation. They just had no idea just how hairy it was going to turn out to be.

Chapter Five – May 8th 2000

The courthouse was as active as it always was on a Monday morning. The entire crop of arrests from the weekend was led into the waiting area. Since Miller had no attorney and was supposed to have no visible means of support he opted for a public defender, just like 99% of the minor offenders going up for hearings that morning.

The city court was divided into two real sections. The first was the major crimes arraignment court, which was the one that Harry Lupo would be moving through. Bar brawls were generally not considered that big a problem, so Miller, being a simple drunk and disorderly, was going through the minor crimes court.

Mike expected to spend most of his day waiting for arraignment, but was surprised by the fact that he was called fourth down the line. He was certain that Tracy would have pushed him to the back of the line like she was supposed to. He put the thought out of his head; however, and walked up to the defendant's spot. He followed the instructions whispered to him from his public defender, though he actually knew most of the procedures by heart.

"Next on the docket?" Judge Arthur Stone asked his clerk.

"Raymond Nester," the clerk said, "Drunk and Disorderly, one count. Assault three counts."

"Three counts?" Judge Stone asked, "Why was he not sent to major crimes?"

"Your honor," a voice piped up from the back, "If I may say something."

"Identify yourself," Stone said impatiently.

"Allan Robbins, your honor," he said as he came forward, "I was just called in to represent Mr. Nester."

"Mr. Nester, is he your attorney?" he asked Miller.

Miller acted surprised by this, actually doing a good job of it, despite the fact that this was almost exactly what he expected. Miller simply nodded silently and let Robbins go about his business.

"Harry Lupo sent me," Robbins whispered to Miller, "Let me do the talking."

Miller shrugged and let Robbins do his job. The legal aid attorney left the active area and went over to get a chance to prepare his next case.

"Madam Prosecutor," Judge Stone said to the ADA handling prosecutions, "What are the circumstances of the case?"

"Mr. Nester started a brawl in a bar downtown," she said, "He assaulted two victims and destroyed quite a bit of property."

"Two victims?" Judge Stone asked, "Why are there three counts of assault?"

"Mr. Nester also assaulted a prisoner while in lockup," the young ADA continued, "The people hold that the defendant is a menace to society."

"Your honor," Robbins put in, "My client was not entirely to blame. The two people in the bar were as guilty as starting the fight as he was. The fight in the lockup was with a young man who was high as a kite on PCP. That charge was purely self-defense. In fact, the jailers were to blame for it because the kid should have been put in isolation until he calmed down from the drugs."

"Madam Prosecutor?" Stone asked her.

She quickly looked over her notes before responding, "The people..."

"The people are unprepared this morning your honor," Robbins quickly put in, "My client realizes that he was partially at fault for the bar brawl. Would it satisfy the people if he pleads to drunk and disorderly?"

"Two counts of drunk and disorderly and a misdemeanor assault would satisfy the people," she said after a moment's thought.

"If you agree to no jail time," Robbins said like the master negotiator he was.

"Will that satisfy the people, Madam Prosecutor?" an impatient Judge Stone asked the flustered ADA.

"Yes," she finally said with a look of abject defeat on her face, "That will be fine."

"Raymond Nester," Judge Stone said with authority, "Do you plead guilty to two counts of drunk and disorderly and one count of misdemeanor assault?"

"Yes," He said, still shocked at how quick Robbins had worked.

"I hereby order a fine of two thousand five hundred dollars, to be paid immediately," Judge Stone said, "If you cannot pay that amount, you can spend the next ten days in jail."

Miller was about to say that he could not afford the amount when Robbins hushed him.

"The fine will be paid within an hour," Robbins said, "Would it be possible for Mr. Nester to remain in the courtroom until the bond arrives?"

"One hour," Judge Stone ordered, mainly to save the guards the trouble of moving Miller around unnecessarily. Stone knew exactly whom Robbins represented and figured that the fine would get paid as promised.

Miller was escorted to an area where people had to wait to pay their fines. The two men, Miller in his old military garb looking like hell and Robbins looking like the upwardly mobile mob attorney he was, looked each other over as they waited. Robbins took in the younger man.

"Harry Lupo sends his best and his thanks," Robbins said finally, "Don't worry about the fine. Harry said that it was the least he could do after what you did for him last night."

"I appreciate it," Miller said, trying not to look too eager, "Did he get out already?"

"Oh yeah," Robbins chuckled, "All he needed was a quick bail hearing. He's been out for over an hour now. He asked me to come over here and take care of you. Evidently, you impressed him last night."

"Again," Miller said with an appreciative nod, "I appreciate it."

"He'd like to thank you personally for saving his ass last night," Robbins said, "He's got a bar downtown called Jack's Place. He told me to tell you that if you came by he'd buy you a few drinks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Miller said, trying not to sound over enthused by the prospect.

Not much else was said until they got to the head of the line. Robbins took out his wallet and paid the fine by credit card. Miller signed a few papers, careful not to use his real name by accident, and Raymond Nester was again a free man. He thanked Robbins once more and got a smile in return.

"Not a problem," he said, "I get to bill an extra two hours on this one."

He started to walk off and leave Miller behind when he stopped and turned around. He pulled out his wallet again and peeled out a c-note and handed it over to Miller.

"Courtesy of Harry," he said, "Get a room and clean yourself up before you go down to see him. He may have some work for you if you make a good impression."

Miller nodded and watched him walk away. Miller walked into a bathroom and proceeded to run some water over his face. He closed his eyes for a second and looked up to see Al Martinez appear behind him.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered in surprise, "Where did you come from?"

"Not here," Martinez said, "Meet us at 102 East 3rd street. We are using a little storefront for you. Make sure you aren't followed."

He was out of there in seconds. Mike had to give him credit; the man did not look a thing like the jail guard he had played two nights before. Miller left soon after and took a walk down to the address Martinez had given him, taking it slow and going through a couple building lobbies to make sure that he wasn't being tailed.

Miller slipped into the storefront and found it virtually deserted. He poked around for a second before he heard a voice through a small speaker. Eric Craig directed Mike to lock the front door and go into the back. Miller shrugged, did what he was told, walking into the back room.

Eric, Tracy, Al, and Thomas Richter were sitting around the room in various pieces of furniture. The place looked as if it had been worked over by a lunatic with an axe at one point, but it was as good a place to meet as any. Eric had a make shift computer station set up and was playing solitaire in one window while watching the security cam in the other.

"Remind me not to play cards with you, Mike," Thomas Richter said with a smile, "You predicted what Lupo would do down to a T."

"Common sense," Miller said with a shrug, "It looks like I've got an entrance. How far do you want me to take it?"

"As far as you have to," Richter said, "You have to become one of them, gain their trust and actually get in far enough to learn what they are doing."

"You've got immunity in advance for any crimes you commit while part of this operation, just like we said before." Tracy reminded him, "Though we ask you to try to avoid the major ones when possible. Try not to kill anyone or commit rape. Try to stick to the nonviolent types when possible. If a killing is inevitable, make damned sure it's not an innocent, if you know what I mean."

"But if you have to rough up someone up and play a bruiser then by all means stay in character," Al put in, "Don't shy away from it or you're going to be suspect."

"Use your best judgment, Mike," Richter said finally, "From what I saw in court you have a good shot at getting in. Lupo would not have spent the money to have Robbins get you out if he wasn't impressed. Do what you have to do and get the goods."

"I'm meeting Lupo tonight," Miller told them, "Hopefully he'll offer me work. If I can get on his crew, I'll be in a good spot to learn what's what."

"Probably so," Richter agreed, "Take it easy and slow. We have time. Don't spook anyone and don't break cover for minor stuff. If you need to talk to us we're here but make damn sure that your cover is solid."

"You'll see some things that sicken you and make you want to take action," Tracy put in, "Play along. The more you see; the better the case gets. Most of what you see would have happened if you were there or not. The trick is to try not to let it get to you."

"Don't worry," Mike said, the reality of the situation setting in, "I want to stay in the game long enough to get another crack at Howard Bronson. I hope you don't expect him to be taken down alive."

"Just be careful," Richter admonished, worried that Miller was one-tracking a little, "Bronson is a target, but he's not the only one. We want to take down a large chunk of the syndicate both Lupo and Bronson work for. You are coming in higher than most would. Lupo is one of Charlie Bullock's main underbosses. He's been an up and comer ever since he removed Big Jack Kirby back in 96. You've got a shot at getting us the big guy if you hold on. Don't blow it over Bronson."

Miller growled at that one and said nothing. He was not there for Charlie Bullock, but was not going to throw out any of his options. They were not spending all this time or money on Ray Nester just to catch a single cop killer. Richter was not worried. He figured that by the time Miller got to know those people he'd want to take them all down anyway.

"How do I contact you?" Mike asked them.

"Memorize this number," Eric said and handed Miller a notepad with a telephone number on it, "That number rings four phones up on floor 13, one in each of our offices. It will be manned by one of the four of us 24 hours a day for the duration of this operation. If we have to leave to deal with other business, it will be forwarded to our cell phones. It also rings here, and there will be somebody here during most days and nights if you request it."

"Can it be traced to the department?"

"No," Eric continued, "Anyone tracing the line will get a sporting goods shop. There is a repeater at that shop that will send the call on to everywhere else. It's completely secure on our end. I sweep the line twice a week to be sure."

"That works," Miller agreed.

"Get a cell phone as soon as Nester's position can support him having one," Eric instructed him, "Get us the number and that will be our lifeline to you. If your cover is blown from our end one of us will call you on that cell phone and tell you to leave. Don't worry, it hasn't happened that way yet."

"If you ever hear us tell you to leave," Richter cautioned, "Leave quick. Drop everything and get the hell out of dodge. Go straight to the nearest precinct to take cover until we can meet you. This whole operation becomes mostly useless unless you survive to testify."

"Anything else dad?" Miller asked him with a smile.

"Yes," he said with a grin, "Have fun, Mike. There's nothing like a long undercover job. You'll never get to do the things you're being asked to do with impunity again."

"Thank God," Miller chuckled.

"Just remember one last thing," Tracy said, "Your immunity is conditional. If you truly go bad, you become a target just like the people you're hunting. We'll also reveal what you are if you break away."

"Not to worry," Miller grinned, "I just want to get this over with, I have no urge to end my life that way."

"Good luck, Miller," Al Martinez said as he got ready to leave, "If you need anything, let us know."

Miller walked out the door with little more than the shirt on his back and the wallet containing identification. He broke the hundred at a local bank and picked up a quick meal at McDonalds. He did not know what he was in store for, but he wanted to have some food in his stomach just in case.

Chapter Six – May 8th, 2000 – Evening

Mike Miller took a cab to Jack's Place and stepped out onto the curb. Looking around for a second, he took in the slightly dilapidated look of the exterior while he gathered his nerve. He knew that he was moving into the danger zone.

Big Jack Kirby had started Jack's place nearly twenty years earlier. Over its long lifespan it had been a front for many things, finally becoming Kirby's base of operations. If that building could talk Kirby would have gone to jail years before. Because of its silence Kirby lived long enough to be assassinated by either Lupo himself or someone working for him. Harry Lupo had moved into the back room soon after Kirby's death and had been there ever since.

Miller walked into the bar, completely into his slightly paranoid Nester persona, looking for anyone that he recognized. It was still early and there were but three people around the bar. He walked up and sat down at a stool and waited a couple minutes for Jerry the bartender to come his way.

Jerry Bradley had been there since the place opened under Kirby. He was a simple looking man in his early forties, about as physically unremarkable as he could be. He also made a good front man because he was also very clean. The authorities had tried to close the bar numerous times over the years, but Bradley had kept things just enough on the legal side enough to keep it going.

"What can I get you?" Jerry asked casually.

"I'm looking for Harry Lupo," Miller said as he took a couple peanuts.

"What for?" he asked cautiously.

"His lawyer said he'd like to see me," Miller explained, "My name is Ray Nester."

"Oh yeah," he said, his mood lightening a little, "He told me to send you back if you showed up. He's in the private room in the back. Want a drink before you go?"

"Yeah," Miller said with a shrug, "Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender passed it over, and Miller slid him a buck for his trouble. He tipped his head and went over to take an order from one of the other customers. Jack's Place was not the best place in town, but it certainly was a step up from the dive Miller had busted up the night before.

Miller got up and walked to the back room, taking a deep breath on the way, and pushed the door open. There were four men in the room and three women. He smiled at the scene and walked in as he knew Ray Nester would. It was easier in a way for him to be outgoing if he knew it was the fictional man he'd helped to create instead of just himself.

"How's it hanging, Harry," Miller said with a wide smile, "I see you made it out with flying colors."

"I see you decided to take me up on my offer," Lupo grinned, "I see Jerry already took care of your drink. Come on in and have a seat!"

"Least I could do for someone who springs me," Miller said as he went in and sat down in an empty chair, "Freedom sure does taste good."

"That it does," Lupo enthusiastically agreed, "Hey guys! This guy saved my ass in lockup. Ray Nester, meet Nick Jones, Eddie East and Barry Northrup."

Introductions were made all around, and the mood was jovial. It was a surreal experience for him because the four men he was spending time with really were not all that bad of guys. If you did not take into account what they did for a living, they were actually fun people to hang around with.

Nick Jones was a skinny blonde guy, probably no older than 25. Again, if you took what he did for a living out of the equation he would have been a sweet kid. Nick's father Charlie was a number runner for the syndicate for years. He died in a shootout with the police back in '92. Nick had been running with Harry Lupo since he was thirteen and probably would go out the same way his father had years before.

Eddie East was roughly the same age as Miller, but he was a little slower on the draw. He had been one of Harry's people for years, mainly as a runner and a gunner. He knew how to fire a gun and not much else. Just for the record he was about five feet nine with thinning brown hair. He drank too much and probably snorted a little too much as well. The spare tire around the middle proved that he did not exercise either.

Barry Northrup was easily the oldest of Harry's crew. His job was basically to be Lupo's second in command. Barry had been one of Kirby's lieutenants just like Lupo had been, but Lupo was more of a tiger than he was. Charlie Bullock decided to shore up Harry's position by installing Northrup as his second in command. It was a decision that did not please either one of them very much. They'd been walking a line with each other ever since. Northrup was in his late fifties and had a full head of silver hair. It was sad in a way to see an aging thug laughing it up with men far younger than he, trying to hold on to his youth and onto the power that he would probably never really have.

Harry himself was quite a character. It was not hard to see how he became the boss over Northrup. Harry had charisma up the wazoo, and he spread it about his friends liberally. He also did not hold back on the cash, spreading it around to his people and spending it lavishly. The only reason he was not caught was that no one ever dared to testify against him. More than one witness had disappeared right before a trial, though it had been three years since a case had even been tried against him.

Miller was a little worried by how easy it was for him to slide into the character of Ray Nester. He laughed it up, made bad jokes, and played the character that would get along well with Harry Lupo, just as he'd done in the jail cell. It was an easier environment to work in as well, less tension. Nick Jones and Eddie East liked him almost immediately, mainly because Harry did. Barry didn't warm up as quickly.

"Ray," Lupo said after a few drinks, "I know a little about you, but what are you doing here in the city anyway? Other than busting up cheap ass joints across town?"

"Looking to get as far from Kansas as I can," He said seriously, "No real plans. I managed to scrape together enough to travel a little after they let me out."

"Looking for a little fun, eh Nester?" Nick put in.

"What the hell were you doing in Kansas?" Northrup asked, "Ain't nothin' out there but cows and shit last I knew."

"And prisons," Harry chuckled, "The feds have a large place down there. You said you were in for a military rap?"

"You were in the military?" Eddie asked, "My brother was in the army for a bit."

"Which division?" Mike asked cautiously, praying he didn't trip on this.

"Damned if I know," he said with a shrug, "He was kicked out after a year."

"I was in there thirteen years," Mike said and downed the rest of his current drink, "Until they fucked me over in Kosovo. Fuckin' politicians."

"You were in that mess eh?" Northrup asked, suddenly interested, "What were you doing during Clinton's folly?"

"Goddamn slut decided to yell rape," he told them, almost as if reciting from a script, making a face where they expected one, "She offers to blow me for ten bucks and then we go for the bonus plan. Well, we get caught and she starts yelling rape. Motherfucking politicians decided to force the brass to bust me down and use me as an example."

"Sounds like you got a real screwing," Harry said, "If you went down for rape, how come you're out?"

"The JAG lawyer realized the case was shit," Miller told them, "But the politicians were coming down hard. They threatened to hit me with a lot more, but offered me a year in Leavenworth and a general discharge if I pled. The lawyers told me that with the code violations and my lousy record I'd be a shoo-in to lose any court marshal and would get much worse. I decided better a year than 10."

"Sounds like you were fucked either way," Harry nodded and lit a cigarette.

"Pretty much," Miller agreed.

And the party continued. Miller actually had more fun than he thought he would, and the fun really started when the rest of the girls came in. The music was turned up, the booze was flowing heavily, the drugs were brought out, and everyone was getting high. Miller was thankful that he had learned how to fake a snort, because he did it a few times that night.

Given the amount of drugs this crew consumed, Miller was amazed that they were able to do anything at all, let alone be top producers for the Bullock outfit. He did manage to give a good imitation of being high along with the rest of them though. The only thing that bothered him was that he was being accepted as much as he was in the few short hours he had been there.

When Lupo got sick of the blonde he was fondling he pulled Miller off to the side and sat him down at the table. Miller knew he had seen Harry snort several lines of cocaine and drink quite a bit that night, but he looked sober as a judge. Probably more than Miller was at that point. Harry's body had built quite a tolerance for it over the years.

"Nester," he said to Miller, "Seriously. Do you have any plans after this?"

"You mean after I finish drinking and sleep?" Mike grinned.

"I mean for the near future?" he said softly.

Mike knew what was coming. Harry was about to ask him to work with him on some job or other. It was all Mike could do to keep from grinning like an idiot. The cover was holding, and he had played his cards right. So far Lupo and his people had been predictable. Mike simply kept his face impassive and replied carefully.

"Not really," Mike shrugged, "Nowhere to go, really. No family worth mentioning, no friends to go to. Figured I'd wander for a bit."

"You interested in a little work?" he said, "Nothing heavy, just a little job for some of my friends. I could use an extra hand."

"Doing what?" Miller asked him, knowing that it would be suspicious if he did not at least ask it once.

"Do you care?" he asked with a grin, "Anyway, I'll tell you about it tomorrow if you're interested. Come back here around two or so. Take one of the girls with you for tonight if you like. They're paid for."

"This your hint to move on?" Mike grinned.

"Nahh," he said, "You can stick around a bit if you like. Barry and Nick will be here for at least another hour. I'm going to go have a bit of fun before I pass out, if you know what I mean."

"I know it, Harry," Mike chuckled, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You know it, guy," he said and went over to collect the blonde.

Mike went over and joined Barry and Nick back at the table. They were still drinking a bit and joking around with the girls. The girls were not notable, just your average bar sluts, there more for the money and free drugs than anything else. Only one of them actually caught his eye, a small brunette who looked like she was only barely above age.

"Hey Nester," Nick said, "You coming back tomorrow?"

"I guess so," he said, sipped on his drink, and slid over next to the brunette, "He told me to meet him here."

"Cool," he said, "We've been short a guy since Tony went up the river last month."

They were referring to Tony Talbot, a longtime member of the crew that had gone down for murder six weeks earlier. It was a funny thing really. Talbot was known as a cool customer, seemingly the most stable of any of Crazy Harry's men. He played the driver most of the time and left the more violent pursuits to Nick and Eddie. That was, at least, until he caught his wife banging the grocery boy.

Talbot murdered the grocery boy first, strangling the kid with his bare hands. His wife didn't even bother to get dressed as she got out of the apartment through the fire escape. Talbot calmly finished strangling the boy and followed his wife down the fire escape. She thought that the crowds would convince him to calm down enough for her to get away. She was wrong.

Tony pulled out the .45 caliber automatic handgun that he had always carried in a shoulder holster, but rarely used, and walked out into the crowded street. His nearly naked wife had garnered quite a bit of attention already from the crowd that had parted away from the woman. Tony calmly walked out into the street, extended his arm, and emptied it into his wife in full view of thirty people and two police officers. Even Harry's connections could not save Talbot from a slam-dunk murder case.

It was funny in a way, because ballistics matched the slugs found in his wife's body to six other corpses that had been collected over the previous two years. The "stable" member of Lupo's crew was actually a serial killer. Lupo himself had been surprised by that fact and considered it lucky that Talbot was in prison out of his reach.

"Who'd you serve under in Kosovo?" Northrup asked Miller suddenly.

"Colonel John Riker," Mike told him, reciting what he'd memorized two days earlier, "A right prick of a guy. He was one of the people that pushed to get me put in prison."

It was also a safe lie for him. All the physical records would show this fact and Eric Craig had visited the good Colonel a week earlier briefing him on what to say if asked about Ray Nester. Craig had been exceedingly thorough in creating Nester's history, putting in as many back checks on his past as humanly possible.

Northrup questioned Miller a bit longer, pretty much giving away that was going to check him out. Miller was not sweating that. He would have been more concerned if they did not do it. He just hoped that he was not being steered towards being a sacrificial goat for them. It would not do much to further his career as a thug or prolong his life.

Northrup quite obviously did not like Miller much, but Nick Jones was another story. He really was not a bad kid when you talked to him. Mike knew his record and compared with Lupo he was a real prince. Mike and Nick talked for another half hour or so after Northrup ordered a scared little redhead to follow him and left the bar. Northrup's cruelty to prostitutes had long become legendary in the scene.

"Hey Nick," Mike asked him finally, "Is Harry a good guy to work for?"

"Harry's the tops man," he said with a wide grin, "He doesn't hold back, doesn't lie to you, and he'll give you what's yours. That man has told me more truth in the years I've been with him than anyone else in my whole fucking life. Especially my old man."

"Sounds like a great guy," Mike said with a smile, "Maybe I'll have a reason to stick around the city for a while."

"It must suck having nowhere else to go," Nick said, "Though I guess I'm not much better off."

"How's that?" Mike asked him and proceeded to fake a drink.

"Dad's been dead for years and mom thinks I'm just as bad as him," he said bitterly and drained the remains of his drink, "All I got left is my sister, and she doesn't even listen to me most of the time."

"You've got good friends at least," Mike said with a smile, referring to Harry and his people, "That counts for something."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, "I guess it does. I hope Harry decides that you're all right, Nester. You're not a bad guy yourself."

"Shit happens," Mike shrugged and reminded him, "Things will come as they come."

Nick nodded and shrugged himself. He picked himself up out of the booth and shuffled out, leaving Mike with the cute brunette and an older woman that was obviously a whore.

"Want to have a party?" the veteran cooed into his ear.

"Not tonight honey," Mike said honestly, trying to cover his revulsion at the thought, "Gotta get some sleep."

"You sure you don't want to play?" the brunette asked in a high pitched voice that had a little bit of a country lilt to it, "Who needs sleep?"

Miller joked around with the kid for a bit longer until the pro finally got the message that he was not interested in her wares. The brunette claimed her name was Jade, and she appeared to be a few IQ points short of Forrest Gump from the way she acted. The nearly blank look in her eyes did not do anything to dispel that notion either. She did not come off as one of the pros, but more as a hanger on that found Harry and his boys exciting. Mike figured that she was probably the safest one of the bunch and the least likely to disbelieve anything he told her.

They got a room at a motel a few blocks down the road and went to town. The sad thing was that it was Miller's first time sleeping with anyone except his ex-wife since he was in his early twenties. The girl was willing and after years of being married to a lying wench like Julie a little raw enthusiasm was not such a bad thing after all. It was easily the best sex Mike Miller had in well over a decade.

Chapter Seven – May 9, 2000 – Mid Afternoon

Two came and rolled around as Mike strolled into Jack's place looking for Harry and his crew. He did not have a clue as to what Lupo and company were up to but was certainly about to find out. Nick and Barry were already at the bar nursing a light drink. Mike joined them and ordered a ginger ale.

"Drinking light, Nester?" Barry grunted.

"Don't know what I'm in for," He shrugged, "Prefer to keep my head clear until I know I don't have to."

"Good idea," Nick chuckled and finished his drink, "I think I'll join Ray for the next one. If he's here to take Tony's place he'll be driving anyway."

The bartender took the hint and slid a second ginger ale over to Nick. Barry grunted and had his scotch and water refreshed. Mike talked with Nick for the next few minutes, knowing that making friends with him would help more than fighting with Barry Northrup. Northrup did not seem to care either way and continued putting down the scotch.

"Have a good night last night, Nester?" Nick asked him, "The one you left with was one hot number."

"You bet," Mike agreed with a knowing grin, "She was not bad at all."

"She's been around for a bit," Northrup grunted, "I think Eddie had a run with her a few days ago."

"Lucky guy," he chuckled, though he shuddered inside while saying it, "She was good."

"Not the one he went off with, Barry," Nick said, "I gave the older slut a try. Ray went home with that little brunette that showed up a few days ago."

The conversation went along similar lines, getting progressively cruder. Mike felt that he must have struck a chord, because even sourpuss Barry started to lighten up a little. Eddie East came in about 30 minutes after Miller, and Harry brought up the rear as usual. He was not in relaxation mode that afternoon, however, he was completely sober and all business. After Harry's arrival, the five of them went into the back room.

"Nice to see that you made it, Nester," Harry said as he sat down, "It's been a rough morning."

"Yeah," Nick chuckled, "That blonde you went home with must have made it just horrible."

"Had to send her home around three in the morning," Harry grumbled, "Charlie's been on my ass since then."

"What happened?" Northrup asked, his eyebrow going up in alarm, "Charlie usually doesn't get up before ten unless all hell breaks loose."

"One of our runners got hit last night," Harry informed them, "Third one this week. Charlie is not happy because this one was running his cut to him after Curletto's big night last night."

"Jesus!" Eddie exclaimed, the New York in him coming out in his voice, "He don't think we're doing it, does he?"

"He knows who is doing it, thank God," Harry said, relief showing in his face, "It's those fucking spics over on the west side. A bystander gave a good description to the cops, and Charlie got it this morning. The cops were going to move on them this afternoon, but Charlie got the fix in to delay the raid for a day. Charlie wants me to take care of the problem first."

Mike perked up a little at that. Charlie Bullock must have had one hell of a source in the police department to get that information that quick. He knew from experience that information of that sort was not disseminated to the press until after the raid went down, if even then.

"That's where you guys come in," Harry said with a grin, "You up to a little smash and grab, Nick?"

"We need a driver," Nick said after a moment of thought, "Tony is kind of out of the picture at the moment."

"That's why I invited Mr. Nester here," Harry grinned and then turned to Mike, "Barry managed to get your records this morning. I'm suitably impressed. The records don't say how good a driver you are though."

"I can drive," Mike grinned modestly, glad that Eric had managed to intercept the requests in time, "How well depends on what I'm running from."

"Probably thirty angry spics that Nicky and Eddie have just taken a whole lot of money away from," Harry said with a grin, "They grabbed 90 grand from the runner and this bunch deals a whole lot of crack as well. Take anything you can carry easily. The first 90 grand goes to Charlie. We split the rest five ways, with two shares going to me for setting up the deal."

"Sounds good," Mike agreed, "So what's the catch?"

"Like I said," he grinned, "30 angry spics with guns. That and the fact that Charlie wants as many of them shot as you can manage in a limited amount of time."

Mike thought about it and shrugged. Seemed harmless enough and he would be sitting at the wheel of the car. He knew of the gang that was hitting on Bullock's boys. Neither Miller nor anyone in the police department would be shedding any tears if any of them got whacked. Race be damned, they were all scum at that level. Miller decided to go along, as it was a quick entry into Lupo's crew if he did well.

"I need two things before I agree," Mike told Harry.

"The offer isn't enough for you?" Nick asked in surprise, "This is the most we've ever been offered for something like this."

"Nothing like that," Mike said quickly, qualifying his statement, "I just need two things before we go."

"What?" Harry asked, not looking happy.

"First is a decent fake ID set," Mike told him, "I just got out of the stockade. I don't have a friggen license. If I get pulled over while driving, we're screwed."

"Oh," Harry chuckled, "That's easy enough. I forgot about that fact. What's the other thing?"

"A piece," Mike told him, "Something good, preferably automatic."

"How's this?" Northrup asked as he handed Miller a pistol.

Mike pulled open the slide and checked it out. It was a bit on the dirty side for him, as he was a small arms expert by any definition, but it would do the trick. If he cleaned it up it would be a good one to hold on to for a while if he didn't have to use it. Northrup tossed Miller three full clips for it that readily disappeared into his pocket.

"It'll do," Mike said, "When do we go for it?"

"I'm ready anytime," Nick said, "How bout you, Eddie?"

"Let's rock and roll," Eddie said with a smile, "You want to roll along on this one Harry? You used to love this sort of stuff."

"I wish," Harry grinned, "Charlie wants me. I've got to go over and assure him that things are going to be ok. Stroke him along a little. You may want to wait until sundown though. It'll make getting away easier."

"Where do we bring the money?" Nick asked, "If you're off with Charlie?"

"Barry will be here at the bar," Harry said, "He can get me when you get done."

"That works," Mike put in, "Let's rock and roll. Show me the ID and we'll go. By the time we get that stuff out of the way it'll be nearly sunset."

"Go talk to Horace over on 34th," Harry told them, "He'll set you up."

"I know where it is," Eddie said, "Let's go, we can take my car."

Chapter Eight – May 9, 2000 – Evening

The trip to the ID maker was uneventful. Horace had proper respect for who they represented and gave them a rather good deal on some really excellent ID cards. Mike had been a cop for years, and even he would have had to get a second opinion on the authenticity of the driver's license. They then piled into Eddie's car and pulled into a parking lot over on third.

"Ok," Mike asked Eddie, "This car is registered to you, right?"

"Of course," he said impatiently, "What does that have to do with anything? It's time for some action."

"We need another car first," Mike said, "I don't think we want the cops to be able to track us by your car. Not to mention its way too nice to get shot up if they try to chase us. Either of you know where we can get one? I'm sort of new to this area."

"My cousin runs a chop shop a couple blocks from here," Nick told him, "What are you looking for?"

"Something reasonably fast and solid," Miller told him, "Needs to be four door so you two can get in and out quick."

"Sounds like a plan," Eddie agreed. As usual, he had not even thought about that end of the deal.

"Let's walk over and see what he'll give us," Nick shrugged.

The three of them walked over to the chop shop and let Nick go in to talk to his cousin. The chop shop was a simple warehouse that was large enough for them to work on several cars at a time. Luckily the police did not patrol this section of town very hard and had not caught wind of it yet.

Eddie smoked a cigarette and leaned against the wall. Mike simply stood there and waited for Nick to come out and get them. He didn't expect to be brought inside immediately. He was still too new to see anything like that. He was surprised when Nick poked his head out and yelled at him.

"Hey Ray," he yelled, "Come on in here."

Mike walked inside and saw a large chop shop operation. He took note of the facility and committed to memory as many of the faces as he could remember. Nick led Mike over to a big guy standing next to a 97 Taurus.

"Ray," Nick said, "This is my cousin Joey. This is all he's got with four doors tonight. It is a little low end for me, but you are the one who has to drive it."

"Looks good," Mike said and then turned to Joey, thanking his stars it was a car he knew well, having driven one for years, "Can one of your boys tune it up a little to give me a little more punch out of it?"

"Sure," Joey said with a tobacco-stained grin, "Want acceleration or top speed?"

"It'll be city driving," Miller said after a moment of thought, "Acceleration will do me more good."

"A.J. will have it done in about 20 minutes," Joey said, "Anything else you need, let me know."

"Soda machine?" Mike asked.

"Over there," he said and pointed it out.

Mike went over to the machine, plunked in his quarters and grabbed a coke. He found a bench and sat down to wait for the kid to finish adjusting the car. He was looking around at the facility when Nick sat down and lit a cigarette. He looked over at Mike as if he wanted to say something.

"What is it, Nick?" Miller asked him and took a long drink of coke.

"You don't look nervous," he said, proving that Miller was doing a good job of hiding it, "Why not?"

"No worse than all the bullshit I did in the Army," Mike lied as he was scared as hell, "Just have to be careful."

"Yeah," Nick said, "Besides, you're just driving the car."

"Exactly," He grinned, "You two are taking the bulk of the risk."

"Just get us in and out alive and I'll be happy," Nick said seriously, "I just hope this is as easy in and out as Harry thinks."

"How'd you get into this life?" Mike asked him, trying not to think about the job itself.

"Harry's been good to me since I was a kid," Nick said, "My dad ran numbers for Charlie, but didn't get along well with my mom. Harry took me in when I was a kid, and I've been with him ever since."

Mike nodded. It was sometimes hard for him to realize that even criminals were real people. Oftentimes the only real difference between them and the average suburbanite was the side of the law they operated on. They had feelings just like anyone else. If Nick had been raised by parents in a middle-class neighborhood he would probably have turned out to be a perfectly law-abiding citizen. Unfortunately, he had gone over to the only thing he knew, and that was to be a criminal.

Miller continued to around the shop for a minute. It was a fairly well organized place, and surprisingly everyone in the building except them was wearing surgical gloves. He was impressed with the fact that they were being so careful.

"Ok," Joey yelled over to them after a few more minutes, "He's done."

Nick and Mike walked out and looked at the car. It was a very standard looking Taurus, but when the kid who had tuned it revved the engine it sounded much more powerful. Miller was impressed, to say the least. Even when he had problems with his Taurus he had never gotten this good of service anywhere.

"I noticed you all wear gloves," Miller said, "To keep the cars clean?"

"Keeps the evidence to a minimum," Joey said, "If we get tipped to a raid we can simply walk out and dispose of the gloves at our leisure. There are no prints for the cops to work with. And we just set up shop somewhere else in a couple days. You can get this equipment anywhere."

"Good idea," Miller said, liking the sound of that idea, "Got a few spare pairs?"

"Sure," Joey said and tossed a box, "Take what you need. I just don't want to know what you do with them."

"Thanks Joey," Nick said, "If you need anything, let me know and I'll approach Harry for you."

"Not a problem," Joey said, he knew how the trade off worked, "Good luck."

Mike peeled a pair of gloves out and put them on, and then handing Nick the box, telling him to do the same. Miller then told him to grab a pair for Eddie. He wiped down his coke can and tossed it into the trashcan before he left, getting into the car and pulling it out of the garage.

"Eddie," Mike told him out the opened window, "Put on the gloves before you get into the car."

Eddie nodded and took the gloves that Nick handed him. He slid into the car and looked at Miller strangely. He was wondering why Nester would choose something as low rent as a Taurus.

"You ok, Ray?" Eddie asked, "Why'd you choose the grannymobile?"

"Easier to get lost in a cheap car than in an expensive one," Mike told him, not adding that he knew he could drive the Taurus well, "Don't touch anything you don't have to. We're going to have to abandon this eventually."

He nodded and sat back into the seat. They gave Miller instructions on how to get to the place they were going. The atmosphere quite closely resembled what it was like in the back of a swat van on the way to do a job, quiet and reserved. Mike could not believe he was participating in something so stupid, but that was part of the job. In order to become Ray Nester to get in, he had to become Ray Nester in fact. He had to prove himself.

They rode in silence, with little but the occasional correction in directions. The tension really began as they neared the destination. It was in one of the more depressed areas of the city. The Latin culture was on the upswing in the city, but some areas; namely, this depressed neighborhood, just had not caught on yet.

"There's the place," Eddie said and pointed to a dilapidated old house that looked as though it dated from the 40's.

"Ok," Miller said nervously, "Don't hang around here. Go do it!"

He pulled up to the curb and parked the car with the passenger side facing the building. The streets were fairly empty at the time, but Miller slid out his pistol just in case while keeping one eye on the street and the other on the old house.

It did not take long for things to happen. Miller heard a lot of shouting and about six quick gunshots. He could see several figures moving around inside through the dirty windows. Mike kept the car in drive and kept looking for Nick and Eddie to come flying out. It did not happen as quickly as Miller had expected. He heard a few more shots, and then he heard Eddie screaming. Miller then figured something was going dreadfully wrong.

Mike made a split decision and left the car running while barreling into the place holding his weapon in combat position. Miller kicked open the door and dropped down as he saw the muzzle flash of one of the gang member's weapons. Miller let off a few in his direction, conscientious not to hit the little bastard. Nick was pinned down behind a wall and looking around. Eddie, still alive but badly wounded, was spread out on the floor bleeding profusely.

Miller fired two more shots as cover and went over to Nick. Nick looked at Miller and was frozen in fear. He had no real training for this sort of thing and Eddie's injury had scared the hell out of him. Miller did his best not to shout at Nick but to just give him directions so they could get out alive.

"Nick," Miller said sharply, "How many are there left?"

"Two or three," he said slowly, a little shell shocked, "Is Eddie dead?"

"Not yet," Mike growled, "But all three of us will be if we don't get out quick."

"One of them took the money upstairs," Nick said.

"I'll get the money," Miller said, trying to get him to move, "You get Eddie out to the car. Don't leave until I come out."

"Got you," he nodded emphatically, pleased to give the rest of this fucked up job to anyone willing to take it.

Mike fired three quick shots and then quickly changed clips. He popped out and looked around for movement. Ethics and rules be damned, he was in a hot zone and was ready to shoot any idiot he saw aiming a weapon at him. Luckily, he did not have to worry about shooting anyone that day.

There were two corpses on the floor just behind the tipped over table that served as a barricade. Two more gang members were lying wounded on the floor. Nick had nothing to fear from them, it was mainly his own shock at seeing Eddie go down that got him. They had been mostly dead when Miller had entered the house. They'd just been firing blind.

"Tell me where the cash is and you'll walk out of here," Miller told them.

"Upstairs!" the younger of the two shouted, "Take it and get out!"

"Get yourselves out," Miller told them as he smelled the fumes of Crystal Meth production, "This place is going up in flames very shortly."

He took all their weapons as a precaution and unloaded them quickly, shoving the clips into the pocket of his jacket. He then went upstairs and found a few frightened kids that were obviously doped up. Miller sent them packing quickly and tossed all the money and small papers into some boxes. He figured that he could probably get the papers down to the team; eventually, giving them a nice coup against the Hispanic gangs.

Miller heard someone coming up the stairs and got into firing position. He was about to shoot when he saw that it was Nick, coming up to see what had happened.

"Jesus H. Christ," Mike shouted, "You nearly ended up with a hole in you."

"Eddie is in the car," he said quickly, "I heard sirens."

"Take this shit out to the car," He instructed Nick, "I'm going to torch this lab."

Nick grabbed two of the boxes and ran like hell down the stairs. Mike put the other box by the edge of the stairs and started throwing chemicals around the room. He then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. To keep from getting his DNA in the room, he broke off the burning end and tossed it into the chemicals to start the fire. Shoving the remaining end of the cigarette in his pocket he grabbed the last box and ran down to the car.

"Cops are close Ray," Nick yelled as Mike threw the box into the back seat.

"Let's get out of here," Mike said as he got into the car, "How's Eddie?"

"Unconscious still," Nick said, "He needs a doctor quick."

"First things first," Mike mumbled and threw the car into drive.

He pulled out of the area and gunned the engine to leave quickly. A few residents let off a few potshots at them as the car squealed out of the area. News traveled quicker than they did evidently. They thought they were clear when Miller came within inches of colliding with a police cruiser that was flying towards the scene.

"Shit!" Miller yelled.

He kept the car moving and managed to regain control, only taking off the passenger side mirror on a light pole. Nick screamed and held on for dear life. Miller did his best to ignore the cops behind him and raced to get the hell out of the area.

"Want me to take out their tires?" Nick yelled over the noise of the engine.

"Hell no," Miller shouted back, deathly afraid of the prospect, "Put Eddie's seatbelt on him and then lock yourself in. I'm going to try to lose them before they multiply! If you start shooting they'll never give up the chase."

The police car, of course, was not going to let them go that easily. The pursuit was on. Miller knew that if he lost this race his assignment was over, and his cover would have to be blown. He really did not feel like failing on the second day.

He clicked in his own seatbelt and continued to drive fast. He was now regretting having given up top speed in that car, making it harder to lose the police cruiser. He did manage to avoid one of the big mistakes that criminals usually made in the city. Instead of trying to outrun the cruiser in the jagged streets he made a turn and headed out into the less populated suburbs.

"They're still following, Ray!" Nick shouted, stating the obvious.

"No shit, Sherlock," he mumbled under his breath, and then thought of something useful for Nick to do, "Look for helicopters, Nick."

"No choppers," Nick said after looking for a few moments.

Luck was holding with them; nobody else had managed to catch up with the pursuing officers. Reports were still confused, and the officers chasing them had not even connected them with the shootings. The officers chasing them still thought they were just bad drivers.

The officers behind them were good; even if they had not called for backup. Miller thought he could have lost them in a better car, but the Ford engine simply was not designed to take the abuse of a chase. Miller knew he was going to lose the race because of the way he had the engine tuned.

The road they were on took a hard turn to the right, and the abused machine just was not ready to take the turn. Miller hit the brakes trying to slow down, but there was just no way he could make the turn. He instantly saw that they were going to go off the road. He just tried to direct the car as best he could to not flip it or get himself killed.

"Hold on!" Miller yelled to no one in particular as they flew off the edge of the road.

The roadway gave to a slight incline and the Ford flew a good distance into the air. Miller held on for dear life and prayed to some nonexistent God that he would be able to survive long enough to throttle Tom Richter for putting him in that situation.

By some miracle, the car did not flip. They flew into the air as they went over the raised embankment, bounced a few times and either blew out or lost all the tires. The battered car came to a rest, upright, roughly a football field away from the road. The airbags inflated, saving Miller from banging his head. Nick wasn't so lucky and whacked his head into the seat.

"You ok, Nick?" Mike asked him.

"Yeah," he said, "Shaken, but not broken."

"Check out Eddie," Mike said, "I'm going to go out and see what happened to the cops. If they went off the road too we've got a shot at getting out of here."

"You going to surrender?" he asked in a shaken tone.

"Not unless I have to," Miller told him honestly, "Like I said."

"Gotcha," Nick replied, still rubbing his head, "I'll pull Eddie out of here."

"Good idea," Mike mumbled and stood up.

Miller was lucky, but he did not escape without injury totally. His back, which had been lousy from injuries when he was younger, was completely out of line. After the high speed wreck, he considered that he was lucky if that was all that was wrong. Miller reflected on that for a second when he saw that the police car had done the same damn thing. Unfortunately, they were not as lucky and had flipped several times, finally coming to a rest on their roof some forty yards from the road.

Miller hobbled over to the police car and looked inside. The two officers were groaning, so they were still alive. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood back up again.

"Are you alive?" Mike asked them in a thick Russian accent, the only one he could manage to imitate.

Groaning was the only response he got. They were alive, but not quite conscious yet. Miller heard their radio go off asking them where they were. He did not want to leave the poor officers stuck out there so he picked up the radio and fired off a distress call using their call sign. He gave the location in a voice that he made sound dazed and then rushed over to Nick and Eddie, taking in the area while he walked over.

"We're both alive," Nick said, "But he needs a doctor bad. The accident probably made things worse. How bout the cops?"

"Alive," Miller said while trying to act like he did not care, "They are still unconscious. Let's get out of here while we still can in case backup units show up."

"We can't carry everything," Nick said, "I can get a box or I can carry Eddie."

"There's a parking lot up about 200 yards from here," Miller told him, "I saw it while I was walking around. Let's bring everything that way."

Nick dragged Eddie along while Mike carried two of the boxes. Miller went to an old station wagon and saw a tool kit in the back. Using a flat hand Karate move to concentrate force, he shattered the window without doing any real damage to his hands.

"Neat trick," Nick said, impressed.

"Throw the boxes into the back," Miller replied, ignoring him, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

"What about the other box? Nick asked.

"Get it while I figure out how to hot-wire this relic," Mike told him.

He ran off, pretty well for someone who had just been in an accident. Mike decided he did not even feel like messing around with the wires. Remembering what worked on old cars he grabbed a screwdriver from the kit in the back and jammed it into the ignition. A good strong twist and the engine turned over, starting up smoothly for an old car. Nick returned in short order carrying the final box with him.

"Let's get out of here," He said as he jumped in.

"I'll drop you at the parking lot with Eddie's car," Mike said, ignoring the obvious fact that Eddie needed a hospital, "Meet me at Seventeenth and Polloi with it. We'll abandon this clunker behind the museum."

"Ok," Nick said, "What about the doctor?"

"I'll call Barry after we ditch this clunker," Mike told him, "Hopefully he'll know a safe doctor we can take Eddie to. If we bring him to a hospital for this, we're all fucked."

Miller made a beeline for the parking lot and Nick ran to get the car. Miller did not wait for Nick and drove directly to the Museum, pulling into the rear parking lot. Thankfully it was fully dark and nobody could see into the vehicle to see Eddie's bloody body in the back seat or the fact that he was using a screwdriver for an ignition switch.

Nick made it to the museum before Miller did and was standing around the car impatiently smoking a cigarette. Mike pulled the station wagon next to Eddie's Mercedes and made the switch. Eddie was pulled into his own backseat, with Miller again taking the wheel. Miller drove a few blocks away and pulled into another parking lot.

"I'm going to call Barry," he told Nick, "Stay with him. Talk to him and try to stop the bleeding a little. Try to see if you can wake him up."

"Ok," Nick said and tried to talk to Eddie.

Miller hobbled, his back still killing him, to a nearby pay phone and dropped a few coins into the slot. He punched in the number for Jack's that he had been given earlier. The bartender answered, and Miller gruffly asked for Barry Northrup.

"This is Barry, who's this?" he asked.

"Nester," Miller told him, "We need a safe doctor. Quickly. I'll answer questions later."

"Shit!" he exclaimed over the line, "Joshua Noyes is good. He was convicted of Medicare fraud during the Reagan years. He specializes in illicit stuff like this. He's got some space above Lucky's. Either Nick or Eddie will be able to find it."

"Ok," Mike replied, "Tell Harry we'll be back as soon as we can."

"Gotcha," he said and got off the line.

Miller cursed as he went back to the car and slid back into the driver seat. Nick was still in the back seat with Eddie who did not look as if he'd improved any in the minutes that Miller was on the phone.

"Where's Lucky's?" Miller asked Nick, as he was not supposed to know.

"Twelfth and Vine," Nick said, "A few blocks from here. Take a left out of the parking lot. Why are we going there?"

"Barry said to see Joshua Noyes in the upper rooms there," Miller told him.

"Noyes is good," he nodded, "He treated me for knife wounds last year. Didn't know he was up in Lucky's now."

Miller drove slowly, careful not to exceed the speed limit. He had gotten the police off their tail and did not particularly want to get into a second chase. They pulled into the alley behind Lucky's and got out of the car.

"You're going to have to find him," Miller told Nick, "These people aren't going to know me from Adam."

"Stay with him," Nick said, "I'll need some cash."

"Take a wad from the box in the trunk," Miler told him.

He did so and went into the building. Mike hoped Nick was up to the task and that he knew what he was doing. Mike sat for about ten more minutes with Eddie and hoped that Eddie could keep breathing until the doctor came in to take him away.

Nick came busting out of the back door followed by a rather genial guy in his fifties. Nick pulled open the car door and the man looked at Eddie closely.

"How long has he been like this?" The doctor asked.

"Probably close to 90 minutes now," Miller told him, "Maybe even two hours."

"Can you two carry him upstairs?" he asked.

"I'll help," Miller told them, "But my back was injured as well. Can you take the brunt of his weight, Nick?"

"Sure," he said, "Just keep his feet from dragging."

The two of them carried Eddie up the back stairs to Dr. Noyes' office. For a criminal doctor, the place was pretty clean. He stripped Eddie down and washed off the blood with alcohol. Noyes then used a hypodermic needle to inject sedatives into Eddie, just to make sure he didn't wake up while the doctor was working on him.

"I don't have an X-Ray machine," he said woefully, "Do you know what he was shot with?"

"High caliber pistols," Miller told him, remembering what he saw lying on the floor, "Didn't have a chance to look, but I think it was either a 9mm or a .45."

"Pray for the nine mil," Noyes said, "If it was the 45 he's a goner; it would have turned his chest to Mush."

"I know," Miller replied as he silently thought of Eddie Carmichael, lying on the ground after Bronson's .45 had turned his chest to mush.

Noyes worked diligently on Eddie East for the next three hours as Nick and Mike took turns assisting. The erstwhile doctor managed to extract two bullets and patch him up fairly well. Noyes gave them some antibiotic pills to give him every six hours and strict instructions regarding his recuperation.

"Keep him off his feet for a while," he said, "Not that there will be a problem with that. He's not out of the woods yet. Whatever you were doing, I hope you scored because it'll be at least a month before he's gotten anywhere close to better. And that's only if he lives through the next few days, something that I'm not prepared to give odds on. I managed to stabilize him and remove the bullet. I'm not sure how much damage there is or if I got it all. He's hurt worse than most of the people I get here."

"Thanks doc," Mike said, being the de facto leader of the group, "Has Nick taken care of all the payment?"

"The first part," Noyes said, "Five grand even should take care of the rest of it, including a later refill of pills should he live that long."

"I've got it," Nick said and pulled out the wad of cash, "You going to be around here for a bit?"

"Until the cops catch up with me again," Noyes said, "Probably for a few more weeks before Charlie's people pay for me to move to a new place."

"Thanks again, Doc," Mike said as he helped Nick carry Eddie down to the car.

"Where to?" Nick asked.

"Where does Eddie live most of the time?" Mike asked him.

"Aeroslicher Hotel," Nick replied, "When he's not behind on his rent. He's never been any good at holding on to cash."

"Let's go pay it up and stash him there," Miller instructed him, "You drive. My back is fucking killing me."

Miller rode in silence with closed eyes. He had not been in that much pain for years. His mood was soured, and he really was not thrilled with the way the night had gone. He was almost hoping that Lupo would decide that he was not needed. He managed to mostly work through the crisis of conscience by the time Nick pulled into the parking lot of the Aeroslicher. There was nothing to do but go on.

They carried Eddie into the back and went up to his room. Nick laid Eddie down on the bed and force-fed him one of the pills Noyes had given them. Nick looked up at Miller and asked me without words what to do next.

"Give me the keys," Mike told him, still trying to figure that out for himself, "I'll go deal with Harry. Find Eddie's favorite hooker and pay her to give him the pills and watch him if you don't want to stay here tonight."

"After that?" Nick asked.

"Go to sleep," he shrugged, "Before I go why don't you come on down and get your cash though."

Nick and Mike went down to Eddie's car. He counted out both his cut and Eddie's cut of the cash. Miller, annoyed at Harry because of the hassle, threw in an extra four grand in to pay for the hooker and for Eddie's trouble. He figured Harry would agree, or at least acquiesce to it. They had his 90K, plus some more, even after taking their own cuts out of it.

"Can you get home if you want to?" Mike asked Nick.

"I'll take a cab," he said, "It's not a problem. I may just crash on the couch up in Eddie's room anyway for tonight. I'm not sure I want to trust a hooker with this yet."

"Cool," Mike told him, "I'll go square with Harry and then I'm going to find a place for the night myself. Maybe even get my back looked at."

Nick nodded and went back inside. Miller got into the car and drove it to a parking lot. He went through the boxes in the trunk, with the remaining cash going into two of the boxes. He put the documents and his share of the loot in a single box to separate it. After getting all of that set, he drove towards Jack's place to give news of the fiasco to Harry Lupo. It was not news that he wanted to deliver, but someone had to.

Chapter Nine – May 10, 2000 – Early Morning

Miller pulled Eddie's car into a parking spot near Jack's Place and shifted it into park. He was dead tired by this point, but knew that Harry would want results, especially after the emergency call earlier. Miller also wanted to get the heat for this fiasco behind him and turn over the cash before crashing.

The very weary Miller opened the trunk and grabbed the two boxes. The door to the bar was open, considering it was a warm spring night and closing time was not for another hour. Jerry saw him come in with the boxes and waved him to the room in the back. Miller gave him a curt nod and walked quickly and with purpose. Miller was pissed at the way things had gone on this job and was not afraid to show it.

There were only two hookers in there; both being pretty well ignored by both men. They had more on their minds than playing with bimbos that night. Harry was sipping nervously on a scotch and water while Barry was sitting down doing little. They both stood up quick when they saw Miller enter the room.

"Jesus Christ," Harry said when he saw the bruises and blood spots on him, "You look like you've gone through a meat grinder."

"I don't feel much better," He grumbled, unceremoniously dropping the boxes on the table, "Mission accomplished."

"You're kidding?" Barry said, "All that shit and you still got out with the goods?"

"Amazing huh?" Mike said while lowering himself into a bench, "It's been a long night."

"Where are Nick and Eddie?" Harry asked, "Are they all right? Barry said you called asking for Doc Noyes."

"Nick's fine," Mike told him, "Eddie's not so fine. Noyes patched him up, but he could still die from the shock. We won't know for a couple days."

"Where are they?" Harry asked again and offered Miller a cigarette.

"Eddie's hotel room," Miller shrugged and took the smoke, forgetting he'd quit, "Nick's going to watch him tonight then probably hire one of Eddie's favorite hookers to watch him until he gets better. If he gets better. He was shot up pretty bad."

Harry smiled for the first time since Miller came into the room. He stretched a little and then shouted for the bartender to come in. He then sat back down next to one of the prostitutes and started fondling her a little. The bartender had come in before Harry said another word.

"Yes Harry?" the bartender asked as he poked his head into the room.

"Another round here," he said with a smile "And make it a double for Nester here. He looks like he could use it."

"What do you want?" The bartender asked Miller.

"Stoli," Miller said without hesitation, "Straight and bring a bottle."

"Ok," he said with a grin and followed orders.

"So what the hell happened, Ray?" Harry asked, "How did Eddie get shot?"

"It was a clusterfuck," He told Harry honestly, "Nick and Eddie went into the place and the next thing I hear is shooting. When they didn't come out reasonably quick, I ran in to find out what happened to them. Nick was pinned down and Eddie was bleeding on the floor."

"You weren't scared?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course I was," Miller told him, "But it's no worse than a firefight. I knew that training was on my side for that. You have to go through it and try to make fewer mistakes than the other guy."

Both men nodded as if they were impressed. The girls were giving no real indication that they cared, probably because they were both stoned out of their minds. Harry told Mike to continue with the story.

"Eddie was down, Nick didn't know what happened so he took cover," he continued, "I finished it up and Nick took care of Eddie. I grabbed the cash you see there, and we took off."

"That's it?" he asked.

"Other than a long pursuit by a couple cops and a nice car accident outside of town," Mike told him bluntly and took a quick shot of Stoli, "It was a blast. The rest of the time was spent getting Eddie patched up by Doc Noyes."

"So that chase I heard about on the TV was you guys," Harry mumbled with a healthy amount of respect, "You're lucky the cops survived, otherwise they'd still be on your ass."

"Fuck em," Miller said with a shrug, trying to keep the regret for that happening inside, and poured himself another glass, "If they hadn't chased me like that they wouldn't have crashed either. Luckily I was more in control of my landing than they were of theirs."

They sat there for a few long minutes of silence reflecting on how it could have gone much worse. Miller downed a few more shots of vodka to kill the growing pain in his back. He knew that his back was going to require attention of some sort ,eventually. Harry, meanwhile, sat back and smiled. He was contemplating giving Nester a spot on his crew right there, but his prudence dictated that he at least talk to Nick first.

"You going to be hanging around town for a while, Ray?" Harry asked.

"I honestly hadn't thought about it," Miller lied.

"Good," he said, deciding to bait the hook to keep Nester close by, "Listen. I may need more people around here."

Miller nodded as he thought he should, though he really did not give a damn at that moment in time. His main goal in life at that moment was sleep. Barry did not hide the fact that he was not thrilled with Harry going that far out on the limb, but he had the sense to shut up at the time.

"I'll be around," Miller said, draining his shot glass, "What I need right now is about a day's worth of sleep and probably a chiropractor."

"Why a chiropractor?" Barry asked in surprise.

"Because I beat the hell out of my back when I wrecked the car," Miller told him, graciously leaving out the embellishment of calling him an asshole, "Aggravated an old injury from years ago."

"Will the cops be looking for someone with injuries like that?" Harry asked, worried.

"Probably not," Miller told him, "Anyway, I can point them to my service record and then claim I tried to lift something I shouldn't have."

"Ok," Harry said, "Come on back by when you're ready. I'm here most of the time and if I'm not here someone will be that can find me."

"I'll see you around Harry," he said and then stood up to walk out.

"Ray!" Harry said as if he forgot something.

Miller stopped and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned around and looked at Harry with a questioning look in his eyes. The Stoli was starting to hit and he did not want to show it in front of them.

"Your cut of the cash," Harry said, "Let me count out your portion."

"Already done," Mike told him and breathed a sigh of relief, "Nick has his portion, and Eddie's too. Mine is in Eddie's car. I paid Noyes out of that cash as well. I figured you'd want Eddie taken care of so he wouldn't be connected to the job. What's left in the boxes is your two shares and Charlie's 90 grand."

"Not bad, Nester," Harry said, impressed.

"I'm going to hold on to Eddie's car for now," He told them, not wanting to deal with a cab, "I'll leave it in the parking lot of his hotel in a couple days. He won't need it for a while."

"If ever," Barry put in sarcastically.

"See you around, Nester," Harry said with a grin and then turned over to one of the hookers.

Miller could not help but smile as he realized that he was in. All it was going to take was Nick backing up the story he had told. Miller slid into the car and pulled out of the parking space. He did not know what to make of the night so he drove around for a while. He drove around in Eddie's car for around four hours before he decided to stop.

He pulled the car over into a gas station and filled it up. While the car was filling up he walked over to the pay phone and called the number Eric had given him. He still could not believe it had been less than two days since he had started this assignment. It felt like a year already. So much had happened.

"Freddie's Pizza," Tracy Howard said over the telephone, "How may I help you?"

"You can cut the bullshit," he grumbled, "I need a meet. I have stuff to pass on."

"What's going on?" Tracy asked in surprise, "It's too soon for you to have anything major."

"I have some papers that you need to pass on," Miller replied, "And I need to report on the clusterfuck that this night has been."

"Clusterfuck..." she said, taking a second to comprehend, "Oh shit. Were you involved in that mess over in the Latin district?"

"Up to my ears," he grumbled, "I'll tell you the rest in person. You will probably be the best one to go in case Harry has anyone watching me. A woman will go unnoticed. Harry will figure that I used my cut of the job to pay for some companionship for the night."

"When and where?" she asked, knowing better than to argue.

"Motel six," Miller replied while looking at the one across the street, "The one over on Northwest Highway."

"I know where it is," she said, "What room number?"

"I'm driving a red Mercedes," Mike told her, remembering that he did not have the room yet, "The room number will be on a scrap of paper under my windshield wiper. I am driving a red Cadillac registered to Eddie East. I'm going over to rent a room now and register under the Nester alias."

"I'll be there in an hour," she told him before ringing off, "I have to report to Tom before I go."

He put the phone back on the cradle and went to deal with the car and the gasoline. He paid the attendant and bought a can of cola, which was promptly drained. Miller checked into the motel and made sure that he got a ground floor room, in case he wasn't capable of walking on stairs later. The attendant handed him the key card for room 114.

He moved the car in front of the door to room 114, tore off a sheet of paper, wrote the numerals on it and put it under the wiper. Miller then grabbed the box of papers and brought it with him into the room, grimacing silently at the pain he felt in his back as he carried it.

Miller dropped the box on the desk and crawled over to the bed. His body was screaming for sleep by that point, but he knew there was no point in sleeping when Tracy would be pounding on the door any minute. Miller flipped on to CNN and watched the biased garbage they called news for a few minutes, dozing off after five minutes of watching the reports of Clinton's latest fumbles in the white house.

Forty-five minutes after lying down on the bed pounding on the door awakened him. Using the last of his strength he got up, opened the door and let Tracy into the room. She looked at Miller for a second, taking in his battered appearance, and then came into the room with her usual businesslike manner.

"You look like hell, Miller," she said as she came into the room.

"No shit," he muttered as he collapsed on the bed again, "It's been a long fucking night."

"What happened?"

"It was supposed to be a simple retaliation and recovery," Miller explained to her, "They needed a driver to replace Tony Talbot. I was available."

"They ran some good checks on you," She confirmed, "Eric intercepted several, including requests for your military records. He got the right stuff out."

"No surprise," Mike shrugged, "They may be criminals, but they aren't stupid. If they were, I wouldn't be in this mess."

He then told her the story about how the mess went down and what was accomplished. He told her how he saved their asses and kept the whole thing from becoming a complete disaster. She was slightly shocked that things had gone that far that quick, but she didn't seem to have any qualms about the morality of it.

"The two officers made it out of the car all right," Tracy said after Mike finished, "One thing they are still trying to figure out is how the distress call got out. Neither officer claimed to have made it. Was that you?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I made the call. Nick was busy in the car with Eddie and I went over to check on them on the pretext of not wanting to become a cop killer that night."

"Understandable," she said and her mood softened a little "That clears that up. Now for the really important part... How are you?"

"Sore," he told her, surprised that she cared, "I think I threw out my back in the accident. Probably going to have to go see a chiropractor tomorrow."

She sat back in the chair and looked hard at Miller. He looked into her eyes, noticing for the first time that they were a soft brown. She was worried about him, and it was beginning to show through the hard businesslike exterior that she tried so hard to present.

"That wasn't what I meant," she said, though Miller knew this already, "How are you handling the stress of this?"

"I'm surviving," he shrugged, still not quite sure what she wanted, "It's been more fun than the last few years at home. They can be a whole lot of fun; you know, if you forget just how rotten they are."

"Just don't forget what they are," she said ominously, "Never let yourself forget what they really are."

"And just what is that?" He asked her, sitting up a little, curious to hear her answer.

"Slime," she said vehemently, "Pure unadulterated slime. Don't turn your back to them otherwise you're likely to get a dagger put into it."

Miller thought about that for a minute as he let her cool down a little. He attempted to prop himself up to get a better look at the expression on her face, only to end up screaming as the pain went through him like a lightning rod. The disk he had knocked out of place earlier decided to tell him its displeasure.

"Are you ok?" Tracy said as she went over and sat on the bed next to him.

"My back," He told her through clenched teeth, "Jumping a car is one hell of a jolt on a body. It's not like jumping the General Lee in the Dukes of Hazzard."

"Lie down on your stomach," she instructed him, "I was a masseuse while I was in school. I might be able to relieve the pain a little if you want."

He looked at her for a second with what must have been a surprised expression, then, after shrugging his shoulders in acquiescence, complied. He was not in the mood to refuse anything that could make his back feel better. He was not sure it was possible for it to feel worse.

Tracy went over to Mike and started pushing on his back, probing softly to try to figure out where exactly his injuries were. Her touch was soft, much softer than Mike would have given her credit for. His body was not being particularly cooperative; however, and she was unable to figure out exactly where the pain was originating.

"Take off your shirt Mike," she instructed him, "I can't figure out if there's an injury that has to be taken care of or if its shock, at least I can't through the cloth."

He looked up at her and chuckled a little, not knowing whether to do it or not. It was not exactly a normal thing to take off your shirt for a coworker, but this was not exactly a normal circumstance either. She shook her head and gave him half a smile as she noticed his gears turning. He still hesitated for a second; however, and looked at her again. She smiled fully and shook her once more.

"You have something I haven't seen before, Miller?" she said with a coy smile, "Off with the shirt so I can fix that back of yours."

"Yes ma'am," He grinned and slowly removed his shirt.

She started working the muscles in the lower part of his back. She hadn't forgotten the techniques that had paid her way through school. Her hands moved quickly and with purpose. It was painful for him, but it was working. She continued to work slowly and before long she knew what was wrong and knew how to fix it.

"I think you've slipped something, Mike," she said, "I think I know where. Do you want me to try to put it back in place? It'll hurt, but if it works it'll get better in a few days."

"Go ahead," he agreed, "I doubt you can make it any worse than it is now."

"Ok," she said and cracked her hands, "This will probably hurt whether it works or not. Take a deep breath and hold on to it for a second."

He did so and felt her straddle his legs so she could get a balanced push on his back. She placed her hands on him, one on either side of the spine with her thumbs crossing. Knowing it was about to come, he let out the breath and took another one in. Tracy did the same and then quickly pushed down on his back with a very quick concentrated force.

"Fuck!" he screamed as he felt his back snap into place.

"Did it go back into place?" she asked as she moved off his back.

"I think so," he said as the pain started to die down, "I don't think a chiropractor could have done it better. It's still sore, but I think its more shock than anything now. It's not as concentrated as was."

"Thanks," she said with a smile and sat back against the headboard, "That's because the pressure causing the direct pain is gone. It will still be sore for a while."

Mike sat up and leaned back against the headboard, sitting right next to her. He looked at her and started to take more notice of what she looked like. He reached over to the table grabbed the pack of cigarettes on the table, annoyed at himself for having started with them again. He then offered the pack to her and she silently pulled one out. Miller lit both, and they sat there silently for a while longer.

"You're a bad influence, Miller," she said finally as she puffed on the cigarette, "I quit these damned things five years ago."

"It's been five months for me," he chuckled, "But as you've all been telling me I have to live the life of these guys to be accepted."

"It's a dangerous world Mike," she said with a sigh, "And you're right, this is probably the safest thing you've done since agreeing to this job."

"How many deep cover operations have you been involved with?" Mike asked her, curious as to her experience with this.

"You're number eleven," she said as she let out a sigh, "All in support roles. Unlike the feds, Tom doesn't see the point in putting women out there. Not because he doesn't think we're capable, but because he doesn't want to require us to give our bodies over to it. The outside world may be more accepting of women, but the underworld is still as sexist as it comes."

"How many have been successful?" He asked her, "Tell me the truth now. It's too late for me to go back anyway."

"Six," she stated, "Of the four that didn't work two failed at the starting line. Al was the primary in one of those. It blew up in his face two days out because he didn't know how to fake a snort correctly."

"I heard about that," He said as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed.

"The other two were killed," she said with a deep sigh, tears welling in her eyes, "Alex Cole was found in an alley. He'd been weaving himself inside of Charlie Bullock's operation through one of his drug people. We don't know how he was discovered, just found his remains one morning."

"Did you ever catch the people who did it?" Miller asked.

"We heard rumors that Freddie Pena did the job," she said, not quite sure if she should tell him or not, "But we never were able to find any proof."

"Pena," He mused, "I've heard that name before."

"He's showed up on and off for years," She replied, "They call him the shadow man. We don't know if he works for Bullock, if Bullock works for him, or if he's just an outside contractor. Both us and the Feds have been trying to get a line on the son of a bitch for almost a decade now."

"What about the other one?" Mike prodded her, wanting to know a little about the history of this program.

"Frank Price," she said slowly as her eyes misted over, the pain showing, "That's a hard one to relive because I had fallen in love with him."

"Tell me about it," he implored her.

"Frank was undercover in the drug operation," she said and took a second to grab a breath, "Same one that we'd tried to put Alex into. He wanted to get the people who'd killed Alex rather badly."

"How long had you been with him?" Mike asked, sensing that she had been with him a while.

"Four years," she said, "We thought the operation was going well. He was under two months when he disappeared. We looked for him for about a year. His body, or at least what we think was his body, was found in the woods four months ago. It was the right age and build and had died at roughly the same time Frank had lost contact."

"Pena again?"

"We don't know for sure, but that's the word on the street," she said and clenched her face at the memory, "We never figured it out. Both him and Alex are still open cases, probably never to be solved unless we get lucky."

Mike could tell she was about ready to start crying and did not blame her a bit. The change in her demeanor was astounding when he thought about it. It was not coldness that he perceived that first day, but her protecting herself. He pulled her over and gave her a shoulder to lean on. After a few moments, she was sobbing quietly on his shoulder with his arms holding on to her.

"Have you been involved in one of these since Frank's disappearance?" he asked her softly.

"No," she said into his shoulder, "I couldn't take it. Tom had me working backup on the low-level undercover operations for a while. When he found out that he had another good candidate for deep cover he brought me back into the fold because his other teams were all being used. He also is under the mistaken assumption that I'm one of the best. He pulled Al, Eric, and me together again for you because he had a feeling that you would be one of the best operations he's had in years and he wanted you to have the best."

"It sounds like he has confidence in you, Tracy," He told the back of her head, "Maybe you need to have some confidence in yourself. It wasn't your fault that Alex and Frank died. They knew what the risks were, just like I do."

"That's not the important part, Mike," she said as she sat up and looked into his eyes, "You're the important one in this. You're the one whose life is on the line. You need to have confidence in me and in Al and Eric. I bet I've just clobbered your confidence in one of the three too."

"Not at all, Trace," He told her with a smile, intentionally using what seemed to be a natural nickname for her, "I was more worried when you were acting like a total control freak that didn't care. I like it better now that I know you are human."

"I didn't want to make the same mistake I'd made with Frank," she said sadly, "It looks like I'm doing so already though."

"You have to care about someone, Tracy," he told her, "You can't live in a vacuum. In this job you don't have time to go out to singles bars or whatever it is that single people do these days. You do what you can and hope things work out."

She chuckled, and her eyes lit up for the first time since she came into the room. Miller was starting to break through the walls she had built up. He liked what he saw behind those walls. She was not alone in her obvious attraction for him, though a part of him wished he that he had met her under more favorable circumstances.

Slowly, after looking for signs in his eyes, she leaned into him and kissed him softly. Not to be outdone, he returned the kiss enthusiastically. He pulled her close to him, and they kissed for a good long while, almost movie star style. It was nothing like what he had shared with the young hooker the night before or even like what he had with his ex-wife. There was more feeling in that one kiss than he ever felt with Julie.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to pull away, "This isn't fair to you. You don't need the added complications..."

"Shush," he interrupted "That was what both of us needed. You know as well as anyone how stressful this is, both for me and for the three of you that have to support me. But, if this is not fair to anyone, Tracy, it's you. You've been through this before, and I'm afraid I'm pushing you into exactly what you've feared."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes as she thought about this. Mike simply held on to her and stroked her fine reddish blonde hair while rocking her softly. She finally sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She smiled and kissed him on the nose.

Mike sat there without his shirt as he looked into her eyes. It was a really sudden thing, the chemistry just clicking into place. His eyes were asking, hers were confirming. They tore into each other with reckless abandon, all caution to the wind and Mike's wounds forgotten. Their remaining clothes quickly ended up on the floor and before long we were under the covers making love rigorously.

Neither one of them was quite sure how long they had gone on together. It was quite a new experience for him, a level of caring and need he had never truly experienced before. His ex-wife had been cold, so there had been no real love in their lovemaking, especially as the years had gone on. They had married too young, and Miller had been a faithful husband. He had never known that sex could be that good.

"You're something else, Mike," she said as she nibbled his lower lip, "You're on an insane mission and you still manage to prop me up emotionally."

"You're a better person than you give yourself credit for," He grinned, "And I've been a bit down in the dumps myself lately. Why do you think I'm in this mess now?"

"Why on earth did you decide to take this mission anyway?" she asked, "You're smart, you're funny, and you're an all around decent guy. What the hell are you doing here in this seedy motel with me and hanging around with creeps like Lupo?"

"Neither one of us belongs in this place," He shrugged, "But I'm here to do a job. After the divorce, I lost a big part of myself. I didn't know what to do. One month I have a wife, a family. The next month I'm living by myself in a one room apartment, just me and my computers. I guess I went a little nuts."

"Bad divorce?" she asked.

"The worst," he told her with a sigh, "It happened really quickly too. I was sort of blindsided by it."

"What caused it?" she asked, "If I'm not being too personal."

He chuckled at that. Here they were, lying naked in bed together and she asked whether a question was too personal. It wasn't. It felt good for him to get this out with someone who actually cared.

"We grew apart," he told her, "Julie and I were never the most compatible of people. We thought we were in love. It was a joke, tis what it was. We were too damn young to know what love was. It's always fun when you realize that a significant chunk of your life is bullshit."

"I can't imagine you being a bad or neglectful father," Tracy said thoughtfully, "How did she block you out of your son's life?"

"He wasn't mine," he told her, "The bitch proved with a blood test I wasn't his real father. She had a better lawyer than I did, mainly because she could afford it. The arrogant son of a bitch twisted things and made it look like my job was a danger to the boy. Despite the fact that I've never been anything but a loving father my claims to him were tossed aside. As far as the law goes, a man has very few rights when it comes down to children."

"Let me guess," she chuckled, though she agreed with him, "You had one of those clowns that the department provides as a perk. I've seen quite a few divorces mishandled by them."

"Tell me about it," he sighed.

"You said that she could afford it," She asked, puzzled, "I take it she wasn't a stay at home wife."

"Hardly," he replied, "She's a programmer, wrote a key piece of software for a large company. Her salary is at least four times mine, even without her bonuses. She was able to afford the best as far as lawyers went."

"Class differences," Tracy smiled, "She wanted to be rich bitch and you're still mingling with the slime of society."

"Something like that," he nodded, "Anyway, the end result was the house being sold and the proceeds split, 70/30. Guess who got the short end of the stick?"

"The guy with the legal aid moron," she laughed, "PBA really sucks on that front."

"Of course," he said bitterly. It felt for him good to get this all out.

"To hell with her," Tracy said and kissed him once again.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he shrugged, "Maybe if I stay in this too long I'll get to shoot her?"

"I don't think so," she laughed.

"Me either," he said, feigning disappointment.

"You know, I should go back and report to Tom," she said sadly.

"He can wait a while longer," he smiled.

"You probably need to go back to see Harry anyway," Tracy observed.

"Nope," he grinned, "I told him I'd probably be gone a bit to get my back taken care of. He's probably not expecting me until tomorrow, earliest."

"Go back early," she suggested, "See how things are falling. If things are falling your way, great, if not then get out quick. After this morning, I wouldn't be too disappointed to see you not have to go any deeper."

She slid out of the bed and started separating clothes. He sat up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. It was amazing how quickly bad habits can return; he felt as though he'd never even quit. He looked at it for a second and decided not to give into the returning addiction, tossing the pack back on the table.

"How bout a quick shower first?" he asked her, not wanting to give up this little piece of normality so soon.

"I think I could use one," she smiled, "I'll wash your front if you'll wash mine."

Like a couple of horny kids, they raced into the cheap shower and washed each other off for a while. The water felt good after the physical activity. Miller was teetering on the edge of consciousness from the lack of sleep, but didn't want this time to end. He knew that it would be the last time for a while.

"Mike," she said as they were drying off after the shower, "Promise me something?"

"What?" he asked her, stopping with the towel and looking at her.

"Don't let anything distract you from your purpose," she warned, "Feelings for me, worries, and doubts. Being anything or anyone other than Raymond Nester will get you killed. When you leave this room and go back to see Harry, leave Mike Miller behind, because if you slip, even once, you are dead. Make no mistake about it."

She got dressed and sat down on the bed. He tried not to think about what she said as he went back to it and crawled inside and smiled at her. She shook her head and moved closer to him. She then leaned down and kissed him.

"You going back today?" she asked.

"After I get some sleep," He nodded, "I'll probably slink over there sometime tonight and find out where the chips have landed. I think that if Harry's talked to Nick then I'll probably have a place with him."

"Good," she said with a smile that she did not feel, "Take care of yourself, Miller. Call me if you need anything. I'm going to get out of here and let you get some sleep."

She slid out of the door quickly. Mike smiled a little and then rested his head on the pillow. The stress and physical activity had taken their toll. With pleasant thoughts of the past few hours edging out the horror he had gone through in the hours before, Mike Miller was asleep within minutes.

Chapter Ten – May 10, 2000 – Late Evening

After spending the rest of the day sleeping Miller made his way back to Jack's Place. He felt good after the sleep, his back hardly hurting at all. Tracy had managed to fix the injury a lot better than he expected. Miller walked through the door and saw few people there other than Harry's crew. Wednesdays tended to be very slow for Jack's Place.

Harry, Nick and Barry were seated around the bar talking things up and having a good time. Nick saw the man he knew as Nester first and broke into a smile. He waved Miller over to join them. Miller grinned as if he were glad to see them and pulled up a stool next to Nick on the end.

"Glad to see you back, Ray," Nick said, "Let me buy you a drink, it's the least I can do. What'll it be?"

"Scotch on the rocks," Mike told the bartender, "How's Eddie holding up?"

"No change," Nick said and looked down at his feet, "I don't know if he's going to make it. I had to get out of there. I left him with a hooker friend of his. She's usually reliable enough. I don't think she can make it any worse."

"Worse comes to worse take him back to Noyes," Barry shrugged, cold son of a bitch he was, "That's all we can do."

"Ray," Harry put in before the conversation could go any further, "Can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?"

"Sure," He replied and grabbed his scotch, he was ready for this conversation, "Where?"

"In my office," Harry said with a smile and pointed to the back room.

Mike took a sip of his scotch and followed Harry into the room. Lupo sat down in his usual spot and motioned for Mike to sit down as well. Miller did so and took another drink of the scotch. Harry looked Miller over for a few moments to get a feel for the man sitting across the table. He did not know as much as he would like about Raymond Nester, but what he had seen was outstanding. He did not want to lose what could be prime talent just to have him go work somewhere else.

"It seems that you went a bit above and beyond the call last night," Harry said as he lit a cigarette, "Nick said that he and Eddie would probably have been either killed or at least arrested if it wasn't for you."

"I did what I had to do to get out," Mike said modestly, "If they'd been arrested I would have been caught too. And Eddie might have gotten himself killed in there, we just don't know for sure yet."

"Regardless," he said with a smile and handed the pack of cigarettes to Miller, "We've been short a guy since Tony Talbot and Mike Renzalli went up the river."

Miller had forgotten about Mike Renzalli. He was another one of Harry's boys who went up river on an assault rap. He beat someone senseless in front of a security camera. They managed to send him up for a two to five-year stretch about six months before.

"Really?" Miller said nonchalantly as he pulled a cigarette out, lit it, and handed the pack back to Harry, "You looking for new people?"

"You planning on hanging around this city for a while?" he asked.

"I've been giving it some thought," Miller admitted, playing along with the game, "I like the opportunities available around here, though I think I'll pass on bullshit jobs like last night."

"Well," he said with a smile, "I have regular work, and there's a spot on my crew open if you want it. I'm sure Nick will enthusiastically back you. Don't worry, last night was definitely out of the ordinary."

"Sounds good," Mike said and sat back with the scotch, "Certainly can't complain about the dough, and if something like last night goes down again I'll plan it myself and take more time with it so it doesn't become a clusterfuck. Besides, can't complain about the chick the other night either."

"Ain't it the truth?" he grinned, "And don't worry, jobs last night are rare. That was a score we had to settle, you understand?"

"Of course," Mike said and then tried to keep from throwing up as he said the rest, "You gotta keep the spics in line otherwise it'll be sending a message that we can be walked all over."

"Exactly!" he agreed emphatically, "Anyway, welcome to the crew, Ray. I just wanted to see if you were interested."

"I've got no other real offers and no place to go," Mike told him truthfully, "Not much call for ex-military people with a less than honorable discharge."

"I bet," he said and downed the rest of the drink, "Anyway, let's go and join Nick and Barry."

"Sounds good to me," Mike replied and snuffed out his cigarette.

Mike followed Harry back out to the bar and sat down. He ordered another scotch and received congratulations from both Barry and Nick, though Barry's was more perfunctory than anything else. Nick was the one who seemed to be really enthused by the pronouncement.

Ray Nester seemed to be the man of the hour, being the new recruit. It was a good night for him, and he actually had a good time. The girls started showing up, and he started rubbing noses with that cute little brunette he had been with on the first night.

After a while, they all retired to the back room again where both Nick and Harry started pulling out the drugs. Mike declined the drugs that were going around and stuck to the alcohol. Miller decided that he would be better off not having to fake snort cocaine any more than he had to. In a move that shocked the hell out of Miller, Barry went over and stuck out his hand to him.

"Congrats," he said as they shook hands, actually making an effort to sound as though he meant it, "Looks like you managed to impress Harry. Hell, Ray, you've impressed me too. Welcome to the crew."

"Thanks Barry," Mike replied, surprised at his sudden change in attitude, "I see that you're not joining them in the drugs tonight."

"Don't like to do that shit," he said with a shrug, "The alcohol's good enough for me, right?"

"Me too, tonight," Miller grinned.

He and Barry talked for a few minutes until the bartender came in to talk to Harry. Harry talked to him for a minute quietly and then told everyone he was going out to get a phone call. Nick, Barry and Mike looked at each other for a few minutes and waited for Harry to come back in.

When Harry did not come right back in they started talking a little bit more and playing with the girls a bit. Mike was slightly worried about what was going on, he was wondering if the jig was up already. He kept going on, as Nester would, no other choice for him. He continued to joke and play with the brunette. One of the girls was dancing on the table for them when Harry came back into the room with a huge smile on his face.

"Take a night off honey," he said to the girl and handed her a hundred dollar bill, "We've got us something to do. That goes for all of you ladies."

The girls feigned as if they cared and collected their money as they filed out of the room. Mike was curious, but he waited for Harry to sit down and tell them what the hell was going on. That never happened, however, Harry merely went to the door.

"Come on," he said like an excited child, "I've got a surprise. You'll especially like it, Ray."

Miller looked up at him, shrugged, and stood up to follow. Harry's mood was too good for it to be a bad thing against his new employee. The four of them went outside, and Harry looked at Miller. Miller figured he'd be the driver so he pointed him to Eddie's Mercedes that was parked across the street.

"Want me to drive?" Mike asked him to be sure "Or do you want to do it?"

"I'll drive," he said, "I know where we're going."

Nick, being the smallest, took the back seat behind Harry. Mike slid into the front passenger side because he had the keys and Barry went into the remaining spot behind him. Harry smiled and turned on the ignition. All the passengers could do was hold on when he tore out of the parking lot and headed down the street at a high rate of speed.

Nick was whooping it up in the back as they sped through the streets at a rather high rate of speed. It was sheer luck that they didn't come across any police. All Miller could do was hold on for dear life while trying to act as if he were enjoying the experience.

Harry pulled the car to a stop in a covered place near an old warehouse. Miller could not help but look around and wonder just what was going on. The hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to stand up again. Mike needed to know what was going on.

Harry led the way, and the others followed him. Eventually, they saw two people standing next to a third person through a door to a smaller room. As they moved closer Mike, Nick and Barry saw that the third person really was not standing but was hanging from a set of chains around his wrist.

Miller did not recognize any of them at first, but when they got closer he knew what was going on. The kid that had tried to strangle Harry in the lockup was hanging there and looked a lot like he had when he first entered the cell. He was scared and almost pleading in his eyes. His dark hair was messed up and caked with blood. He had already been beaten, though how much of it was recent and how much of it was from the beating Miller given him was something pretty well indistinguishable by that point.

"I see you recognize our friend here, Ray," Harry said with a smile.

"Who is he, Ray?" Nick asked.

"He's the moron who attacked Harry in the lockup," Mike mumbled, knowing that this kid was seeing the last people he would ever see, "I had to beat the hell out of him to keep him off us. He was doped up on something."

"PCP," the kid mumbled through his swollen lip.

"It's time to have a little fun, boys," Harry said with a smile, ignoring the kid, "Jerry... Chris... Thanks for finding this little creep. We'll take it from here."

Harry handed a wad of cash to each of them, and they took their leave, not wanting or caring to know what was going to happen to the poor sod they took. Miller knew what was coming but had little choice but to sit there and watch. Mike just hoped that Harry would be pissed off enough at the kid to do the final act himself.

Harry started hitting the kid with his bare fists. He worked the kid over for a little while, mainly in the soft areas. Nick, Barry and Mike watched in silence as Harry tired himself out. This was a systematic beating, and all of them knew that the kid was going to die. Unfortunately, Miller was the only one who cared and he could do nothing without breaking cover.

Mike looked around the room to see what was in the area. They were not out in the main warehouse where the blood would be noticed, but in the security office. Easier to conceal and put plastic on the ground. The low ceiling also made it easier to hang the kid like a punching bag.

Miller noticed a camera on the wall that would have caught the action, had it not been turned off. He glanced at the panel that he was near and leaned up against it, nonchalantly flipping on the camera on switch. Nobody other than Miller took notice as the recording machine behind them turned on, the noise of the beating covering the whirring of the recorder and the clicks of it starting up.

When Harry needed a rest, he let Miller have a few whacks on the kid. Miller did it mainly to stay in cover, though he could tell that the kid was almost all the way out by then. His brain had shut down to the point of death; his body just hadn't quite taken the hint yet. Mike worked on him for a few minutes, imagining Harry in the kid's place, before offering whacks to Nick and Barry.

"That's all?" Harry asked me, surprised, "I thought you'd work on him more."

"I worked him over pretty good in lockup," he shrugged and let out a wry grin, "It was more fun when he could fight back. Besides, it wasn't me who was caught by surprise. You're the one he attacked cowardly, so you deserve most of the fun."

Harry nodded in approval and joined Nick in a savage two-man attack. Nick did not look as much enthused by this as he was caught up in the moment. Barry stood back and watched a little. Miller lit a cigarette and tried to watch the beating without actually watching the beating.

About fifteen minutes later they took a rest, and then Barry took a few whacks. Mike inwardly cringed a little when Barry took a 2x4 and broke the kid's knees. He was beyond the point of wanting to save the kid. He just wished that they would stop the beating and just put the kid out of his misery.

"What do we do with him now, Harry?" Barry asked after he finished his attacks.

"This," Harry said and pulled out a cheap .22 pistol from his pocket, "I got this from one of our suppliers just for this purpose."

"Just make sure you shoot him in the eye," Mike cautioned him, wanting to make it quick, "That's the only way you're going to get a kill with that pea shooter."

"After I shoot his balls off," Harry said with a malevolent smile.

Harry aimed the weapon and let off three quick shots into the kid's groin. The kid screamed as the sudden burst of new pain woke him up again. A string of curses leapt from his throat directed towards no one in particular. Harry took a good look into the kid's eyes.

"You don't fuck with Crazy Harry," he said and emptied the pistol into the kid's head.

"Wrap him up," Barry said, deciding to show some authority, "We'll weight him down and toss him into the bay outside."

Mike helped Nick pull the body down off the chains. Harry went to work stripping down the gun and cleaning it for fingerprints. He had learned some lessons over the years and even removed the spent shells to clean them as well. Nick and Mike wrapped the kid's body in the tarp and used the chains to secure it.

Miller was fighting the urge to throw up as they went through the motions. He did not like being an accessory to murder, even to catch a son of a bitch like Harrison Luponi. Barry prepared a few cement bricks with chains to attach to the body to keep him well underwater. They figured that by the time he was found or came to the surface he would have rotted enough to yield no usable evidence. Miller planned to have it quietly found long before then.

They dragged the body out to the dock and after attaching the bricks to it heaved it into the water. Harry skipped the gun as far out into the bay as he could, putting it at least a hundred feet out from the dock. The four of them piled into the car with Miller taking the wheel this time, shifting into drive, and pulling away from the building.

"Now that was fun," he said with a smile, "Wasn't it?"

General murmurs of agreement came out of the Nick and Barry, with Miller only nodding silently, though it made him sick to his stomach. One good thing had come out of this night for Mike. He now had a deep burning desire to stop Harry Lupo, and the people connected to him.

Miller drove the Mercedes to Eddie's hotel. They were together, and Harry figured he should see how well Eddie was recovering. They took the rear elevator up and knocked on the door. Someone scrambled in the room then the door opened a crack.

"Open up," Nick said, "We're here to see how Eddie's doing."

The door opened, and they saw a rather well-used redhead inviting them into the room. They went and saw Eddie lying in the bed just as he was before. The girl sat back down in the chair and looked at Eddie. Nobody particularly liked what they saw. His color had all but drained out, and he looked as though he was already a corpse.

"Has he woken up yet?" Mike asked her.

"Not yet," she said with a shake of her head, "I even tried a little stimulation to see if that would help, but there wasn't even a glimmer."

"Stimulation?" Harry asked.

"I tried to blow him," the girl said bluntly.

Nick, Mike and Harry laughed at that. Barry remained his usual dour self.

"What do you think, Barry?" Harry asked.

"Damned if I know," he shrugged, "I'm not a doctor."

"Let me look at him," Mike said, "I went through basic medic training."

It was a good enough lie, Miller thought. He did know enough to take a pulse. It was much lower than normal. His extremities were cold, which meant that his blood pressure was dangerously low. Miller opened his eyes and saw that his pupils were dilated. He knew then that Edward Eastman, better known as Eddie East, was not much longer for this world.

"You don't look hopeful, Ray," Harry said, "What is it?"

"His pulse is low, and his pupils are dilated," Mike informed him, "I'm not a doctor, but I've seen this sort of thing before. Eddie is going to die, Harry."

"Should I go get Noyes and drag him back here?" Nick asked Harry, unable to comprehend just how bad it was, "Make him fix Eddie?"

"You sure about this, Ray?" Harry asked.

"As sure as I can be," he shrugged, "You can go get Noyes to back check me if you like."

"I'll go beat the hell out of him for screwing it up!" Nick said loudly.

Nick was about to go out the door and do it too. Eddie had been his best friend for a long time, probably because Eddie had been slow enough to make Nick feel like the smart one. Mike wanted to do something for him, but it was not his place to do so. Harry went over to Nick and put a silent hand on his shoulder. Nick calmed down from this and sat down next to the hooker.

"What's the next step?" Barry asked.

"I say let's get Noyes back here," Miller said, surprising himself, "I'm not a doctor and I'd rather have a second opinion on this. There may be something that Noyes can do."

"Will he come?" Nick asked.

"I'll make some calls," Harry said, "He'll come for this because I have Charlie's ear. Without Charlie, he'd be just another disgraced doctor practicing without a license. It's Charlie's cash that keeps him going."

Harry went to the phone and called Noyes. Barry paid off the hooker and told her to get lost, as her services were no longer required. He also told her that if she had problems with her pimp to come back here, and they would straighten him out. By the time, that Harry had finished with his calls the girl was long gone out the door.

"Noyes will be here in 20 minutes," Harry said, "All we can do now is wait."

And wait they did. Nick paced around the room the whole time and complained. Barry sat down and watched the proceedings with a sort of detachment. Mike took measurements of his pulse every five minutes to see whether it was getting weaker. It was doing so.

Doc Noyes finally knocked on the door and Nick let him in. He first went over to Eddie and lifted his eyelids. He did exactly what Miller had done, and his reaction was nearly the same. Miller had seen many people die over the years, and a large percentage of them had died like Eddie.

"The organs were damaged worse than I thought," Noyes said, "I repaired what I could that night, but I knew it was hit or miss then."

"I was right," Mike said softly, "He is dying."

"You killed him!" Nick cried in grief, "You fucking killed him!"

Harry and Mike held him back. Noyes understood. Working in conditions like he'd been working in for the previous years he'd seen this reaction more than once. Luckily he had Harry and the others there to protect him from Nick.

"He'll live another few hours," Noyes informed them and kept a wide berth from Nick, "Maybe a day. Probably not much longer than that. If you had been able to take him to a hospital, he would have only had a 50/50 shot. Gunshot wounds like this have a tendency to be fatal."

"If we'd brought him to a hospital we'd all be in the slammer," Mike reminded Nick, "Would he rather be dead or in prison?"

"Dead," Harry said before Nick could get a word in edgewise, "I knew him as well as you did, Nicky, maybe even better. Eddie would have fought to the death to avoid prison. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to make the choice."

Nick nodded sadly and sat with Eddie, a position he would retain until Eddie drew his last breath, nearly four hours later. Barry departed early, but Harry and Mike sat with Nick, mainly to keep him from going over the deep end after it was all over. Noyes stayed too, mainly because he felt bad that one of his patients was going to die, despite the fact that he had little love for the people who paid him his blood money.

Edward Eastman drew his final breath at nearly 4am on May 11, 2000. Noyes pronounced him dead and pushed his eyes closed. Nick was almost to the point of tears and neither Harry nor Mike could figure out what to tell him. They sat down around the body and tried to figure out what to do next.

"How do we get around this one?" Harry asked Mike, as Nick was too far-gone to consult, "Should we just report the body and let the chips fall?"

"No," Mike said vehemently, "There will be questions asked and they might try to match the bullets with the meth house."

"Shit," Harry said, "Why did he have to get shot like this?"

"Did you get all the bullets, Doc?" Mike asked Noyes, not remembering if any of them were still there.

"Not sure," he said, "I was never able to do a proper x-ray."

"Why?" Harry asked, "They can match him with DNA, can't they?"

"I'm curious to what you're thinking as well," Noyes asked.

"How hard would it be to remove all evidence that he'd been shot?" Miller asked him, already knowing the answer.

"Impossible," Noyes said, "Any good medical examiner would be able to ferret that fact out."

"Do you think you can at least remove all the bullets?" Miller asked, a plan forming in his mind.

"Sure," Noyes said, "Shouldn't be too hard, but it will require some heavy mutilation of the corpse."

"Do it," I told him, "Wear gloves and try to leave as little evidence as you can."

"What do you have in mind, Nester?" Harry asked.

"Common murder," he replied, "Without the bullets they won't be able to match him to the meth house."

"What about the DNA?" Harry wondered.

"Burned," Miller said with a grin, "I torched the meth house. And if they figure it out they still have no evidence to connect the rest of us. Also, the cops aren't going to want to put enough time into either Eddie's death or into that mess that got him this way to connect the two."

"Nick," Harry said, deciding to go along with the plan, "Go find the hooker, and shut her up. Talk to Robbie Cook, get a dose of pure smack and pass it to her for free. Call it a gift for helping. Pray she hasn't talked yet."

"Belay that," Mike said, "Get the junk and bring her back here. I might have a use for her."

Miller put the casual death order out of his mind, glad that Harry had given it to Nick instead of him. Nick, glad to be leaving the death room, paid his last respects to Eddie and scooted out of there. Noyes went to work on the body.

Harry and Mike went to work on the room. Under Miller's instructions, they cleaned their fingerprints off anything that they might have touched. Miller, long a veteran of crime scenes, had no problem doing a thorough job of it. By the time they had finished cleaning up Noyes had retrieved the bullets.

"I picked out two," Noyes told them, "I also pulled out the stitches I'd used in the surgery. A good autopsy will show evidence of medical treatment, but I doubt they'll bother with a good one. In fact, as much as I mangled the body they may mistake it for a series of wild stab wounds."

"What's next, Ray?" Harry asked, "This is your plan, after all."

"Simple," he shrugged, "We simply walk out of here and let nature take its course. As soon as the whore is framed for the death that is. We simply pray that the cops don't work too hard on it and figure out it's all a sham."

"It will puzzle the hell out of them, that's for sure," Noyes said, "I've done all I can for you. I'm going to get out of here and get some sleep."

"Thanks Josh," Harry said as he passed a couple hundred to him, "Keep your mouth shut about this, huh?"

"I always keep quiet about the dead ones," he replied, "It's bad for business, otherwise."

Noyes slipped out then and left the building by the back stairs. Harry and Mike waited for Nick to return with the girl. It was getting to be close to daylight by the time he did so. The girl did not appear to be happy that she was back, especially seeing how bad Eddie looked.

"Why am I back here?" she asked, "He looks dead!"

"Payment," Mike replied and then nodded to Nick, "We wanted you to share some of the stuff we got before we do right by Eddie."

"Really?" the old pro said, "Sounds good to me."

Nick gave the girl the packet he'd gotten from Robbie Cook. It was sad to watch when the woman willingly went and snorted a line of the powder. An overdose is never a fun thing to watch, and the stuff that Nick had procured was so pure that it went straight to her brain and her heart, causing almost immediate cardiac arrest. It was a fairly painless death for the girl. She died almost instantly.

"Ok," Miller said, trying to keep himself steady, "We need to put her fingerprints all over the place and then get blood on her. She's going to become our patsy."

"The cops are never going to believe this," Harry chuckled.

"Sure they will," Miller replied, "The average cop is lazy. Give them a plausible story and they'll buy it, especially if it's a case they'd rather not deal with. Believe me this will fall into that category."

"You think it will work?" Nick asked.

"Sure," Mike replied, "She gets pissed and knifes Eddie up. Then, she washes up in the bathroom and comes out. She decides to snort up before leaving, but oh shit its pure coke. Dead as a doornail."

"I like it," Harry agreed, "Let's get it over with and get out of here."

Miller was regretting that the girl had to die, but Harry had already pronounced the death sentence anyway. He had to save their miserable asses because he hoped to move higher in the organization later. The higher he went the more damage he could do to it later on. After the stage was set they all left and went their separate ways, with Miller remembering to stop outside and wipe down Eddie's car before they left.

The three of them said little, but they agreed to meet at Jack's Place the next afternoon sometime after they all woke up. By some miracle Miller managed to escape the night without being covered in blood, so he went to a fairly nice looking motel about a half-mile away from the fleabag place Eddie had lived. They had an extended stay deal and did monthly rents on reasonable terms. He checked in under the Nester ID and paid for a month in full.

He went into the room and dropped down on the bed and picked up the phone. Nobody knew where he was yet, so he figured that it was safe enough to call the drop number. He abruptly told Eric Craig where he was and that he would report after he slept for a while. Before he could complain Miller clicked the receiver and laid the phone off the hook to prevent incoming calls. This time he fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Eleven – May 11, 2000 – Afternoon

A loud pounding on the door of the hotel room interrupted Miller's sleep. He stirred a bit and then put a pillow over his head to try to block out the sound. He had only been sleeping for about seven hours, and he desperately wanted two or three more. The pounding was persistent; however, so Mike grudgingly dragged himself up and went over to the door to see who the asshole was. He was surprised to see that the asshole turned out to be Tom Richter himself.

Mike growled and opened the door for him. He then promptly went back to the bed and got back under the covers. Tom closed the door behind him and went wordlessly to the chair and sat himself down. Miller really was not particularly interested in being awake at that moment in time, and he made that perfectly clear to Richter.

"You look like hell, Mike," he said after a minute or so.

"I bet," he agreed and reached for his pack of cigarettes, "What do you expect when I don't get any sleep?"

"I wouldn't have had to come over here," Richter said, lightly chiding him, "But you clicked off too quickly on Eric."

"I wanted to sleep," Miller shrugged, not in the mood to deal with superiors, "I figured you could wait a bit. Patience is supposed to be part of your game."

"Usually," he said, "But there's been a disappearance. We think Lupo is involved, but can't prove it."

"The kid from the lockup," Miller said with a sigh, realizing exactly what the emergency was.

"You knew?" he said, aghast, "You should have told Eric!"

"It's too late," Mike replied as he lit the cigarette, "I didn't tell him because I didn't want to deal with it until I got some sleep. I really didn't feel like reliving the events just before trying to sleep, thank you."

"The kid is dead?" Tom asked, "Since I'm here, you might as well report now."

"It was a surprise," Mike told him, his eyes darting around the room trying to keep the images from coming back, "Harry brought us out to a warehouse by the bay. Two goons were waiting there with the kid."

"Surprise for what?" Tom asked, as he was unaware of recent events.

"Surprise to welcome me into the crew," Miller replied, "Harry was impressed by the way that I handled the mess the night before, in spite of the consequences. He decided that he would pull me in while he could."

"That's good," he said, "Quicker than I expected. He must really have been impressed. Anyway, you can report about that later. Tell me what happened to the kid."

"Everyone took turns beating on the poor little bastard," Miller said, reliving the frightful scene in his mind, despite attempts to keep the images away, "I had to beat on him a little too, to stay in character. I didn't have to do much because I'd beaten the hell out of him in lockup. Harry wanted to do most of it himself anyway. He shot the kid when he was through beating on him. I didn't even want to try to stop the shooting, it was probably the most merciful way it could have ended at that point."

"Damn," Richter said with a sigh, "You did the right thing, Mike. You couldn't have saved him. You would have just gotten yourself killed as well."

"I know," Miller replied, a mischievous grin forming on his lips, "But if you can get the security tapes, you'll have a video of Lupo shooting the kid. I 'accidentally' turned on the camera in the area by leaning on the switch."

"Where?" Richter asked him, his voice sounding like a child in a candy store.

Miller told him the location of the camera and the body. Richter used his cell phone to get Martinez to go down there and recover the tape. Miller suggested that he have Martinez go with a fishing line and find it while fishing, as people tended to do that a lot from the docks around those warehouses.

"Not bad, Mike," he said, "Did you have to spend all night watching this?"

"No," Miller said, shuddering at the thought, "We spent about an hour there. We spent the rest of the night watching Eddie East slowly die."

"He died of his injuries?" Tom asked, "Where is the body?"

"They'll find it in his motel room next time someone bothers to check the sheets," Miller told him, "Bullets removed. There's a dead hooker in there as well. She died of an overdose. We left a large knife and cut the hell out of his body while removing the bullets."

"Do I want to know how the girl overdosed?" Richter asked.

"Not really," Miller replied, "But she did it to herself with some overly pure stuff. The frame just seemed like a good idea at the time. One question, though, did they recover any blood out of the car I crashed?"

"Unusable," he said, "Evidently he didn't bleed onto the seats or it was fouled by the investigators."

"Good," Miller replied with a sign of relief, "With Eddie gone my position is fairly solid. It's just a matter of time, and keeping my nose clean."

"I guess you impressed the hell out of them," he said, "Don't get cocky. And try not to piss off too many people on your way up."

"I'll keep that in mind," Miller said and closed his eyes, "Is there anything else you need information on? I'm tired as hell."

"Not really," he said, "But I wanted to see how you were holding up as well. You've had your trial by fire, how do you like it?"

"I fucking hate it," Miller growled, "I must have been insane to take this job."

"Good," Richter laughed, "If you didn't react like that then I'd be worried."

"Well nice to know I passed your test," he replied sarcastically, "So where do we go from here?"

"Kick it into low key mode," Tom said, "You've proved your worth in a pinch. Now prove you are a good man for the day to day. No stupid risks, just do what they want you to do."

"We have to stop meeting like this," Mike told him, "Every time we meet, it puts me at risk."

"I want to hear from you by phone at least every 24 hours," Richter told him, "If only to tell me that you're still alive. If we don't hear from you, we'll tear them apart until we know."

"That's still dangerous," Miller said, "Make it 48 hours and don't do anything rash."

"All right," he sighed, "We'll figure a way to do personal meets later."

"Send Tracy," He said with a shrug and put his cigarette out, "Dress her up real pretty. If anyone asks, I'll claim I'm doing her and nobody will say anything about it."

"Ok," Richter replied, not knowing that Miller had ulterior motives in that request "That could work. I can send her at irregular intervals. That'll cover a long debriefing as well."

"There is something else as well," Miller said, "Eric will probably have to get it together though."

"What?" Tom asked, wondering what he was up to.

"I need a copy of Windows 2000 Professional," Miller said, "I also want him to set up an easy to use method of encryption that I can either send reports through or chat real time if you want to ask questions."

"Through the computer?" he said, "How are you going to explain that away?"

"I'll get a laptop," Mike told him, "This room has internet access. If they see, the laptop I'll tell them that I learned while I was in the army and like to be able to check the web for information."

"Ok," he said, "Do you want us to provide the laptop?"

"No," Miller chuckled, "I can get a better one if I get it myself. I'll load it up and install the software, I just need a copy of Win2K and can't go to my normal sources."

"I take it you've done this before," he said.

"I'm a cop because I like it," Miller reminded him, "I've got a degree in computers. Get me the software and I'll put together my end the way I like it. Call it a way to get away from this mess for a while and do something almost normal."

"I'll get what you need," he said, "Tracy will bring it to you when she meets you for the first time."

"I'll call the drop number to set it up," Miller promised, "And you'll know where to find me. I'm planning on staying here, and going monthly on the rent."

"Good," he said, "You're doing good, my boy. Now go ahead and get some sleep. We probably won't speak again in person unless things go terribly wrong. Most of your future contacts will be through Al and Tracy. Good luck, Miller. You'll need it."

With that he was gone, and he was right. That was the last personal contact that Miller would have with any member of the team other than Tracy for the next two months. He went back to sleep, trying to put the nightmares of what had gone on out of his head.

Chapter Twelve – January 1, 2001 – Shortly Before Dawn

The tape machine stopped as it ran out of tape. Miller who had been talking for nearly two hours by then, stood up, and stretched out a little. He lit a cigarette and patently ignored McCord's disapproving glare. Detective Stone grinned and lit up a cigarette of his own while Officer Entragian unwrapped a new tape and put it in the machine.

"Sounds like we're going to be here a while," Stone said, "I've worked undercover before, but this one must have been a doozie."

"Yeah," Miller chuckled, "I guess you could say that. It's been one hell of a ride."

"And we're only a few days in," McCord put in, "This is going to take days, you know that, Miller?"

"Well," he said with a shrug and an exhale of smoke, "You can rely on the written reports for the next two months. It was all basic crap, most of which the police knew anyway."

"Basically getting yourself entrenched into the organization?" McCord asked, "All routine?"

"I became their troubleshooter," Miller filled in, "Barry handled the direct business and I went out and did spot checks for Harry. Nick went with whoever needed him, as did the kid who came in to replace Eddie."

"Tell me more about him," McCord said "And give me a rundown on what you think of the other people you worked with at this point as well."

"Jamie Bullock replaced Eddie," Miller chuckled, "I think you can guess how he got the job. He was Charlie Bullock's halfwit nephew. The less said about him the better. He never was much of a factor when it came to business. The rest of us tolerated him for Harry's sake. Harry would take shit from Charlie if we gave shit to Jamie."

"Nick and I got along really well so he usually tagged along with me in whatever Harry had me doing, mostly because Nick and Jamie hated each other's guts from day one. He wasn't really large, but he had balls and was able to make up with his lack of size with them. He was my best friend in the life."

"Barry Northrup was hard to read. One minute he'd be one of the guys and the next he'd be a major asshole. As I said before, he handled the standard business matters. We didn't have much contact business-wise unless something was going wrong. He only showed up to the nightly parties at Jack's Place once or twice a week."

"Sounds pretty routine," McCord nodded, "Anything else interesting happen during that period that needs to go into the official record."

"I can't think of anything that isn't covered by my written reports," Miller said, then thought twice about it, "Well, Jade came further into my life about then."

"Jade?" McCord asked "Who is she?"

"Jade was a cute kid," Miller said with a sigh, "She started coming around to Jack's place and I knew that she was in for no good. She was the girl I ended up with that first night."

"Happens every day, Miller," McCord said, "Nothing you can do."

"Well," Miller shrugged, "I did something this time. I took her in and made her my 'steady lay', as they liked to call it around the bar. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but it was better than letting her get it the hard way on the streets. At least I was able to treat her decently, or at least as decently as Raymond Nester would allow."

"You talk about Nester as if he was a separate person," McCord said, "Why is that?"

"It's the only way I could keep the taint away from myself," Miller told him honestly, "Raymond Nester became a separate person in my mind. I didn't do the horrible things, he did. When I slipped into Nester, I became him. It's also how I kept myself from slipping out of character at the wrong time."

"I see," McCord said, "I guess that takes us up to the week of June 26th. Isn't that when things started to get hairy again?"

"Right about there," Miller admitted, "Let me start with the morning of the 26th. That's when the first salvo started. I can put it back together easier that way."

"That's fine," McCord said and turned the video recorder back on, "Continuing with deposition of Michael Miller. Please tell the camera in your own words the events starting on 26 June, 2000."

"Well," Miller said and took a quick drink of water, "I woke up that morning with Jade curled up in my arms..."

Chapter Thirteen – June 26, 2000 – Late Morning

Jade was still asleep when Miller woke up to the ringing of the telephone. She grumbled and turned over when he sat up, but did not wake up fully. It was not surprising considering the physical activity that had occurred between her and Miller that night. Mike brushed her light brown hair out of her face and reached over to grab the telephone. He didn't even have a chance to get out a hello before Nick's agitated voice came out of the earpiece.

"Thank God I caught you at home," Nick said very quickly, "There's some big trouble down at the chop shop."

"Calm down and tell me what happened," Mike said as he reached for a pack of cigarettes, "Tell me slowly and clearly."

"Somebody killed em!" Nick exclaimed, "I went down there to pick up the cash for Harry and..."

"Hold it!" He interrupted, "Somebody killed who?"

"All of them!" Nick exclaimed, "I don't know how many of them, but there were bodies everywhere!"

"Shit," Miller said, going a little pale at the thought, "There were at least ten people there working there last time I was there. Nobody survived?"

"I don't know!" Nick yelled into the phone, very agitated, "Do you think I'm dumb enough stick around to find out?"

"No," Mike said softly, "I suppose not. Where are you?"

"Pay phone down the block," he said, finally calming down a little, "I didn't want to be anywhere near that shit."

"Ok," Miller replied, talking calmly to calm Nick down, "Is your car there?"

"Oh shit!" he yelped, "Parked across the street!"

"Walk down the street," Miller told him, "Isn't there an apartment complex right next to that parking lot?"

"Yes," he said, "A bunch of yuppies."

"If there are cops," Mike said, "Go into the building and then come out the side. Don't look nervous and don't do anything stupid. Just get into your car and drive the hell away from there. If they question you, you just went to see someone in that complex. After you get, your car go to Jack's Place. I'll be there in an hour or so."

"Got ya," Nick said, "What are we going to do?"

"You're going to do what I told you," Miller reminded him, "And if you blow it, just keep cool and call Robbins. He'll let Harry know and we'll take care of you."

After Nick rang off the line Mike stood up and stretched out a little. He lit one of the cigarettes he had been holding in his hand and watched Jade sleep. She was a little thing, easily the smallest girl he had ever been with in his life. Five feet two if she was lucky and probably weighed less than 100 pounds. His ex-wife, though fairly good looking, was a good six inches taller and carried an extra forty pounds.

Mike pulled out his laptop and jacked it into the data socket on the wall. He signed in with the special account he had put together for sending reports to Eric. Mike had even chatted with him a few times over the program he put together.

He pulled up the encrypted email program they used for sending reports and punched out a quick one on the call he had just received. He also let them know, for good measure that Nick did not do the killing and, as far as he knew, nobody connected with Harry did. Tracy tended to get overprotective when a killing happened anywhere close to Harry's group.

He looked over his shoulder and made sure that Jade was still sleeping while committing his treasonous actions, finally pressing send and saving an encrypted copy for his own protection.

Jade started to wake up while he was putting the laptop away. She slid over to the edge of the bed and looked for Miller's pack of cigarettes. Mornings definitely were not her strong suit either because she looked confused. She finally looked up and saw Miller putting his laptop away.

"Here you go," he told her and tossed the pack, "Just checking some things out before I go see Nick."

"Something happening?" she asked as she lit one up and sat cross-legged on the bed.

"Not sure yet," Mike said, "Relax and watch some TV. I'll be back later."

"I'll meet you at Jack's," she said, knowing that he would not come back to the room.

"Whatever," he shrugged and started to get dressed, "I have a feeling it's going to be a long day."

She shrugged as she always did and grabbed the remote control to turn on the TV. She could not get enough of the idiot box, which was fitting because he was not sure that she was particularly bright to begin with. She flipped on to Jerry Springer and watched in rapt fascination, making Miller glad to be leaving the room.

He went out to his car, the red Mercedes that Eddie East had owned before he died, and drove by the chop shop on third. The car had been left to Nick Jones who had no use for it and signed it over to Nester in thanks for getting him out of that house alive.

The police were out in full force by the time Miller passed by. There were four ambulances to carry the dead and more cop cars than he had seen in one place for several years. He slowed down a little like the traffic was, but kept moving in order to avoid getting pulled over.

It did not look good as he saw several body bags still sitting outside, something that did not happen unless they didn't have enough transports. He drove straight over to Jack's place and hoped that Nick had made it out to tell what happened. Miller's position in the group was such that it would fall to him to find out what happened, preferably before the police did.

He parked out front and lit a cigarette as he walked up to the bar. He was annoyed that he was falling that hard back into his old smoking habit, but knew that he wouldn't be able to quit until he was out from under. Jerry the bartender was sitting there washing some glasses and barely gave Mike a glance, as his presence was absolutely normal. Mike asked whether anyone else had shown up, and Jerry pointed towards the back room.

Harry and Nick were in the back room when Mike got there and took his usual seat at the table. Nick was on his third shot of bourbon, which he only drank when he was upset. Harry was sipping a scotch on the rocks, something that he considered a light drink.

"The place is filled to the rafters with cops," Mike told them, "I drove by on my way here."

"Any idea how many dead?" Harry asked, as Nick was still too worked up to give any good information.

"At least four, possibly eight or more," I said, "There were four ambulances parked outside. They don't call that many if there aren't that many corpses. There were also body bags outside, and they leave those outside for as little time as possible."

"Jesus Christ," Harry said, "Any idea who could have done this?"

"Any of the gangs," Mike shrugged, "Without actually taking a look at the scene, I couldn't begin to tell you."

"Stay the hell away from there," Harry warned, "We don't need you to be connected to it. Just having Nick on the site was coming too close."

"Nick," He said, hoping to pull him out of it, "Were the bodies mutilated at all?"

"Not outright," Nick said, the alcohol helping him to calm down, "But there was so much blood that I couldn't tell."

"Any brass lying around?" Mike asked him, deliberately using the military terminology for shell casings.

"Brass?" he asked, thinking for a second, "Oh, yes. There were shell casings all over the place."

"What size?" Mike asked him, "Long as my finger? Smaller?"

"Roughly the same size as what I have in my gun," he said, "But they were all over the place."

"I want to know how it wasn't discovered last night," Harry said, "The noise alone should have alerted the yuppies across the street."

"My guess is a silenced machine pistol," Miller told him, "Commonly referred to as room brooms, very good for killing a lot of people in an enclosed space. Illegal as hell over here, they use standard nine mil ammunition and can hold up to fifty shells in a clip."

"You've seen these?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Mike replied, thankful for the military cover, "I fired one in Germany about five years ago. Inaccurate little bugger, but it was the quietest submachine gun I've ever fired. In an area like that garage, you could fire 500 rounds and have it be no louder than the air compressor. Unless you're familiar with the sound the weapon makes you wouldn't even recognize it as gunfire."

Jerry popped in holding the portable phone after that. Harry took the call while Mike and Nick sat there waiting for him to finish. Harry didn't say but five words the whole time, but it was clear that he didn't like what he heard. Finally, he clicked off and handed the phone back to Jerry.

"Thanks Jerry," he said slowly without looking up, "Bring me a double vodka. Bring one for them as well."

They looked at him and wondered what happened. It was too early for Miller to begin drinking and all of them knew it. Nick lit up a cigarette and they sat back waiting for him to spill what he had heard over the phone.

"It seems that the chop shop wasn't the only place hit last night," Harry said "That was Matt Reams. Two of our bookmaking joints were hit as well."

"Same MO?" Mike asked him, not liking the sound of this.

Jerry came in with the shots and left the bottle of Stolichnaya on the table as well. He left wordlessly as quickly as he could. He did not want to know what was going on. Smart man, that bartender was. He knew how dangerous excess knowledge could be.

"Shot multiple times," Harry said with a nod and downed the vodka, "Sounds like our shooters were busy."

"Yeah," Miller agreed, "Any other information?"

"None," Harry said and poured another glass, "What do you think?"

"I think someone doesn't like us," Miller said with a shrug, "Have you let anyone else know?"

"No," he said with a sigh, "I think I'd better call Charlie."

"I think I'll drink some more," Nick said and reached for the bottle of vodka.

"Here," Mike said and absent-mindedly handed Nick his shot glass.

Harry yelled for the bartender and Nick drained the shot, pouring himself another immediately. Mike sat silently and listened to Harry's end of the conversation. Harry's reactions were very expressive and from the sounds coming over the phone Charlie was not particularly happy. Not that he had any reason to be. The conversation lasted about five minutes, and then Harry put down the phone.

"I've got to go see Charlie," he said with a sour grin, "He's pissed. It seems that it hasn't happened to anyone else."

"What do you want us to do?" Mike asked him.

"You're coming with me," Harry told him, "With these attacks I'll feel better with you at my back. You will also be the point man for the investigation, and you know weapons well enough to explain them to Charlie. I don't feel like trying to repeat what you said and mess it up."

"You don't want Barry to go?" Miller asked, surprised at this.

"I don't know where the hell Barry is right now," Harry said, "And you're better at this shit. You were an MP right?"

They put that in the bio to cover Miller's extensive knowledge of police procedure. It had worked well so far and looked as though it was going to be helpful again. He just prayed that none of Bullock's inside people could make him for a cop.

"I used to be," Miller reminded him, "About seven years ago, and only for a year and a half before they busted me again."

"Good enough for my purposes," he shrugged, "Like I said, this is what you're good at and I want someone who isn't talking out his ass with me when I talk to Charlie."

"Fair enough," Miller replied, surprised that he was going to be present for a conversation with the big man, "I'll do what I can."

"Let's go," Harry said, "I'll fill you in on the protocol on the way."

"Sure," he said with a shrug, wishing he had taken that drink, "Nick, do me a favor, will you?"

"What?" he asked, slurring already.

"Don't get too drunk to stand," Miller grinned, "And when Jade gets here, keep her here. I don't want her to get caught in this shit. With whoever it is thinning the ranks, I don't want her out on the streets."

"You afraid she'll get hurt?" Nick asked.

"I'm afraid she'll be used as leverage," he said honestly, "She'll be less of a distraction if she stays here while I'm gone."

"Gotcha," he said, his drunken faith in Miller's immorality restored.

"Nick," Harry said, "If Barry shows up keep him here until I get back. I need to talk to him and find out what's been going on with his interests."

Nick nodded and drank a little more. Mike and Harry walked out and gave the same instructions to Jerry, knowing full well that Nick would lose consciousness before too much longer. They took Harry's car, though Miller drove because he was actually sober. Mike also had better driving skills, and they were taking no chances.

"Listen," Harry said, "Charlie is the boss, but he's not a bad one."

"Ok," Mike said and kept his eyes on the road.

"Don't call him Charlie," he said, "Mr. Bullock will do. You don't know him and he don't know you. Let him use your first name and just be cordial. No need for a lot of jokes."

"Got it," Miller replied.

His attention was not really on Harry's instructions. Most of that was common sense and standard for someone not in the life. His attention, however, was on the blue sedan that had been following them since the bar. It had taken every turn along with them. It did not take long for Harry to notice that Mike was paying more attention to the rearview than to him.

"How long have they been behind us?" he asked after seeing who Mike was watching.

"Too long," Miller replied tersely, "I'm going to try to lose them."

He nodded and clipped in his seat belt. Mike did the same and goosed the gas a bit, going down the city street a lot faster than he should have. The blue car kept up with them for several turns. Miller knew they were trouble when he saw that there were four of them in the car.

"They're not breaking off," Mike said, "Are you armed, Harry? There's four of them in that car, probably a war party."

"Just a pistol," he replied, "You?"

"The same .45 Barry gave me two months ago," Mike told him, "I think we're in for a fight."

Miller tried in vain to drop them, but they were willing to take risks and realized that they had been made. Someone on the passenger side of the blue car leaned out of the window and fired a silenced machine pistol at Harry's car. Miller never heard the shots, but he saw them and heard them smack into the frame of Harry's 97 Cadillac.

"Shit!" Harry yelled as he ducked.

"Try to take out a tire," Miller instructed while trying to keep the car on the road.

"Ok," he agreed, not in a mood to argue.

Miller drove evasively and tried to get the firefight out of the city and closer to the Bullock estate. They were ducking in and out of traffic and somehow had managed to avoid the police. Harry took a few shots at the car, vainly attempting to hit the tires. His weapon skills were not that great in a combat situation, and he could not hit anything from a moving car. Mike finally maneuvered them onto a deserted straightaway just outside of town on highway 10.

"Take the wheel," Miller told Harry, "I'm probably a better shot than you are."

"Got you," he replied, not willing to argue. He then grabbed the wheel and put his left foot on the gas pedal.

Miller pulled out his .45 pistol while turning around and took aim at the tires. He fired three shots that did little but smack into the frame of the other car. His fourth shot was dead on target; it managed to connect and blew out the blue sedan's right front tire.

Mike and Harry were going 90 and the blue sedan was pacing them when their tire blew out. The driver tried to compensate, but at that speed there was just no controlling the slide. They went off the road and flipped twice. Mike slowed the car down and turned around to go look at the wreck and see whether anyone was still alive to talk.

Before Mike could even park the car Harry was out and running over to the pursuers. Harry was exceedingly pissed and emptied his weapon into the two surviving gunmen. Miller sighed and shook his head as Harry screamed at the corpses. He got out of Harry's car and walked over to the wreck.

"How the hell am I supposed to question them now?" Mike asked Harry.

"Try to kill me, Motherfucker!" He screamed at the corpses, ignoring Miller completely.

"Come on," Mike said quietly, knowing they had to get out of there quick, "Let's get out of here before the cops show up."

Harry was still screaming at the corpses, but he followed. Miller pulled out of there quick and made a beeline to Charlie Bullock's place. The only stop they made was at the river bridge to toss both guns over the side so that they could not be matched up with the corpses or the blue sedan.

Chapter Fourteen – June 26, 2000 – Mid Afternoon

Miller pulled Harry's battered Cadillac into Charlie Bullock's estate shortly after three in the afternoon. It was just in time as well because Harry's Caddy was on its last gasp. The bullets had beaten the hell out of it to the point that it was about to make a beeline to the scrap heap.

"Jeeze Harry," one of Bullock's main bodyguards said as he surveyed the damage, "What happened?"

"Someone decided to use us for target practice on the way over," He said with a shrug, keeping up appearances, "We're better shots."

"I heard what happened to the chop shop," the guy said, "Charlie's waiting to see you."

"Ok," Harry replied and then introduced everyone, "Ray, this is Matt D'Antoni. He's been working for Charlie for years. Matt, this is Ray Nester. He's the reason I'm still walking right now."

"Nice to meet you," Miller said, showing proper respect.

"Likewise," D'Antoni said with a nod, "Harry, what do you want me to do with the car."

"I don't know," Harry said, "What do you think, Ray?"

"Scrap it," Miller said flatly, "No need to let the cops take it and put us at the scene of that mess. They'd love to hit you with four murders, even if they are self defense."

"Does Charlie still own that scrap yard?" Harry asked D'Antoni.

"We'll take care of it," Matt D'Antoni replied with a nod, "We'll also get a car out here for you to use for a bit."

"Thanks," Harry said, "I appreciate it."

Harry walked inside with Mike following a couple steps behind. Miller did his best not to appear like a simpering lackey, but the surroundings had a way of making a person feel as if that was what they were doing. Charlie was in his den, which was where he conducted most of his business.

Mike looked around as he got his first glance at the inner sanctum of organized crime in the city. It was not quite as opulent as expected. It was a simple room, large enough for about twenty people to sit down if necessary. The paneling was well done, but aging slightly.

The room smelled like stale cigars, and it was as if it had not been aired out in years. There was a framed photograph of Charlie and Frank Sinatra, taken at least fifteen years before. It was prominently displayed over the stereo and the vintage collection of records. It just went to solidify Miller's dislike of Sinatra; one previously acquired from his ex-wife's incessant playing of his records.

Charlie himself was a thoroughly unremarkable man in his early sixties. You would not have thought by looking at him that he was the leader of a crime empire. He looked more like an executive that was getting on in years. He was more than a little round and what little hair he still had was snow white.

There were three other people in the room with him. One of them, a man not too much older than Miller, looked a lot like Charlie. That was for a reason as it was his son, Max. Max looked a little tougher than his old man and was fully expected to take over when Charlie either retired or died. Right now, he served as a faithful right hand to the old man.

Charlie's numbers man was there as well. Eric Roth had been Charlie Bullock's accountant for over thirty years. He practically lived with Charlie and had his fingers in everything that Charlie did. Roth was the reason the reason that the feds had never been able to tie a money trail to the organization. Physically he was a slight, unremarkable man that would be lucky to have been five-foot seven at his peak. His silver hair and dark, obviously Jewish, features made him the most unremarkable man in the room, and therefore one of the most dangerous.

Fat Tony D'Antoni, Matt the bodyguard's brother, was the head of Charlie Bullock's muscle corps. He was huge and had about as much muscle on him as he did fat. His dark, curly hair hung around him in a mass that was probably uncontrollable by anything other than a mixture of 10W-30 and superglue.

"What kept you?" Charlie asked gruffly, "I expected you to show up thirty minutes ago."

"Someone took offense at our existence," Harry shrugged.

"They expressed their displeasure in the form of 9mm bullets," Miller continued, keeping the vibe going, "They aren't going to be a problem anymore."

"Someone tried to off you?" D'Antoni asked, mildly shocked, "That shit went out years ago. Any idea who the mutts were?"

"No clue," Harry said, "They didn't live long enough to talk."

"Probably the friggen spics getting frisky again," Max growled, "They've been trying to move on you for months."

"'Fraid not," Miller replied with a shake of his head, "We didn't get to interrogate them, but I can assure you that they weren't Hispanic."

"Any news on the other stuff?" Bullock asked.

"Nobody lived," Harry said, "That's about all I know. It was quiet before this, and now several of my operations are either shut down or badly wounded."

"How about your key people?"

"Joey Jones is dead," Harry said, "Matt Reams is still around; he found the corpses at his place. He was lucky enough to be out banging some broad last night."

"How about Barry?" Charlie asked.

"No sign of him," Harry said, "He hadn't checked in last I heard."

"Jamie and Nick?" Charlie asked, wanting to know how bad Jamie was hurt.

"Nick is at Jack's Place," Harry informed him, "Jamie hadn't checked in yet when we left."

"If I can use the phone I'll find out for you," Miller said.

"Go for it," Max said and pointed Mike to a unit on his desk.

Charlie continued to question Harry about what was going on while Miller called the bar. Jerry picked up on the third ring. He sounded worried but not forced. There were also heard people laughing in the background.

"What's going on?"

"Did Jamie or Barry ever show up?" Mike asked him.

"Yeah Ray," he said, "Barry was in and out about thirty minutes ago. Jamie got here about twenty minutes before that. The kid's still here, want to talk to him?"

"Not really," Miller replied as talking to Jamie Bullock was never high on his list of priorities, "Do you have any customers?"

"Two," he said, "Slow afternoon."

"How high is their tab?" Mike asked.

"Less than a hundred combined," he said, "Why?"

"Put it on my tab and get them out of there," Miller instructed him, "Close the bar for the day. Don't let people who don't need to be there in."

"Jade is here too," he said, "Want me to keep her here or turn her out?"

"Keep her there until I get back," Miller told him, glad to hear that she was safe, "And be careful. It's been a rough day."

"I heard," he said, as he had seen news of the mess on highway ten and put two and two together, "Anything else, Ray?"

"Yeah," Mike said, "Next time Barry comes in, keep him there until we get back. We could use his help on this."

"I'll try," Jerry said, "You know Barry. Barry does what Barry wants to do."

"Don't I know it," he growled, "Do your best, Jerry. Harry and I will be back later."

"Got ya," he said, "Want me to keep Jade on your tab?"

"That's fine," Mike agreed, "Just make sure that she is hidden somewhere if the cops show up."

"Will do," Jerry replied and rang off the line.

"Well?" Charlie asked, genuinely concerned with Jamie's safety.

"He's fine and sitting with Nick," Mike told him, "I also had Jerry close the bar and clear it out just in case."

"Barry?" Harry asked.

"In and out about a half hour ago," Mike replied, "Jade is there as well, so I don't have to worry about her."

"At least the core is still alive," Charlie nodded with satisfaction, "What are you going to do about this?"

"We're going to find them," Harry said, "We have to let the cops get out of the way first. I have some people in the department. They'll keep me informed."

"I'll also be poking into it," Mike put in, "I'll talk to the survivors and look at the sites after the cops clear out. Maybe I can pull something out of it."

"Be careful," Charlie warned, "Someone obviously wants you dead. I'd make it my business to find out who it is. And make sure that this doesn't affect my business interests. If any of my sources find out anything I'll pass it on. Be assured, I didn't sanction this. This is counterproductive and very bad for business."

"I'll rebuild things as quick as I can," Harry promised, "But I can't go fast until I find out who is behind it."

"I suggest you two better get started," Charlie admonished, his way of dismissing them, "Good luck, Harry."

Miller was dumbfounded. He could not believe that was all the big man wanted out of them. He wanted to know why they had risked their necks to go down there just to talk to the big man for a few minutes. Miller was smart and did not say anything. He just followed Harry out of the room and watched him for signs of what to do. Harry was an old pro at this and had learned the game very well.

Matt D'Antoni had not only junked Harry's car, but he had gotten a temporary replacement. It wasn't near as nice as Harry's old Caddy, but he claimed it was faster and could take a lot of hits. It looked as though it was pieced together from a ten-year-old dodge chassis, but it was nearly impossible to tell which one.

"Sorry I couldn't do any better," He said, "But this should get you home in one piece if you know how to handle it."

"It'll do," Mike said with a shrug.

"You want to drive, Ray?" Harry asked him, "You did well last time."

"Fine," Miller agreed and got into the driver's seat.

It was a manual transmission, something that made Miller groan as he had not driven a stick in years. He managed to get the car out of the driveway without looking too bad, though he jerked it out a little. For a pieced together piece of junk it was actually a pretty good machine with an easy and reactive clutch.

It was a full five minutes before Miller got up the nerve to ask Harry what the meeting actually accomplished. He actually laughed a couple minutes at the question, showing that Miller still had a lot to learn about the fraternal brotherhood of organized criminals he had joined.

"I admit," Harry said, "It didn't look like much. But, what you and I did there was show that we were in control and that we didn't intend to take this insult lying down. Charlie is more likely to give us help with the problem now that he knows we've taken stock of what happened and that we're doing our best with it."

"Much like a state asking for federal troops to quell a riot," Miller said with a bit more admiration for their organization, "I see."

"Now if I can only get Barry in to assess the damage," Harry grumbled, "Do you have any idea what he's been doing?"

"Not a clue," Mike shrugged, "We operate in separate spheres, remember?"

"I wish I hadn't split you two up so much," Harry groused, "But it was the only way I could use you without totally pissing off Barry."

"I don't think it worked," he chuckled, "He still resents it whenever I fix a problem even close to something he controls."

"He's hungry," Harry said, "He wanted my job years ago. But, I was too fast and got in ahead of him. I would have left him out in the cold except for the fact that Charlie told me to take him to keep the peace."

"Do you think he might be responsible for this?" Miller asked him.

"I doubt it," he said, "He'd lose more than he gained. If anyone ever found out he did it he'd be taken out. Even if he did manage to take me out."

"When we get back," Mike said, "I'll go out on my own and try to scare up some information."

"Got any ideas?" he asked.

"Not many," Miller admitted, "But if I get out on the street and keep a low profile, I may find out who they work for. If nothing else I should be able to find out who the assholes who tried to hit us were. Maybe I can get a lead out of them."

"Where are you going to start?"

"Where else?" Mike said, displaying his mischievous grin, "With the cops. They can be counted on to find out identities quickly."

"Talk to Frank Mozzio over at the 23rd," Harry said with approval, "He's worked for us before. For some cash he'll tell you the chief's dick size and how many moles are on it."

"Will do," He nodded, reminding himself to pass that fact on to Tracy.

Mike pulled the car over in front of the bar and got out, scanning for possible hit men. They had to know by now that their original hit team failed miserably. They just did not know how soon their enemies would be able to field replacements, and they were not taking any chances.

Harry let Miller do the surveying and made a beeline to the door. He knocked a few times, and Jerry quickly came over and let them in. They scooted in quickly and went directly into the back, followed by Jerry and his order pad.

"Want something to drink, guys?" he asked.

"Ginger Ale for me," Miller replied, "I'm driving again soon."

Jerry went out to fill their orders, and we took our customary places around the table. Nick had long since passed out, though Jade and Jamie were talking and giggling like schoolchildren. Not too surprising really considering they were both around twenty. They stopped chattering and waited for Harry to make any pronouncements.

"Any news, Jamie?" Harry asked him.

"Not really," Jamie said with a shrug, "Manetti came in looking for you about an hour ago. He said to tell you that he had no information, but that all of his operations are solid. None of them were hit."

"Thank heaven for small favors," Miller muttered, "What did Barry do when he got here?"

"Made a few phone calls," Jamie shrugged, "He didn't seem too surprised when I told him what happened."

Jade just sat there silently and sipped on her drink, some sweet alcoholic concoction. She was aware that something was wrong, but she did not seem to care what. Miller hated having an innocent girl around him when he was in such mortal danger, but she was part of the cover. He knew that she would probably not be any better off on the street anyway.

"Ok," Mike said, "I want you two to lay off the booze this afternoon."

"Why should I?" Jamie said insolently, "I've got just as much right to do it as you!"

"Because the cops will show up here soon," Miller told him, "And you're underage, you idiot. Same goes for you, Jade. Soft drinks only for the duration, ok?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug, "Just make it up to me later, ok?"

"Fine," he chuckled, she was taking it better that Jamie, "But I've got to run off for a while first. Stay here until I get back, ok?"

"We'll make sure she's all right," Harry said, he enjoyed having Jade around as well, she had become the pet of the group, "You think the cops will show?"

"I'm surprised they haven't already," Mike told him, "They have to know that those places are yours. If they don't, I'm sure the opposition will tip them soon enough."

"I'll stay here and deal with them," he said in agreement, "I'm also going to call in everyone who's left."

He meant the guys running the operations, something that he rarely did because he hated having everyone in the same place at once. Miller merely shrugged and nodded agreement. That was not his affair, as Barry was the one who was going to have to help with that. Miller knew his best bet was to find out who was doing it.

"That works," Miller agreed, "I'm going to head off. I'll pay a call on Mozzio and see if he knows anything."

"Don't use the phones," Harry warned, "They'll probably tap this place if they decide to sweat us. They may have done it already for all I know."

"Ok," Mike said and got up, taking his glass of Ginger Ale as Jerry brought it in. He passed out the soft drinks to everyone except Harry who had his usual scotch. Mike downed the ginger ale as he walked through the bar, leaving the empty glass on the end of the bar as he left. Jerry came up behind Mike and tapped him on the shoulder before he left.

"Ray," he said softly, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Mike replied, "Then you can lock the door after I go."

"Barry was acting strange today," Jerry said, "He definitely wasn't his usual self. He seemed nervous as hell when he breezed in here earlier."

"Did Nick or Jamie pick up on it?" Mike asked him.

"Nick was nearly unconscious by then," he said, "Jamie wouldn't notice anything was wrong if Barry had come in wearing a clown suit."

Miller had to chuckle at that one mainly because Jerry was right. Jamie Bullock was one of the dumbest people he had ever had the misfortune to meet. Mike waited for him to continue; it was apparent that he wanted to say something else.

"Jamie told you about his coming in, right?" Jerry asked.

"Yes," Miller said simply, hoping he would come out with it.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "I'm afraid to tell Harry this, but he showed up about ten minutes after you two left this morning. He was very nervous then too, and he paced around as if he was waiting for a phone call. When it did not come ten minutes after that, he left, grumbling. He didn't even ask about you and Harry at all."

"Son of a bitch," Mike mumbled, "Thanks Jerry."

"You think he was responsible for trying to take out you and Harry?" he asked.

"I don't know," Miller replied, "But it would explain a lot. Harry still doesn't think so, but I'm not so sure now."

"Should I tell him this?" he asked.

"Not until I confirm it," Mike told him, "Harry is pissed enough to order the hit just on suspicion. He might have been nervous because of the mess that happened. I need more info before I bring an accusation like that to Harry."

"I thought so," Jerry said with relief, "I hope I'm wrong."

"So do I," Miller sighed, "So do I. Lock up after me, all right?"

"Will do," he nodded.

If Barry had decided to make a last ditch power play it would have explained a lot. Thing was, why did he go to the trouble of killing over a dozen people when he could have accomplished the same result just by taking out Harry. Miller could have understood if he were a target as well, but hitting the other places did not make sense.

Miller got in his car and drove a few blocks away to make a pay phone call. He was hoping that his support team would have clues for him. Eric answered the phone on the second ring, and they set up a team meeting. He said everyone would be at the shop in an hour and to park in the back. Mike thanked him, rang off, and went to get some food while waiting.

Chapter Fifteen – June 26, 2000 – Early Evening

Miller parked in the alley behind the little rundown storefront that Richter and his people were using as a home away from home. Making sure nobody was watching he slid inside the outer door and rapped on the inner one until someone opened it up.

"Nice to see you breathing, man," Eric Craig said with a wide grin as he opened the door, "After seeing that mess over at the chop shop we were starting to worry about you."

"It's been hectic," Miller agreed as he walked in and found a seat, "I fired off that report when Nick called me, but this is the first chance I've had to get away. I figured that this mess warranted a full meeting. I'm going to need some help with this."

Everyone had showed up to this one. Tom Richter was standing up still. Tracy was looking a little haggard, but very alert with notepad in hand. Al was stretched out on the couch, unflappable as always.

"You're looking all right, considering," Richter said, "I'm assuming that you were involved with that mess out on highway ten."

"I was there," Miller admitted, "It was Harry that put the bullets in their skulls, though. He did it before I could stop him. I wanted to find out who hired them."

"I'm relieved to hear that," Tom said, "But this is still a hairy situation. Harry Lupo is under attack, and you're right on the firing line."

"What's happened since this morning?" Tracy asked.

Mike filled them all in on all the details about the mess on highway ten. He then told them about the meeting with Charlie Bullock and about his suspicions involving Barry Northrup. They were all intrigued by the idea, but they were also scared about what it could mean.

"Assume that your suspicion is right," Al put in afterwards, "What the hell would he have to gain?"

"It depends on how he goes about it," Mike told them, "If Barry continues to do little things and make Harry seem incompetent or ineffectual, he may be able to institute an overthrow."

"You call this little?" Tom asked me cynically, "Maybe this is warping you."

"In the grand scheme it is," Mike replied cynically, "It's the opening salvo. The one thing that makes the others hard to deal with."

"It also weakened Harry's position by taking out his staunchest allies," Tracy said, "Whoever did this really put some thought into it."

"I'm still not positive that it's Barry," Mike cautioned, "Do you have the files on the crime scenes? I'd like to get an inside look at what's going on."

"Yes," Tracy said and slid the files over to him, "I figured you'd want these so I made a quick grab for them before I came over here."

"Just be careful how much you share," Richter warned, "Even Mozzio wouldn't give you that much information."

"I know," Miller said, "But if I can figure out who is doing it Harry won't care what information I used or where I got it."

"That's true," Al grinned, "I bet Harry doesn't want written reports like our bosses do."

"That's one of the few good things about this," Miller agreed, "The only reports I've written since I've been in there have been via email for you."

"Get reading," Tom said while trying to suppress a chuckle, "I'll pass on your compliments about the paperwork up to the top brass."

Miller started reading the reports. It did not tell him that much that he did not already know or suspect. It confirmed many of his suspicions on weapons and who had been killed, something that they had no real confirmation on before this. The killers had used 9mm subsonic rounds that could be effectively silenced.

Tracy had also managed to snag the preliminary reports on the people who had tried to take Harry and Mike out earlier. They had only identified the driver; a small time thug named Clinton Carpazzo. The weapons recovered were Steyr machine pistols that used the same type ammunition as the other killings.

"No word on who the others were?" Mike asked everyone.

"I checked on that just before you came in," Eric said, "Carpazzo was the only local. The others are probably out of town talent. It'll take a week to get ID's on them."

"Figures," Tom grunted, "What do we know about Carpazzo?"

"Small time hood that was on the fringes of the syndicate about fifteen years ago," Martinez said, "He pulled a bunch of stupid bullshit and was declared persona non grata. Evidently, he pissed off some of Charlie's subordinates, including Harry's predecessor. He'd been trying to find his way back into the life when he was arrested."

"He spent most of the last ten years in prison on a manslaughter charge," Eric said as he pulled up the record on the computer, "Released on parole six weeks ago. It seems that he jumped it soon after he was let out."

"I wonder if his anger at Harry was enough to spur this killing spree," Miller wondered, "Maybe we did get the whole batch by accident."

"Unlikely," Richter said, "For one thing, Lupo wasn't an underboss then. He was one of many lieutenants of Big Jack Kirby at the time, as was Barry Northrup for that matter. It was Jack Kirby and Merchant Coleman who had the biggest beef with the Carpazzo brothers. It was politics and Truman Carpazzo got on Big Jack's bad side. Word on the street is that Big Jack himself killed Truman and then made sure that evidence got to the DA to put Clinton in the joint for a decade."

"So why is it so unlikely that Clinton Carpazzo was leading it?" Miller asked, still not seeing the problem.

"Clinton was the younger brother," Tom said, "And he wasn't particularly bright. Truman Carpazzo was the brains of the pair. Once Truman was dead, it wasn't very difficult for Kirby to get rid of his idiot brother. Kirby probably had one of his lieutenants frame Clinton."

"So Carpazzo was probably selected because of his hatred for the syndicate?" Miller asked.

"And because he knew the area," Tracy said, "He was probably just the point man for the out of town hit crew."

"Great," Miller grumbled, "So Carpazzo doesn't really give us any leads?"

"Not really," Richter said, "Though it makes it likely that this is being done by either ex-syndicate or by someone who hopes to piss off the syndicate."

"Or by someone inside trying to discredit Lupo," Mike reminded him, "Carpazzo had no friends in the syndicate. He was the perfect dupe to keep things quiet. If successful it would not be too hard for a new underboss to bring in new people, or quietly get Carpazzo's past indiscretions overlooked. Or even weight down his body and drop it into the bay."

"Good point," Tom said and sat back in thought, "So you've pretty well decided on Northrup as your villain in this scenario?"

"Unless I find evidence to the contrary," Miller nodded, "It seems to be a good working hypothesis."

"I'd have to agree," Al said to back him up, "Northrup was some pissed when Harry Lupo managed to snake into Bullock's good graces and bypassed him for Kirby's job back in '96. Bullock instilled him as Lupo's number two to try to smooth things over and put him one more step towards the pasture."

"That's the new mob for you," Tracy said with a grin, "The differences between them and corporate America are growing fewer every day."

"Yeah," Eric said, "But we're still not at the point where the corporate junkies will lay you off with bullets."

"I don't know," Miller chuckled, "The way those goddamn dotcoms are super-inflating I'm sure they'll be considering it when the bottom falls out."

"If the bottom falls out," Eric said, "All I know is that I'm holding about five thousand shares of Amazon.com that's looking pretty damned sweet right now."

"You better hope they make a profit soon, Eric," Tom said, "They're looking a little shaky in that department."

"I'm out of this one," Al said, "As far as I'm concerned, the market is where I go to buy a six pack of beer."

They all had a good laugh at that one. The meeting broke up at this point. Eric went to go run some records on Carpazzo and his acquaintances. He said he would put the results on the server for Miller to look at later. Al, who had been on watch duty since the previous night, went home to his family.

"Mike," Tom said to him "That was a close call out there today. Are you all right? And I don't just mean physically."

"I'm ok," he said, though the signs of wear were showing on him.

"It's not too late to get out of this," Tracy said hopefully, "I don't want to see you go down like Frank and Alex."

"She's right, Mike," Richter said, "This isn't normal infighting. There have been a lot of people killed in the past twenty-four hours. I'm not usually this timid, but I think you should consider jumping ship."

"Not yet," Mike told them, "I've put too much into this to jump out now. If I can help Harry get through this mess I am going to be the golden boy. If I become Harry's number two, I've got a shot at his job when he self destructs."

"You sound certain that will happen," Tracy said, "Harry could be there for years."

"And the longer I'm in there the more I learn," he said with a smile, "Harry is doing a lot of drugs. I think he's going to degenerate before too long without someone to prop him up."

"That could work," Tom said, "If you displace Northrup, you'll be the one expected to prop up Harry. Until the order comes to liquidate him."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Miller said, backpedaling a little, "I just have to get through this and figure out who is trying to kill us."

"I'll let you go back out for now," Tom said, "But if you think you're losing control of it you grab that girl you've been keeping around and get the hell out of dodge. Make the emergency call and go to ground."

"I will," he promised, "Don't worry about that. I don't have a death wish."

"I've got to get out of here," Richter said as he looked at his watch, "I've got a dinner meeting with the chief tonight. I'm supposed to be there in thirty minutes."

"Sorry to screw up your night, boss," Miller grinned.

"Have fun, Tom," Tracy said with a grin.

Richter grumbled about having to dress up and departed. He left, and it was down to Tracy and Mike. She smiled and sat next to him on the dilapidated couch. He hugged her tightly, and she hugged back. They usually conducted the face-to-face meetings in a motel room with her posing as a hooker. As far as the rest of the team was concerned it was for show, but they managed to have our share of fun and annoy their share of the neighbors.

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked again now that they were alone.

"We've come too far, Trace," He said as he wrapped his arm around her, "We can do this. I have to do this."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, "Can't blame me for trying though."

"Never do," he laughed, "It's not like we don't have this discussion every week anyway."

"And it always ends the same way," she grumbles, "Maybe one day it will be different."

"Someday, Harry Lupo will rot in hell and you and I will take a nice trip to the tropics and forget he ever existed," Mike suggested.

"Promises, promises," she smiled, "Speaking of promises... How's the bimbo doing?"

"Jade?" he asked, "She's doing ok. She still doesn't have a clue that anything is abnormal. I left her with Harry, Nick and Jamie over at the bar. They'll keep an eye on her."

"I wouldn't trust a dog to those three," she said with a mild shudder, "But she's the one who asked for that life I guess."

"I don't think she knows any better," Mike shrugged, "Probably a runaway. Anyway, she's clean and she fits the image I'm supposed to have as Nester. It also keeps me from having to keep up the image in other ways."

"And I'm sure that banging a 19 year old doesn't hurt the ego much either," she snickered, "Don't tell me you don't enjoy it, Mike. You're an idiot if you don't."

"I'm not going to lie to you," Mike smiled, "Of course I do. But it's a physical thing only with her. We don't talk that much, mainly because having an intellectual conversation is beyond her."

"I'm sure that intellectual conversations are not common for you now anyway," she grinned.

"Harry is actually a fairly smart guy," he said, "He can keep his end up in conversation. Nick is actually a bright guy and he and I have had hours long conversations. I think I'd have been friends with him anyway if we'd met under better circumstances."

"Jamie?" she asked.

"Jamie Bullock is an imbecile," Miller said and made a face, "He makes Jade look like a rocket scientist, though they get along fairly well. That's fine with me though, if he talks to her then I don't have to talk to either one of them."

"Until she leaves you for him," Tracy teased.

"I honestly don't care," he chuckled, "If she does, that's her problem. I don't think she will because I treat her better than he would, and she knows it. I have a feeling she'll stick with me until it is not in her advantage to do so anymore."

"True," she nodded, "What do you if you have to get out?"

"I bring her with me and tell the truth," Mike shrugged, "Then I try to find some way to get her straightened out, maybe in the protection program or something."

"At least you've thought about it," she said and slid into Miller's arms, "I'm just tired and I'm on duty tonight. Want to kill some time with me before you go?"

"I wish I could, Trace," He replied wistfully, "But Harry is expecting to hear back from me. I've got a few other people to talk to as well, namely Mozzio. I have to figure out a way to cover what I know."

"I understand," she smiled, "But you can at least kiss me before you go, Mike Miller."

"I wouldn't want to piss off someone who holds my life in her hands," He grinned.

They kissed long and hard, with Mike pulling her close for a few long and enjoyable moments. When they were done he pulled back a little and brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. She still had the prettiest eyes he had seen in years, and not just the color. She had a look of purpose and intelligence that just made him melt. It was a look that was sorely missing from Jade.

"Just for that one," she grinned, "I'll keep your secret for a few more days."

"Thanks," he chuckled and planted one more kiss on her forehead, "Take care of yourself."

"I'll be fine," she said, "But do me a favor. Try to fire off at least an email to me every day until things settle down again."

"Will do," he said and got up to take off, "Keep the home fires burning, ok?"

"You know I will," she said, "I'll be here all night, Mike. Call me if you need anything."

"You know it," he replied, "Get that information from Eric. I may not be able to spare the time to get it off the server."

"Ok," she said with a weak smile and watched Miller walk out.

Mike smiled as he went back to my car, whistling a little. Seeing Tracy always made him feel better. He directed the red machine down the street towards Mozzio's precinct, but he had not made it halfway there before he saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police car behind him.

Miller played the good citizen and pulled right over, wondering what exactly he was being pulled for. He was going five miles under the speed limit, was wearing his seatbelt, and had not even had a drink that night. He had even stopped carrying a weapon, mainly because he had not had a chance to replace the one he dropped into the river earlier.

The police car came to a stop behind him, but the officer didn't come straight out. He was seriously beginning to wonder when another police car pulled up in front of the Mercedes. Miller was concerned, but he was reasonably certain that the vehicles were real cop cars. Three officers got out of the cars and were moving in an arrest position. He knew then that he was about to be arrested, though he still had no idea why.

"Raymond Nester," one of them said, "Put your hands where we can see them and step out of the vehicle."

"Why?" he asked through his open window.

"Do as you are told," one of the other officers said, "And don't make any sudden moves."

He shook his head, but became convinced that these were real cops. Impostors would not be following procedure this well nor would they have been able to get the equipment as exact. He unlatched the door and put his hands outside as he pushed it open. He put them in the air and stood up, looking at the officers for the next step.

"Turn towards the vehicle and put your hands on the roof," one of them said, "I repeat, do not make any sudden movements."

"What's going on?" Miller asked again, "I wasn't speeding."

"Shut up," the one in charge said, "You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to be speak with an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

"What's the charge?" he repeated for a third time as they proceeded to handcuff him.

"I don't know," the officer shrugged, "An APB was sent out with orders to arrest immediately. Now get in the car."

Chapter Sixteen – June 27, 2000 – Shortly After Midnight

Miller, under his Ray Nester identity, was processed through the system just as he had seen many times before, though the process was much slower than usual. It was after one in the morning before they finished the booking process. It was also unusual in the fact that nobody would tell him exactly what the charges were.

Also out of the ordinary was the fact that after booking he was not put into a holding cell but into a conference style room. There were about fifteen other people sitting handcuffed in the room. Everyone was still handcuffed, and most of them were yelling for lawyers. Mike joined into the chorus, even though they were roundly ignored for the most part. The officer sat Mike down in a chair and left him there, obviously having something better to do than to explain himself to a group of obvious criminals.

Most of the people in the room were lower cogs in the Lupo machine. Miller realized what was going on. The cops were pulling in everyone connected with Lupo. The only thing he did not know was the reason. He had a few guesses, namely because of the previous night's massacre, but no concrete answers. Miller looked over the faces and saw Matt Reams sitting on an uncomfortable looking chair in the corner.

Miller managed to rise and walk over to him. Reams recognized him and got the guy next to him to move. Mike sat down, which was no easy task with his hands bound behind him, and looked to see how Reams was. His dark hair was mussed, and he had large circles under his eyes. He obviously hadn't slept in a while.

"What's going on here, Matt?" Miller asked him, "Did they tell you anything?"

"Not a damn thing," he grumbled, "I was hoping you knew."

"When did they pick you up?" Miller asked.

"Around seven," Reams replied, "You?"

"Nearly ten," Mike shrugged, "Has anyone talked to you yet?"

"They haven't even let me call a lawyer," he said, "Can they get away with this shit?"

"For up to twenty-four hours, I'm afraid," Miller informed him, actually feeling for him.

"Great," he grumbled, "They're probably still talking to Harry."

"Harry's here?" Miller asked, surprised at that fact.

"You didn't know?" Reams asked Miller, "They had just finished booking him when they brought me in. Didn't get a chance to talk to him though."

"Just as well," Miller shrugged, "They've probably got this place bugged, hoping that we'll say something they want to hear."

"Really?" he said in surprise, "They can do that?"

"They can do a lot of things," Miller chuckled, "Pass the word around that we may be bugged. I'll call Robbins as soon as I can and get the wheels turning to get us out of here. We didn't do anything so they can't hold us long."

"Got ya," he said and stood up, tipping a little.

He walked around and gave instructions to his boys and suggestions to the rest of them. Miller leaned against the back of the uncomfortable chair and waited for something interesting to happen. It was late, he was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep in that room.

Another two hours or so rolled by before the next person was brought into the room. A semi-sober Nick Jones stumbled into the room, led by a disgruntled police officer. He fell to the floor and stayed there, the officer not willing to bend down to pick him up. Miller chuckled and walked over, crouching next to him, trying not to fall on his own ass as he did so.

"Nick," Mike said to him, "You ok, buddy?"

"Ray?" he asked in a half slur, "What are you doing here in hell?"

"Arrested," Miller chuckled, "Same as you, though I'm sure you don't remember much about being brought in."

"Not really," he groaned, "I've got a rather terrific headache."

"After what you've had to drink today it's no wonder," Mike said as he shook his head, "I'd help you up, but I've still got the goddamned cuffs on."

"Did I do something stupid and get us both arrested?" he asked, obviously not sure what exactly he'd done.

"I don't think so," Mike replied, "They've pulled in a lot of us. Matt Reams is here in the room, and he said that they have Harry as well. There's something more up than you just drinking up a storm."

"If you saw..." he started.

"Shut up, Nick," Mike said harshly, "We're probably being monitored."

Nick was not far enough out of it to ignore that warning. Mike stood up and moved back over to the seat he had vacated next to Matt Reams. Nick slithered over and propped himself up against the wall, though that must have taken a whole lot of effort for him because his head had to be pounding hard after the amount of alcohol he had ingested that day.

They did not have to wait too much longer for something to happen, as the door opened after about twenty minutes, and some familiar faces walked into the room. Tracy and Al flanked Tom Richter who was actually dressed in a good looking suit and exuding authority. He looked through the room and noticed Nick, Matt and Mike sitting in a corner.

"How many of them do you have?" Richter asked an officer that was just outside the door, "I see Nester and Jones. Where are Luponi, Northrup, and Bullock?"

"Luponi is in three," the officer said, "DA wanted him kept separately. Jamie Bullock had a pile of unpaid traffic tickets as well as some other miscellaneous warrants, so he is cooling off in holding while they do the full charges."

"Ok," Richter said, "I'll take Luponi in three. Al, why don't you take Jones over to five? From the looks I don't think Tracy could carry the drunken son of a bitch. Tracy, you take Nester over to 11 and have a chat with him."

"Will do," she said, managing to conceal her thoughts about it.

Miller simply stayed in character, grumbling and repeatedly asking for a lawyer. Tracy played the ADA very well, looking professional and throwing out a few legal terms. She told Mike that Robbins was busy with Harry right now and that there was nothing to stop them from having a little chat.

Room 11 was the most remote conference room. Tracy didn't want the conversation to be overheard or anyone to watch too closely. She told the officer that was moving Miller to stand outside and come in only if he heard her knocking on the glass.

Mike sat down in the usual suspect chair and waited for her to disconnect the microphone. She did so and sat down across the table from him. Mike knew there were probably eyes on them outside the room so he kept to character with his facial expressions.

"What the hell am I in here for?" Miller asked her gruffly, "You could have at least warned me!"

"We didn't know, Mike," she told him, "We didn't even know you were here until Eric ran his usual nightly records scan. We've been trying to figure out what's going on."

"Well did you find anything out?" He grumbled, "They wouldn't even tell me what I was arrested for. They pulled me over, brought me in, and dropped me into that room. That was about four hours or so ago. Did that carnage prompt them to pull everybody in or something?"

"Ok," she said softly, "It wasn't about the carnage at all. I think you might have been right about someone wanting Harry out of the picture."

"Explain," Mike said tersely and straightened up, "Also get me the hell out of these cuffs."

"I can't," she said apologetically, "It would be stepping out of character. Not to mention I don't have a key."

"Ok," He acquiesced, growling agreement, "Then tell me just what was done to cause this? Someone pulling in markers or what?"

"More than that," she said, "You know who the district attorney is, don't you?"

"Yeah," he shrugged "That uppity prick... Whitley? Whitely?"

"Whitmore," she said, "Jeremy Todd Whitmore."

"Yeah, him. Standard political bozo," He replied, still not seeing the point, "What does he have to do with anything?"

"He has to do with a lot of it," she said, "He made a speech today that lambasted Lupo beyond belief. He also instituted a RICO indictment against him."

"Lovely," Mike shrugged again, "Harry's been indicted like this before. He will beat it again by intimidating and/or removing witnesses. And that's only if it doesn't get tossed out due to lack of evidence."

"Yes," she said, "But this afternoon, not three hours after the speech, someone kidnapped the DA's daughter, Mary Anne. The ransom note demanded that all charges against Harry Lupo be dropped by Friday at noon, or else the child would be mailed back to him in pieces."

"Ok," Miller said with a sigh, the light dawning "That would explain this mess."

"You didn't know?" she asked, a bit surprised at that fact.

"You don't think I would have mentioned it at the meet?" he asked her, "Jesus Christ, Tracy, You guys don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?"

"Of course not," she said, though her face showed they suspected it, "I just had to know how much you knew."

"I know," Mike growled, "Harry didn't do that. He isn't that stupid, Tracy. Last time I'd talked to him he hadn't even heard about Whitmore's speech. I probably would have known if I'd had time to check the news today. Did you hear about the speech?"

"I spent most of the day worrying about you, Mike," she said, "I figured out long before you got there that the Highway Ten mess was probably an attempted hit and that there was a chance you were involved."

"This still doesn't fit," Miller said, "If whoever is doing this has planned it out, why the hell did they try to hit Harry like that?"

"Maybe the kidnapping isn't part of the original plan," Tracy said, "Maybe Carpazzo botched it for them and got the team killed, so they had to go to something a bit more subtle."

"It's fucking brilliant is what it is," Miller told her, "Charlie Bullock was still supporting Harry this afternoon. If he even begins to believe that Harry actually had something to do with this, the hit order will be out on the street in a heartbeat."

"That's true," she said, "I've got some new instructions for you from Tom though."

"Why didn't he take me himself?" Mike asked, even though he wasn't disappointed in the least to get to see Tracy.

"Practical reasons," she informed him, "In case someone recognized him for who he is attention will be directed away from you. Also, he didn't want me to have to deal with the others. He's still a little bit of a dinosaur in that department."

"Good enough," Miller agreed, "What are his instructions, although I'm certain I can guess."

"Find that girl," she said, "It's as simple and as complicated as that. Tom doesn't care what you do, who you hurt, what laws you break. If you have to blow your cover to find her, that's fine with us. The only important thing now is to get that girl back, and you know as well as I do that time is of the essence."

"She may be dead already, Trace," Miller told her honestly, "If I were going to try to string it out to make Harry look bad I wouldn't want to deal with a screaming kid."

"That may be true," Tracy admitted, "But you still have to try. If there's still any chance at all, we have to go for it."

"I'll try," he promised, "If there is anyway to get that girl out, I will. But, I can't do it from here."

"I'll let Robbins in to see you and have you released," she said, "I don't think I'll be able to do the same for Harry, though."

"Keep him," Mike said, "Keep him locked up here as long as you can get away with, it'll keep him out of my way and lessen the chance that I'll blow my cover."

"Anything else I can do?" she asked him.

"Let Nick Jones out," Mike told her, "He didn't do it either. You know damn well none of us would have done anything that blatantly stupid."

"Harry was sitting there waiting for the officers though," Tracy said, "It was like he was daring them to pick him up."

"He expected the cops to show because of the killings," Miller reminded her, "This must have floored him, if he even knows yet."

"He knows," she said, "They've been going at him since 4pm trying to get him to release the whereabouts of the girl. He's stood silent and repeatedly asked for Robbins. They finally gave in and let Robbins in about two hours ago. He went off trying to get an order to release Harry. I don't know what's happened since that was an hour or so ago."

"If he's back, let him in to get me," Miller agreed, "But find some way to hold Harry long enough for me to get out and look around for this girl. I don't need him breathing down my neck about it."

"Ok," she agreed, "Good luck Mike."

"You too," He said, "I want you to get Eric to do a full workup on Carpazzo. I want to know who he served time with and where. I want to know what time he went to the bathroom every day. I want it all, everything. Anything that you think will be of use I want you to put on the server."

"I'll get Eric working," she promised, "Just stay put and Robbins will be here in a few minutes. We'll let you, Nick and a few others out. Any requests?"

"Yes," he said, "Let Matt Reams out about thirty minutes after me. Also, a few more of the peons so that it does not look so strange that you're letting me out. I want to get lost in the shuffle."

"Not a problem," she said, "We've held most of them too long anyway."

Tracy smiled and wished Miller luck as she left the room. She was worried, but tried to hide it and keep to her character as she left the room. Mike simply sat down there and waited. She left the door open so Mike could hear what was going on outside at least. Robbins was out there arguing with Tom Richter, Tracy, and a few others. Robbins was livid and wanted everyone arrested released. Tom was not budging on most of them.

Richter was very good at the game and convincing as a DA. He had the skill necessary to make Robbins go away thinking that he'd talked Nester and Jones out of custody. After the release had been agreed to, a couple officers went in and took the cuffs off Miller, telling him that his lawyer was outside. Miller grumbled and told the cops to let Robbins into the room and go away.

"How are you, Ray?" Robbins asked as he came into the room.

"I've been here all fucking night, Allan!" he exclaimed, "I still don't know why, either!"

"Have they questioned you?" Robbins asked.

"Not really," he said, "Some basic questions about what I've been doing today. I told them to go to hell and that I wasn't answering questions until I got to talk to a lawyer."

"Good," he said, "They don't seem to have a use for you anyway. I know I shouldn't ask this, but did you guys have anything to do with that kid going missing?"

"A kid went missing? You think we did it? You've got to be kidding me!" I shouted, "You think we are crazy?"

"I thought so," he said, "You'll be out of here in a few minutes. The ADA out there is letting you, Nick and a whole bunch of the others out."

"How about Harry?" Mike asked him, already knowing the answer.

"They are going to question him all night probably," he said, "I just wanted to check on you and Nick while they were taking a break."

"How's Nick holding up?" Mike asked.

"They've just about given up on him," Robbins chuckled, "It seems he spent a good part of the day drunk. I hear he even managed to throw up on one of the questioning officers."

"Good," Mike said, chuckling a little, "Serves them right. I guess he didn't tell them much either?"

"I'd say that was a good bet," he agreed, "Anyway, they'll let you out of here in a few minutes. If you have any contacts that can find that girl, I suggest you use them. The sooner the girl gets out the sooner the heat goes off."

With that he left the room and left Miller alone again, though not for very long. Within five minutes of Robbins departure, a police officer came into the room.

"We're letting you out, Nester," he said as if he were not pleased with the idea, "I've got orders to escort you to Property to retrieve your personal effects and sign the release papers."

"About time," Mike growled, staying in character, "Let's get the show on the road. Anyone else getting out?"

"A few," he said, "Nick Jones will meet you down there I'm sure."

Mike nodded and followed the officer to the front desk. It took them about five minutes to locate the plastic box containing his stuff. He checked it carefully and made sure that all of it was there. It was, though it had all been well rifled through, probably looking for evidence that he'd been involved with a crime.

Miller was just finishing the paperwork related to being released when they brought Nick down. He was still weaving badly. The alcohol had not left his system yet, and it showed. Miller signed his release papers and waited for Nick to go through the same process.

"I'm not sure he'll be able to sign the papers," one of the officers escorting him said, "Maybe we should put him in the drunk tank for a few hours before letting him out."

"Not a bad idea," the other one said, "We could be held liable if we release him like this."

Miller could not let them do that. He had a feeling that he was going to need Nick, and the kid would be more use semi-sober on the outside than he would spending the night in the drunk tank.

"I don't think so," Miller told them as he walked over, "Let him sign out. I'll take him home."

"Who are you?" the officer asked me.

"Ray Nester," Mike replied, "Nick is a friend of mine and I'll be damned if I'll let you keep him any longer. I'll see that he gets home."

"Take him," the officer shrugged, "One less lowlife for us to deal with."

Miller scowled, but led Nick through the procedures so that they could get out of there. He decided to go ahead and use his cell phone to call the bar and find out the status there. He did not much care if anyone listened in on the conversation because he was in a police station anyway.

Nick slowly went through the procedures as the phone rang. Jerry picked up after two rings and greeted Miller in a drowsy tone. Mike thought it odd that he was sleeping at the bar but was not about to argue with good fortune.

"Jerry," Mike said over the phone, "It's Nester."

"Ray," he said, "Did they get you too?"

"Hours ago," Mike replied, "Don't remind me. They just let me out."

"Glad to hear it," he said, "How bout Harry, Nick and Jamie?"

"Nick is with me," Miller told him, "As soon as he's signed out we're blowing this joint."

"Harry and Jamie?"

"They're keeping a lid on Harry," Miller said, "I could care less what they are doing to Jamie. I figure the longer they hold him the longer he's out of my hair."

"That's true," he said, "You coming back this way? Want me to set up your drinks for you?"

"Coffee, Jerry," he said, "Nick is going to need quite a bit of it, and I could use a caffeine jolt myself."

"It'll be hot by the time you get here," he promised.

"Is Jade still there?" Mike asked him "Or did they pull her in too?"

"She's asleep on the couch," he said, "I figured you wouldn't want her out on the streets. She said she couldn't get back into your room without your key."

"I had planned to come back and take her home," Mike told him, "But they pulled me over on the way."

"I figured as much," Jerry said, "I'll be ready for you downstairs when you get there."

"Thanks," Mike replied and shut off the phone.

Nick was finally finished when Miller got back to him. He was standing on his own and managing to deal with his paperwork. The kid had a dazed look on him, though, probably the aftereffects of drinking heavily most of the day. Miller called a cab, and the two of them walked outside to wait for it to show up.

"Man this has been a lousy day," Nick said as they sat down on the steps out front, "First Joey is murdered and it ends with me being hauled in."

"It's going to get worse before it gets better, buddy," Miller told him, "Someone grabbed the DA's kid and is fixing it to look like Harry did it."

"So that's why they pulled us in?" he asked in surprised, "Do they think we are crazy?"

"I don't know," Miller shrugged, "But if we don't figure out who did it before the police do, we're in deep shit."

"No kidding," Nick said with a sigh, rubbing his temples slowly, "What do you plan on doing?"

"Finding her," Mike said simply, "I found out who tried to hit Harry and Me. It was a small time thug by the name of Carpazzo. Do you know him?"

"Don't think so. Hell I didn't even know someone had tried to hit you two," he said, "Should I know him?"

"He was put out in the cold by the syndicate years ago," Mike informed him, "I managed to get some information on him before the cops grabbed me, but I need to know more."

"How long ago?" he asked.

"Clinton Carpazzo and his brother managed to piss off Big Jack Kirby," Mike told him, "I don't know the details."

"Talk to Jerry," Nick said, "Jack's place was owned indirectly by Big Jack, hence the name. He operated out of the back room much like we do now. Jerry tended bar back then too, that's why he got the place when Kirby bit the big one back in '96."

"You ever meet Kirby?" Mike asked him.

"A few times," he replied, "I was working for Harry back then as well, but he was still down low on the totem pole. I ran a few things to Kirby and that's all. Kirby seemed like an asshole to me."

The cab showed up then, and they rode in silence to the bar, making a solitary stop to get Nick some aspirin before they arrived.

Chapter Seventeen – June 27, 2000 – Dawn

It was nearly daylight when Nick and Mike arrived at Jack's Place again. Jerry was waiting and herded them inside. Miller found out why he was still there at that hour. He had an apartment on the second floor, which was where the three of them went. He didn't have a coffee maker down in the bar area, so they went upstairs. It was also farther away from prying eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Jerry asked, "The word on the street is that Harry did something very stupid, like taking the DA's daughter?"

"It's bullshit," Mike told him, "I think it's probably the same group that's trying to overthrow him."

"Barry?" Jerry asked as he went over to pour the cups of coffee.

"He's at least part of it," Miller agreed, "Though I've still got no proof of that."

"Anything I can do?" he asked as he gave Nick a cup, "If Harry goes down I could be in a rather sticky spot myself."

"Actually," Miller replied and grabbed a cup for himself, "There is. I need to pick your brain."

"I'm going to sit down in the chair over there," Nick said, still too sore to care, "Keep the coffee coming, ok?"

"Not a problem," Jerry said and motioned to the kitchen table, "I don't know how I can help. Nobody tells me anything."

"You worked for Jack Kirby, didn't you?" Miller asked him, "Pretty much the same way you do for Harry, right?"

"That was years ago," he shrugged, "Big Jack was murdered back in '96 and wasn't particularly relevant for a year or two before then. What significance could that have to anything now?"

"Clinton Carpazzo," Mike put on the table, "That name mean anything to you?"

"Shit," he said, "I haven't heard that name in years. He and his brother used to have an underboss crew under Kirby years ago. Truman was one of Harry's rivals. Last I heard Clinton was in jail and Truman was dead."

"I need to know more than that," Mike told him, "Clinton Carpazzo was driving for the team that tried to whack Harry and me yesterday."

"Damn," he said with surprise, "I thought Carpazzo was still in jail. Kirby gave his corrupt cops a slam-dunk case with the kid to make them look good. It also got Carpazzo off the streets without Kirby having to leave another body lying around."

"Carpazzo's conviction was a put up job?" Mike asked in surprise.

"Sure," he said, as if it were common knowledge, "Howard Bronson, one of Charlie Bullock's pet cops, needed a good juicy scapegoat for a case. Kirby offered up Clinton Carpazzo because he happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."

"Figures," Miller grumbled, then jumped back into character, "Did Harry have anything to do with the Carpazzo incident back in the 80's?"

"Sure," Jerry said, again thinking this was common knowledge; "Harry did similar work for Kirby that you do now. He was the one who brokered the deal with Bronson."

"How long before Bronson was booted from the force?" Miller asked, just so he could pass on the information.

"Probably two years," Jerry said after a moment of thought, "It was one of the things that really made Harry's star shine in the outfit."

"Did the Carpazzo brothers have any real allies?" Mike asked him after lighting up a cigarette, "I mean they must have had some support if they were bucking Kirby."

"It was a matter that just got way out of hand," Jerry said and pulled out a cup to use as an ashtray, "Truman Carpazzo was one of Kirby's better people, but he got into some things that brought some heat onto Kirby. I don't know exactly what it was, but in order to piss off Kirby so much it was probably unsanctioned drug dealing. Kirby was an old school man. He didn't particularly like drugs. Bullock didn't care and thought that Big Jack was too old fashioned about the subject. Probably why he gave Harry the go ahead to take him out."

"Wait a minute," Mike said, surprised by this, "Harry killed Jack Kirby?"

"Never proven," Jerry said with a grin, "But it was Harry who put a bullet through Kirby's skull. Tony Talbot shot Merchant Coleman about an hour later. It was an exchange and total clean out. With Kirby out of the way, the other underbosses withdrew their paltry objections to the drug trade. Bullock stood to make millions from it, so he allowed Harry to take Kirby's place. Northrup was incensed by the hit, but he went to a meeting at Bullock's mansion."

"I take it that Northrup was supposed to be the heir apparent," Mike observed, fascinated by the intrigue, "Bullock went for the younger man in the equation."

"It was payback, like I said," Jerry shrugged, "Barry realized that if he didn't play the game he'd lose everything. He couldn't do anything against Harry at the time because Harry was Charlie's fair-haired boy for taking out Kirby. So he lobbied to get Merchant Coleman's job. Harry didn't really want him for it, but Bullock saw this as a perfect solution to the power vacuum and a way to solidify Harry's power. It would also be a further step towards putting Northrup out to pasture."

"So that's the way it's been since 1996," Miller nodded, "How has the relationship between the two been since?"

"Rocky," Jerry said, "Harry never trusted Northrup, but he had to use him for Charlie Bullock's sake. Things seem to have settled down in the last three years though."

"You never did answer my question about Carpazzo," Mike reminded him, "Did he have any allies?"

"Sure," Jerry replied after thinking for a moment, "But once Kirby killed off Truman none of them were willing to stick their neck out for Clinton."

"Just answer me this," Miller said, still trying to confirm his hypothesis, "Was Barry Northrup one of those allies?"

"Let me think," he said and sat back thinking for a few more moments, "Come to think of it he was Truman Carpazzo's strongest ally. He was probably the only person that made any sort of noise about Clinton Carpazzo being set up for that killing. Kirby ignored him, but Barry had the standing then to make that sort of noise. Much more so than anyone else, really. Hell, the only reason Barry didn't hold his current job under Kirby was because Merchant Coleman was a smoother operator and hated Northrup's guts. Kirby grew up with both of them, so he was very kindly disposed to both men."

"So I guess Northrup was a bit pissed about Kirby going down," Mike put in, trying to come up with possible motives.

"Northrup was incensed that Lupo had both done it and had been sanctioned in doing it," Jerry said, "But he had to keep quiet about it because without Kirby or Coleman he needed a new patron. Better to be a number two in good standing than an underboss without a portfolio. Men in that position tend to not live long."

"I'm curious about one other thing, Jerry," Miller stated, "Jack Kirby started this place for you. Probably financed it and kept the cops and health inspectors off your ass. Yet, you sound like you hold him in serious contempt. You don't even sound sorry that he's dead."

"I'm not," he said plainly, "I had nothing like the autonomy I know now back then. Big Jack Kirby was a pig. He hated everyone and everything. He went up through the ranks by squashing anyone who got in his way. He treated me, and everyone else in the world like shit. He even treated his best friend in the world, Merchant Coleman, like he was a step above a fruit fly. Harry Lupo may not be the best man in the world, but he was one hell of an improvement over Kirby."

"I see," Mike grinned, "Well that would explain Carpazzo's involvement. He was probably itching for a chance at Harry. Barry's reasons too. He's probably wanted a chance at Harry for offing Kirby. Or if he's like you and hated Kirby's guts, because Harry managed to move on Kirby before he could."

"Could be either," Jerry admitted, "You never know motives in this organization. I'm just wondering how he could put something like this together without Harry catching wind of it."

"Easy enough," Nick said as he came over to the table for a coffee refill, "Harry's been hitting the drugs a bit more. Barry was handling a lot of the business, and Harry just let him do it. I'm not even sure Harry knows everything that Barry was into anymore. If Barry is the one behind this, it's going to be a large Blow to Harry's prestige."

"That makes sense," Mike said, "Now I just have to figure out where Barry has stashed the girl or if he even has the girl. How come you don't sound surprised by this?"

"Barry has always been a prick," Nick said with a hearty shrug, "I still don't get it though. Why would Barry do something this stupid or unbelievable? I mean what purpose would we have in taking the DA's kid?"

"You were passed out when the DA spoke on TV," Jerry said, "Barry was there with me and Jamie as it came over the news. He's filing new indictments on Harry, probably as pressure because of the killings yesterday. Jamie didn't really pay attention, but Barry certainly did."

"Barry was at the bar then?" I asked him, "What did he do after the speech?"

"He sat there quietly for a few more minutes," Jerry said, "Jamie and Jade were laughing up a storm and having a couple drinks. I was cleaning glasses and dealing with the few other customers. He asked for the phone, made a quick call, and then took off himself."

"Ok," Miller said, "He probably thought of it while watching that speech. I'm betting they had the news about the failed hit on highway ten about that time as well."

"Probably," Jerry agreed, "He left soon after the news bulletins ended."

"Ok," Miller nodded, "I have somewhere to start now."

"Where are we going?" Nick asked.

"I'm going to try to track down Barry," he said, "You are going to stay here and drink some more coffee. I'll need you later, but I want you sober first. Also, find a weapon and make sure it's clean."

"I have a couple down in the basement," Jerry said, "I'll get him set up. What do you want me to do?"

"Hold the fort," Mike told him, "Keep Jade here with you for the duration and see that Nick gets sober. Other than that, keep an eye out for Barry. Just don't tip my hand, all right?"

"If he's done what you think he has," Jerry said, "He probably won't be back until it's over."

"Anyway," Miller said, "I've got some things to check out. Call me on the cell if you need to, but don't give anything concrete out over the phone. Either one of us could be tapped or intercepted."

"Ok," Jerry replied with a nod, "Good luck, Ray."

Miller walked over to Jade when he saw that she was awake and still curling up on the couch. He figured that he had better see how she was doing. He sat down on the edge of the cushion in front of her and stroked her hair a little.

"You ok?" she asked, "After the cops came Jerry was worried about what happened to you."

"They picked me up over on Fourth," Mike told her, "They let me out about an hour ago."

"Cool," she said, "We going home now?"

"Fraid not, kiddo," he told her, "Someone took the DA's kid and is blaming Harry. If she isn't found and quick all hell is going to break loose. I'm going to go run down some leads."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, her eyes perking up a little at this.

"Stay here," Miller told her, "Jerry will watch over you. It's not safe on the streets for you right now. Get some sleep and I'll come back for you later. If anything happens and you have to get out of here, sit and watch TV in the lobby of the hotel until I get back."

"Ok," she mumbled, "I'll stay here for now."

She went back to sleep after that, and Miller kissed her forehead and. He peeled a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and put it in her pocket so she would have money if she needed it. Mike stood up and gave a thumbs-up to Jerry and Nick and then let himself out of the place. Jerry followed Miller down and locked the door behind him. He grumbled about not having a car and started walking towards his motel down the street.

He then saw a car sitting a few spaces down. It was an older model that he knew could be hot-wired quickly. Miller put on some gloves and shattered the window. He hot-wired it and drove it to the motel, parking the stolen car in a lot across the street.

He then went to his room and pulled out the laptop. Mike wanted to spend a few minutes reading whatever Eric had managed to get on Carpazzo. He also used his spare cell phone, a cloned one that could not be traced, to call in and have Eric pull the Phone records for yesterday on the phone at the bar. Eric said he would have them in thirty minutes and put them on the server.

Miller logged into the laptop and set up a secure VPN connection to the server Eric set up to access files. Eric had done a good research job on Clinton Carpazzo. There were detailed files from his years in the state prison. It seems that Carpazzo did not do well in prison life. His original sentence was for twelve years, the result of his legal aid lawyer advising him to take a plea bargain. Carpazzo served out every single day of that sentence.

Carpazzo was involved with numerous gang incidents and was the victim of more beatings than anyone should have been. While Kirby was alive, the people of his in the prison were giving the man hell. Carpazzo was released at the end of his twelve years only because the law said he had to be. According to all records the prison officials expected to welcome Clinton back to their family within six months. None of them were surprised to find out that he'd made his way to a slab instead.

Miller waded through the pages and pages of garbage about Carpazzo's prison record and found little to spike interest. None of Carpazzo's cellmates were mob related, as the prison tried to avoid placing two known organized criminals together to keep them disjointed and to keep them from dying in custody. There was nothing altogether remarkable aside from the fact that he was a prime example of an unrepentant criminal.

Miller himself had actually had a hand in putting away a few of Carpazzo's cellmates over the years. Unfortunately, without exception his cellmates were useless. Most of them were still in prison. Only one of them was out on the streets and according to the records he hated Carpazzo with a passion. The rest were dead.

Mike was wading through the rest of the information when his secure email indicator came on. Getting sick of useless data, he flipped over to the secure email program and checked to see what Eric had sent. The message was short and sweet, as messages from Eric tended to be.

It gave the identities of the other three hitters. They were from California and were known to be paid hitters. He figured that he would let the police handle that one, as they could do it better than he could. Eric had included brief bios of each of them that were of no real use. If Barry had wanted hitters, he could have found them through any of a hundred ways. Muscle was a dime a dozen.

More interesting were the LUDs from the bar. LUDs are the records from the Phone Company keeping track of every number called from and calls received by a particular phone. There were only ten calls on it that day and more than half of them were to or from people Miller recognized. There were two from Nester himself, one from the motel and one from Charlie Bullock's place.

Around two in the afternoon, however, there were two calls to the same number. Eric had run the numbers through a reverse directory and put down the names and addresses. Miller recognized the address as one of the bookmaking establishments that Barry ran. Miller had actually been there once before to take care of a problem customer. Barry did not even object too badly, as it was not one of his pet businesses even though an old friend of his ran it.

Miller knew then that he had a place to go and a place to look. Even if Barry were not there, they would have to answer to him about where Barry was. At that point Miller was willing to move in any direction that he thought might lead him where he was going.

Chapter Eighteen – June 27, 2000 – Mid-Morning

Mike took a quick timeout to go over to where he had been pulled over the night before and retrieved his car. He ditched the stolen piece of junk in a warehouse parking lot about a quarter mile from the Mercedes. Mike was surprised that it had been left unmolested through the night, though it had a big orange tow sticker on it.

Miller ripped the sticker off and made sure they had not put a boot on the car. Since he was not pulled for traffic violations, they had not bothered with it. He then made a quick stop at a McDonalds for some horrid food and large cup of highly caffeinated goo. If the concoction was supposed to be coffee it only just about halfway succeeded. It served its purpose, however, and kept Mike awake for a while.

It was a little after nine thirty in the morning when he pulled in front of the bookmaking joint. He was kicking himself for not replacing his weapon. Miller went around the outside of the building and picked up an old pipe that was laying out there, figuring that would do the trick. He hoped that he was not in for any gunplay.

Miller knew from the last time he was there to check the books that there were three people working the place at any time. Two of them tended to be low-level thugs out to make a semi-honest paycheck. The joint itself was under the direct supervision of Vincent Curletto. He had been working for Barry in one form or another for thirty years, and as a result it was not surprising that he would be part of any conspiracy Northrup was cooking up.

Miller listened in for activity and heard little but the chattering of telephone bookmaking. His problem was trying to decide how to make his approach. He knew he could go in there and try to sweet talk it out of them. He knew that approach most likely would not work, especially if they had anything to hide. Miller stood out there for a minute and decided that a quick entrance and forceful approach would be the only way to get what he needed. He had to go in quick and scare Curletto into truthfulness.

He found a dirty window to look into to get the lay of the land. It was pretty much the way he remembered it. Curletto was there, probably waiting for word from Barry. Curletto's bodyguard, a large man known as Jimmy Squid, was sitting around watching things. Jimmy Squid, whose real name was James Bulger, was big and stupid, but good enough to scare off the punks in the area.

The phones were ringing feverishly that night, probably due to a major sports event of some sort. Miller decided on a Blitzkrieg approach, so he went over to the door and kicked the old wooden door in.

Jimmy Squid jumped up at attention at the door flying open. He went for his gun quickly, but not quick enough to save himself. Miller shattered his right arm at the shoulder and hit him in the back of the head with pipe. Jimmy Squid slumped to the floor quickly, out cold but not dead. Miller thought it would take more than a simple beating to put that hulk out for good.

Curletto was caught by surprise with the quick invasion and was hesitating. Jimmy had managed to get his hand on his weapon and get it halfway out of the holster before Mike had hit him. Miller didn't waste any time pulling the weapon out, checking the safety and aiming it at Curletto's skull before he was able to even think about getting his weapon out.

"Pull it out with two fingers, Vinnie," Miller instructed him, "Fuck with me, and you're a dead man."

"You didn't have to kill Jimmy!" Curletto growled as he was complying, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"Because I'm sick of the bullshit," Miller said honestly and turned towards the two youngsters, "Leave now and don't turn back."

"What bullshit?" Curletto asked as the young workers ran, leaving them alone, "What the hell do you want, Nester?"

"Barry," Miller told him, "Where is Northrup?"

"How the hell would I know?" he asked, "I haven't seen him for days."

"He called you yesterday afternoon, Vinnie," Miller reminded him, "Twice. Just after a group of idiots tried to kill Harry and me, also a second time after he found out that his crew had failed and died. The DA's kid went missing an hour later. You're in it up to your ears, Vinnie. I want to know where he is. If you tell me you might live through this."

"I had nothing to do with Carpazzo pulling that hit," he growled, "Now get the hell out of here?"

"If you had nothing to do with it," Miller said in a cool, even tone, "Then how did you know that Clinton Carpazzo pulled it? The police haven't released that information to the press yet. It is not even on the street. If I didn't have a good source on the investigation, I wouldn't have known it. So how the hell does a second rate bookmaker like yourself know it without having been a part of it?"

Curletto was scared out of his mind. Ray Nester wasn't a happy person and he knew it. In this world, when someone was as unhappy as Nester was people generally died. Miller was counting on that knowledge to pry information out of Curletto.

"You have one chance to live, Curletto," Mike said as he cocked the hammer on the .45, "You can talk or you can die. Barry has played you for a fool if you think he can still pull this off."

"You don't have the standing to do this!" Curletto told me, "You'll be a dead man before the day is out!"

"This gun is all the standing I need right now, Vincent," Miller said with a weird sort of calm, "My boss is in jail. I've got cops breathing down my neck because of a kidnapping that we had nothing to do with. We've got several dead people linked to a thug that happened to be an ally of Barry's. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"Go to hell, Nester," Curletto growled, still mistakenly thinking that he had a measure of control, "I don't have to answer to you."

"Maybe not," Miller admitted, "But you do have to answer to this."

With that Miller shot him in the leg just below the knee. He was shocked at himself for crossing the line, but he'd retreated into the Nester persona so much that he was able to take the step. He was sickened that it had come down to it, but given the fact that a little girl's life was hanging in the balance he had very little regret as the bullet smashed into Curletto, nearly amputating the leg.

"You have approximately twenty minutes before you pass out from blood loss," Miller told him in the steadiest tone he could manage, "If you aren't patched up soon after, you'll die from that blood loss."

"You son of a bitch!" Curletto screamed, "You fucking shot me!"

"Yes," Mike told him, "And if you don't tell me where Barry Northrup is I will shoot you again. I will make what's left of your life a living hell that Barry will never have a chance to match."

"Fuck you!" he yelled.

Mike reached over with his right leg and applied a little pressure onto the wound. The crunch of shattered bone and squish of flesh made his stomach turn. To keep from throwing up he just kept the image of the little girl frightened, alone and held by unscrupulous men in his mind. That gave him the courage to keep going.

"I don't know where he is now!" Curletto screamed.

"Tell me what you do know," Miller said, "You're running out of time, Curletto."

"Barry has hated Lupo for ages," Curletto said between gasps of pain, "He wants the whole pie. He used Carpazzo because Lupo was the one who had him framed for that killing."

"I figured out that much on my own, Vinnie," Miller told him, reapplying pressure, "Tell me something useful."

"I was helping him out," Curletto said, "He said the massive shock attack would weaken Lupo's power base. I helped Carpazzo find the out of town hitters for the deal. They were expendable."

"Big words for a little man," Miller growled, "Let me guess. Northrup was going to have Carpazzo dispatch them after Harry was dead, ride in like a white knight and take over from his late, lamented boss."

"Exactly," Curletto gasped, "Barry wants it all, but Carpazzo's failure nearly screwed it all up."

"It solidified Bullock's support for Harry," Miller filled in, "If Harry and I had died, he would have had no competition. But the failure makes problems."

"He was afraid Harry would connect Carpazzo with him," Curletto admitted, "He didn't know if Carpazzo had talked before he died or not. Since you don't know most of this, I'm guessing he didn't say a word."

Curletto was talking for his life now and he knew it. His speech was dotted with gasps of pain, but he wanted to live, and he knew his only chance was to make Nester happy. He was also pissed at Northrup for getting him in this mess to begin with. The blood loss was making him light headed; a condition not known to be conducive with coherent thought.

"He wanted two people he could trust," Curletto said, his eyes starting to wander, "Two people who were loyal and would do whatever he told them. I found them for him, but didn't want to know what he was doing. I didn't know until later that they were taking the DA's kid."

"Who were they?" Mike asked, "And where did they take the kid?"

"Richard Bundy and Shawn Costello," Curletto said, though his strength was fading fast. The blood was flowing out faster than Miller had anticipated, "They are a strange pair, a Mutt and Jeff team. Not very bright though. I don't know where they took the kid. I haven't seen Barry since yesterday. I've just been keeping my head low. I don't know. Everything is just so strange..."

Curletto was babbling the last of his life away. He began babbling about his childhood and anything else that came to his mind. The puddle on the floor below him was bad and getting worse. Even an ambulance would not have saved him by this point. Miller was not overly concerned. Frankly, he figured the world was better off without a sleaze like Vincent Curletto anyway.

Miller bent down to check and see whether Jimmy Squid was still breathing, but his life had ended at least five minutes before. Miller did not know it, but the thug had high blood pressure anyway, and the injury triggered a massive stroke that ended his life. Curletto wasn't quite through yet; however. The dying mobster finally let out a scream and reached for the weapon sitting on the floor in front of him. He picked up the pistol and tried to aim it. His eyesight was failing him in his last seconds, however. Miller turned around quick and fired a single shot, ending his life a few seconds early with a .45 slug between the eyes.

He looked at himself to see how big a mess he had made. He still had a little blood on his hands and a few spots on his clothes. His shoes, however, were drenched in the stuff. He went into the front room and looked for spares, hoping to find something that fit. He found an old pair of rubber boots that would do the trick for the present and found enough cleaning chemicals and flammable liquids to make quick work of the place.

Miller covered the bodies with the chemicals and lit it on fire, making sure that their markers were in the flammable pile. He covered his shoes in one of the chemicals and tossed them into the fire to make sure that they were good and toasted. He then put on the rubber boots and walked out of the building and went to his car.

Mike pulled out of there and left the area as quick as possible. He found a parking garage about a mile away that he could pull into for a while. It was beginning to hit him that he had just murdered two people in cold blood. It did not matter that they were total slime that had been responsible for more deaths than he had investigated over the years. To him, it simply meant that he was quickly becoming one of them.

Miller slumped over his steering wheel and just simply cried for a while. He spent the next hour or so sitting there and trying to rationalize what he had done. He knew that there was a difference between the men he was keeping company with and him. Miller did what he did for justice and was doing all of this stuff to hopefully get some long overdue justice. The people he was trying to get did what they wanted just because they wanted to and for no other reason.

It was thoughts of that poor little girl that snapped him out of the fit of depression. He knew he had a job to do still, and every minute he wasted in self-pity was one minute less Mary Anne Whitmore had to live. He drove to a gas station and placed a call to the safe line that Richter's people had set up.

"Hook, Line and Sinker... Fresh Fish!" Tracy chirped over the line, "How may I help you?"

"Cut the theatrics and check the line for listeners," He told her tersely, "I have two names I need checked and I need to make a report."

"Hold on," she said, her voice taking on a pragmatic tone, "You're clear, Mike. Tom, Al and Eric are on the speakerphone."

"I'll make this short and sweet," Miller said, "I've had to cross the line. Vincent Curletto and his muscle man are roasting over on 23rd."

"I got the radio report," Tom said, "What happened?"

"I needed information," Mike told him, not giving details on the interrogation, "They weren't cooperative at first. But, I now know for a fact that Barry Northrup was behind it, though."

"Good enough," Tom said, "I won't lose any sleep over Vincent Curletto's death. Neither will the DA when I tell him that he had a part in his daughter's kidnapping."

"Northrup and Carpazzo were working together," Mike told them, "Barry panicked after Harry and I survived the attempt. He was afraid that Carpazzo would spill and that Harry would figure it out."

"Reasonable suspicion," Al said, "He couldn't know that Harry would kill the hitters immediately."

"Curletto set Northrup with two mopes for the kidnapping," Miller continued, "Richard Bundy and Shawn Costello. I need information about them."

"Give me a second and I'll call up their files," Eric said in a fading voice as he went to his computer.

"Make it quick," Miller said, "Give me the highlights and known areas of operation."

"Do you know where Northrup is?" Tracy asked.

"Curletto didn't know," Mike told her, "I'm hoping that Bundy and Costello will give me a lead in that direction."

"You may have other problems," Tom said, "We've got a tap on the bar. Bullock wants to see Harry post haste. He sounds on edge. The rest of the police force is coming down on his operations like a ton of bricks. They're putting some serious pressure on and finding that nobody is minding the store."

"Shit," Miller cursed, "He probably thinks that Harry did it."

"Northrup could still win if that's the case," Tom reminded him.

"Do you know if Northrup has been to Bullock's yet?" Mike asked "And is Harry still in custody?"

"Harry is in lockup until further notice," Tracy said, "He had an unpaid traffic ticket and the judge denied bail at the request of the DA. As for Northrup, he hasn't been anywhere. They have black and white presence on Bullock's residence. I'm keeping track of the surveillance. Old Barry is probably staying off the streets for the duration until Lupo falls."

"Cute," he said, "Keep Harry inside and as isolated as humanly possible. He'll go ballistic when he finds out what's going on. If he goes ballistic a lot more people will die and he'll probably go out in a blaze of glory, along with my usefulness."

"Take care of it quick, Miller," Al urged, "And if it looks bad, get the hell out of there."

"He's right," Tom's voice cautioned, "You will do nobody any good if you're dead."

"Point taken," Miller said tersely, "I'm going back to the bar. I'll probably have to fend off Charlie in Harry's absence. I'm the only ranking member of Harry's crew left other than Nick, and he's sure as hell not up to dealing with Charlie on his own."

"I've got the records for Bundy and Costello," Eric said in the background.

"Give me the highlights, Eric," Miller said.

"Shawn Theodore Costello, born 9-2-69," Eric recited "6'2" and thin. He has a rap sheet longer than my arm. It seems you've met him before though. He was arrested on a drunk and disorderly and public brawling rap along with Raymond Nester and Richard Bundy."

"Oh hell," Miller said in surprise, "Those were the two idiots I got into it with at that bar to get myself thrown in jail."

"When you were just starting as Nester?" Tom asked, "You sure?"

"Mike's right," Eric said, "It's all in the record here."

"Go on to Bundy," Miller said, "Give me the highlights."

"Richard Carswell Bundy," Eric recited from the file, "Born 1-22-73. He's the mouth of the two. Similar record. Both of them have served time over the years."

"Any addresses on either one of them?" Tom asked.

"Both are wanted for Parole violations," Eric said, "Current location unknown."

"Do you want an APB put out on them?" Tracy asked.

"No," Miller said, "I don't want to tip them and spook them into killing the girl."

"I wish I could give you more," Eric said.

"You've given me enough," he said, "I'll recognize them if I see them now. I'll have Nick start trying to track them down through Harry's contacts. I've got to check in though."

"Good luck," Tom said, "Be Careful, Miller."

Miller clicked off the phone and went back to his car, driving quickly to the bar. He was trying to push Curletto's death out of his mind, though it did no good. He also tried to get the girl out of his head. He did not want to let her too far in because he knew if she didn't make it he'd never be able to get her out.

Chapter Nineteen – June 27, 2000 – Shortly After Noon

Mike pulled up to the bar and knocked on the door loudly so he could be heard upstairs. Jerry was down in seconds and let Miller inside. He shuffled in, and they went upstairs to his apartment again. Mike sat down at the kitchen table, and Jerry poured another round of coffee.

"You look like hell, Ray," Jerry said, "You need to sleep."

"Not right now," Mike said, "Any news for me?"

Nick joined them at the table and looked much brighter than he did earlier. He had slept for a few hours to let the remnants of the alcohol leave his system. He'd just woken up again about thirty minutes before Miller showed up.

"Not a thing," Nick said, "Though we just got news that someone hit Vinnie Curletto. I'm guessing that you already know that, though."

"He was working for Barry," Mike told them, "I had a cop pull the LUDs on the bar. Barry called Curletto from here yesterday."

"Not surprising," Jerry said, "Curletto was one of Barry's cronies long before Kirby bit the big one."

"And he confirmed what I already knew," Mike agreed, "Barry and Carpazzo were working together. Curletto also put Barry in line with a couple more idiots after Carpazzo screwed up the hit on Harry and myself."

"Who?" Nick asked.

"Richard Bundy and Shawn Costello," he said, "I don't know them, but it's a place to start."

"I've met them," Nick said, "A couple of thugs. One big and one little, right?"

"I don't know," Miller lied.

"We have more pressing problems," Jerry said, "Max Bullock has been trying to get a hold of Harry. He sounds pissed. Evidently, the cops are hitting them hard because of this as well."

"Not surprising," Miller sighed, trying not to show how much he knew, "Charlie is probably about ready to bust a nut over this. This was a true moment of stupidity for Barry."

"Or brilliance if it works," Jerry reminded him, "The bad part is that Harry can't defend himself. I talked to Allan Robbins. The judge denied Harry bail, and the only person who can get in to see him is Allan."

"Ok," Mike said, "Charlie has to be satisfied then."

"How?" Nick said, "You have a plan, Ray?"

"Not much of one, I'm afraid," he told them honestly, "But we have to deal with this. Nick, do you know a gun dealer that wouldn't be working with Barry?"

"Sure," he said, "Why?"

"I want you go pick up some weapons," Miller told him, "I'm stuck with a cheap .45 that I took off Jimmy Squid. I'd prefer not to have to use that weapon much longer."

"Any preference?" Nick asked.

"Silenced," Miller told him, "Probably a Beretta with 9mm parabellum rounds. If your guy is good he should have something like that around."

"Untraceable?" Nick asked.

"Absolutely," Miller agreed, "At least not traceable to him or us. Stolen is fine for this purpose. Get several in case I have to ditch another gun."

"I'll see what I can do," he promised, "Anything else you want me to do?"

"Yes," Miller said, "This job is for both of you. Try to get a lead on Bundy and Costello. I need to know whatever your contacts can come up with. You've probably got a better chance at finding this out than I do. Keep an eye out for Barry as well. We need all the information you can get."

"What are you going to do?" Nick asked, "Get some sleep?"

"I wish," he grumbled, "I'm going to go pay a visit to Charlie Bullock on Harry's behalf. I don't have to hide in shadows right now like Barry does since I've already been arrested and released. The cops will be watching the estate and likely still have a warrant on Barry. If I can pull an end run around Barry's ambitions then maybe I can put time on our side for a change."

"You sure that's a wise thing to do?" Jerry asked, "You don't have any standing to be there do you?"

"The only people who do are out of touch," Mike reminded him, "Harry is in jail and Barry is the enemy. If I don't do it who will? You? Nick?"

"Not me," Nick said forcefully, "I'd be laughed out the window."

"I'll pass," Jerry said, "I try to stay in the background."

"That leaves me," Miller said while downing more java, "And if nobody goes to talk to him, Charlie will consider it a slap in the face and probably order us all shot. I'd rather try to head off that possibility. It's better than doing nothing at all."

"Good luck, Ray," Jerry chuckled, "You've got more balls than I do, I'll say that much."

"Want me to go with you?" Nick asked, though it was obvious he didn't want to go.

"No," Miller said, "Get the guns like I told you. Once I have a reading on Northrup's position, I'm going in after him."

"I'll work the phones," Jerry said "And keep an eye on Jade for you."

"That works," Mike agreed and downed the last of his coffee, "I'm going to head that way before I fall asleep. Maybe they'll take pity on me when they see I haven't slept in nearly two fucking days."

"Don't bet on it, Ray," Jerry warned.

Miller nodded and chuckled. He slipped out of the apartment quickly, noticing Jade sitting blankly in front of the television watching some stupid soap opera or other. He smiled and waved at her before going outside to the Mercedes. He made a quick stop at the motel to grab a decent pair of shoes. He dumped the rubber boots in the river on the way to the Bullock estate. It was time to shape Ray Nester's destiny.

Chapter Twenty – June 27, 2000 – Mid Afternoon

Mike put his cigarette out in the ashtray as he pulled into the estate. There were several police cars visible in the vicinity as the DA and police were trying to put pressure on Bullock to get Mary Anne Whitmore released. It was unnerving for the Bullocks to have this much attention focused their way.

Matt D'Antoni was working the gate that afternoon. The rest of the guards were out of sight, probably because of the police presence. When Miller pulled to a stop, he went over to the window to look inside.

"Where's Harry, Ray?" he asked, "Charlie wanted to see him."

"Harry is still in lockup," Mike told him, "I'm about the only person on the outside right now."

"What about Barry?" he asked in surprise.

"He's part of the problem," Miller replied, "I'll tell them what I know if they'll see me, but right now Nick and I are the only people left on the outside. They found some reason to hold on to Harry and Jamie. Probably an unpaid ticket or something. It doesn't take much in a situation like this."

"Drive on in, Ray," he said, "Tony will meet you at the door for the pat-down."

"Not taking any chances right now, huh?" Mike chuckled.

"Would you?" D'Antoni asked without seeing the humor in it.

"Right now," he said, "I don't know. I haven't slept in two days."

"Drive on up to the door," D'Antoni directed him, "I hope Charlie likes what you have to say."

"He won't like it," he mumbled, "But then, I don't much like it either."

Mike drove up to the door and Fat Tony was there waiting for him with a few of his boys. None of them were smiling. Miller hesitated a little, but decided that he had no choice but to go through with the meeting. He was too far in to chicken out now. He parked where the guards waved him and got out of the car.

"Are you armed, Nester?" he asked me.

".45 in my right jacket pocket," I said, "You can take it or I'll remove it with two fingers."

"Remove it slowly," he said, "Hand it to Marco butt first."

Miller followed his instructions implicitly. Marco looked it over and pulled the clip out. He clicked out the remaining cartridges and handed it back. He was about to hand the pistol back to me when Miller stopped him.

"Don't forget the one in the chamber, Marco," Mike said.

He grinned sheepishly and clicked the round out of the chamber. He looked up at Fat Tony who nodded approval. Marco handed the weapon back to Mike who put it back into his pocket. Miller then walked up to the steps in front of Fat Tony and waited for him to make the next move.

"You look like hell," he, like everyone else who'd seen Miller that morning, said tersely, "Where's Harry?"

"I told Matt," Miller said, "He's still being held in lockup."

"I see," he said, "Come on in. Charlie will probably want to talk to you anyway. Let me go ask him. Wait here."

Fat Tony left Miller sitting on a bench in the front room while he went through to tell Charlie. Charlie was sitting at his desk talking to Eric, Max and Elise Steele. The four of them were strategizing on what to do about the current difficulties.

"Excuse me, Charlie," Fat Tony interjected into the room.

"Did Harry Lupo show up?" Charlie asked him.

"No," Tony replied, "But one of his people did. Ray Nester, the guy who came in with him yesterday."

"Alone?" Max asked.

"Yeah," Fat Tony Said, "He looks like hell, probably hasn't slept since the last time he was here. Told Matt that Harry was still in the lockup."

"What do you think?" Charlie asked the people in the room.

"He may have information," Eric said, "Maybe he knows what's going on."

"I still don't think Harry is this stupid," Max put in, "Word on the street is that Nester is Harry's troubleshooter. Maybe he's figured it out."

"Elise?" Charlie said.

"My guess lies with Barry Northrup still," the severe woman said, "Freddie warned you about saddling Harry with him four years ago. I'm betting that decision has now come back to haunt you."

"At any rate," Eric said, "We have nothing to lose by seeing the guy."

"True," Charlie said, "Elise, why don't you go observe this through the peephole. I don't want anyone I don't know to get this close to your arm of things."

"All right," she said, "I'll call in on the intercom if I detect something you don't."

"That's fine," Charlie said as she left the room, "Go ahead and bring Nester in here, Tony."

Tony went back to the front room and led Miller through the house quickly. Miller was so tired that he even had trouble keeping up, though he felt that just making it inside was a step in the right direction. He just hoped that he could keep things straight in his head when he talked to the big man. Miller was running solely on caffeine and cigarettes by that point. Tony stopped outside the room and pointed him inside.

"They're waiting for you," he said.

Miller nodded and walked in, hoping that he was not walking in towards his doom. Elise Steele had made her way to the closet, but Max, Eric and Charlie were still sitting in their normal places. They directed Miller to take a seat nearby where all three of them could see him.

"You look terrible," Charlie noticed, "I take it it's been a bad night?"

"Between the cops and everything else it has," he admitted.

"You were arrested?" Max asked in surprise.

"Briefly," Mike told them, "They didn't have anything to hold me on and thought I wasn't worth the trouble."

"So where is Harry and why didn't you bring him?" Charlie asked, "I asked Jerry to send him here."

"Harry is still in solitary," Miller informed them, "The police are leaning on him hard about this mess. Only person who gets in to see him right now is his lawyer, Al Robbins."

"They've been hitting me because of it," Charlie said and decided to deliberately provoke Nester for a response, "I still want to know what the hell possessed him to do it."

"He didn't," Miller said flatly, "You've known Harry longer than I have. He may be crazy at times, but he's not stupid. You couldn't do something like this and expect them to cave in. You can't believe he'd pull a stupid stunt like this one?"

"If I actually believed it," Charlie chuckled, "You wouldn't have made it in here. I had hoped that Harry would be able to come in and defend himself."

"I wish that were possible," Mike nodded, "I'd rather not be the one to tell you this."

"Excuse me," Roth said and slipped out of the room.

"Well, what do you know, Nester?" Max asked, "Surely you know something."

"I know who did it," he said hesitantly, "And I even have some surmises as to why."

"Why haven't you taken care of it then?" Max demanded in a blustery tone. He hadn't quite learned the self-control his father had yet.

"Calm down, Max," Charlie said, "I'm willing to bet that Mr. Nester hasn't figured out the where of the equation yet and that's why he's here."

"You got it," Mike admitted, "Though I figured that it would be safer for Nick and myself if I came and explained what was going on."

Eric Roth came back into the room and sat back down on the couch. Mike waited a few seconds hoping that nothing had happened to ruin his credibility.

"Robbins confirmed it," Roth said, "Harry is still being held. He doesn't know what's going on, but he also confirmed that the cops let Nester and Jones out along with a bunch of other small time hoods. Sorry Ray, but we have to check."

"Go on," Charlie instructed Miller, "I'm sure you know more than I do right now."

"Not as much as I'd like," Mike told him, "But I have put together a few things."

"Lay it out," Bullock said calmly.

"I'm going to start with the killings yesterday," he said, "It's all connected."

"Not surprising," Roth replied.

"The killings were committed with a silenced machine pistol," Miller continued, "They were done quickly and without an alarm being able to be sounded."

"This is just a rehash of what you told us yesterday," Max reminded him.

"I know," Mike said, "But it's all connected. If it's disjointed, let me know. I haven't slept since well before the last time you saw me."

"Continue," Charlie said simply, "Eric, can you have the maid get the kid a cup of coffee."

"Sure," Roth agreed.

"The hit team that tried to kill us on the way here yesterday," Miller said while following instructions, "Was armed with similar pistols. The police have connected them to the other murders. The hit team yesterday was led by Clinton Carpazzo."

"I know that name from somewhere," Roth said.

"I don't," Max said.

"Truman Carpazzo's kid brother, right?" Charlie said, "No reason for you to remember, Max. Kirby wiped out the Carpazzos over a decade ago."

"Clinton Carpazzo was framed for murder," Miller rehashed for them, "He was released six weeks ago."

"So this whole thing was payback for that?" Max asked with a curious look.

"No," He said, "The general consensus of people who knew him is that Carpazzo wasn't smart enough to do this on his own."

"True enough," Bullock said, "Jack Kirby always said that Truman had the brains in the family. That's why Truman was the first one taken care of."

The houseboy entered silently and put a pot of coffee on Max's desk. He poured cups for all four of them. Mike took another black cup and started sipping on it to get the caffeine he needed to stay awake.

"How does this connect with the kidnapping?" Roth asked.

"Barry Northrup," Miller said flatly, "He's the missing link."

"I don't see how," Charlie said.

"He showed up at Jack's Place minutes after Harry and I left," Miller filled in, "According to Jerry he was really upbeat about things and made a telephone call That was, at least, until he saw Carpazzo's failure on the news. He then made a second call to the same number and left the bar quickly."

"I still don't see the connection," Max said, "But keep going."

"I had a police connection run the LUDs for the bar," Miller explained, "The calls were to Vincent Curletto; one of his close associates from before Kirby died. I paid Curletto a little visit this morning."

"So that one was your handiwork," Charlie said, "What did Curletto tell you?"

"He was acting as a middleman for Barry," Mike said, "He obtained the out of town talent for Barry to work with Carpazzo. More importantly he linked Barry to Carpazzo for me."

"Anything else?" Charlie asked.

"He knew that Barry was planning the kidnapping," Mike told them after rubbing his eyes a little, "He procured two more idiots for Barry, a Mutt and Jeff team. Richard Bundy and Shawn Costello. Those two are the ones who pulled the job for Barry. I was certain he was telling the truth because he had no way of connecting Carpazzo otherwise."

"What the hell was Barry trying to accomplish?" Roth asked, "He should have known that this kidnapping would piss off everyone."

"You don't sound surprised?" Miller asked, a little surprised by that fact alone.

"He was probably trying to oust Harry," Charlie said, "And he chose a particularly stupid way to do it. And no, Ray, I'm not surprised. I knew that Barry Northrup was a snake. But, he had the ear of a number of Kirby's key people. I told Harry to make use of him in order to keep that faction from blowing up into open warfare between the two of them."

"If..." Miller said and Charlie interrupted him.

"I knew he had it in him to try to take on Harry," Charlie said, "But I never once thought that he'd try anything this drastic."

"Or this stupid," Eric Roth put in, "We were counting on Northrup to keep Harry on his toes. Harry has worked out well, and we probably should have moved Northrup either out to pasture or on to something else."

"Meanwhile Barry has been scheming to take over the whole she-bang," Mike said nodding, "What would you have done if Carpazzo's hit on Harry and Me had worked?"

"Barry would probably be taking his spot," Charlie agreed, "Though if we'd connected him to the other killings he wouldn't have been there long. As it was, we would have left the cleanup to Harry if that idiot hadn't pulled this harebrained maneuver with the DA's kid."

"What would you like me to do?" Mike asked him, "Harry is out of action, as you know."

"I think you already know what you want to do," Charlie said with a smile, "You want to take on Northrup yourself."

"After last night," Miller agreed, "Yes I do. Being in jail tends to piss me off. And there was no reason to bring a little girl into it."

"It's bad for business," Max agreed.

"Harry was right about you," Charlie said, "Ambitious, but not too much so. You know what the limitations of your position are. Go on after Barry. If you succeed, you'll probably get his job. I have a feeling you'll do better with it than he did anyway."

"Besides," Roth said, "You are probably the only person Harry has who can do it. Nick is a good, loyal kid, but not experienced enough for this. Sorry Charlie for saying this, but Jamie is a moron. I'm amazed that Harry hasn't killed him yet."

"I knew Jamie was stupid," Charlie said with a shrug, "But he has to do something. I figured Harry would be able to keep him in line."

"He's not a problem right now anyway," Mike said, "The cops are holding him on an old warrant of some sort."

"Do what you have to do," Charlie said tersely, "If you're right, and Northrup took the girl, then she has to be released. Just make sure that the police know that Northrup acted on his own."

"I'll find a way," Mike told them, "Once the girl is released and Northrup and his people are dead I'm sure the cops will get off our back."

"You'd best be right, Nester," Charlie warned, "And Northrup had better be stopped. Once Harry gets out, tell him to come by after you've told him what's been happening."

"Will do," Miller said, taking his dismissal, "One thing. If Barry shows up here, will you call Jerry over at Jack's Place? He'll see that I get the message. I may need him to get the girl back."

"Sure," Max said, "Either that or we'll get that information and let you know."

"Either way works," Mike said with a half smile, "I've got work to do."

Miller stood up to leave. He shook hands with those who offered and gave a salute to those who did not. He downed the last of his coffee and slipped out of the room. Elise Steele walked back into the room and took the seat that Miller had just freed.

"What do you think, Elise?" Charlie asked when she sat down.

"He's telling the truth," she said, "At least as much of it as he knows."

"Everything checked," Roth agreed, "Though where he got his information is a mystery to me."

"What do you want me to do, Charlie?" Elise asked.

"Let him go on his own," he shrugged, "If he's right and Barry did it then that's the best way to handle it. Let Nester take him down and get the boost. It'll also keep our noses clean."

"And if Nester loses?" Max asked.

"Then we get Barry when he tries to make contact with us," Charlie said, "We still win either way. I think it will be interesting to see if Harry's people can save his ass."

"True," Eric Roth chuckled and lit a cigar.

Fat Tony actually smiled when he met Miller outside the office and led him back outside to his car. He was feeling better about things, though he did not doubt for a minute that Charlie knew more than he did. Fat Tony was in an amiable mood and news of Barry's treachery had obviously spread around the estate.

"So Old Barry has finally tried to take Harry," Tony chuckled, "I've heard of dumb ways to try to take on the power, but this one has to take the cake."

"Tell me about it," Mike groaned, "And it's costing me a lot of sleep."

"Do you need anything?" he asked, "Barry Northrup is a prick and if you're going after him, I'll be glad to help."

"How hard would it be to trace a couple of idiots?" Miller asked him, not about to turn down any possible avenue of help.

"I dunno," he said thoughtfully, "Which idiots?"

"Richard Bundy and Shawn Costello," Mike told him, "Northrup hired them, probably to take the girl. If I find them, I find Northrup."

"I'll put the word out," Fat Tony promised, "How can I reach you if I find out?"

"Call Jack's Place," Miller replied, "Jerry will pass on messages."

"Gotcha," he said, "Talk to Marco to get your bullets back."

"Ok," Mike said and walked over to the thug.

Marco handed over the bullets and Miller went back to the car to reload his pistol. He put it back in his jacket pocket and drove out the gates and back towards the bar. Mike was hoping that Jerry or Nick had found out something about where Barry could be hiding. The child probably did not have too much longer to live, and Mike wanted to find her quickly.

He drove away from the mansion and looked behind him. He noticed that he was being followed again, but he did not know who was doing it. He thought briefly that maybe the police were behind it, but the car just did not look like something that a cop would use.

Mike took his time and a few corners to determine that they really were following him. They were not being very intelligent about it, either. Miller had no trouble spotting the obvious, as his pursuers were not cops. Miller just hoped that they were not as stupid as Carpazzo's bunch had been. Since he was alone, he was not in the mood to deal with a rolling shootout.

Mike drove towards the warehouse district and pulled into a parking lot that he knew fairly well. He left his car quickly and darted into an alley nearby. The pursuers pulled into the parking lot and poured out of the car, looking to try to figure out where Miller had gone. He smiled and pulled out his pistol, readying the hammer so that he could fire first if he had to.

"Where the hell did he go?" punk #1 asked.

"How the fuck should I know?" the other one said.

Barry was running out of hired help to send because it was obvious these two were bottom of the barrel. Mike stayed in the shadows hoping that those two idiots would tell him something useful. Bundy and Costello must have been with Barry still because these idiots made them look like genius material. They were simply a couple of hoods that Barry had hired for pocket change. Even after yesterday he had no respect for Miller's abilities. Carpazzo's bunch had been a tougher target than those two.

"Why did we take this job?" one of them whined.

"A thousand bucks is why!" the other one said, "The old guy said he'd even give us more work if we got this creep off his back."

"Yeah," he said, "But only if we can find him."

They were no older than 25, either of them and probably had about the same IQ as either Beavis or Butthead, but only if you added them together. Miller really did not feel like screwing with them any longer. One of them walked out in front of the alley and looked in. He did not look hard because the only thing shielding Miller was a dark shadow. Mike had a hard time keeping from laughing when the idiot turned around to shout at his friend again. Miller silently crept up behind him and put the end of his pistol on the back of the punk's oddly shaved head.

"Shut up, punk," Miller whispered, "Drop your weapon or I'll splatter your brains on the pavement."

The kid nearly wet his pants as he dropped the weapon. It clattered on the ground with a dull metallic sound that could not be missed. His friend turned around and started to walk over when he saw that their target was standing behind his partner holding a gun to his head.

"Drop it or I drop your friend," Miller bluffed, "Aim it at me and both of you die right here."

"It's cool man," he said and dropped the weapon.

"Who hired you?" Mike asked them, even though he already knew.

"He'll kill us if we tell you!" the first one cried.

"I'll kill you if you don't," Mike said in a matter of fact voice.

"Barry Northrup," the other one said, more concerned about the here and now, "He's one of Harry Lupo's people. I've seen him around before. He said to watch for a tall guy driving a red Mercedes at Bullock's place. He said that if we took you out he'd have more work for us."

"You're an idiot!" the first one cried.

"The first intelligent thing I've heard out of either of you," Miller chuckled, "Where did you last see Northrup?"

"Don't tell him!" the whiny one yelled.

"Shut up!" Mike growled and fired a shot at the ground between his legs.

"Oh God!" he yelled, "We saw him three hours ago at The Iron Fisherman."

Miller knew that place. It was a dive down near the docks. He also knew that Barry would not use that place for anything but meeting creeps like these two. What galled him was that he was dumb enough to send a couple of morons like this after him.

"Did he give you any other instructions?" Miller asked them.

"He said make sure that you don't make it back to the bar," he said.

Miller thought about this for a second and then realized that Northrup was not so stupid after all. Northrup knew that those two idiots would not kill Nester, but he was right in the fact that they would slow him down and possibly disarm him again. Northrup's only goal in sending them was to delay Miller from returning to Jack's place. Now, the only catch was to figure out why.

"Start running," Miller told them, "If you turn back this way I'll shoot you both."

One of them was about to start arguing when Mike fired another shot wide of them. They both ran like banshees, forgetting about the piece of junk car of theirs. Miller went quickly back to his own car and fired a shot into each of the exposed tires of the punk's car. He then squealed out of the parking lot and raced back towards Jack's place, hoping that he would not be too late to stop whatever it was that Northrup had planned.

Chapter Twenty-One – June 27, 2000 – Evening

Miller's Mercedes screeched to a halt in front of Jack's place and entered with his pistol drawn. The front door was open, which was not a particularly good sign. Mike took the steps to the apartment three at a time, bounding up like a school kid. He entered quickly and looked around for signs of life.

There had been a struggle in the place. Tables were overturned and there was more of a mess than the fastidious Jerry would ever have allowed. Miller kept looking around, but did not see anyone. After a minute, he noticed a pool of blood in the bedroom. He quickly ran over and scanned the room before looking down to see Jerry.

"Shit," Miller grumbled as he saw the man bleeding on the floor.

"I'm not dead yet," Jerry mumbled, "Call an ambulance."

Mike heard some motion coming from the stairwell and raised his weapon. He listened as the person moved up the stairs. He aimed at what is normally chest level and waited for whomever it was to muddle in.

"Jesus!" Nick screamed as he saw Miller there with the gun, "Don't shoot, Ray!"

"Damn it, Nick," Mike said and put the gun away, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What happened?" he asked, "I just got back from doing what you asked."

Miller pointed him to the bedroom and followed as Nick carefully went inside. Mike then knelt down to check out how bad Jerry was hit. He brushed off some of the blood and found the entry wounds. Jerry was still alive, and the wound did not look that bad. It was lower in the body and further away from vital areas, the wounds didn't look nearly as bad as the ones that had killed Eddie East.

"Barry?" Miller asked him as he performed first aid.

"Him and his two idiots," Jerry nodded and said between coughs, "Luckily they weren't looking for me. They did not even check to see if I was dead. They wanted either you or Harry. Killing Curletto pissed him off just a little."

"Jade?" Miller asked, realizing that she wasn't there.

"She slipped out the back before he got up here," he coughed, "I think one of my sources betrayed me. I'll have to find out who it was."

"Did you find out where he is?" Miller asked hopefully.

"No," he grumbled, "He's crawled into a hole and pulled it in over his head."

"He's downtown in a warehouse," Nick put in, "I got the address from somebody Barry screwed over. He's not likely to tell."

"Did you hit the gun shop?" Mike asked.

"Two Berettas," Nick said, "Four clips for the pair. All he had at the moment. He threw in some ammunition for your .45 though."

"Where is it?" Mike asked him.

"Right here," he said and held up a shopping bag.

"Pass it on," Mike said "And call an ambulance for Jerry. I'm going after Barry. Which warehouse?"

Nick gave Miller both the bag and the address. He was wired enough that he had no trouble remembering the address. It was not far off from where Harry had killed the hophead when he first joined the crew. Miller was psyched up and ready to do some damage. He wanted to end this.

"Get on the phone, Nick," Miller repeated, "Jerry's hurt bad."

"Wait a minute," he said, "You don't want me to come with you?"

"Take care of Jerry," Mike said again, "I'm going to put an end to Barry. I would not mind the extra hand, but if you're not there I don't have to worry about hitting you. This way any adult in the area is a target."

"Gotcha," he said, though he sounded disappointed.

"Besides," Mike said, "Fat Tony D'Antoni may be calling with information. Since Jerry's going to the hospital, I want you here to take the call."

"Whatever you say, Ray," he nodded, "Go on and get out of here before I call the cops."

"Give me your gun too," Mike said, "I'll keep it out of sight so they can't get you on a gun rap."

He did so, and Miller dropped it into the shopping bag. He quickly washed off his hands in his sink and then ran down to the car. It was time to deal with some scum. He drove away from the bar and found an alley to park in for a few minutes. He had weapons to prepare and wanted to know what he had.

He pulled the weapons out of the bag and took a good look. The Berettas were in good condition, nearly brand new. Miller looked inside and loaded the clips to make them ready for action. The dealer even had an adjustable holster for it that he threw in as a bonus to Nick. Miller quickly adjusted it and put it on. It felt good for him to be able to carry his weapon properly again.

Miller drove slowly towards the dock area. He did not want to rush in half-cocked and get the girl killed by accident. Barry and his two idiot employees were at the edge of their nerves as it was. Miller really wished he could call in a swat team, but that would have been the end of Ray Nester's career.

He parked the car in an empty parking lot about a quarter mile away from the building that Nick had identified. He took all the full clips for the Beretta and put the .45 in his pocket for backup. Miller was loaded up for bear. Too bad he was only hunting for rat.

Miller took the alleys through the warehouse district and tried to identify the building from the rear. He did not want anyone to see him, so he took it slow and careful. Aside from a couple street people that used the alleys for a place to sleep the area was rather empty. The sun was setting, and most of the workers in the area had gone home by six.

After some searching Mike found the building that Nick had described. He found it not so much by address but by position and the fact that there were two vehicles parked behind it. He knew he had hit paydirt by identifying Barry's car. Even if the kid was not there, Miller knew that he could work on Barry to get the information.

Miller pulled the silenced Beretta out of the holster and quietly made his way up to the building. He did not want to go charging in, so he started looking for a window to peek through. He saw one that he could get to without too much climbing and was about to go there when he saw movement down at the other end of the alley.

Miller was wearing dark clothes, and the area was dark enough to hide his presence. He stopped and watched the figure to see if it was Barry or one of his morons. The figure was too small for that, however. The figure turned out to be a female one. Miller wondered briefly if Mary Anne had managed to get out and then realized that the woman down the alley was too old and moved with too much purpose. The woman at the end of the alley moved like a cat, not like a scared child.

Miller watched the woman for a few minutes and thought that she looked very familiar. He could not tell because it was dark, and she was a good hundred yards away. If he did not know better, he would have sworn that the girl was Jade. She certainly had the right physique for it. Miller was not sure, however, and could not think of a reason that she would be down there. He also did not want to show his hand before he knew what was going on.

Miller finally decided to ignore the woman and tried to quietly get to a window. He climbed on a dumpster without making too much noise and used that as a base to look through a window. He cleaned the layer of dirt and grime off the window to be able to see clearly into the place.

It was, for the most part, an old warehouse. There was very little inside in the manner of amenities or walls. The place was dirty with the remnants of old pallets lying around everywhere. More than a few homeless people had drifted in and out of the place before Barry had taken it over and kicked them out.

Looking through the window Miller saw Barry clearly. He was pacing around the room and ranting about something or other. He was not happy that was for sure. He was exceedingly pissed about his plans going haywire like they had. He had talked to Jerry before shooting him and knew that his plans had all but crumbled.

Richard Bundy was sitting on a crate and listening to Barry's rants. Costello was nowhere to be seen, so Miller continued to watch and wait. The child was also nowhere in sight. Miller looked around the area, made sure that nobody was sneaking up behind him and continued to watch what was going on inside.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement inside the warehouse. The woman Miller had seen outside flew into the room. She was holding a pistol outstretched in a professional stance. Miller's jaw nearly hit the floor when he got a good look at the girl's face. It most certainly was Jade with the gun. The blank look that usually occupied her eyes was gone, as was the ditz act. Every movement she had now was consistent with a professional police officer.

"Freeze!" she yelled, "Hands in the air, Barry!"

"Put the gun down little girl," Barry growled as he realized she had the drop on him, "You might shoot yourself in the foot."

"The only one who's going to get shot here, Barry," she said in a tone that sounded very out of place with her, "Now drop the pistol before I drop you."

It hit Miller then just how he had been had. Jade was a cop, just as he was. From the manner and the method she used it was obvious that she was a Federal Agent. Also supporting that was the fact that Richter did not place women in situations like Jade was in. While they tend to be less dangerous they also did not tend to yield as much information as having an active player in your grasp. The irony in the fact that she had been placed with Miller was almost funny.

Miller watched intently as she directed them. It was apparent from her actions that either she had similar orders regarding Mary Anne Whitmore, or she independently decided that the kid was more important than her cover. Barry was silent and glaring. Bundy was blathering a little, but she managed to stare him down. He, like most blustering bullies, was a coward at heart.

Miller did another check behind him to make sure nobody was around and then looked back into the action. Miller had hoped she had the situation in hand, but unfortunately that wasn't to be. Before he could do or say anything Shawn Costello came up behind her and put his pistol to her head.

"Drop it, Bitch," Costello said coolly, mainly because he was in a position of power.

Barry walked up and took the pistol away from her and then gave her a powerful right hook in the jaw. Miller took that opportunity to hop down and go over to a door. It looked as if they were going to work her over a bit before doing anything else. While this was not good for her, at least it beat dying immediately. Costello could have just as easily shot her immediately from behind.

Whether she knew it or not she at least gave Miller a clear shot inside. Their attention was going to be focused on her for a while, giving Miller a chance to enter. Mike knew it was not her fault, as she didn't know how many people Barry had available. Mike had also decided that he was not going to play the good cop in this case. If he had to shoot, he was going to shoot to kill. All it took was one of them to live long enough to spill where the girl was.

Miller slipped in the same door that Jade had left open behind her. He heard the group and saw them about fifty paces ahead. It looked as if they were about to go for a gang rape on Jade. For Barry it was doubly attractive, it would hurt Miller and hurt a cop. It simply made her even more enjoyable as a victim.

Bundy was going to take the first shot at her. His pants were already down, and he was in the process of ripping Jade's clothing to shreds to get her out. Miller knew he had to put a stop to it before it got that far. He did a quick check six and then walked into view.

"Hey!" Barry shouted.

Bundy looked up quickly and received a silenced 9mm parabellum slug between the eyes for his trouble. He crumpled backwards on the ground just behind Jade, dead before he hit. Costello recognized Miller and tried to outshoot him. He lost. He died quickly as the quiet round hit his forehead. His unaimed final shot landed somewhere in the rafters and ricocheted back into the floor.

"Make one move and you are next, Barry," Miller told him.

"Figures," he said, "You sent her in here to distract us."

"I did no such thing," Mike told him, "Jade, get up and get away from him. Quickly."

Barry had left his pistol on the ground, so he raised his hands. His mind was churning trying to figure out a way to outwit Miller. He knew that Miller had probably put together most of his plot. He even guessed why he was still alive when Bundy and Costello were not. Jade, shaken by the brutal attack, followed Miller's instructions and slid away from Barry. She thought that her life was still in serious danger, even if Miller had not seen her performance before.

"We can be partners," Barry said in a clumsy attempt to get Mike on his side, "Harry is weak. You're probably the only thing keeping his pathetic organization together."

"Don't try to con me, Barry," Miller told him coldly, "Besides. You're a dead man regardless."

"I should be afraid of Harry?" he asked, "Harry is a worm. He's an opportunist. The only reason he holds that job is because he has no loyalty. Kirby gave him everything, and Harry shot him dead for it."

"Kirby was a pig," Miller stated, if only to piss Northrup off, "And it's not Harry you have to be afraid of now."

"You?" he said with a sneer, "That's a laugh. You're nobody."

"Not even me," Miller grinned evilly, "Charlie has put a hit order out on you. He knows everything."

"Not possible!" Barry said, the disbelief oozing through his voice.

"Curletto spilled the beans before he died," Mike told him, "Your kidnapping plot backfired, Barry. It's hurting the whole organization, not just Harry's businesses."

"Harry got to Charlie?" he said, panic etching into his pathetic voice, "Last I heard he's still in jail!"

"I got to Charlie, you idiot," Miller informed the fallen mobster, "When presented with the evidence he gave me permission to take you out."

"Then why haven't you?" he asked frankly.

"I want the girl, Barry," Miller told him.

"Fuck the girl!" he growled, "There's got to be something more in it for you! How bout we trade some information?"

Barry was seriously trying to bargain for his life by this point. Miller was almost tempted to strike a deal for testimony, but frankly Northrup didn't know enough to be useful. He was also useless as a judas goat after the stunt he pulled with the Whitmore girl, not to mention Jade's attempted rape. Rapists were definitely not a group that he wanted to support.

"Such as?" Miller asked him, curious as to who or what he'd try to sell.

"An undercover cop that's gotten too close," He said with an overconfident grin, "One that could get you into some serious hot water."

"Oh," Mike said, "You mean Jade here?"

"You knew?" she asked in surprise.

"Not until your performance a few minutes ago," he told her, "Nice try, Barry. I was watching when she broke in. I was getting ready to do so myself. I was just waiting for Costello to show himself."

"You don't care?" Barry said in surprise.

"Not right now," Miller told him, his voice ice cold, "All I want now is the girl. If you tell me, you'll die quick. If you don't tell me you'll die in pieces. Just like your friend Curletto."

"You killed Curletto!" he exclaimed.

"You said that," Miller grunted, "Not me. You have to a count of five."

"Listen!" he exclaimed

"Four," Miller said.

"You don't..."

"Three."

"Come on, Ray!"

"Two."

"Stop it!"

"One," Mike said and fired a silenced shot into Barry's right knee.

"Goddamn it!" he yelled as he hopped up and down on his good leg.

"No more games, Northrup," Mike stated, "Where's the girl."

"You motherfucker!" he yelled, "You are going to burn in hell for this! I'm going to see to it that you are taken apart piece by piece..."

Miller then fired a second shot, this time taking out his remaining good knee. Barry crumpled under his own weight and landed hard on the concrete. Jade gasped and got to her feet, not caring enough to cover her exposed and now bruising body. She looked at Miller with the same determined stare that she'd exercised before. He ignored her for the present, knowing that since she was there she would probably not do anything until he found out where the kid was. Miller then stood over Barry and aimed the pistol at his crotch.

"You know, Barry," Miller said, fighting now to keep his voice ice cold, "I may not even have to kill you. If I take out your arms, legs, eyes, and crotch I can just drop you in the gutter. I doubt anyone will bother to figure out who you are. I'll even take out your tongue so you can't tell them. You can live the rest of your life as an armless, legless, blind person. You'll be able to hear and not do anything. You'll go mad in weeks."

"You unbelievable bastard!" he screamed.

"Where is the girl?" Miller growled and stepped on Northrup's wounded right knee, "Tell me now!"

"In the basement!" he yelled, "She's in the fucking basement!"

"You'd best not be lying, Barry," Miller warned him, "If you lie, I'll make sure that you die slowly and painfully. Where's the basement?"

"Under the crates over there!" he said, starting to cry and pointing.

"Go look, Jade," Miller instructed her, "And don't even think about trying to run off."

She walked over and pushed the crate over. She looked up and nodded. The girl was there. Jade smiled for the first time since this whole mess started. Miller looked down at Barry and debated on whether to kill him. He had killed four people already that day already. Miller was wondering whether to make it an even five.

Thing was, Barry knew the truth about Jade. Also, if he were to live then Nester's life span with the outfit was next to zero. It was very tempting for Miller to take an exit and get the hell out of this world. Thing was, he had a link to Charlie Bullock now. The only chinks in Miller's cover at present were Jade and this mess with Barry. He had a feeling that Jade could be dealt with. They were similar types after all doing the same sort of work. Barry on the other hand...

Miller decided that keeping him alive would be a waste of everyone's time. He would cost millions to take to trial, and probably would not survive two weeks in lockup. Miller fired two quick shots into Barry's head, splattering what was left of his brains on the floor behind him. Northrup's body tensed quickly and then relaxed as news of his death spread through his nervous system.

Jade was silent as she watched Barry die. She was not going to mourn him anymore than Miller was. As for Jade, he ignored her for the present and holstered his pistol. Shooting her was out of the question for him anyway. He went over to the hole and looked in to see whether the child was alive or dead.

Mary Anne Whitmore was alive, but unconscious. She had been beaten badly and was completely naked. She looked as if she had been raped numerous times. Miller felt even less remorse for killing all of them than he did before. The only thing that indicated that Mary Anne was still alive was the fact that she was still breathing. He only hoped that he could get her to a hospital in time.

Of course, before Miller could kneel down to pick up the child he heard a click and felt the cold metal of a pistol to the back of his head. Jade had picked up a pistol from one of the dead people and had come up behind him. It was a rational action for her, as she could not have known that Miller was a police officer as well, though it was readily apparent that he now knew her status.

"You don't need that, Kiddo," Mike told her.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Nester," she said in a voice that hardly resembled what he knew from her, "You know what I am. You're under arrest for the murders of Barry Northrup, Richard Bundy, and Shawn Costello. Need I mention Vincent Curletto and his bodyguard?"

"Federal agent, right?" Miller chuckled and turned to face her, "Has to be. Nobody else has the audacity to use the pillow game in this day and age."

"It worked on you," she said sweetly, "Hands up in the air. Don't try anything, I happen to be a dead shot with this thing."

"You missed the class on this, didn't you?" Miller asked her, "You forgot to check your six. That's how Costello managed to get the drop on you. They trained you well, but you're still a rookie, aren't you?"

"Like I said," she smiled, "It worked on you."

She let her guard down for a second, and Mike used the chance to show her up. He knocked her gun hand out of the way and drew his Beretta, placing the end of the silencer against her forehead. She recovered quickly, however, and the muzzle of her pistol was back against his neck. They had managed a Mexican standoff.

"Nice try," she said, her cool still but shaken a little.

"Notice that you're not dead yet," Miller told her, still trying to decide how much he was willing to risk on her.

"You either," she said, "But do you think you can fire before I blow your neck apart?"

"You really haven't figured this situation out yet, have you?" Miller asked her.

"I'm here for the kid," she said, "My cover is meaningless and so are you. You meant nothing to me, Nester."

"Likewise," he agreed, not to be outdone, "You think I'm attracted to the stupid?"

This was going nowhere. She still thought Miller was Nester. In the current situation, he wasn't even sure that she'd believe him if he did tell the truth. He did know, however, that he was beginning to piss her off, something that could be dangerous for both of them.

"This is stupid," Miller said, "I don't want to die and I sure as hell don't want to kill you."

"Now that is a surprise," she said, "You've already killed three traitors tonight. What's one more?"

"I don't kill cops," He said coldly.

"Then drop your weapon," she stated.

"Ok," Miller shrugged and let go of the Beretta.

She stood there in shock as the pistol clattered to the floor. Mike raised his hands and smiled at her. It was the end of the road anyway. He had not slept in over 36 hours and was dead tired. The adrenalin was also beginning to run out. Barry Northrup was dead. It was time to drop the bullshit.

"Raise your hands," She instructed once she got over her shock.

"Aren't you wondering why I did that?" Miller asked her as he followed her instructions.

"I don't care very much," she said as she looked around for something to secure his hands with.

"What are you going to do with me?" Miller asked her, curious to see if she had thought anything through.

"Call the local cops and have you arrested," she said, "You've committed at least three murders today, Nester."

"You're going to look rather silly if you do that," Miller commented, a bemused smile forming on his lips.

"I doubt that very much," she said, "You've given me enough to get you, Harry and Nick locked up for a long time."

"No doubt," he chuckled, "But that isn't the only factor."

"I don't want to hear it," she said as she kept looking.

"You're sure about that, are you?" Miller said, "This could be potentially very embarrassing for you."

"I've been sleeping with you for two months," she said as she looked directly into his eyes, "That's embarrassing enough, Nester."

"I don't know," Mike chuckled, "How would it look if it came to trial and forty police officers came to my defense?"

"Say what?" she asked, doing a double take, "Now why would they do that?"

"Because I'm one of them," Miller told her.

"Oh shit," she stammered as things clicked into place, "You..."

"Why do you think I didn't shoot you," he said, "I would have busted in sooner, but I didn't know where Shawn Costello was. I wasn't about to run in blind like you did."

"My boss would have told me..." She muttered in thought.

"I work for the local police," Miller interrupted, "My boss is Thomas Richter."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, "It fits. Richter wouldn't have told my people about you, he treats us like we're infected with the plague."

"So put down the gun already," Mike told her, "I had my chance to shoot you. I dropped my weapon already. That girl is going to die if we don't get her out of here."

"My cover is blown already," she said, "I'll take the kid back."

"Nothing doing," he said, "You're not blown. They aren't going to tell anyone, and I'm sure as hell not going to do so. How the hell did you find them anyway?"

"I followed them from Jack's Place," she said, "I thought there was only the two of them. That's why I went in like I did."

"Listen," he said, "Let's not do anything rash about covers. First thing to do is to get this kid back to her parents. Then, I have to shore up Lupo's position so that my own position is secure."

"You think you can pull that off?" she asked.

"If I pull this off I'm the fair haired boy," Miller told her, "You know what Lupo thinks of me. I'm betting you've got a good memory hidden behind that blank stare that you've probably spent months perfecting."

"Photographic memory," she said with a nod, "And now a lot of your actions over the past months are making a lot of sense. Let me guess, you keep in contact with your laptop?"

"Exactly," Miller replied.

"That would explain why I couldn't get into it," she nodded, "I'd hoped to find evidence of criminal activity on it."

"I encrypted it well, thank you," he grinned, "Let's get this kid out of here. Can you scrape together enough clothing to cover yourself?"

"Give me a few seconds," she said, "Where is your car?"

"A ways from here," Miller replied, nodding in the general direction.

"I'll get the girl out of there and get myself dressed," she said, "Bring your car around."

"You're not going to run out on me, are you?" Mike asked her.

"No," she said, "I trust you for now. Besides, I wouldn't make it two miles in as little as I'm wearing now. You're the best hope this girl has got and if you fuck that up I'll kill you myself."

He grinned and jogged back to the car, covering the quarter mile in probably about two minutes. He drove quickly and parked right by the door. Miller walked inside and found Jade climbing down into the hole to try to figure out how to get Mary Anne out. She managed to salvage enough of her pants to serve as shorts and she had used a jacket that had been laid over a chair to cover her upper body.

"How bad is she, Jade?" Mike asked her.

"Lisa," she said, "My name is Lisa. I don't feel like Jade right now and I sure as hell don't look like her."

"I'm Mike," he said, leaving it at that, "How bad is she?"

"She's bruised up," she said, "She's been brutally raped and beaten. I don't know if she's unconscious or catatonic."

"Can we move her?" he asked, "I really don't want to be here when the bodies are found, you know?"

"I think so," she said, "Nothing appears to be broken. I checked her extremities and her neck. I think we can get away with moving her."

"My car is outside," Miller said as he retrieved the Beretta, "Let's get this kid out of here and then we'll decide what to do next."

"Good idea," she agreed, "You're going to have to carry her. I'm not that strong to begin with and the beating they inflicted didn't do much to help."

"Get up here and take her after I lift her out," He instructed her, "I'll carry her from there."

She climbed out of the hole as Miller slid down, making sure that he didn't hurt the kid anymore. Mike handed her up to Lisa, or Jade, or whatever her name was, and she did well in managing to hold her until Miller could get up there and take the weight again. Miller carefully carried the child out to the car, placing her in the back seat with Lisa. Lisa sat there cradling the child's head in her lap while Miller drove away from the deathtrap as fast as he could.

"What's the plan now, Mike?" Jade asked him.

"That depends on you, Kiddo," Mike told her as he drove, "It depends on how much you want this operation to succeed."

"I'd say you've pretty well fucked it already," She said, "I don't know how you can get around the fact that you killed all three of them."

"Let me worry about that," Miller told her, "I think I can gloss that over, especially in this case. This is the DA's kid. I don't think her father is going to prosecute me for killing her abductors."

"True enough," she agreed, "But can you work around me?"

"I should be able to," Miller said, a plan coming to mind, "I don't even plan on telling them about you unless it becomes a necessity."

"I take it they'll pull you immediately if you do," she said, "Just like my people would."

"Exactly," He said, "I'm going to drop you off at the hotel. Clean yourself up and get some sleep while I take the girl back."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'm going to have to drop out of character to do this right," he reminded her, "I can't officially do that in front of you."

"Ok, ok," she agreed reluctantly, "Make it quick. That kid needs medical attention."

Miller nodded and picked up the cell phone. He punched in the emergency number for the support team and waited as the phone rang. He looked at Jade and told her to be quiet for a few minutes.

"Hello?" came Tracy's tired voice over the phone.

"It's me," Miller said.

"Mike!" she said, "Let me check the line."

"It's clear," he said, "A cloned cell that I'm going to toss later."

"Right," she said, "What do you need?"

"Meeting and an ambulance," He replied, "I have the girl and she's alive."

"Good," she said, "Who do you need here?"

"Better get Tom," Miller said, "And the DA."

"Is your cover blown?" she asked.

"No," He said, "The only people who know are dead."

"Call back in five minutes," she told me, "I'll have the location worked out."

"Make sure it isn't public," Miller said, "I don't want to screw this up now."

"You got it," she agreed and clicked off the line.

Miller used the delay to pull into the hotel parking lot and parked the car. He looked at Jade for a few seconds. The change in her was amazing now that she didn't have to keep up appearances. Not surprisingly, she was a lot more attractive to him as well. Finding out she was a cop had that effect on him.

"Go clean up," Miller said, "I'll take it from here."

"If you run into trouble with your people," she said, "Let me know. I'll see if I can get you help from up top."

"Thanks Kiddo," he smiled, "Just get inside before someone gets wise."

She hurried inside, and Miller pulled out of the parking lot. He drove for a few blocks and then called back. Tracy picked up on the first ring this time.

"Where's the meeting?" Miller asked, "This kid needs medical attention."

"How much medical do you need?" she asked.

"Ambulance," I said, "For the kid. She's unconscious."

"The DA is on his way," she said, "He'll be here in ten minutes. Tom is here already. Bring her to the storefront. We'll close this place down afterwards. It's time to move again anyway."

"I'm five minutes from there," he told her.

"See you then," she said.

Miller drove in that direction, not knowing what the next hour would bring. He also hoped that he could stay awake long enough to deal with it. His future depended entirely on how well he could weather the storm that would come out of the five killings he'd been responsible for.

Chapter Twenty-Two – June 27, 2000 – Late Evening

Al Martinez was waiting in the alley behind the shop smoking a cigarette as Miller drove in. Al looked into the car and could not see the girl; so he put his arms out in a questioning motion to Miller. Mike pointed him to the back seat and unlocked the doors. Martinez took one look at her and scooped her up, quickly bringing her inside.

Tracy was out in moments and pulled Mike out of the car. He hugged her tightly and walked into the store with her, his energy reserves obviously gone. She pulled out a kitchen chair for him, but he bypassed it for the old easy chair. Eric handed Mike a much-needed cup of coffee and sat down at his computer. Tom looked at Miller and just shook his head.

"You look like..." Tom said before Miller interrupted him.

"If another person tells me I look like hell tonight," he growled, "I'm going to deck them."

"What's the status of your cover?" Richter asked after nodding approval.

"I'm alive," Mike shrugged, "The only people who could have disputed Nester's authenticity are now dead, not that they even realized why I was going so far out of my way for the kid."

"Body count?" Tracy asked.

"Five if you count Curletto and his enforcer," Miller told them.

"Northrup, Bundy and Costello are all dead?" Richter asked.

"They gave me no choice," He nodded, "Bundy and Costello drew weapons when I entered the room. Northrup was being a hardass when it came to telling me where the girl was."

"Don't tell me anymore," Richter warned, "I can't prove anything and if they're dead they can't either."

"Ok," He said with a wry grin, "They all died as a result of wounds received in the battle."

"Good enough for me," Tracy shrugged, "How about you, Tom?"

"The DA will have to clinch it," he said, "But after rescuing his daughter I do believe that he'll go along."

Miller nodded and just sat there waiting for people to show up. He was washed out and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. Tracy stood next to him and let his head rest against her for a bit. She was able to tell exactly how far gone Mike was. It wasn't just the lack of sleep but the stress that had gone along with it.

Before Miller could fall asleep District Attorney Jeremy Whitmore flew into the room. Miller was awake again when he saw the father break down crying over his daughter. He hugged her as tight as he dared and then looked up at us.

"Who did this to her?" he growled, "I'll kill them. I won't rest until they are dead."

"Relax," Richter told him, "Her abductors died an hour ago."

"Lupo is going to fry for this..." he started as if he were going to rant.

"Lupo didn't do this you idiot," Miller stood up told the mistaken DA, "I've been working undercover in Lupo's organization for months. If he'd done it I would have known. He also wasn't stupid enough to antagonize you this much."

"Who did it?" he asked, "And how do you fit in?"

Miller spent the next few minutes explaining just what happened. He was appalled that it could have happened as it did. Miller held back little and told him the truth as he knew it. Mike didn't make any excuses for Lupo or for anyone else. Before Miller had finished the ambulance finally showed up and he took a break the paramedics worked on Mary Anne. When Miller had finished his story Whitmore was shocked.

"My God," he said, "Taking Mary Anne was a power play?"

"Yes," Miller said sadly, "A damned stupid one too."

"Did you blow your cover on this?" he asked.

"No," Mike chuckled, "I did what the syndicate wanted. They want you off their back and the best way to do it was to get your daughter back. Our needs coincided and it just so happened that I was better able to find her from within their framework than from within ours."

"I see," he said, "Well don't worry about the killings. You didn't leave any obvious traces did you?"

"No," Miller told him, wondering what the man had in mind.

"Make sure the weapons are never found," he said, "As far as I'm concerned the deaths of Northrup, Bundy, and Costello can rot in unsolved for eternity. I'll also file a writ of unconditional immunity for Michael Miller dated as of tonight. Do you know what that is?"

"The equivalent of a pardon, isn't it?" Richter asked.

"The local equivalent," he nodded, "I'll date it as of Midnight tonight. Your man here will have immunity for any crimes committed before that time, at least any crimes that I have jurisdiction over. That should end the legal worries for you."

"Thanks," Mike said, not knowing what else to say.

"My thanks to you," he said and shook my hand, "I have my daughter back alive. I don't know how bad she is, but she'd be worse if it weren't for you."

"There is one other thing," Mike said just before Whitmore left.

"Anything," he said like a grateful parent.

"Don't say a word to the press on how she was recovered," Miller asked him, "Let the case die in unsolved. Just tell them anonymous sources facilitated the release. They'll just assume that the syndicate took out the garbage and leave it at that. Also, call off the dogs. I know it will hurt, but let Lupo out and let things go back to normal."

"I see," he said, "You need Lupo that bad?"

"For now," Miller agreed, with concurrence from Tom and Tracy, "I'll keep an eye on him. You don't have anything now. Next time, you arrest him he'll stay down for good. I can promise you that."

"Detective Miller," he said with a nod, "I'll take you at your word on that. Lupo will be released by morning. Keep an eye on him."

"I will," he said, "Now go with your wife and daughter. They need you."

Whitmore actually smiled and hopped into his car to follow his daughter to the hospital. Mike slumped back down onto the couch, and Tracy slid in next to him. She got a strange look from Tom Richter because of it, but he said nothing as Mike wrapped his arm around her.

"You did good tonight, Mike," Richter said as he sat down in front of Miller, "You pulled one hell of a rabbit out of your hat. What do you think the next step is?"

"I'll probably replace Northrup," Miller said, "But I'll have to see how this mess falls out before I think about that. I'm thinking one day at a time right now, and all I want at this juncture is some sleep."

"Get some rest," Richter said, "They won't notice if you don't show up for a while."

"Not that simple," Mike said, "I've got to deal with Nick first."

"Call him," he said, "Eric will route it innocuously. Then get to sleep on the couch."

"No offense guys," Miller said, thinking of Jade sitting in his room, "But I want to sleep in a bed tonight. I've made it this far. I can drive a little longer. I'll let Nick know what is happening, and then I'm going to sleep for a day and a half."

"Whatever you think is best," Richter agreed, "You're the one with the inside feel. Just report in when you wake up, either by email or by telephone."

"Mike," Eric Craig piped in, "This number will be disconnected soon. If you need to telephone, go ahead and call the 13th floor. Too many people know about this place now."

"I'll email," Miller agreed, "But after I get some sleep."

"Want a ride," Martinez asked.

"I'll play cover," Miller said, "I'll stop and call Nick on a pay phone. I think I've taken enough chances with my cover tonight."

The last thing Mike wanted to deal with at that point in time was to deal with people. He was bone weary and wanted little more than to get this day over with. He was also actively trying to forget that he'd killed five people. The fact that they were all scum was not relevant to him; in fact, he was beginning to wonder just how far off from them he really was.

Miller stood up and walked out to his car. Tracy went out and cornered him in the alley. She looked into his eyes and pulled him close to her. He didn't want to break down then and there, but he had no choice. Miller cried into her shoulder for a while. She opened the door to the car and moved him so that he could sit down. They stayed there for a few minutes as he let his long repressed emotions out.

"You sure you want to go back into the life so soon?" she asked, "I've got room for you at my apartment tonight."

"Much as I'd love to Trace," He said, remembering Jade again, "I'd better not. Harry is going to try to find me as soon as he gets out. I need to be in the area."

"I understand," she sighed, "Just find time to do it soon, ok? I'd like to see you for more than an hour or so."

"I will," he promised, "It's not that I don't want to spend the night with you. I just don't want to spend that night with you sleeping."

"Touché," she grinned, "You sure you're safe to drive tonight, Mike?"

"As safe as I was an hour ago," Miller assured her, "I'm going to call Nick and go to bed, I promise."

She nodded and wordlessly stood back and let him go. Mike managed to get the rest of the way into the car and turned on the ignition. She smiled as he passed, though she was hurting as he left. She knew then that she had repeated her mistake of falling in love with the undercover man. Thing was, It was not something she could bring herself to regret and she was sure that he felt similar about her.

Miller drove quickly and pulled over at a fast food restaurant a few minutes later. He went through the drive through and ordered way too much food, then parked in front of the phone booth. He tossed down the first of three cheeseburgers and got enough change together to use the phone.

Nick answered on the first ring. He sounded nervous and Miller could just about see the sweat dripping off him as he answered.

"Nick," Miller said, "It's Ray."

"Do you need me?" he asked nervously.

"No," Mike chuckled, "It's over. Your information paid off."

"You got him?" he asked, "How about the kid?"

"Taken care of," Mike told him, intentionally leaving out the details, "They'll probably release Harry tomorrow morning."

"Damn," he said, "Fat Tony called, and left some information. Pretty much the same thing I told you."

"Ok," Miller grunted, glad to hear that Fat Tony had kept his promise, "I still haven't slept so I'm going to go back to my room. Has Jade showed up yet?"

Miller knew where she was, he just asked to check if her cover had blown or not. If it had, Nick would have told him then. Alas, he reacted as he normally did whenever Mike asked about her. Knowledge of her true identity died with Northrup.

"No sign of her," he said, "Look in the lobby of your hotel though. She might have just decided to get out of the way. Jerry told her to get lost when he heard people coming up the stairs."

"Ok," Mike told him, relieved that she hadn't made any more waves, "Anyway, if Harry shows up and is looking for me, tell him I'll be in as soon as I get enough sleep to make me sound coherent again."

"Will do," Nick promised, "Though I don't think sleep is going to help that."

Miller chuckled and put the phone back on the hook. It was time to find out just where he and Jade stood in regards with each other. The night wasn't over yet, and Miller had a feeling that it was possible that he could still blow it. The only stop he made on the way was to dispose of the Beretta so that it could not be traced.

Chapter Twenty-Three – June 27, 2000 – End of Day

Mike Miller knocked on the door to the motel room shortly before 11pm that night. It felt as if it had been a month since he had been there, but in reality it had been less than 48 hours. He heard some scurrying in the room and a single eye peeked in the peephole. The lock clicked and Jade let him into the room.

He closed and locked the door and sat down on the bed. Jade sat down on the opposite side of it and looked him over. Neither one of them looked all that great, but she looked a lot more rested than he did because of the forced sleep at Jerry's place.

"Where do we go from here, kiddo?" he asked, though at that point he was hoping bed would be his ultimate destination.

"I don't know," she replied, "You know, this is something you'd expect to happen in a bad movie of some sort, not during a real operation."

"Have you called in?" he asked her.

"No," she said, "I don't know what the hell to tell them. I'm blown, but the only one who knows is a local cop who's in the same boat? Did you tell your people about me?"

"Hell no," Miller chuckled, "I don't know if they'd believe this. They'd probably pull me in a heartbeat though."

"Same with my people," she admitted, "And they like this operation because they've gotten quite a bit of good background from it. They think you're an up and comer in the outfit and are hoping you'll bring me with you."

"Keep giving them what they want," Mike shrugged, "They can't do shit to me. I'm covered with immunity from Tom Richter's charter."

"You've got immunity for what you did tonight?" she asked in surprise, "They told us that we were not to kill anyone unless our life was in danger."

"The DA granted me complete immunity," he grinned, "Something about bringing his daughter back alive sort of encouraged him to sign the papers when Tom presented them. He's glad Northrup and his cohorts are dead."

"If that ever shows up on record you are screwed," she chided him.

"It only goes into play if I'm ever arrested for those killings," Miller told her, "I disposed of the gun before I came here. The pieces will be in four separate landfills by the end of the week. Most likely Northrup, Bundy, and Costello are going to be filed away as gangland killings. I doubt anyone will really care in a few weeks."

"Impressive," she said and then looked him over, "It still doesn't answer the main question now. What happens between us?"

"It looks like we're stuck with each other if we want to see this through," Miller told her, "I'm willing to try it if you are."

"You don't need me for this," she said, "Why do you want me here?"

"Safety," he said, "You know how to handle yourself. You're also good at keeping your nose out of trouble. And if I get into a jam you'd likely be able to go get help."

"So you're proposing a symbiotic relationship," she said and thought about it for a second, "You feed me information in return for having someone to watch your back?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Mike nodded, "If anything happens to me, you can report to my people what happened. At least that way they'll have a shot at recovering what's left and getting evidence on my murder. Also, at this point I don't really have a choice. At least if you're here in front of me you will keep the secret to protect your own ass."

"And vice versa," she nodded, "Remember, I'm still in the line of fire just like you are. It could come down the other way."

"True," he agreed, "Very true. Let's just hope that we don't have to worry about that."

They didn't know which way to go with things at that point. The entire dynamic between them had changed. Before it hadn't been a psychological pairing with them, but a purely physical one. It was also a bullshit relationship. Mike thought she needed someone to watch out for her and she looked at him as a necessary evil and a good information source.

Mike was beginning to look at her in a new light. He knew he could not just treat her as the sex object he had before. She had taken a new light of humanity in his eyes. He finally realized how much he had actually fallen into the trappings of the life he was leading. Of course, his old life had not taught him much better. Many of the police officers he knew treated their women the same way.

"What do we do now?" Miller asked her, "I'm not really sure how to proceed from here."

"Well," she smiled, "You never had that problem before."

"Never realized you had an IQ in the triple digits before," he chuckled, "Besides, it was your job to play up to me."

"Still is," she reminded him, "And believe me, it hasn't been a totally distasteful assignment."

"Really," He said, a smile forming on his lips, and moved closer to her.

"Really," She said and kissed him softly, "Though I'm going to have to require one thing before we go to bed together again."

"What's that?" He asked her, a puzzled look coming over his tired face.

"That you take a shower," Jade grinned, "You still have some blood on your clothes. We'll have to dispose of those tomorrow."

"I think I can handle that," he said, "Care to help me wash down?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that," she grinned.

Miller was stripped down quickly, and the clothes he had been wearing were carefully put into a trash bag. They would be disposed of later, just to keep things neat and clean. She stripped down the remains of her clothes and put them in the same bag, revealing to him the extent of the abuse she'd taken by Barry's hands.

They muddled into the shower and started washing each other off. There was nothing sensual about the process, but was more of a healing thing for them. They were washing the grime and stink of the life they were living off their bodies and hoping that the cleansing would work on their souls as well. They'd seen much more than any two people should, and it was time to try to heal.

"How do you live with it?" she asked him, "How do you keep going?"

"Same way you do," he told her as the water ran continuously over them, "You keep telling yourself that it's for the best and it's worth it. And then, you make yourself think you're better than the people you're betraying."

"Does it work for you?" she asked, her eyes looking directly into his.

"Sometimes," he grinned, "Tonight, I don't know. In some ways, I've proved myself to be no better than Lupo."

"That's the way you have to be," she reminded him, "If you lapse in that, those vultures will see right through you. If they see through you, you're a dead man, Mike."

"True," he agreed, trying not to think about it anymore, "Let's just go to bed. I need to put this shit out of my mind and get some sleep."

"Sure," she said with a smile, "I think we can do that."

They dried off and slid under the covers of the freshly made bed. The maids had been in the room that morning, and all the sheets were fresh and clean. There were a few moments of insecurity for both of them when they entered the bed. The dynamic was so different that neither one knew exactly how to handle it. Finally, she slid up close to him and snuggled up to him. She felt so small and so warm, yet very different from the way she felt in his arms the last time he had held her. They were both positive that this was going to be one hell of an improvement in their relationship.

She tried kissing him a little, but Miller's body had given all it had to give. Thirty-six hours of constant stress and action had taken their toll. He only managed a few pecks on her cheek before he slipped soundly into a solid sleep, one from which he would not wake up until late the next afternoon.

Chapter Twenty-Four – June 28, 2000 – Afternoon

Miller woke up shortly after noon to the sound of one of those annoyingly perky local newscasters blathering about something on the television. He looked up and saw Jade sitting naked on the room's easy chair with the remote control. She looked over at him, smiled and then continued to watch the TV.

"I think they're about to report on yesterday," she said, "I wonder how the DA handled it."

"I'm curious about that too," Miller muttered and dragged his half-awake carcass into sitting position.

The girl on the TV was cute if you liked inflated lips and an inflated chest. Her hair was somewhere between blonde and brunette and she acted as if she had an IQ somewhere in the low double digits. She actually managed to take her cue and read the teleprompter in a way that almost upgraded her intelligence to the upper double digits.

"Thank you Rob," she said and grinned one of those 'oh-so-cute' grins, "It has been a harrowing day for District Attorney Jeremy Todd Whitmore. Sources have confirmed that his daughter who had been kidnapped the day before, has been returned. A statement released by representatives of District Attorney Whitmore stated that Mary Anne Whitmore is alive and undergoing treatment at United Regional for extensive injuries. Authorities are not disclosing the details of how she was recovered, but they believe that the kidnappers are now dead."

The annoying woman paused, and they switched the picture to an on-site camera in front of the warehouse that Northrup and company had used. Miller was hoping that the press had not picked up more than they needed to know. He did not look forward to actually having to use the immunity agreement Whitmore had provided.

"The bodies of Barry Jonathan Northrup, age 58, Richard Carswell Bundy, age 27 and Shawn Theodore Costello, age 25 were found dead in a docks area warehouse this morning. Anonymous police sources confirm that a makeshift prison was found with blood and clothing matching the missing girl."

"The police are not sure exactly how things shook out or who killed the kidnappers. Northrup is best known as an underboss of the Bullock crime organization who had been linked to notorious figure Harrison Luponi. Luponi had been held in connection with the kidnapping, though police sources had concluded that the kidnapping was little more than a clumsy attempt to unseat Luponi."

The station then went to footage taken that morning of Harry Lupo slipping out of the police station and into a waiting car. Allan Robbins must have had the car waiting for them because Miller didn't recognize it. So far the coverage was staying close enough to the truth, but leaving out the details that they did not need to know.

"Luponi himself was released from police custody this morning, refusing to comment on the events that had occurred. He slipped into a car with his lawyer, Allan Robbins, and left the area. Although police officials have no statement on the matter, unofficial sources claim that the warehouse killings were most likely a case of organized crime elements cleaning up a mess caused by their own."

"And now over to Jake for the weather..." the stupid newscaster said as Jade clicked off the power.

"Looks like we're in the clear," she said, "The police will investigate it like they always do."

"And find nothing like they usually do," Miller cynically agreed, "I didn't leave any trace of myself and the odds of them connecting any blood you left is slim."

"That's if they can find my blood among the mess you left," she grinned, "What do we do now?"

"You stay put," Mike admonished, "I don't want to explain those bruises on you. You'll show up again in a few days. They won't question the fact that you don't want to show up for a bit, not after the crap that's happened over the past few days. It'll cause more suspicion if you show up on my arm again so soon after this mess."

"You need to let me know how to contact your people," she said, "Just in case something happens."

"The laptop is the quickest way," he told her and pulled it out, "I've got a secure connection set up with my people."

"I was wondering about that," she said, "I thought it odd that you possessed one and even stranger that it was locked down with windows 2000. Your people did a damn good job with the machine's security."

"My people nothing," Miller chuckled, "They hadn't thought of it until I came in. I rebuilt that machine myself about two weeks before you moved in. You checked it out did you?"

"Of course," she grinned, "I was trying to see if you had any good confidential files I could bring in as evidence. I figured that if I ever took off I'd bring it along and let the cryptographic department have a crack at it."

"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make an account for you."

"Later," she shrugged, "Don't worry about it right now. How do I contact your people?"

"Right now you'll have to go to the central headquarters building downtown," Miller told her, "They closed up the storefront they'd been using as a contact point after I brought the girl there. I'm still waiting for them to let me know the new contact info. Talk to the elevator guy and tell him that you need to talk to Tom Richter about Mike Miller. That'll get you through in a hurry."

"Ok," she said, "But this is only in an extreme emergency."

"Exactly," he agreed, "Things still haven't settled yet. I've got a good shot at the inside track, but gratitude may not cut the mustard this time."

"No," she agreed, "But the fact that you killed Northrup and company will. It proves your allegiance."

"Let's hope so," Mike wished, "I probably should go down there and talk to Harry anyway."

"Probably the best move," she agreed, "You look human again, Ray. The sooner you get down there the better things will turn out for you."

"My name is Mike," Miller reminded her, "When we're alone, you can use it."

"My name is Lisa," she smiled, "You can do the same, but we have to be careful with it."

Miller smiled and got dressed. He really didn't feel like dealing with the horseshit, but knew that it had to be done. Lisa was right, the sooner he got down there and talked to Harry about what happened the night before the better off his position would be.

"Take it easy and watch some TV," Miller said, "If you want to surf the web sign into the laptop as guest, password jade. It'll give you access to the web only. Any other internet program will be blocked."

"Will I be able to use Solitaire?" she asked in her Jade voice.

"Sure," he chuckled, "Knock yourself out. Just remember to keep up the act if the maids come in."

"Will do," she grinned, "Remember, I know how to look stupid well enough to fool you."

Miller nodded and slipped out to the car. He now had a good feeling about the way this was going to work out. He no longer had to keep his guard up around Jade all the time. It added complications to the deal, but they were complications that they could live with.

The bar was still closed when Miller arrived, but there were positive signs of life in the building. Nick's car was still there, and he came to the door when Mike rang the bell. Miller was led into the back room where Harry was sitting. He had a badly mixed martini in one hand and a bottle blonde hooker in the other.

"Ray!" he exclaimed, "Have a seat. Nick... Get this man a drink!"

"What do you want, Ray?" he asked with a smile.

"Ginger ale," Miller told him, "Too early to annoy my stomach again."

"Got it," he said and walked over behind the bar.

Mike sat down and took a good look at Harry. The past few days had aged him a few years. There were several new lines in his face. He looked a good ten years older than his 43 years. Miller sat back and let Harry start the conversation, thought he already knew what it was going to be about.

"Nicky says you took care of everything," he said, "Barry really took the DA's kid? I never thought he would have had it in him."

"Barry was behind the idiots out on Highway Ten as well," Mike told him, "I tied him to Carpazzo and from there into everything else."

"Honey," he said to the hooker at his side, "Go on out with Nick for a few minutes. Ray and I have to talk some business. Have him fix you whatever you want as soon as he brings Ray his drink."

The girl went and Nick came right in and put the large glass of cold ginger ale on the table. Harry sent him out to entertain the floozy while Miller told exactly what had gone on over the previous days. Harry listened intently as Mike detailed what he knew of Barry's betrayal, showing positive horror at how Barry had contravened nearly every code that existed in the organization.

"I can't believe that he pulled something that stupid," Harry said with a shake of his head, "What I don't understand is how you straightened this out with the DA?"

"It was easy," Miller lied, "I passed the girl off to some contacts I had in the department."

"That couldn't have been all," he said, "There had to be more."

"After the girl was passed on I went and had a talk with her father," Mike grinned, telling the truth to a point.

"And?" Harry asked, interested in how he'd pulled that off.

"I caught him outside the hospital," Mike shrugged, "I offered to tell him who was responsible if he'd listen for a few minutes."

"Go on," Harry said.

"I told him the truth," Mike shrugged, "This wasn't sanctioned, quite the opposite ,in fact. I left out the fact that I was the one who brought the kid back, but told him where the bodies of her captors could be found, along with articles of clothing and blood proving my story."

"How did he take it?" Harry asked.

"He was pissed," Miller told him, continuing to stretch the truth, "But not surprised. He'd pretty much guessed that we didn't do it, but he was just holding you because he could. He also figured that if he put pressure on us we'd get the girl out in one piece. He was right."

"I'm amazed he didn't lock you up," Harry said.

"He didn't have a chance," Mike grinned, "I never said I knew who did it or where I got the information. And since the culprits were dead, I'd never have a reason to testify."

"That works," Harry said with a half smile, "Allen got me out of there this morning. I guess they decided I wasn't worth the trouble."

"Any longer and they'd have had a lawsuit," Miller agreed after drinking some of his ginger ale, "Things are in a shambles as it is. Much longer and you probably wouldn't have had a place to come back to."

"I know," Harry sighed, "I stopped to visit Jerry this morning. They said he'll be out in a week. I just have to figure out how to repair things."

"You need to talk to Charlie Bullock too," Mike reminded him, "He told me to have you call him."

"Already done," he said, "You and I are going there for dinner tonight. Nick will have to hold the fort here."

"Did they let Jamie out?" Mike asked as an afterthought.

"Don't know or care, really," He chuckled, "Though we probably should check into it. I just haven't wanted to go to the courthouse to do it."

"Want me to go?" Mike asked.

"You?" he grinned, "I don't know. You'd probably make him stay locked up for another few weeks."

"If they're still holding him that means they actually have something concrete," Mike told him, "We may not have a choice."

"Go for it," he agreed, "You did well enough getting me out. If he deserves to stay in the clink, leave him there. Especially if he gives you any grief."

"Wait a second," Miller asked him as the realization hit him, "I'm going with you tonight?"

"Yep," he grinned, "If it were up to me I'd give you Barry's job now, but I want to make sure that Charlie has no problems with it. After your performance yesterday, I'd be surprised if he did. That is, if you even want the job."

"I'll take it," Miller shrugged, hiding his delight, "I can't do any worse with it than he did."

"I think you'll do much better," Harry agreed, "Anyway, I'm going to relax this afternoon. You go ahead and deal with Charlie's idiot nephew and then bring him back here."

With that he called out into the other room for the hooker to come back in. He pulled out a packet of cocaine and looked as though he was ready to party. Miller knew he had been dismissed, having declined the offer to have a line. Mike walked out, sat with Nick at the bar and had another ginger ale with him.

"How is he, Nick?" Mike asked, "He sounds the same, but he's hitting the drugs early."

"He's pissed at himself," Nick shrugged, "He can't believe that Barry would do this to him."

"Why is he surprised?" Mike asked, "I mean, Barry was never really friendly and he only took the job grudgingly to keep his foot in the door."

"That's true," Nick said, "But he trusted Barry. He let Barry have quite a bit of power to salve his ego. Thing was, it wasn't enough. Barry just fucked him anyway. I don't know how well he'll take that in the long run. Harry is big on the loyalty thing, remember."

"Well," Mike shrugged, "All we can do is move on. I think you and I proved our loyalty in the last few days."

"If it were up to him you'd officially have the job already," Nick said, "Hell, I'm glad you're getting it and not me. I'd rather not have to deal with the bullshit."

"Someone has to," Miller shrugged, trying to act humble, "Might as well be me."

"You going to get Jamie?" he asked, "He said he'd probably drop that task on you."

"Yeah," Miller nodded, figuring that Harry had maneuvered him into volunteering, "It's either that or watch Harry get high before he has to deal with Charlie."

"Yeah," Nick chuckled, "One of you has to stay sober, huh?"

"Yep," Miller agreed, "Give me the phone, huh? I'm going to call Robbins."

Nick passed the phone over and he dialed the number long ago memorized for Robbins. Robbins informed him that Jamie was being held on several old warrants for unpaid tickets. He'd managed to get a hearing for 3pm on the disposition of them. It seems the DA finally let the hold go on Jamie too. Robbins said that if Miller were coming to try to get the kid out he'd probably want to bring a large chunk of cash.

Miller had less than an hour to get there, so he went in, got cash from Harry and rushed down to the courthouse. He wasn't particularly well dressed for the occasion, but then he really didn't care that much about getting Jamie out either. Mike found Robbins standing on the courthouse steps smoking a cigarette.

"Ray!" he exclaimed, "You here to try to get Jamie out?"

"Yeah," Miller shrugged, "We're going to Charlie's tonight and we don't want to explain why we haven't even tried to get him released."

"We're going to need some luck," he said, "It seems that Jamie has a whole pile of traffic tickets and ten speeding citations."

"Holy Christ!" Miller yelped, "How the hell did he manage that?"

"Busy cops most likely," he shrugged, "Most of them occurred before the cruisers were equipped with the computers last year."

The city had been a bit lax in upgrading patrol vehicles with equipment to check for prior warrants. Multiple offenders were common because no one had time to wait for dispatch to get back to them with a warrant check. So they just took the ticket and moved on, tossing it in the glove compartment with the others. It seems that this practice had just bitten Jamie in the ass.

"How much are the combined fines?" Miller asked him.

"Nearly eight thousand dollars," he said, "At current rates that's nearly six months in jail if he can't afford payment."

"What a moron," Mike whistled, "I hope I have enough cash to get him out."

"I still don't know why you're bothering," he grinned, "I talked to him an hour ago. He's an insolent little punk. I'm amazed Harry puts up with him."

"Nepotism," Miller said sadly, "He's Charlie's nephew. We took him as a goodwill gesture. He's also reliable enough for running things around and doing small things that don't require intelligence."

"Figures," he said, "Well he probably won't be a runner for a while. I doubt they'll let him out with a license."

"Fine with me," Miller shrugged, "He's strong enough for a bodyguard. Either that or I'll send him off to one of the bookmakers. Either way we'll find some use for the sorry little shithead."

"You taking over Barry's job?" he asked.

"Probably," Mike shrugged, "That's up to Harry and Charlie."

"After your performance yesterday..." he started and then thought better of it, "Hell, I bet you've heard that a few too many times already."

"Flattery hasn't hurt anyone," Mike grinned.

"Guess not," he chuckled and tossed his cigarette into the ashtray, "Let's go in. Basically, what you need to do is get a seat behind me so I can consult with you. I'll tell you what the law is, but you have to let me know what we can accept."

"I know the drill," Miller said with a nod, "The goal is to get him out. Anything without jail time."

"Don't care about his record?" he asked.

"I don't," Mike shrugged, "This is small time anyway. It's not like he's going to be applying for a government job or anything."

"True," he said, "Let's go."

The hearing was taking place in the same courtroom that Miller had been in three months earlier for the drunk and disorderly case. He enjoyed being on the other side of the bar, but the courtroom was still not the most pleasant place for him at the moment.

Jamie was led in by the guards, still shackled and in the orange jumpsuit worn by inmates of the county jail. Evidently, he had been a discipline problem, which was no big surprise. He had been a problem ever since Mike had first met him.

"Ray," Jamie said when he saw Miller sitting there, "You're here to get me out, right?"

"If you're lucky," he stated coldly and sat down, "Now shut up and let Robbins do the talking."

The bailiff read the charges, and it was certainly an impressive list of traffic misdemeanors. He had even managed to get away from the scene of two reckless driving charges. The ADA handling this case, a young woman whose name was not important, was arguing for jail time. Robbins was trying to talk them down to probation.

Robbins was doing well, despite the frequent outbursts of his client. The judge was within moments of sentencing Jamie to jail time just for contempt when Robbins looked at Miller for help. Mike stood up, told Jamie to sit down, and asked the judge if he could say a few words.

"And you are?" The judge asked me.

"Raymond Nester, your honor," Miller said, his mind quickly churning out how to justify his presence, "I represent the defendant's employer."

It was close enough to the truth. Miller represented Harry who was in fact, if not in law was his employer.

"Say your piece," he said, "But make it quick."

"Yes sir," Miller said and thought of how to put it to get him out, "I realize that Mr. Bullock here is a menace to society in a car, but he is sorely needed at his place of employment."

"And where is that?" The judge asked.

"Jack's Place," Mike replied, "He is an assistant bartender and he serves drinks."

"And how is his presence needed?" The perplexed judge asked.

"The proprietor of the establishment, Jerome Bradley," he said while trying to think up enough bullshit, "Has been shot in a robbery. There is no time to hire or train anyone else. Unfortunately, young Mr. Bullock is the only person we have to keep the place going until Jerry gets back on his feet. By the time we could replace him our establishment will go bankrupt."

"I see," he said, "There is the factor of his conduct, not to mention his horrible driving."

Jamie was silent for once, just staring at Miller. Robbins put a firm hand on Jamie's shoulder to keep him quiet and let Miller talk. Robbins gave Miller a puzzled look, but let him keep going because Miller actually had the judge's ear.

"Your honor," Mike said, "May I make a suggestion?"

"Certainly," he said, "Anything to get this idiot out of my courtroom."

"Give him a year of probation," Miller said, "Contingent on his keeping solid employment."

"That will cover his conduct," he said, "And his traffic menace?"

"We will pay all his fines," Miller agreed.

"Plus 10%," The judge said in satisfaction, "And he will give up his driver's license for the next three years, at which point he can retake a full driving test to regain it."

"No way!" Jamie yelled.

"Shut up," Miller growled at him, "You take the deal or you spend the next six months in jail. You have ten seconds to decide."

That sobered him up. He actually used six of those seconds before he agreed to the deal but agree to it he did.

"Will that satisfy the people?" the judge asked the young ADA.

"Y- yes your honor," she stammered, as what Miller had asked for was probably a little bit stronger than she'd hoped for. She'd hoped to bargain down to a few months of jail time.

"The defendant is to remain in custody until the entire fine of $8,822 is paid in full," the judge said, "Probation will last until June 28, 2001. You are to check in with your probation officer once a week with a signed note from your employer that you are still employed and your work conduct is satisfactory. If you do not comply with this, you will be subject to six months in the county jail and required to pay the fine a second time. Do you understand me?"

Jamie grumbled a yes and was led back to the holding area. Robbins and Miller walked out to the same desk where Miller's fine for the drunk and disorderly had been paid. This time Miller was holding the money and paid Jamie's fine in full, with all of 200 dollars to spare. Robbins and Miller then went to the waiting area to wait for Jamie to come out.

"Thanks," Robbins said, "I was doing my best, but he blew it on his own."

"I know," Mike said, "He's just lucky I was able to come up with a line of bullshit that did the trick."

"He's useless as a runner now you know," Robbins said, "He drives a car and is caught he'll be in jail for sure."

"I know," Miller shrugged, as he really didn't care, "I'll leave him with Jerry for a while. At any rate, Jerry is the one who will sign the sheets for him once he gets out of the hospital."

"I doubt the judge would have put that in if you hadn't said it," Robbins said, "Why did you do that?"

"It gives me leverage," Miller grinned, "If he fucks with me all I have to do is make sure he doesn't get his paper for the week. He has to deal straight with Harry and me to keep out of jail."

"I see," he said, "Anyway, I've got another client in jail right now that I need to go see. Can you deal with the little punk?"

"I did in the courtroom," Mike grinned, "I'll bring him back to the bar, no sweat. Harry will figure out what to do with him. Charlie won't complain as I'm sure he realizes that Jamie is a moron. Most likely he'll be helping Jerry until he gets back on his feet, like I said."

"Good," he chuckled, "Listen... I like working with you guys and all, but next time he needs a lawyer, get him someone else, ok?"

"You got it," Mike chuckled, "Go take care of your other client, Allan."

"Later Ray," he said, "And I hope Harry gets smart and gives you Barry's job."

"We'll see," Mike said as he went off.

Jamie finally showed up in his disheveled set of clothing after about twenty minutes. He was pale, having been locked in a cell for nearly three days. He was also fuming about the way Miller had handled his release.

"What's the big idea?" he said, "They took my license away!"

"You're lucky I was able to get you out at all," Miller informed him, "Now let's get the hell out of here."

"But..." he said before Miller cut him off.

"Shut up, Jamie," Miller growled, "You're out, now let's get out of here before I tell them to take you back. You're lucky I didn't let you rot after that stunt you pulled in there. Never, ever, mouth off to a judge like that."

He stayed quiet and followed Miller out to the car. Mike opened the door, and the kid slid into the shotgun side. He looked at Miller a few times and acted as if he wanted to say something, but the little punk was afraid. They were most of the way back to the bar by the time he got up the nerve to say anything.

"Why did Harry send you?" he asked, "I'd have thought he would have come himself."

"You overestimate your importance," Miller told him, "Besides. Harry just got out himself this morning."

"He should have sent Barry then," Jamie grumped, "I know he wasn't arrested."

"Barry is dead," Miller informed him, "And he's the reason you were arrested in the first place, you little idiot."

"What?" he asked, surprised, "Barry is dead?"

"He's the one who had the girl taken," Miller told him, "It was an attempt to get rid of Harry. It just backfired on him."

"Damn," Jamie said, "I guess I missed a lot. You taking Barry's place now?"

"I don't know yet," Miller shrugged, "That's up to Harry and your uncle."

"Ray," he said, thinking about things a little, "Thanks for getting me out, even if you had to do it the way you did."

Miller grunted an acknowledgement. Maybe the kid had a brain in there somewhere. Mike pulled into his usual parking space in front of the bar. They walked in and had a minor celebration over having everyone out. Nick, Jamie and Harry hit the booze and drugs fairly hard. Mike stayed sober, using the excuse that they had to be careful for a bit. He also knew he'd be driving and probably doing a lot of the talking when they got to Charlie's place that night. Miller wanted to make damned sure he made a good impression.

Chapter Twenty-Five – June 28, 2000 – Evening

Mike and Harry showed up to Charlie Bullock's estate at 7pm exactly, just as they were asked to. The trip was without incident for a change, and the parade of police officers that had been keeping watch had dwindled down to a single officer in a car. Miller would almost have fingered him for press except for the fact that he had powdered sugar on his shirt.

Matt D'Antoni was playing valet that night. It looked as if this was going to be a larger party than they had expected. Mike was glad that he had at least dressed passably for the occasion. Harry, despite the afternoon of drink and drugs, was standing up straight and interacting as if he were stone cold sober. It was one of the strange quirks of fate that Harry had a constitution like a horse.

Fat Tony led them inside, and there was indeed quite a party going on. It was not opulent by the standards of the rich and famous, but for organized crime circles it was pretty ritzy. There were easily fifty or sixty people just in that room. If someone had detonated a bomb in that room, the crime rate in this city would have dropped in half almost instantly.

Charlie saw Mike and Harry as they came in and waved them over to his table. Harry swaggered over, and Miller followed, almost embarrassed by the way Harry was acting. Lupo was acting like a returning hero instead of acting as if he had come within a hair of oblivion. Alas that was part of what made Harry good at what he did. He was able to project an air of competence even when there was nothing even close to it evident in his actions.

Harry sat down in the offered seat, and Miller sat down next to him. Max, Eric Roth and Elise Steele sat down around the table. It was both Harry and Mike's first time meeting the extraordinarily tall woman with black hair. Miller took particular interest in her. She was in damn near perfect shape and looked like someone that could easily have walked right out of a James Bond movie.

"Harry. Ray," Charlie said, "Glad you could make it tonight after your difficulties over the past few days."

"Everything has settled out," Harry said, "Have the police finally laid off of your people?"

"Mostly," Max put in for his father, "A few of our people that had warrants out are still in the joint, but that's to be expected."

"I see that you took care of your problem," Charlie said to Miller, "They found Barry's body last night."

"I'm out of jail," Harry said with a grin, answering before Miller could, "Everything is taken care of. I begin the rebuilding process tomorrow."

"Did you manage to get Jamie out?" Charlie asked, not really concerned with how Harry was going to rebuild, "His mother said he was still in jail this morning."

"I got him out this afternoon," Miller said, "He had a pile of warrants for traffic tickets. I got him probation and paid the fines. He'll be off the roads for the next few years, but he's out of jail."

"Took away his license huh?" Charlie chuckled, "I'm amazed they let him off that easy."

"I fed the judge a bullshit line," Miller told him, "I told the truth as far as it went, that I was a representative of his employer and that he was needed badly. I just told them that his employer was Jerry Bradley and that he was an assistant manager at the bar."

"What was the sentence exactly?" Eric Roth asked, "And if you tell me what the fine was we'll reimburse you."

"One year probation, three years disqualification for driving," I told him, "Just under nine grand in fines. He also has to bring a signed slip stating he's employed to his probation officer every week when he checks in."

"Ouch," he said, "Allan couldn't do any better?"

"Jamie was pissing off the judge," Miller told them, "He's lucky he didn't have to spend six months in jail. If he hadn't shut up when I told him to I would have let him rot."

"Let me guess," Charlie said, looking Miller up and down, "You are the one who suggested the employment deal?"

"Exactly," Mike grinned, "If he gives us grief we can just stop signing his sheets and call his probation officer. He'll have to spend six months in jail and then pay the fine again, which since he is always broke will mean another six months in the slammer."

"Good move," he laughed, "Maybe that will give him a chance to grow up a little."

"Can't hurt," Harry agreed, though this was probably the first he'd heard of it, "Anyway, Jerry could use the help until he gets back on his feet. Jack's place is still closed while he's in the hospital."

Miller was listening, but mostly trying to take in the woman across the table. She was a quiet sort, but definitely not the usual companion for the type of men sitting at the table. She had intelligence in her eyes that could not be masked. Her eyes darted everywhere in the room, much like the good female police officers. There was also an aura of sexuality about her that she used to her advantage.

Elise and Mike made eye contact a couple of times and the only thing he could think about was what it would be like to lay her across the table and take her as hard as he could. This was a common reaction to Elise Steele's presence, and one she played to her advantage. She had long since learned that it's easier to get what she wanted out of a man thinking only with his dick. The only other thing readily noticeable besides the jet-black hair and the vivid sensuality was the fact that she almost never smiled.

"I also need to talk to you about Barry's replacement," Harry said to Charlie, bringing Miller back into the real world, "I've got a candidate for it, but after the events of the past few days I'd like your input."

"Harry," Charlie said, "I was the one who saddled you with Barry. It was the right thing to do at the time, but I should have let you replace him long ago."

"You did what you had to," Harry said as humbly as he could manage, "I think we both will be able to agree on his replacement; however."

"Raymond?" Charlie asked, though he knew that already.

"Yeah," Harry said, "If it wasn't for him, I'd either be a grease mark on the ground or still in jail. He saved my ass again, and I think he'll do well in the position."

"And he's already proved his loyalty," Charlie said with approval, "Max? Eric? Either of you have a problem with this?"

"None here," Max said with an approving nod.

Eric Roth shrugged his shoulders. It was not his place to object unless he had ample reason to do so, which he did not. Charlie smiled and looked over at Elise. She looked at Miller and then looked back at Charlie.

"I saw this coming," Charlie said, "Elise, do you have anything to add to this? Elise Steele, this is Harry Lupo and Ray Nester. She works for Freddie Pena, and I had her do a background check on Ray, in case you decided you wanted to use him."

Miller's heart jumped into his throat. Pena was known as a ruthless son of a bitch. Miller wondered briefly if this was how they got Price and Cole. His only hope was that Eric Craig was better at creating identities than Elise Steele and Freddie Pena were at tearing them apart.

"I didn't find anything abnormal," she said finally, lifting the weight off Miller's heart, "I found very few records of him, but given his background that's not out of the ordinary. Besides, given what he has done in the past few days I'd say the indications are he's being straight with you. I managed to get a diagram of the bodies and it's definitely something that a soldier would have done."

Miller's stomach returned to normal position and he smiled. He had passed the test. A round of drinks was brought out and they drank to Harry's new second in command. Even Elise Steele joined in for the toast, despite having a low tolerance for celebrations. The ice woman actually managed to smile a few times during the drinking.

After Charlie had his toast, he released Mike and Harry to go mingle while he talked business with other people. Harry was not the only person in his position, just one of many. They made the rounds and introduced Miller around to people that he would have to know and deal with. The family was a rather incestuous one, as business deals were crossing the party lines all the time.

Miller met many people that night, some for the first time, others for the first time in his new position of respect. He was lucky that he had not had much to drink that night, as he would never have been able to make it through while drunk. Surprisingly, Harry was doing a great job despite being completely plastered as a result of the drinking and drugging that occurred before the party.

While Harry and Mike were off hobnobbing with everyone Charlie cornered Eric Roth over by the band. Roth was rather aggravated, holding his drink glass tight enough that his knuckles were turning white. He was watching Lupo being welcomed around the room like a conquering hero and hating what he saw.

"What's wrong, Eric?" Charlie asked his old friend.

"Look at Lupo," he growled, "You should have let him go down, Charlie."

"He is a smug bastard for someone who came as close to the brink as he did," Bullock agreed, "But what was the alternative?"

"Northrup would have been better," Roth told him.

"You were the one backing him," Bullock nodded, "Weren't you, Eric?"

"I gave him my support," Roth nodded, "But I didn't know how cockeyed his plans were."

"I knew someone had to be behind him," Bullock said, "Why, Eric?"

"I never liked Lupo, you know that," Roth spewed quietly, "He's an arrogant prick that's full of himself. He took out Kirby for us, but goddamn it, there's a limit to how much..."

"Yes," Bullock agreed, "He's been riding on his laurels ever since he took over."

"And giving Barry the grunt work," Roth said, "It wasn't right. Barry should have been running the show."

"Maybe," Charlie acknowledged, "But I knew that. And if he'd just taken out Harry, he would have had it all."

"You wouldn't have fought it?" Roth asked, surprised.

"Of course not," Charlie said, "But Barry screwed it up and then did something that hurt everyone."

"But you let..." Roth started before Bullock interrupted him.

"I had already guessed everything Nester told us," Bullock said, "I let the kid continue with it to see how good he was."

"But why?" Roth questioned.

"Barry had gone too far," Bullock reminded Roth, "I couldn't let that go unpunished. If Harry survives it won't be because of his own talents anymore. It will be because Nester saves his ass."

"You can't be serious?" Roth said.

"Nester will never succeed Harry," Bullock said, "Elise doesn't think he's the management type."

"She'd know," Roth agreed as Elise Steele was usually right when it came to judgments like this, "What do you think?"

"We can always use good problem solvers," Bullock grins, "Let Harry go unchecked for now. He's hurt bad, but his power base is solid with Nester."

"What about Nester?" Roth asked.

"I talked to Freddie about him yesterday," Bullock said, "Max could use more people. He's letting me have Elise for a while so I'll put her on Nester to keep an eye on him."

Elise Steele heard this comment and walked over to Bullock and Roth, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of them. She looked up, crossed her legs and arms, and then smiled at them.

"You want me to look further into Nester; huh?" she asked with a smile.

"Don't hurt him," Bullock cautioned, "Just see where his loyalties lie. He's probably the best source you could get on Lupo's vulnerabilities right now. I want to know how much Harry is doing and how much Nester has to prop him up."

"Easy enough," she agreed, "Though it might be easier if you simply tell him the truth. Covert bullshit will probably do more harm than good."

"You think he'll go for it?" Bullock asked her.

"Nester is a cold blooded specimen," Steele told them, "He didn't help Harry out of loyalty. He did it to save his own ass. I'm betting that if you bring him in early he'll be more help than if you toy with him."

"She may be right, Charlie," Roth agreed, "You know my beef is with Harry himself, not Nester. It wasn't his fault that Northrup was an idiot."

"I still want you to get a little closer to him," Bullock told Elise, "Get a feel for the man, so to speak. Your report was good, but you still haven't met the man but once."

"If you like," she said, displaying a wicked smile, "It's been a while since I've had some fun anyway."

"Go ahead and talk to him," Bullock restated, "If you think he'll be amenable then bring him over here later and we'll talk about it with him, without Harry."

"Sounds fine to me," she agreed.

Roth and Bullock then began discussing some more mundane business, the type of thing that Steele had no patience for. She walked around the room, conscious of the dozen pairs of eyes following her every move. She had no particular desire for any of them, but she enjoyed the knowledge that people watched her that way. She knew she could take anything from any of them any time she wanted. Alas, there was only one set of eyes that she was looking for at the time.

Miller, in one of his Nester poses, was smoking a cigarette over at the edge of the room while watching Harry make an ass of himself out on the dance floor. Nester also took notice of the way that Harry's demeanor had changed. Harry had let go a bit, whether it was the result of all the alcohol or drugs or if it was just the fact that he was in a position to let it all out, Miller just did not know.

Miller hated parties, so he was very content to let Harry take the spectacle off him. He sipped a double vodka and looked around at the room. None of the women in the room really appealed to him at the moment, at least until he took notice of Elise Steele sauntering around the other side of the room.

Steele had decided that Nester was easily the most interesting man in the room. She did not have any qualms about playing with people under orders from above, but she had not prostituted herself since she was a teenager, a long time in the past. She had gone along with Charlie's suggestion because it gave her a reason to approach him. She knew that nothing lasting would come out of it, nothing ever did or ever could for her, but she had a gut feeling that he would be a good few hours in the sack if it went that far.

Miller walked over to the bar and had the bartender refresh the drink. Steele figured that she should at least go talk to him. Miller's eyes had not left her for very long, but he did not intend to rock the boat by approaching her. He figured that things were going just smooth enough that night that he did not need to chance it. Steele silently figured that fact out and slid in beside him at the bar.

Miller had watched her walk over and smiled a little, offering her a cigarette when he pulled out the pack. She wordlessly accepted and put it in her mouth elegantly. Miller pulled out his Zippo, flipped it open, and lit it one handed just as someone out of an old movie would have done. It was all he could do to keep himself from snickering at the comparison. He clearly saw in his mind the grainy film image.

"Thanks," she said as a slight smile hit her lips.

"I take it you work for Mr. Bullock," Miller said as he lit his own cigarette.

"Not exactly," she said, her diction showing education and care, "I work with him, but I don't work exactly for him. It's a complicated thing."

"I see," Miller nodded, remembering that she worked directly for the elusive Mr. Pena, "Well, I don't know what I can tell you about me, Ms. Steele. You seem to pretty well know the lot."

"Elise," she said as the smoke rolled off her lips, "Call me Elise. I never stood for all the formal bullshit that Charlie seems to love. Is it all right if I call you Ray?"

"It's my name," Miller shrugged, "Might as well use it."

She nodded and inhaled on her cigarette. No words were said for a few more minutes as they checked each other out. There was no doubt about the fact that she would be an animal in bed. Her clothes were from a decent designer, though not as ostentatious as she could afford. She was obviously not a teenager, as her body was well toned by hard work instead of youth.

Miller guessed her age to be probably around 30, though her 31st birthday had come and gone in the early part of the year. She took him in as well, noticing that he was in good shape, though unlike her he did not work out. She did not have to guess on much else, knowing that he was a few months short of his 32nd birthday.

"I was also very impressed with how you handled that mess with Northrup," she said, mainly to flatter him a little, "A professional job on the hit, though a little messy on Northrup himself. I'm assuming he didn't want to give up the girl?"

"He was rather unwilling to cooperate," Miller admitted, keeping his cool exterior intact, "I did what I had to do to get the job done."

"Harry was lucky you were there," Elise nodded, "Northrup would probably have won otherwise."

"Probably," Miller admitted, "None of us expected that Northrup would try anything that stupid though."

"True," she admitted, "He lost what support he had for the deal when he took the kid. Phony sentimentality aside, it was just plain bad for business."

"That it was," he nodded, "Lucky for me he screwed it up."

"Looks like you made out in the deal," she said, "Though there are some people wondering if Harry still has the balls to pull everything back together."

"I'm pretty sure he'll do just fine," Miller said, though he was wondering the same thing, "He and I have a lot of work to do, that's for sure."

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," She said to him, "But there's still quite a bit of concern up high about Harry."

"Oh?" Miller said, not really surprised by this, "Why's that?"

"Rumor out on the street is that Harry is using a bit too much of his product," she said as she brushed a finger down Miller's chest, "Harry's cavorting here could possibly be seen as possible proof of this."

"Harry is always like this," Miller shrugged, "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Yes," she agreed, "I can imagine. Still, interested parties have seen him acting much differently. You haven't known him as long as most of the people here."

Miller thought about this for a second. It would explain a lot. He had read all the police files on Harry Lupo before taking the job. He seemed like a much tougher customer on paper than he turned out to be in person. Steele was also right about the drugs, Harry was using practically every day. Just since his release from jail Harry had ingested massive amounts of cocaine.

"I guess that's true," Miller conceded, not knowing exactly what she wanted out of him.

"Enough business for now," she said, wisely deciding that he was becoming wary, "How about another drink?"

"I just refreshed this one," he said, "But I'll gladly join you with it."

"Russian Quaalude," she instructed the bartender, "Don't forget the crème."

Miller was impressed, the Russian Quaalude was one of his favorites, but he didn't think it would fit in with his character. She sipped on it delicately and started to walk over to the side, beckoning Miller to follow with a look and a gesture.

Miller picked up his drink and followed Elise to a table by the side of the room. Bullock had designed his party room well, with the tables off to the side just dark enough that you could see whom you were with. The desired effect of this being that nobody else could tell who was with whom.

"Nice spot," Miller said as he sat down, "Nice company too."

"Thank you, Ray," she said, "As I was saying before, there are some people who are worried about Harry."

"I figured," Miller nodded, "What can I do to help allay those fears?"

"Not my department," she said, putting her hand out in a stopping motion, "I'm just making conversation."

"Sure," he grinned, "I can think of more pleasant subjects to talk about though."

"I bet you can," she told him, "Though I'm sure that you would agree that actions speak louder than words."

With that she brushed her foot against the inside of Miller's leg. Elise Steele had over the years figured out that one of the things that turned men on quickly were gestures like that. Given her extraordinary height and long legs there were few men that she couldn't get a rise out of under a table.

"They certainly do," Miller agreed as he engaged in a game of footsie with this most dangerous woman, "And I'm certainly waiting to see what you have in store for round two."

"Ahhh," she said, pouring on the charm now, "I don't think that is something we can do in public."

"I realize that," he nodded, "As I said, I'm open for suggestions."

"Follow me," she told him, and got up after finishing her drink.

Miller stood up and downed the last of his vodka. He watched her walk for a second and then followed her, thinking that this could be a most interesting party. She led him slowly around the outside of the room and into a hallway. The dark hallway was the same one he'd followed to see Charlie the day before, though it was dark now.

The two of them retreated down the hallway until they were well out of sight of the party. She finally stopped and leaned against the wall. Miller, though out of practice, let his rusty instincts take over and moved closer to the woman. He noted that her pale skin contrasted nicely with the black of her hair and the dark setting.

Steele herself felt deliciously sexy in the surroundings. She had always preferred the dark, which was one of the reasons she had long since tinted her naturally dark hair to its current shade of night black. She waited and watched as Miller went over to her and looked directly into her eyes.

Miller was slightly concerned about the lack of life he saw in those eyes. Under normal circumstances, he would have run like hell from this woman, but there was something captivating about her. He tried to keep his wits about him, but the urges he felt were overpowering. She was pushing out the sexuality, just begging him to make a move. He put his nose to hers and returned her stare.

"You sure you are ready for this?" she asked him playfully.

"I don't know," he grinned, "Are you?"

With that she kissed him hungrily. It was more of an animal instinct with them. Far beyond the physical games that he and Jade had before. There was a power behind this woman, and it was a game to her. Unfortunately for him it was a game she played to win.

Miller was a bit overwhelmed by the power in this, but he stuck to his guns and gave as good as she did. He had the build and height to match her, and his kiss was just as hard and long as hers. He slid his hands behind her and pulled her into it with enough force to let her know he meant business as well. She had an inch on him, but he had an extra seventy pounds to use.

"Not bad," she said as she licked her lips, "How about round three?"

"If you think you can take it," he said, "You know this place better than I do."

She nodded and led him to an unused bedroom down the hall. Once inside with the lights all gone they tore into each other with reckless abandon. Miller managed to give as good as he got, but it was a tough fight. She was easily in better shape than he was. It was a constant game of sexual one-upmanship that lasted for over an hour before they both collapsed in a heap of sweat on the bed.

There was nothing even resembling affection about the encounter, let alone love. It was a raw sexual experience for the both of them. Steele, after her youthful years of being abused, no longer had the capacity for true affection. All she could do was attempt to make up for it with sexual satisfaction.

Miller was only able to hold up by sheer force of will and by the fact that it was exceedingly exciting. It was a type of sexual encounter that he'd never had before and one that he wasn't sure that he wanted again. It felt extremely good but was not even close to satisfying.

"Not bad," she said as she lit a cigarette afterward, "Not bad at all, Ray."

"I could say the same about you," he said as he joined her in the cigarette, "One hell of a workout, Elise."

Miller noticed that she shied away from any sort of affectionate caresses or kisses. It was beginning to dawn on him that she was only interested in the physical enjoyment of sex. That was why it had felt so empty for him, after months of being with Tracy weekly he was used to a little more out of his women. Even Jade was affectionate with him and he with her, though not as much as he was with Tracy. The vibe he was getting out of Elise Steele was one of a void, a true emotional black hole.

"We should take a quick shower and get back out to the party," Steele said, "I think you need to have a talk with Charlie before things wrap up for the night."

"Lead the way," Miller said.

"Sorry," she said, "That's one thing I do alone."

She stood up and walked into the bathroom. It was around the corner, but when the lights turned on Miller could see into the room via a dressing mirror. He then saw why she refused to shower with anyone. When her back turned towards the mirror Miller saw a multitude of thin white scars on her back, horribly marring what would have been a vision of beauty.

The scars, the result of a brutal series of whippings administered over a long period by her father, were something that she was extremely self-conscious about. She had sex only in dark rooms and tried to avoid having anyone see her naked, especially one of her lovers. She had learned long ago that letting anyone get close enough to see the scars was to let them get close enough to hurt her further.

Miller watched as she showered and then turned away as she got out. After she got out she turned out the light and went back into the room. Miller took his turn in the shower, noting that by the time he was finished she was already dressed again and that his clothes were on the bed waiting for him.

"Hurry up," she said, "The party will be winding down soon and you need to have a conversation with Charlie while Harry is still cavorting with everyone."

"Ok," he said as he dressed himself, "I guess he's the main one who's worried?"

"He's the most important of them," Elise reminded him.

"Gotcha," Miller said and silently finished dressing himself.

Her sexual needs fulfilled for the time being Elise Steele went back to her normal self, back to the ice woman. Miller followed her quietly back to the party, amazed at the way her manner so quickly changed. He knew that she was probably a pure sociopath, possibly even mildly psychotic. He hoped that he did not just complicate his job any further, though from the looks of things at that particular moment most likely he was only the toy of the moment for her.

The party was indeed beginning to wind down a little, though Harry was still out cavorting around with anyone who would dance with him. Elise and Mike went over to Charlie's table, where he was finishing a story to Max and Eric. It was a story that both men had heard several times, but one that Charlie loved to tell.

"Ray!" Charlie exclaimed, "Have a seat. Have you enjoyed the party? Been showing him around, Elise?"

"It's been an interesting evening," Miller said with a smile.

"It's been a good party Charlie," Elise nodded.

"Good, good," Charlie said, "I guess Elise told you that we're still a little worried about your boss."

"She did mention that, yes," Miller nodded, "Is there anything I can do to help allay those fears?"

"Keep me informed," Charlie said, "Now that you're taking over for Barry, you'll be the one delivering my cut of things. I want you to keep your ears and eyes open regarding Harry's condition. He's survived for now, but if things get worse I want you to tell me."

"In other words, Ray," Max said, "If he starts losing it, we need to know before he becomes a liability. We need to keep things quiet for a while. Good old Barry created a nice shit storm that we're going to be recovering from for months."

"I see," Miller nodded, "I'll do the best I can."

"That's all we ask," Charlie Bullock said, "Now you may want to go collect your boss before he makes any more of an ass out of himself."

"And Ray," Max asked, "Are you doing any drugs?"

"I've tried it," Miller lied, "But they just aren't for me. I'd rather drink."

"Good," Max Bullock nodded, "You may want to suggest that Harry slow down with them if he wants to stay where he is."

"I'll try," Mike chuckled, "But I make no promises on that one."

"Just so we understand each other," Charlie said, "Good luck, Nester."

"Thanks," Miller nodded as he went to pick up his boss, who'd collapsed on the floor.

"What do you think, Elise?" Charlie asked her when Miller was out of earshot.

"I think he'll play ball," she shrugged, "I give Harry another month, maybe two or three if Nester can prop him up. It all depends on how much Nester can handle and how big a rein he can put on Lupo."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Bullock said and watched the party end.

Miller went over to where Lupo had passed out and picked his boss up. He managed to secure some help in carrying Lupo out to the car, but after that he had no idea where to bring Harry. He decided that Harry could sleep it off at Jack's Place that night and dropped the still out cold Lupo off on the couch in the back room. Miller himself went home to rest; the night had been physically draining for him. Luckily Jade was already asleep when he got there so he could go to sleep without any interruption.

Chapter Twenty-Six – January 1, 2001 – Morning

Officer Entragian shut off the video recorder and labeled the tape when the food was brought into the room. Miller had been talking for over five hours, and they had still only covered through the end of June. The three of them ate silently, with Miller taking in a few extra cups of coffee to keep his body going. He had not slept for nearly three days by this point.

"Sounds like you weathered the storm well," Detective Stone said as he put down some bad fast food breakfast items, "Sounds like you were having some fun as well."

"Now for the important question," Entragian chuckled, "Who was better?"

"Jim!" Stone exclaimed.

"Fair enough question," Miller chuckled, badly needing the moment of levity, "Between us, it was a very different experience each time."

"Oh?" Jim asked, entranced by this.

McCord and Stone merely chuckled and were thankful the camera was off for a few minutes. McCord removed his tie and sucked down coffee as if it were going out of style. He did not like these emergency depositions, but at least Miller's story was interesting.

"Elise Steele was a purely physical experience," Miller continued, "There was nothing even remotely emotional about her lovemaking skills. It was as if I were having sex with a highly skilled robot."

"I can live with that," Entragian grinned.

"Shut up, Jim," Stone warned.

"Yeah," Miller nodded, "She definitely wasn't a wasted experience, but there's definitely more to be had. With Jade there was less skill involved, but more fire. The girl was passionate as things go."

"Still only a physical connection, right?" Stone said, understanding where Miller was coming from.

"Exactly," Miller nodded and fired down a lousy breakfast burrito, "Even after the truth was revealed and we were able to connect better intellectually there was still very little fire between us. She and I stayed together more out of utility than anything else."

"Tracy was where the fire really was for me. Even though I had to be with these other women for the job, there was a sense of reality between her and me. If there was anything healthy I've taken out of this fucked up year it's my relationship with her."

"I know exactly how you feel," Stone chuckled, "I was married for a while myself, didn't know shit about how things could be until I met up with Karen, long after my marriage ended."

Miller looked at Stone and wondered how this could be, as Detective Stone looked as though he could not be any older than thirty, and that would be pushing it. He shrugged off the thought and leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples with his one good hand.

Entragian finished his food and put yet another tape into the machine. He set things up again and they went into even more of the deposition. Everyone was tired, but they knew they had to get a substantial record of this down. A fourth pot of coffee was made to keep everyone awake. Stone and Entragian took their seats and continued listening to Miller's story.

"Anyway," McCord said as he finished his coffee and sat down again, "How did things go after that day?"

"Well," Miller said, "Things were quiet for a while. Harry and I went about rebuilding."

"You said earlier that Luponi was falling apart," McCord said, "Did he improve during that time?"

"Not a bit," Miller said sadly, "He was getting worse. His drug use increased, along with his paranoia. We were down several people by this point, but he wouldn't let me bring in new people to replace them."

"Who was left by this point?" McCord asked.

"Harry, Nick, Jamie and myself," Miller said, "Harry was the boss, at least as far as the public was concerned. Nick was our representative, the one who would go out on site and talk to everyone. I was the one who ran things, to the best of my ability."

"And Jamie was the idiot?" McCord asked.

"I actually found a job Jamie could do," Miller chuckled, "His job was to attempt to keep Harry out of trouble, especially in the later days. I would run around and try to keep the businesses we had running and try to establish new inroads."

"Try?" McCord asked.

"Like I said, Harry was falling apart," Miller said, "Instead of Harry dealing directly with Charlie's people I started doing it. That was his downfall. Eric Roth who never liked Harry to begin with, was letting other underbosses make inroads into areas that we should have had control over."

"They were grooming you," McCord said.

"Exactly," Mike nodded, "I was at Bullock's place at least three times a week, more towards the end. I was sitting well with both Bullocks and with Elise Steele's people."

"Did you ever find out who Elise Steele worked for?" McCord asked, "For the record?"

"Steele worked directly for Freddie Pena," Miller shrugged, "I thought at first I was being groomed for Pena's people, but it turned out that Bullock had other things in mind for me."

"They were both undercutting you and propping you up?" McCord said "That doesn't make sense."

"They were looking at me for other things," Miller said, "You see, it's strange how their organization works. In some ways it's exceedingly fluid but in others it is rigid. It requires a strong leader or it falls apart. Your subordinates can be very good at what they do, like I was, but if the leader is falling over on the job it's all over."

"You couldn't save him?" McCord asked.

"No," Miller chuckled, "I might have been able to, had I been a better businessman, but I'm a detective, not an accountant. I have no idea how to run a business, not even an illegal one. Harry was the one who knew that stuff and he was making himself even more stupid by the day..."

Chapter Twenty-Seven – August 17, 2000 – Afternoon

Miller was leaning against the wall holding his pool cue, watching Max Bullock take his shot. The afternoon game of pool had become a regular for the two of them ever since Miller had started being the liaison between Lupo's racket and the Bullock family. Max and Mike actually got along fairly well, to both men's surprise.

"How are things going on the home front, Nester?" Max asked Miller after he took a shot, sinking a striped ball.

"Not bad," Miller said as he watched Max line up his next shot, "Jade still lives with me in my motel, so I've got it pretty regular."

"I hear you've got a couple cookies on the side too," Max chuckled as he skunked his next shot, "Even heard talk about you and Steele."

"Ahhh," Miller shrugged as he lined up on an easy shot, "There's nothing serious there."

"Didn't expect there to be," Max nodded as Miller sank the ball, "Hell, if you've been with her more than once I'm impressed. Most men don't last that long with her."

"When you got it, you got it," Miller bragged, "Comes from clean living I guess."

"I take it you're not partaking in your product?" Max asked as Miller sank another shot.

"Gave up on it," Miller told him, "Someone has to run things with a clear head."

"Harry getting any better?" Max asked him.

"He's doing all right," Miller lied.

Miller silently reflected on this as he lined up another shot, this time on one of his two remaining solid balls. Harry Lupo had been falling further and further into addiction. His effectiveness was slipping to the point of being nonexistent. Miller was trying to take up the slack, but his management skills were not that great to begin with. Both Miller and Max Bullock knew that Harry's organization was falling apart. Mike took the shot and did little but moved the balls around.

"If you say so," Max shrugged, he knew better but knew that Miller had to remain loyal for a while, "Just keep doing your best."

"Will do," Miller nodded as he watched Max sink his remaining striped ball and set up for the eight, "Things can only get better, you know?"

"That's true," Max said as he finished off the game with a perfect shot to the corner pocket, "Anyway, you'd probably better get back over there and get some work done. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure," Miller said and handed over the pool cue and the usual 20 bucks, "Maybe I'll actually win one of these days."

"That's when I go ahead and teach you nine ball," Max grinned, "Elise is in town today. You might want to go say hello before you take off."

"Yeah," Miller chuckled, "See you tomorrow."

Miller walked through the now familiar halls of the Bullock mansion. He had become a familiar face for the people who lived there and, despite his position in the failing enterprise of Harry Lupo, was expected to be an up and comer.

Miller ran into Elise Steele near the door. She was her usual stern and dark self, wearing her usual black business styled clothing and ray ban sunglasses. She was carrying a dark briefcase and had the usual lack of expression on her face.

"How's it going Elise?" Miller asked as he approached.

"Not too bad," She said and walked on as she usually did.

Steele was a total enigma to him. He had three more encounters with her since that first time at the party, but he did not feel as if he knew her any better. She was cold as ice most of the time, and that day was no exception. Miller shook his head and lit a cigarette as he headed out of the mansion back to his car.

Having passed on his information for the day Miller headed back towards Jack's Place again. He knew where Harry would be, and it was not dealing with rebuilding businesses lost during the mess back in June. It being nearly three in the afternoon Harry would already be both very drunk and very high.

Miller parked in front of the bar and turned off the ignition. The stress was starting to hit him harder. He was the odd man out again, the only one who seemed to be able to see just how bad things were getting in the Lupo outfit. He looked around and rubbed his eyes a little, getting up the will to go inside and see Harry in his usual drugged up state.

Miller finally got out of the car and slammed the door. He walked in and pulled up a stool at the bar next to Nick who was sitting there looking glum. Jerry had long since recovered from his injuries and was running the bar again. After he had returned from the hospital, he spent an additional week recovering and then Jack's place opened up again for business as usual.

Nick was about halfway through a scotch and water and his head was slumped down a little like a dejected day worker drinking his problems away. Nick had become Miller's point man in dealing with the lower ranks of Lupo's tree, a job that he neither wanted nor was happy about doing.

The way the system had worked before Northrup's betrayal was Harry handled the higher contacts and Barry handled the lower contacts. Miller had been a spot troubleshooter to take care of what Barry did not have time for. Northrup's demise had left a hole in the operation.

If the system had worked as it was supposed to, Miller would have slipped in and Harry would have smoothed the upper wheels. Instead of that, Harry lost control and had been descending deeper into his drug-induced haze. Miller was being forced to deal with the upper levels directly and using Nick to help him deal with the lower levels. The toll was beginning to show on him.

"Bad day, Nick?" Miller asked as he ordered his now standard ginger ale.

"You ain't kidding," Nick nodded, "Reams is giving me shit about his percentage."

"That all?" Miller asked, "Hell, that's simple."

"Yes," Nick said, "I told him to talk to Harry about that. Thing is, I'm having the same conversation every goddamn day with different people. Nobody is satisfied, and I'm dead sure that nearly everyone is holding stuff back."

"I know it," Miller nodded, he'd been suspecting as much, "Unfortunately if you or I go in and look at books it's going to be resented and Harry is in no condition to do that."

"He's at it again, too," Nick said, "I'm not in the mood to watch him and Jamie get stoned."

"Have you been doing the drugs?" Miller asked, concerned about losing his one solid man.

"Not like Harry has," Nick said, "I'll do a line with him occasionally, that's about it."

"Stop," Miller asked him, "I'm not going to order, but I'm going to ask you as a friend. Don't do drugs with him anymore."

"You should know that's easier said than done," Nick said, "Christ, Harry is paranoid enough about you and me without that. Besides, even you don't dare to ignore his instructions yet."

"Fake it," Miller shrugged, "I haven't done drugs with him in months now. I will fake snort a line to keep him off my back, but I don't take it anymore."

"Where did you learn how to fake a snort?" Nick asked.

"MPs," Miller lied, "Here, let me show you how. Jerry, got any powdered sugar back there for drink mixes?"

Jerry nodded and pulled out a bowl of powdered sugar. Much to the bemusement of other bar patrons Miller spent the next few minutes showing Nick how to perform a fake snort like a professional. The general consensus in the bar was that it would be a waste of perfectly good drugs to do that.

"Just do that and Harry won't have a problem with you," Miller told him, "I want you to come out of this with your head intact."

"What does it matter?" Nick groused and lifted his drink to take a sip.

"It matters," Miller said and stopped him, "Jerry, get this man a ginger ale. He's on the wagon for a bit."

"You know something I don't?" Nick asked him, "It's all going to hell and then we're all in trouble."

"Stick with me," Mike told the wondering Nick, "I need you right now."

"You think you can pull Harry out of this?" Nick asked him quietly.

"I don't know," Miller told Nick, "But I think that I'll be able to pull myself out of this. If Harry goes down I'll probably find a position at the mansion. Keep yourself clean and I'll try to bring you out with me, ok?"

"Sounds like you're clutching at straws, Ray," Nick says, "Is that why you're up there all the time?"

"Part of it," Miller agreed, "Half-keeping myself in good graces and half keeping this operation from collapsing in on itself. I'm fighting a losing battle on that front."

"I know," Nick nodded and drank down the ginger ale, "Harry is expecting us. I guess we'd better go in there."

"Yeah," Miller nodded wearily, "We gotta go watch him deteriorate some more."

"Let's go, Ray," Nick chuckled, "He and Jamie are probably already shitfaced."

"Probably," Miller nodded.

Nick and Mike had Jerry refresh their ginger ales and went into the back room. As usual, Harry Lupo was stoned and having the time of his life. He had a hooker in each hand and a pile of cocaine on the table. If the police ever wanted to put Lupo and company away for a long time all they would have to do is raid the back room of the bar.

"Nick!" Harry exclaimed and stood up to welcome them, "Ray! Been wondering where the hell you two ran off to!"

"Had some business to take care of," Miller said as he shook Harry's hand, "Did you ever get a chance to talk to Matt Reams about coming up short in his percentage?"

"Fuck that," Harry shrugged it off, like he did whenever business came up in conversation, "Do a line and forget about it. Handle it however you like, but handle it tomorrow."

Harry himself had changed a lot in the past weeks. He'd dropped at least thirty pounds and looked much older than his 43 years. His eyes were rather sunken in and the wrinkles were more pronounced. His hair had even grayed a bit more in the weeks since his addiction badly took hold. There was no doubt if you looked at him. Harry Lupo was no longer the mob boss to be reckoned with. He was simply a drug addict to be pitied.

"Thing is," Mike said in a halfhearted attempt to get some guidance on business matters, "This is setting a bad example for everyone else. People are starting to think you are going soft."

"Soft eh?" Harry growled, "Do you think I'm going soft, Ray?"

Miller was stepping into it now. Harry's paranoia had grown along with his drug intake. The mess with Barry had warped his mind and Lupo could not even bring himself to trust Miller who was the one who had saved him from Northrup's plan. Miller had to back step a little from things to keep Harry from turning vicious on him. Lupo was unstable and Miller did not intend to get that instability turned on him.

"Me?" Miller asked, "Hell no. I'm just telling you what some people have been saying. I know better."

"How about you, Nicky?" Harry asked, his speech exceedingly rushed from the cocaine, "Do you think I'm going soft?"

"No way man," Nick lied, "You're as hard as a rock, Harry."

"Jamie?" Lupo put in, his sunken eyes shifting to the youngster, "Do you think I'm soft?"

"I wouldn't know," Jamie grinned, "That's between you and the ladies."

A fire burned in Lupo's eyes for a second and he finally reared back and smacked Jamie hard. He was about to follow the kid down when one of the girls screamed, bringing Harry back to reality a little. Jamie skidded back on the floor and put up his hands.

"I was just kiddin' Harry!" Jamie exclaimed, "You're not soft, never were!"

"You better believe it," Harry scowled and sat down between two of the willing ladies, "Crazy Harry is never soft, never will be."

Such was the way of the gun around Crazy Harry Lupo. It was a constant game of walking on eggshells with him. Miller gave up on trying to talk business that night and concentrated on just trying to get out of the situation alive. Nick and Mike made small talk and laughed when required at Harry's jokes. They both had to fake snort about two lines of cocaine to appease Harry's raving paranoia about his friends.

"Mike," Nick whispered to him while Harry was telling a dirty joke in rapid fire to Jamie, "Why does this all seem to be so stupid now?"

"Drugs are stupid," Miller growled, "This is what happens to people who do them. Remember that, Nick. Remember that always."

"What do we do?" Nick asked.

"Nothing," Miller whispered, "There's nothing you can do but grin and bear it."

Harry finished his joke to a forced bit of laughter from his three subordinates. Miller was counting the minutes until he could push his way out. He had an excuse that night, as it was his usual meeting night with Tracy. He badly needed to get away from the horrors of his life in the underworld for a few hours.

"Nester," Harry said suddenly, "How has Robbie been doing with his end of the business?"

"His is the only one we have that's pulling in the full amount," Miller said, "His is not the problem right now. We're having problems with Reams in bookmaking and Travis is holding back some of his girls, claiming he's making a lot less than he really is."

"Maybe he is," Harry shrugged, "Fuck it, let him ride."

Miller simply growled at that one. That was the same attitude Harry had with any business enterprise that was not directly connected with his source of cocaine. He did not much care that his empire, one he had been either building or scheming to take over for over twenty years, was crumbling around him. It was passing through his nose in the form of white powder. Miller did not know what irked him worse, the fact that Harry was crumbling or the fact that Harry was threatening to take his position down with it.

Come ten in the evening Miller had enough. He was ready to get away from the table of horseshit. He was set to meet Tracy in an hour and that date was looking better to him by the minute. Miller started to make his excuses and tried to get away.

"It's still early, Ray!" Harry exclaimed when Miller announced his intention to go, "What have you got more important than this?"

"Pussy, Harry," Miller grinned, "So, sorry to bail on you, but I thought you'd understand."

"Hope she's good," he leered.

"She is," Miller grinned and left the room.

Nick looked at Mike with a scowl annoyed that Miller was taking an early exit. He was getting increasingly fed up with the life he was leading. Nick was, for the first time in his life, beginning to believe that his life of crime was for the birds. He was also seriously beginning to consider looking for a way out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight – August 17, 2000 – Nearly Midnight

Miller pulled his red Mercedes into a parking spot at the hourly motel that he and Tracy had been using for their weekly rendezvous. He rubbed his temples again, an action that he had been performing regularly since Harry had started down the addiction spiral. After a minute, he finally stood up and went to the no parking sign, looking at the back to see the number 13 written with a grease pen.

Miller walked down the line and rapped on the door to room 13 in the prearranged code. Three, two, three, one. Tracy went over to the door and smiled as she looked through the peephole. These meetings tended to be the highlight of her week as well. She threw the door open and hugged Miller tightly, kissing him ostentatiously to satisfy any onlookers or observation.

That opening ritual observed they retreated into the room as Tracy closed and locked the door. She turned around and looked him in the eyes as they slid over to the bed. He kissed her again, this time slowly and tenderly. The stress of the week slowly slid away from both of them.

"You're late," Tracy grinned, "Hope you haven't been playing around tonight."

"If you call watching Harry snort dope and fondling hookers playing around," Miller grumbled, "It's getting rather tedious to see. Harry has lost interest in everything."

"Not getting any better, huh?" Tracy nodded, "Any inkling that the upper levels are going to do something?"

"Charlie is still letting things ride for now," Mike shrugged, "Eric Roth has evidently wanted Harry dead since well before Barry's plan flopped. Max and I are still getting on well, and that's probably going to be my saving grace. Right now they're letting Harry deteriorate and keeping the status quo until he fucks up seriously. As long as I keep the percentages going reasonably well they're not going to complain."

"How long do you think that will be?" Tracy asked.

"I don't know," Miller sighed, "I'm losing control of the lower ranks. I have to spend more time doing Harry's job than I am my own. Nick can only do so much to prop me up. That, combined with the fact that I'm a horrible manager, means that things are going to continue to spiral downhill."

"Lovely," Tracy said, "How about Jade? You still with her at all?"

"In and out," Miller lied, "She's still around and makes a good enough cover. Keeps me from having to lay those human Petri dishes that Harry keeps around."

"Believe me, Mike," she grinned, "I'm all for that one."

Miller kissed her again, and all shoptalk was done for a while. This was the normal way of doing things for them. They'd talk for a few minutes about the events of the week, and then they'd fall into bed for a while. Normally during a meet of this nature Al Martinez would be nearby to watch for trouble, but they knew that Miller was no danger to her. The nature of their relationship was pretty well known by both Eric and Al, and only marginally hidden from their boss.

Al Martinez had long been covering for them with Richter, though he was usually closer by than he let Tracy know about. Martinez had rented a room right across the compound on this night, though fun was the last thing on his mind as he watched out the window. He leaned back in the easy chair as the lights went off in the room across the street.

Martinez was surprised, however, to see a familiar car drive into the parking lot and park several spaces down. Tom Richter exited his old beat up unmarked car and walked directly for the room Martinez was sitting in. Al stood up and opened the door to let his boss in the room.

"What's up, Chief?" Martinez asked as Richter entered.

"Nice accommodations," Richter said as he looked around the room, "Reminds me of my days with the Gambinos."

"Nobody asks any questions around here," Martinez shrugged and slumped back down into the chair, "Perfect place for meetings."

"I know it," Richter agreed as he looked out the window, "What room are they in?"

"Thirteen," Martinez pointed out, "Right across the quad."

"How long have they been in there?" Richter asked.

"An hour or so," Martinez said as he checked his watch.

Martinez was hoping that his boss was not about to take a moralistic stance about Tracy and Mike. Al still was not quite sure how Richter would react, considering what had happened to Tracy the last time she had fallen for someone on the job. Richter, however, was not as clueless as Al and Tracy had attempted to keep him.

"How long have they been sleeping together?" Richter asked, "I'm guessing for quite a while, considering the meeting cover they selected."

"You knew?" Al asked, trying not to choke on his coffee.

"Not hard to guess," Richter chuckled and sat down on the bed, "I know Tracy, and I know what it's like on the inside. Miller is just her type and about the right age too. How long have you known, Al?"

"I never asked her directly," Martinez admitted, "I figured she'd tell me if she needed to. I didn't think that anything personal between them was my business. I didn't tell you that I suspected it because I didn't think it was germane to the job."

"You're right," Richter nodded, "I'm concerned, but not surprised. If nothing else it will make her do her best work to keep him alive. I just hope she doesn't have to go through a loss like Frank again."

"What brought you out here anyway?" Martinez asked, thinking now to wonder why his boss was there, "This is usually a fairly routine meeting for us."

"I wanted you to give a message to Miller," Richter said, "We've got a leak somewhere."

"How?" Martinez asked, suddenly very scared.

"I don't know," Richter replied, rubbing his graying temples as he spoke, "But we've had five undercover units shut down in the past week."

"Do you want me to pull him out?" Martinez asked.

"No," Richter said with a shake of his head, "He won't go and he's probably not in danger. Nobody knows about the Nester op except him and the three of you. If that had been pierced then he would have been taken out quick."

"Long term ops killed?" Martinez asked.

"Only one of them," Richter told him, "That's another reason I don't think Miller is in danger yet. Most of them were sting ops. I still am worried though. If he's in a position to find out about a leak, it could be important enough. I've got a team put together on thirteen to check everyone out."

"Paranoia time," Martinez nodded, "Well, we can call over there, but honestly I'd wait a while. Let them enjoy their time together first."

"Sure," Richter chuckled, "At least someone is getting laid lately. I sure as hell am not. I think I'm heading towards divorce number three."

While Richter and Martinez kept watch on the room Mike and Tracy finished their lovemaking and curled up in each other's arms on the old bed. Despite the dilapidated surroundings and the putrid smell of old sex that permeated the room, they felt quite at home and together in each other's arms.

"How long do you think Harry is going to last?" Tracy asked him as they lay together in bed.

"Not much longer," Miller replied glumly, "If his addiction doesn't eventually kill him Bullock will."

"That bad?" Tracy asked, "You'd think a man who knows the drug business as well as Lupo does would know better."

"It was Barry Northrup," Miller shrugged, "That mess just tore Harry apart, mainly because he let it happen under his nose. He had treated Barry as an equal, and it nearly turned out to be a fatal mistake."

"So you think he's trying to finish the job Barry started?" Tracy asked him, wondering which psychological term would fit that.

"Don't know about any of the psych bullshit," Mike told her, "But that may be the long and short of it. He started doing the drugs to forget. He just can't stop now. He doesn't care about anything but the drug end of the business, and even that he doesn't care about unless he doesn't get his drugs. His percentage of the profits has dwindled down to near nothing, and the rest of us aren't doing much better."

"Is he at least taking his whole crew down with him?" Tracy asked hopefully.

"He's not fucking Nick up that bad," Miller vowed, "I've got him off the drugs and working for me. Jamie is just as drug addled as Harry, but that just keeps him out of my hair. Jamie is better off with Harry than he is with me. Jamie and Harry will do drugs all day and give me time to go hobnob with the Bullocks and take care of business."

"Do you think the Bullock boys will do anything directly?" Tracy asked him.

"Right now it's a tossup," Mike said, "As far as I can see there are four real powers in the Bullock group."

"Who are they?" Tracy sat up and asked, curious.

"First off is Eric Roth," Miller told her, "The old accountant has had his fingers in various things for forty years. His word has sway, and he's vigorously anti-Harry. He even went as far as to clandestinely support Northrup in his bid to take over. If Barry hadn't taken the kid Roth would probably have been able to smooth over the failure and get it done anyway."

"Really," Tracy said, a little surprised by this, "We had no idea that Roth was still that far into things."

"The second power is Max," Mike continued, "Max is still inclined to support Harry, mainly because he likes me. He and I play pool and talk about things. He holds as much sway on the old man as Roth does. Surprisingly for a father/son relationship in this business, the elder Bullock respects the younger one. They make a good team and the old man doesn't dismiss the kid out of hand."

"I had wondered about that," Tracy said, "We've had reports about that before, but nobody could confirm the relationship. Nobody really believed it."

"Believe it," Miller said and reached over into the pocket of his jacket that was hanging on a chair, "Max Bullock will be running the show when his old man croaks."

"The third power?" Tracy asked as she saw Miller pull out a pack of cigarettes and light one up.

"Freddie Pena," Miller said and watched Tracy's mouth drop open.

"You've met him?" She asked him, surprised at that.

"No," Miller shook his head, "Haven't had the honor yet. My main information on Pena's shock troops comes from Elise Steele."

"You still doing her?" Tracy asked, though he could tell that she didn't want to know.

"I don't know what you'd call it," Mike said, "Be assured, there is nothing even resembling emotion in it. I think the woman is incapable of that."

"Just sex, huh?" She said.

Tracy knew that Mike had to be with other women to do his job. She'd long since resigned herself to his being with Jade and the occasional other woman. He had to fit in if he hoped to survive, and sex is a big part of it in that world. A man who does not get laid will never be accepted. That's why their regular meeting was never questioned, regular pussy rarely was.

Miller, on the other hand, knew that it had to hurt for Tracy. He was positive that she had not been with anyone else since starting up with him. He felt bad that he was not able to have the full on relationship with her that he felt she deserved. It was not as if he had anything close to a relationship with anyone else. Jade and he did little but sleep in the same bed since they realized each other's status and his encounters with Steele could be classified as little more than athletic events. Though neither Mike nor Tracy would ever bring the subject up it did create a void. It was sometimes a void that sometimes they had to try to fill.

"I know it isn't easy kiddo," Mike said, "But that's it in a nutshell. Sex could almost be too strong a word for what happens with Elise Steele. It's more like an athletic event with her, one that I could never hope to win. One that I truthfully don't care about winning."

"You don't have to justify your..."

"No," Mike interrupted, "I don't. But I want to. I want to because I love you, Tracy."

"You," Tracy stammered, "You do?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he said as he looked directly into her eyes, "You're the one piece of normality in my life, and one I sincerely wish I'd met before agreeing to this stupid assignment."

"You really think this would work outside of work?" She asked him, meeting his look directly.

"I think so," he nodded, "Though with the way both of us operate we couldn't have met anywhere else. I just worry that I'm not being fair to you with this."

"That's funny, Mike," she chuckled, "Here you are risking your ass and wondering if you are being fair to me. You know, I love that about you. You worry about me when you should be worrying about your own sorry ass."

"I know," he grinned, "But ever since the divorce... Oh hell, let's be honest, for the first time in many years I have a reason to worry about my own ass."

"Live through this," Tracy ordered him, "Worry about me after that. If there's a future for us, it'll be after you take down the Bullock crew."

"I agree," Mike nodded, accepting the order, "I just hope that you're here waiting for me when it's done. I just don't want you to pine away for me for the years it could take for this mess to play itself out."

"Don't worry about me," she smiled, "I'll be close behind your coattails. Don't worry about that."

"I won't," he said and they curled up together again, "I'm just worried about how the next few weeks will play out."

"One day at a time," Tracy whispered.

"My biggest fear is what happens when they decide Harry has to go," Mike said as he stared at the dirty ceiling.

"You going to lose sleep over Lupo's death?" she asked him.

"No," Mike said, "It's not that at all. I'm just afraid that they're going to ask me to pull the trigger."

"Ouch," she said, "That would be a nice career ender. I don't know if we could get permission for that one."

"I'm not sure I could do it if you did," Mike nodded as he rocked her in his arms, "I think I'd probably blow my cover first."

"Too bad you couldn't talk him into going state's evidence first," she chuckled.

Miller sat bolt upright at that. She was kidding, but an idea sprang into his head. He looked at her with a wicked smile, enough to scare her for a minute. He stood up and walked around the room for a few seconds as the idea came into focus, something not easy for his weary mind.

"You're starting to scare me, Mike," she said.

"Why can't he turn State's?" Mike asked as he walked around the room, "Why not?"

"Because this is Lupo," she said, "Not some idiot wiseguy. He's no Joe Valachi, he's not even a Sammy the Bull."

"No," he said, "But he may want to save his own ass enough if he can realize it through the drug haze!"

"You're insane, Mike," Tracy said, moving to the edge of the bed and dangling her legs over, "He'd never turn."

"He would with the right inducement," Miller grinned, "Say proof of a hit on him."

"It would expose you," she said, "As soon as he talked to his attorney you'd be fried."

"We also have the murder charge on him," Miller reminded him, "That videotape should be enough to get him to sing like a canary."

"Still the same problem," she said, "He talks to an attorney and you're a walking corpse."

"Not if he doesn't talk to anyone," Mike grinned, "We'll give him a choice. He cops to the murder at a reduced charge and stays incommunicado until the trials of his buddies, or we release him out on the street, just after the news goes out that I'm a turncoat."

"Intentionally blow your cover?" Tracy asked.

"It would speed up his demise," Mike told her, "And it would be a way of doing it legally. Lupo wouldn't fight that, if he did he'd end up in general population."

"How would you prove the contract?" Tracy asked, getting more interested in Miller's idea.

"I'd have to get Eric to rig a sound recorder," he said, "Something I could trigger quietly and that wouldn't be found in an electronic scan."

"We need to go higher up with this idea," Tracy said.

"Al still watching from across the quad?" Mike asked.

"Always," she grinned, "They worry about me, you know."

"I know it," Mike nodded, "Gotta protect you from the evil men in the world like me."

"Yep," she said, "Though we'll need a full team meeting for this. We'll have to get a hold of Richter too."

"So call Al," Mike chuckled, "Tell him to get Richter and head over here."

"Sounds good," she grinned and picked up the phone.

"Yeah," Martinez said as he picked up the phone, his accent mimicking a German and showing no trace of his background.

"We need a meet," Tracy said, "Tom too. How soon can you get him here?"

"Oh," Martinez temporized as he waved Richter across the street, "I don't know. What's going on?"

"The situation in Lupoland is deteriorating and Mike has a novel idea on how to handle it," she told him as Richter made his way across the parking lot, "So how long will it take?"

"I don't know," Martinez said as Richter got ready to rap on the door, "I'd say right about now."

Tracy was about to say something else when Richter knocked on the door, sending Miller about three feet into the air and scrambling over to pull out his gun. Tracy waved him off and dragged the phone to the door, looking through the peephole, and seeing Tom Richter's smiling face there.

"You son of a bitch," Tracy cursed, "Come on over here so I can deck you."

"Glad to be loved, Tracy," Martinez said between fits of laughter and hung up the phone.

"Hold on, Tom!" Tracy yelled through the door and then growled at Mike to get dressed.

They both threw on some clothes rather haphazardly and then Miller went over and opened the door, letting the two grinning police officers into the room. Mike and Tracy looked like a couple of teenagers that had just been caught by the girl's parents. Tom sat down in the lousy chair, and Al leaned up against the wall.

"I bet you weren't expecting this," Tom chuckled, "How are you, Mike?"

"Aside from having the wits scared out of my by that knock?" Mike asked, scowling a little.

"I'm sorry," Al apologized, "Tom had come to ask me to deliver a message and was still there when you called. I couldn't resist answering your request just a little faster than you expected."

"Next time," Mike said to Tracy, "We take my suggestion and shower first, then call."

"Prudent move, Mr. Miller," Tom grinned, "Don't worry about this though. As far as I'm concerned it's nothing more than enthusiastically staying in character. Is that right?"

"Sounds right to us," Mike agreed, "What is your message?"

"Keep your eye out for a leak," Tom said, "We've had several ops go bad in a row. Three people have been killed already."

"Who?" Tracy asked immediately.

"Proctor, Martin and Holden," Tom said.

"Damn," Martinez said, "Jimmy Martin was undercover? I thought he did strictly behind the scenes work."

"He does," Tom said, "That's why we're worried."

"They're hitting the support teams?" Mike asked, "How the hell?"

"We've got a leak," Tom repeated, "A bad one."

"You've got to pull Mike out then," Tracy said, "He's already got enough to put them away for a long time."

"No," Tom said, "He's high enough up that they'd have already taken him if they knew. He's safe."

"That's not very reassuring, Tom," Mike growled, "What are you doing to plug the leak?"

"I've got a full investigation going," Tom assured them, "But there is something I want you to do."

"What?" Mike asked.

"Keep your ears open," Tom said, "We think it's probably Pena's people."

"I can't ask about something like that," Mike said, "But I'll listen harder."

"Your operation is being severed from floor 13," Tom ordered, "Al, Tracy, you're to go up there and pick up what you need tomorrow. I don't want to see your faces in that building until Mike is ready to break cover."

"We can do that," Al nodded, "Eric too?"

"Him too," Tom said, "He can set the servers he needs up on a DSL line outside the department building. I don't even want Miller's email to go into the place. Officially, your operation no longer exists."

"That's comforting," Tracy muttered sarcastically.

"Eric is going to hate giving up his office," Al chuckled, "It'll take him a while to move the computers."

"He'll live," Tom said, "At least that's the idea of it."

They sat there and looked at each other for a minute. Mike and Tracy were still only half clothed, so Tracy got more than her fair share of looks. Despite the fact that she had not set foot in a gym since she went through training she still had the best legs of any cop they had ever seen. She was blushing at the looks when Mike laughed at the situation and drew a look.

"Ok," She said to all of them, "Enough looking at my legs."

"Yes," Tom chuckled, "Sorry Tracy."

"Mike," Al said, "What was it that you wanted a meet about?"

"Yes," Mike chuckled, "I guess we should get to that."

"Well," Tracy said, "Mike had a crazy idea. The crazy part about it is that it might work."

"What is it?" Tom asked, intrigued.

"Ok," Miller said, seating himself on the bed next to Tracy, "We all know that Harry has been deteriorating, at least you should if you've been reading my reports."

"Yeah," Tom said, "Word on the street is that he's using too much of his product."

"The Bullock clan is starting to get annoyed with him," Mike continued, "Eric Roth has been trying to get him pulled for months."

"Not surprising," Tom said, "Your point is?"

"He's going to go down soon," Mike said, "I can feel it. All it takes is for him to do something stupid."

"Go on," Tom said.

"Well, my current position is rather untenable," Mike continued, "I have a way in, but the odds are that if Harry falls I'm going to have to be the one to end it. It's well known on the inside that I'm the only thing keeping Harry from oblivion as it is."

"You think you'll be given the hit?" Tom said, "That wouldn't be good."

"It could be," Mike grinned, "It could turn out to be an unexpected prize."

"How?" Tom and Al both asked, "It would just add another murder for the defense attorneys to beat you over the head with on the stand."

"That's if I killed him," Mike said, "Tracy and I were talking earlier and it hit me. Why would I have to kill him?"

"Your cover would be blown if he showed up again," Tom said, "We couldn't cover something like that."

"Why not?" Mike asked, "It's easy enough. I get the contract and Lupo disappears until the trial."

"Habeas Corpus, Mike," Tracy reminded him, "You think his lawyer would keep his continued existence a secret?"

"No," Mike grinned, "But who needs lawyers? They just complicate matters."

"I hope you have an idea," Tom said.

"Ok," Miller replied, outlining it out for them, "First off I would need a deal authorization in place. Something solid."

"Easy enough," Tom said, "Though with what we have he's looking at serious prison time."

"By that point it won't matter," Mike said, "Because there's another part of the plan. I'm going to need Eric's communications mastery for this part. I need a small recorder that makes no noise whatsoever. Probably will have to be electronic, as tapes make noise."

"What for?" Tom asked.

"I'm going to record the meeting where the hit is called," Miller replied, "He might not believe me, but if he hears it from the old man's lips then he'll realize he's done for."

"You'll have to make the offer," Al said, "He'll know you turned."

"We can't threaten him into taking the deal," Tom put in, "If we do then it'll be tossed as soon as he reaches a judge."

"That's where the last bit of coercion comes in," Mike grinned.

"What would that be?" Tracy asked, still wondering about Miller's plan.

"Me," Mike told them, "He'll be given a simple choice. He can agree to the deal as stated without a lawyer, or he will be free to go."

"That could work," Tom agreed, "But how are you the coercion?"

"We tell him that if he walks out not only does he have the death sentence from them," Mike said as his mind put the plan together, "But that we'll blow my cover and file indictments. He'd be lucky to live a day after that news got out."

"You'll be risking your cover for that," Tom said, "Is it worth it?"

"Harrison Luponi testifying against everyone he's ever dealt with?" Mike smiled, "And without the stigma of a light sentence deal. It's worth the risk. Besides, if it works my cover will be secure, and we'll have corroborating testimony."

"I like it," Tracy said, "And the worst that could happen is we have a controlled ending to the mission."

"Beats letting Mike actually kill him," Al agreed, "This way we get some mileage and Ray Nester gets the credit."

"Let me look into some things," Tom promised, "I like the idea, but I have to see if I can guarantee isolation for him."

"Isolation and anonymity during incarceration," Mike said, "He can't see another living soul that we don't trust until I come out from under."

"It will take some research," Tom said, "How long can you keep Lupo's organization running?"

"A few days or a few weeks," Mike stated, "Your guess is as good as mine. If he doesn't do anything publicly stupid then at least a week."

"Keep him going at least until Monday," Tom said, "It'll take me that long to make initial inquiries."

"How do we handle the communications?" Al asked.

"Carefully," Tom said, "Very carefully."

"Anything else you think you'll need?" Al asked Mike.

"Luck," he said, "A whole lot of luck."

"I'll find out about the recorder too," Tom promised, "Al, I think you and I should get out of here. We've been here long enough."

"Ummm," Al said and then thought better, "Sounds good to me. Tracy, why don't you hang here for the night in case we need you to pass anything else on to him."

"I think I'll do that," she said with a wink of her eye.

Al and Tom departed quickly and went directly for their cars. They decided that Tracy didn't need a watcher that night and that Al's time would be better used separating the communications with Eric. They also realized that both Mike and Tracy could use some more time together.

"Just us again, Mike," she said as she let her clothes drop back onto the floor, "Shall we use the time well?"

"I can't think of a way to use this time badly," Miller said as he kissed her.

All thoughts of Harry Lupo, Tom Richter and dead police officers quickly left their heads as they kissed and slid back into the bed for a second round of vigorous lovemaking that actually managed to bother the neighbors for once.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – August 25, 2000 – Early Evening

Mike Miller spent the next week dealing with the status quo, fumbling through business matters and trying to keep the house of cards from falling down. His one contact with the support team came from a quick meeting between him and Eric Craig. Tracy had to skip the weekly meeting session because they were still having trouble with relocation. Craig had obtained a mini recorder that stored information on memory sticks. It fit in the palm of Miller's hand and could record through a jacket pocket if necessary.

On the evening of August 25th, Mike and Jade went to a decent Italian restaurant for dinner. They had been spending less time together and decided that they needed to give a kick in the ass to their respective covers by having dinner together publicly. She was wearing a nice dress that Miller had bought with what little he'd been getting out of the percentages over the previous months.

"You sure you can afford this dinner?" Jade asked him as they were seated, "I haven't seen much money coming in."

"I can afford this," Mike chuckled, "Though I'll be eating at the bar tomorrow."

"Figures," she chuckled, "How's it going?"

"I'm muddling through," he shrugged, "Harry is a pain in the ass though. I don't know how much longer this is going to last. I'm still waiting for him to fuck up."

"I hope you have a plan to deal with it," she said, then shut up quickly as the waiter approached.

"I'm Alex," the waiter said, "I'll be your server tonight. What would you like to start with?"

"Sprite for me," Miller said, "What do you want, kiddo?"

"Coke please," she said and smiled that empty eyed smile at the waiter.

"Sure thing," he said.

Jade waited for the waiter to go away before speaking again.

"Well?" she asked him, keeping an eye open to look for anyone approaching.

"I still boggle when I see you slip in and out of the stupid character," Miller chuckled.

"Second nature now," she shrugged, "What are you going to do? Wait it out?"

"Partially," Mike said, "We're waiting for Harry to fuck up. When he does, I'm going to try to get the hit on him."

"They'll let you do that?" she asked surprised, "We can kill in self defense, but a contract killing is a definite no-no."

"Who said anything about killing him?" Mike grinned, "I just want the contract to do so."

"I'm missing a step here, I think," she said and then shut up for a moment as the waiter put the drinks on the table.

"Would you like to order now?" the waiter asked them.

"Lasagna for me," Mike said, "Jade?"

"Salad and breadsticks," she said, "With that sort of red type sauce?"

"Marinara," The waiter noted, "Any appetizers with that?"

"Fried cheese," Mike said.

"It'll be out in a few," The waiter said and disappeared again.

"What are you planning on doing to Harry?" Jade asked quietly as the dumb act disappeared again.

"He's going to be given a choice," Mike grinned, "He can plead to murder and become a witness or he can be left to his own devices."

"That's going to be exposure isn't it?" She asked, surprised.

"Only if he doesn't bite," Mike grins, "Tom was skeptical at first, but he found that he can stow a prisoner away for a while in anonymous custody. He's certain that we can bottle Lupo up until my cover is no longer a factor."

"I don't think he'll willingly go to prison," She said, then went silent and gave a dumb stare to the waiter who put the fried cheese on the table, "You must have something else."

"We have video evidence of a murder," Miller grinned, "And we'll have a recording of the contract if it happens. Not to mention if he doesn't bite we'll put word out that both he and I are traitors and put him out on the street. He'll last about an hour after that."

"Sneaky," she chuckled "That could work. And you'd get the credit for his death too."

"A successful man never stops at merely seeking one advantage," Mike said and ate a piece of cheese.

"Nice," Jade chuckled and munched some cheese herself.

"Where have you been hiding for the past few days?" Mike asked her.

"Found a playmate that's got a spot with one of your competitors," she grinned, "So I'm doing some extracurricular intelligence gathering."

"Nice," he grinned, "Is he at least as good as I am?"

"Not even close," she smiled, "Why do you think I'm sitting here with you?"

They both had a good laugh at that one and finished the cheese off. The main course came, and they ate mostly in silence. They had found that even though they were in the same line of work they did not have very much in common. Their sexual relationship had ended when the façade did, something that neither of them particularly minded. It left her free to pursue extra information and left him able to spend most of his energy on Tracy.

Their conversation for the evening exhausted, they finished their dinner and left quietly. Miller paid the check and tipped well. He drove the two of them over to the motel room that they still shared. They went inside, and Miller sat down. He still worried about her, because Jade was still prostituting herself for information.

"Lisa," Mike said as he kicked off his decent shoes and put on a pair of sneakers, "Are you being careful about things?"

"You worried about me?" she asked.

"Of course I am," Miller said, "I do care, you know."

"Thanks Mike," she smiled, "No need to worry though. I know what I'm doing."

"You have anything planned for tonight?" he asked.

"Not yet," she grinned, "You want to fool around for a change?"

"Not really," he said, "Just wondering what you have going."

"Too bad," she said and slid into his lap, "It's been a while since we had a good night together."

"Yes," he agreed, "But doesn't it feel better to not have the bullshit?"

"I guess," she admitted, "I feel like a human being with you now. I don't have the pressure of having to constantly keep you aroused."

"It's not that I don't find you attractive, kiddo," he told her, "It's just that I don't think that we need that anymore."

"Besides," she smiled, "You've got your games with Elise Steele."

"Yeah," he agreed, "And that's about as emotionally stimulating as a blowup doll."

"A real ice bitch eh?" She laughed, "Why do you do her then?"

"Why did you do me?" Mike grinned.

"Point taken," she nodded, "We're not so different in that regard, you know."

"Never said we were," he laughed, "I want you to stick close for a while though. Not because of any bullshit morality or possessiveness, but because I want you to be able to get out quick if all hell breaks loose with Harry."

"Gotcha," she nodded, "You may be able to survive my cover going, but if your cover goes I'm toast."

"It's not fair," Mike agreed, "But it's the sad fact of the matter."

"I'll stick here tonight," she said, "You going to go to the bar tonight?"

"I have to," Miller said, "Harry's expecting me, at least as much as he expects anyone nowadays."

"Want me to go?" she asked, "Sounds like you need moral support."

"Too dangerous," he told her, "Harry's been getting a bit more violent lately. The coke is making his temper a lot more unstable, not that he was ever particularly stable in the first place. Two of his girls have gone to the hospital in the past two weeks."

"I think I'll watch a movie," she said quickly, "Good luck, Mike."

"Yeah," he grinned, "Have fun, kid."

Miller put the recorder in the inside pocket of his windbreaker and headed off to the bar. When he arrived there he walked in and was waved to the back. Jerry looked nervous, but Miller decided against getting a warning. He really did not want to know what was going on and figured he could wait until he was actually in the back room to find out.

Mike walked into the back room and saw Harry standing and not looking very happy. He was yelling at Nick loudly. Nick was taking the abuse as best he could and letting Harry yell. Miller could not tell exactly what was going on, so he sat down in his usual spot, hoping to defuse things a little.

"What's going on guys?" Mike asked as he sat down, "Problem?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Harry growled at Miller, forgetting about Nick for a minute, "You should have been here an hour ago."

"I took Jade out to dinner," he shrugged, "Why? Did I miss something?"

"Nick tells me that he doesn't have the cash I need," Harry growled, "Where the hell is my money, Ray?"

"What money, Harry?" Mike stood up and asked, "Hell, I've been scratching just to keep the Bullocks happy."

"Then, you need to kick them in the ass!" Harry yelled at Mike, "Why haven't you been doing that?"

"I can't!" Mike exclaimed, "I haven't been able to do my job and yours too! I don't know the police connections; I don't even know if they've been paid recently. Half of our people aren't paying their percentage, and those that are aren't paying as much. Business has been bad for them because the cops are hitting them harder."

"Who isn't paying?" Harry scowled as he sat down.

"Nick?" Mike asked him, "Did you manage to get anything out of Reams today?"

"He had a place busted," Nick said with a shake of his head, "He's refusing to pay until we get his people out, or at least get them some help."

"He is, is he?" Harry fumed, "We'll see about that. I've been cooped up here too damn long. It's time to go to work."

Harry Lupo was exceedingly high. Miller knew that this was not the condition that Harry should be in while dealing with people. Unfortunately, when Harry got to this point there was little to do but follow along and try to keep him out of trouble. Harry walked out the door with Jamie following him. Mike helped Nick up, and they looked at each other for a second.

"Harry is out of his fucking mind," Nick said, "Glad you got here when you did. I thought he was going to kill me."

"We aren't out of the woods yet," Miller said, "Come on, let's go find out where the hell he's going."

"Probably to go see Reams," Nick said, "Matt is pissed cause his people are still in jail."

"I'm not a miracle worker," Miller growled, "And it's Harry's own fault that this is happening."

Mike and Nick walked out into the bar proper. Harry was waiting impatiently at the door for them. They slowly walked over, hoping that they could head Harry off before he did something they would regret.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, "You two are slower than my grandmother, and she's fucking dead!"

Mike and Nick looked at each other, knowing that in his current state a worked up Harry could be nothing but bad news. Nonetheless, they followed their insane boss outside and watched him head to his car. Harry went straight to his car and was standing outside when Mike and Nick ran over.

"Listen," Mike said, "Why don't you let me drive, Harry?"

"Fuck that," Harry said, "I know where I'm going. You coming along or not?"

Miller was not thrilled, as Harry was massively intoxicated, but against his better judgment he got into the car, seating himself in the back seat, as far from Harry as possible. Nick joined Mike in the back, while Harry's new good buddy Jamie hopped into the front seat.

"Put on your seat belt," Mike whispered to Nick "And pray we don't hit a car full of school kids."

Nick nervously chuckled at that one and clicked his seatbelt into place. Harry fired up the large engine and squealed the tires as they left the bar. Miller's fingers gripped the handle on the door and turned white as Harry's erratic driving put them all over the road. He was just hoping that he would survive the accident that he was sure was coming.

Surprisingly, however, although there were a few narrow escapes, Harry Lupo managed to navigate the car to the house that Matt Reams and his family lived in. Reams was an abnormality among the men who ran the various enterprises under Harry Lupo. He was a dedicated family man, avoiding the drinking, drugging and whoring that were common among the lower ranks. His hours were well known; he was always home on Friday nights with his family.

Harry came to a stop on the lawn and climbed out of the car, his balance being slightly off from the sheer amount of drugs in his system. He pulled out a bottle and quickly did a quick snort before he went up to the door. Mike and Nick climbed out as fast as they could, but Harry in his chemically enhanced state was faster.

"Come on!" Harry yelled as he climbed the stairs.

Mike hurried on behind him as Harry started to pound on the door. Nick kept his distance and stopped Jamie as the kid tried to approach the situation. Jamie looked at Nick who simply put a finger to his lips.

"Let Ray handle it," Nick said, "Harry's a mite pissed. I've learned to stay out of his way when he's like that."

Miller, meanwhile, was attempting to calm Harry a bit before he made things even worse than they were. It was to be a wasted effort.

"Harry," Mike said, "Calm down a bit before he gets here, ok?"

"You don't refuse to pay!" Harry shouted as he turned and put a finger in Miller's face, "You don't fucking hold out on Crazy Harry Lupo!"

"What the hell is going on out here?" Matt Reams asked as he opened his door, "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"We have to have a little talk," Harry said, "Not going to invite your boss in?"

"Uh," Matt stammered, "Sure, boss. Come on in."

"Thank you," Harry growled and walked into the front room of the house, "Coming Ray?"

Miller nodded and followed Matt and Harry inside. Matt looked at Miller questioningly, but all Mike could do was shrug his shoulders. Miller had no idea exactly what Harry intended to accomplish except prove to his people that he'd lost his mind. Mike sat down on an offered chair as Matt and Harry still faced off.

"I hear that you aren't paying your share," Harry said.

"I don't have it to pay, Harry," Reams said, shrugging his shoulders, "I had a place busted this week. I've spent all the money trying to get my people out."

"You have, huh?" Harry said, "Bullshit! It doesn't cost that much to get people out."

"Things have been bad for a while!" Matt said, "Christ, when is the last time you spread the grease among the vice cops? They are hitting us hard! I haven't cleared, but a few bills a week since Barry's stupid play!"

"Well isn't that too bad!" Harry mimicked, not knowing how pathetic he looked, "You wouldn't be where you are if we hadn't let you have this concession."

"I worked for this!" Reams growled at Harry, "I worked my way up through the ranks. I did everything short of polishing Kirby's knob to get where I am and for what? To have it all screwed over because you haven't been doing your job?"

"I haven't been doing my job?" Harry fumed, "You're the one who can't pay his percentage, motherfucker! I'm doing my job now."

"Then get my people out of jail!" Matt yelled at Harry, "Otherwise I'm going to start losing people. If I start losing people, you start losing people!"

Miller was watching the confrontation with increasing discomfort. Matt was picking the wrong night to get balls and stand up to his boss. He was only doing what his people had been asking him to do for over a month, but Harry was not in a position to deal with it. Harry's eyes were almost to the point where they were bugging out of his head.

The verbal fight continued for a few minutes, with both of them letting out many years worth of tension out. Harry was getting more and more pissed. Matt didn't realize that Harry was beyond the point of sanity and was not going to let up. Miller considered trying to put a stop to it, but at the time he really did not want to get involved. Reams' family watched the confrontation in horror, three children hiding behind their mother.

"Harry, Matt," Mike said finally, "Try to calm down guys. I'm sure we can work this out some way."

"Oh yeah," Harry shouted, "I'm sure we can fucking work this out!"

"I don't know how!" Matt yelled, "You're too fucking strung out to see how big a joke you are, you fucking junkie!"

It was a hypocritical thing for Harry at this point, but he hated people who were strung out and being called a junkie threw him over the edge. Miller knew that Harry was going to lose it and lose it he did. Mike stood up and tried to pull Harry away, but his left foot was tangled in a child's toy that was at his feet.

"That's it!" Harry yelled as he pulled his gun.

Matt backed off then, realizing he had gone too far. His family was screaming and Mike tried to get to the gun before Harry could pull the trigger. He was nearly there when he tripped over a large Elmo doll, going head over heels between the two of them. Harry fired the weapon four times, all four shots lodging directly into Matt Reams's chest. He died instantly, as the second shot obliterated his heart.

Miller managed to right himself as Reams fell to the floor. The fallen man's family was screaming as they watched him die. Harry was about to turn on the family when Miller managed to get his attention away from them.

"Are you fucking crazy, Harry?" Miller yelled, "Leave them alone. You've already hurt them enough for one night. Let's get out of here before the police show up."

"Witnesses," Harry mumbled, his insanity taking a different turn.

"You think that four more bodies will make this go away?" Miller asked him, "Come on, Let's go!"

Harry nodded and came a little closer to his senses. Miller wanted to do something for the family, but he couldn't afford to stay any longer. He quickly wiped the arms of the chair and the floor where he'd fallen. Miller looked at the family and at the body one last time before following Harry out the door.

Harry fled into his car and started the engine. Miller ran like hell down the steps and got to the car as Harry was putting it into reverse. Nick had heard the shots and got the door open for Mike just in time. Miller jumped into the car as Harry tore up the grass trying to get out.

It took barely a few seconds to get off the street. Miller tried to shout at Harry, but Harry was in another world. He simply put the pedal to the metal and left the suburban area going around 90. Miller put on his seatbelt and gripped the handle as hard as he could.

"What happened?" Nick yelled to Miller above the screaming engine.

"Fucker messed with Crazy Harry!" Harry yelled.

"Harry shot him!" Miller said loudly to Nick.

Nick looked at Mike in horror and looked even more scared than he did that night in the Hispanic Drug House. He had followed Miller's example and buckled up. Jamie was fairly well oblivious to the proceedings, though what he did notice he liked. Evidently, he had taken even more drugs while Mike and Harry were in the house.

The car had several more close encounters as it hurtled through the city streets at roughly three times the limit. Miller shouted at Nick to inch towards the center. Jamie was hooting and hollering and Harry was screaming right along with him. This whole flight lasted approximately two minutes.

After about three miles, Harry's luck ran out. He ran a major intersection against the light at Third and Hobby. He dodged the first car, but the second car was going too fast to dodge him. A dodge minivan collided with the passenger side of Harry's old car.

The combined speed of the two vehicles, both going faster than the speed limit, was enough to spin Harry's car like a top. They came to a rest about thirty yards away from where the accident occurred.

Mike and Nick were saved by the seatbelts they were wearing. Harry hit the door at impact, but was saved by the fact that he was relaxed from his intoxication. Jamie, however, wasn't so lucky. He was at the position of impact and took the full force of it in his body, which was thrown into Harry's lap. His head hit the steering wheel and broke his jaw and took out most of his teeth.

"Did you get the plate of the truck that hit us?" Nick mumbled.

"You ok?" Miller asked him, not particularly concerned about Jamie or Harry.

"I'm alive," Nick said, "You?"

"Not sure yet," Mike said as he surveyed the area.

Harry was slightly injured, but not enough for him to notice. He pushed Jamie's limp form off him and opened his door. He saw the van and ran over to it. He was pissed and his adrenalin rush had caught up with the drugs in his system. What little rationality that he had before the crash was knocked right out with it.

Miller looked out his window and saw Harry outside and about to go for his gun again. Nick was still oblivious to what was going on. Mike tried to open his door, but the crash had wedged it shut. Miller shouted at Nick to open the door. He could not hear what Harry was up to, his ears were ringing from the crash, but he knew it could not be good.

Nick was unable to comprehend Mike's instruction immediately. Mike decided to ignore Nick for a second and climbed over the seat, going out the same door Harry had gotten open. Miller was out onto the pavement in a second and trying to figure out where Harry had gone. It took him only a few seconds to see Harry and the driver from the minivan arguing.

Miller had already seen the results of one of Harry's tirades this night. He had no urge to see another. Unfortunately, Harry already had his gun out. Miller could not hear what was being said, but in a split second it did not matter anymore. Harry shot the man he was arguing with in the head, splattering his brains against the minivan.

Harry did not stop there, though. He went to the minivan and systematically shot the three other people inside. They were all college students from a nearby university, out for a night on the town. The only thing they had done to deserve their death sentence was to have the misfortune to be the one to hit Harry Lupo's car, despite the fact that he was at fault.

Miller ran over to Harry and took his gun away. Harry was furious for a second, but Miller managed to stare him down. Nick was out of the car by then and ran over to help Mike with Harry.

"Did he kill them all?" Nick asked as Mike and Harry walked closer to the car.

"Yes," Mike nodded, "We've got to get him out of here."

"Will the car run?" Nick asked, "And Jamie is hurt bad. May even be dead."

"Good," Miller growled, "Get Harry into the back. I'll check the tires and try to get that wreck out of here."

"Gotcha," Nick nodded.

Harry was rather docile as the realization of what he had done hit him. Miller ran to the car and checked the accident area. The old dodge chassis that he'd had since the Northrup Mess actually managed to survive the crash. It wasn't going to run for long or very fast, but it would be able to take them away. All Miller had to do was kick in a piece of metal around the right front wheel well to get it mobile.

Nick had herded Harry into the back and sat there with him. Miller pushed Jamie further over onto the seat. He restarted the engine and managed to work the ailing vehicle into first gear.

Startled onlookers watched as the car drove off at a solid 30 miles an hour. Miller knew that they would all be identified, though Harry would be the one wanted for murder. This was going to be the final straw for him. Miller knew that the termination order would come for Lupo once he relayed the facts to the Bullock clan. He just had to figure out what to do in the meantime.

"Nick," Mike said, "Check Jamie out and see if he's still alive."

"Shouldn't we ditch this car first?" Nick asked in panic, "I could care less if Jamie survived this!"

"I'm working on that," Mike said as he looked around, "Do we have a junkyard or a garage around here?"

"Jake's is about two blocks down," Harry said, "Get a move on."

"I'm going," Mike snapped at Harry, "Nick, check Jamie to see if he has anything in his pockets and while you're at it see if he's breathing."

Nick did so while Mike pushed the car to the limit to get to Jake's Garage. The beat up machine was nearly on its last gasp when he rolled it into the parking lot. He managed to drive it behind the building out of sight.

"I can't tell if he's alive or not," Nick said and handed a white bag to Mike, "He's got a good stash of coke on him though."

"All yours Harry," Mike said and tossed the drugs to him, "Do you own this place?"

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, "Been using them to funnel cash for years."

"Nick," Mike said, "Go see if anyone is here. If not, jimmy the lock and get the keys to the tow truck."

Nick nodded and went off to the building. Miller then took a good look at Jamie for the first time. The kid was in bad shape. He had taken the brunt of the force of the accident, and it showed. From the looks of things, he was thrown into the steering wheel headfirst. Jamie's head was a mass of blood and contusions. Miller felt for a pulse on his neck. Finding none he looked up at Harry who was busy taking a heavy hit of the kid's stash.

"Is he gonna make it?" Harry asked Mike.

"He's dead," Miller growled, "People seem to have a habit of dying around you tonight."

"Fuck it," Harry shrugged and offered the bag, "Do you want to do some blow?"

"No!" Miller fumed, "I don't want to do any fucking blow! You are fucking insane, do you know that Harry?"

"You know what you need," Harry grinned as if Miller was sitting calmly next to him, "You need to relax and have some fun. Do some blow."

Miller had to fight hard to resist the urge to kill Harry right then and there. Instead of pulling his gun like he wanted to he got out of the car and went to see whether Nick needed help. Sure enough Nick was trying to pry open the door in the back of the garage. Everyone had gone home for the evening.

"Get out of the way," Mike growled.

Nick, realizing that his friend was pissed stepped back and offered the piece of rebar he was using for a crowbar to Miller. Miller passed and lined up with the door, letting out a professional police kick just to the left of the lock area. The door flew open as the lock splintered under the force. Miller walked inside and started searching for the keys to the flatbed tow truck.

"What do you want me to do?" Nick asked.

"Keep an eye on Harry," Miller growled, "If he tries to wander off come get me. I'll fucking shoot him now."

"Right," Nick said and backed off, realizing that Miller was exceedingly pissed.

Miller found a set of keys and went out front to the tow truck. He started it up and drove it around to the back, lining it up with the car. He'd decided that he wasn't going to dispose of the car, but pass it on to the support team to bottle up for future evidence.

Nick and Harry were standing outside of the car, but only Nick lent a hand in getting the chains set up. A few minutes later the car was securely tethered onto the tow truck. Miller got into the driver's seat and was quickly followed by Nick and Harry. Harry sat in the middle, mainly to keep him from jumping out. He was even higher than he had been before.

"Nick," Mike said, "Go to the convenience store and get a case of beer. Hurry up before the cops start nosing around here."

Nick was not sure what Mike had in mind, but he hopped out of the cab and ran to the convenience store next door. He bought a cold case of beer, a cooler, and a pound of ice. He put it all together and dragged it to the cab of the tow truck. He climbed in and put the beer cooler on the floor.

"Have a drink, Harry," Mike said as he started the tow truck, "It's time for you to party. It's been a long night."

"Fuckin' A!" Harry yelled and tore into a beer.

Nick looked at Mike, who simply shrugged it off. He was trying to keep Harry docile long enough to figure out where to go from there. Miller drove the tow truck as far away from third Street as he could manage, sticking to the side roads so no cops would take notice of the car. He finally pulled to a stop in an alley about three miles away.

"Time to get out, boys," Mike said, "Time to lay low for a bit."

"Here?" Harry asked.

"There's a motel across the way," Mike said, "I'm going to go get a room. I'll come back and get you."

Nick did not look happy as Miller left, but said nothing. He simply passed Harry another beer. Mike walked across the street and went to the office of the cheap motel. He donned a Russian accent and asked for a room. He paid cash in advance and got the card key. He signed his name as a scrawl and mumbled a few Russian sounding syllables for the clerk.

He walked out and saw a couple of prostitutes walking across the street. Mike went over to them and offered to hire them both for a party. It having been a slow Friday night for them they readily agreed and followed Mike to the room. He let them in and said he would be back with the party in a few minutes.

Mike walked back across the street to the tow truck and opened the door. He grabbed the cooler and hopped back out.

"I've got a surprise set up for you two across the street," Mike said with a smile he didn't feel, "Come on!"

Nick looked skeptical, but Harry was not worried at all. They followed Mike across the street and to the outlying room that Miller had installed the whores into. He opened the door and put the cooler down on the end table.

"Come on in, guys," Mike grinned and pointed to the girls, "Ladies, I want you to take care of this man here. He's been a very naughty boy tonight, so he needs to be punished."

"I think we can handle that," one of them giggled, "Come on over big boy!"

Harry went over and was himself with the women. Mike and Nick went outside while Harry started the games with the women. He did not even notice that Mike and Nick had left the room.

"What's the plan?" Nick asked, "And why are you rewarding him for this?"

"Reward nothing," Mike grinned, "I wouldn't consider those human Petri dishes a reward. Besides, the goal right now is pacification. If he's busy fucking those two and drinking heavily he can't cause any more damage."

"That works," Nick said, "But what about the cops?"

"Harry has pulled his final boner," Mike growled.

"You think Charlie is going to pull the plug?" Nick asked, horrified at the thought.

"He's an idiot if he doesn't," Mike said honestly, "He won't care about the people being dead, but he'll care about the heat that this will bring."

"True," Nick said, "Much as I love Harry, he's gone too fucking far this time."

"No shit," Miller said, "Keep an eye on him. Stay here for the duration. I figure the beer and whores will keep him happy for the rest of the night. Just make sure the girls keep working on them. Do you have money?"

"Enough," Nick said, "You going to tell Charlie now?"

"I'll hit Max first," Mike said, "But I gotta dispose of that car before I do anything."

"Do I have to stay here?" Nick asked.

"Yes," Mike nodded, "For God sakes make sure he doesn't leave. I should be back in a few hours."

"Make it quick," Nick implored him, "I don't know how long I can take this."

Mike clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder and headed off. Before going back to the tow truck Miller stopped at a pay phone in the parking lot to make a quick call to the support team to give them a heads up on what was going down. Miller wanted them to get the plan into action in case he did get the contract on Lupo. Eric Craig answered the phone on the first ring.

"American Impress," he said, "Fine dining and no credit limit at only 41%."

"Funny," Miller said, "I'm in no mood for clowning right now. Who's around?"

"Tracy is on the couch," Eric said, "This about Reams?"

"And five other corpses," Mike said, "I want you to put operation Lupo into action."

"Shit!" Eric said, "We thought Lupo might have done in Reams, but he killed those kids out on third and Hobby too?"

"You got it," Mike growled, "I've got Harry bottled up for now, but I need to get things rolling. Got the place ready?"

"We have the place," he said, "But it's not wired yet. Tracy wants to know where the fifth corpse is. Only four died out on the street."

"Jamie was killed in the crash," Mike said, "Where is the place?"

"A barn just outside of town on Rt. 32," Eric said, "The old Steinway place that the city took over last year."

"Get Tom out there," Mike said, "I know where it is and I'm going to bring the car out there."

"We'll talk there then," Eric said and rang off the line.

Miller went back to the tow truck and quickly drove towards the outskirts of town while wondering just how things were going to go from here.

Chapter Thirty – August 25, 2000 – Late Evening

Mike pulled into the badly kept dirt driveway at the Steinway Farm. Forty years before the Steinways were the largest farming family in the county. The modern world has taken its toll however, and the farm has long since been divided among the corporations and other users. The old farmhouse on the edge of town had passed through the family until the last Steinway died in the mid 90's. The city had taken possession of the land at that time and it had sat idle ever since.

Miller drove the tow truck to the barn and looked to see whether anyone else had made it there before him. He saw that the barn door was open, so he pulled up inside to get the car out of sight. The city had been using the Steinway property as storage for heavy machinery for about two years. In the winter someone stayed in the farmhouse so that a plow would be able to get started fast after a snowstorm.

Miller pulled the truck to a stop and got out. He stretched out and lit a cigarette while waiting for someone else to show up. He did not have to wait long before a beat up Neon pulled into the driveway and came to a stop in front of the barn. Tracy emerged from the beat up vehicle and looked around. Mike stepped out of the shadows and went over to her.

"Mike!" she said, "You ok?"

"Sure," Miller growled, "I've only seen Harry kill five people tonight."

"Where is he?" Tracy asked, backing off the subject.

"I stashed him in a motel with a couple hookers," Miller told her, "Nick is keeping an eye on him. The beer and hookers should keep him docile for the rest of the night."

"I just hope tonight's events don't queer the deal Tom put together," She said.

Mike nodded and tossed his cigarette into the dirt. She moved closer to him, and he pulled her close. Miller was glad that she had managed to show up first. He was tense, and he was scared. The next few hours were going to be tough ones on him. He knew that he had to play things carefully, or the whole house of cards could come tumbling down on him.

"I don't have much time, Trace," he said, "I need to go see Max Bullock."

"I figured," she said, "That's why I came out here first to meet you. I figured you would need a car and to get out quick. Is that what's left of Harry's car?"

"That's it," Miller nodded.

Tracy left Miller's arms and pulled herself up onto the bed of the tow truck to look. Miller leaned against a bulldozer that was in the barn and lit up another cigarette as Tracy marveled at the damage on the car. The passenger side was a mangled hunk of metal, and it was by the simple fact that Miller had been as far away from the door as he could manage that he wasn't hurt. The only reason for that was that the brunt of the impact was taken into front door and not into the rear. Jamie Bullock didn't die of the impact as much as getting thrown into the steering wheel.

Miller had actually managed to forget that Jamie's body was still in the car. At least he did until Tracy opened the driver's side and the dome light illuminated the bloody body that was still in the front seat. Tracy screamed and backpedaled out of the car and onto the bed of the tow truck. Mille immediately realized his oversight and got behind her to catch her when she fell.

Tracy was annoyed by the fact that Miller managed to make the catch easily, without even losing the cigarette that was dangling from his mouth. The look she gave him after that could have melted ice.

"That wasn't funny, Mike," she said, "Who the hell is that?"

"Jamie," Mike said, "I'd almost forgotten he was in there."

"Killed in the crash?" she said, "How the hell did you get out unharmed?"

"Seat belt," Miller said as he put her down, "I was wearing one, he wasn't. I think he broke his neck on the steering wheel."

"Ouch," she said and then thumped Mike, "Don't do that to me again, Buster!"

"Got it," Mike chuckled, "Now the fun part is coming up. I have to go tell the Bullocks what happened."

"How are you going to handle it?" she asked as she went out and sat on the hood of the Neon.

"I'll go to Max first," Mike said, "He'll kick it up the line. I'll probably be brought in because I'm in good with Max and because I'm the reigning expert on all things Lupo."

"Think they'll give you the hit?" she asked, "Or dish it off onto Pena?"

"Don't know for sure," he shrugged, "Only one way to find out."

"We'll set up anyway," she nodded, "Call this cell when you're on your way or to call us off."

"I will," Miller nodded, "I just need to find a way to get there."

"Take this car," she grinned, "I pulled it out of impound a week ago for cover purposes. No marks on it. Should serve you for the night."

"That works," Miller nodded, "I'll either bring it back or abandon it later."

"What do you want us to do with Jamie's body?" she asked, "Let it turn up mysteriously in the Morgue?"

"Let's put him into the trunk," Mike said, a look of distaste forming, "I don't want to try to explain that. I'll either bring him with me or dump him."

"Either way," she nodded, "Let me find a pair of gloves,"

She found two pairs of gloves and tossed one set over to Miller. They were slightly small for him and about two sizes too large for her. She popped the trunk on the little car, and they went up to the Tow Truck again. Miller climbed onto the bed and pulled Jamie out by the arms. Luckily the body was not very heavy so it was not difficult to move.

Tracy took the feet, and Mike took the brunt of the weight, jumping down onto the dirt floor of the barn. As he jolted onto the ground Mike lost his grip on the body, with the result being that Jamie thumped hard onto the ground. Tracy gave Mike a harsh look, and they picked him back up again, this time dumping him unceremoniously into the trunk.

It was at this most inopportune moment that Tom Richter managed to drive up and pull in beside the little Neon. He got out of his car and walked over to his two employees, giving a careful glance at the body in the trunk.

"Something I should know about?" Tom asked them casually.

"Jamie Bullock," Miller shrugged, "He died in the crash. Still trying to figure out what to do with him."

"Take him home," Tom said, "Get him out of here."

"That's the plan," Mike nodded, "I'm sure Charlie is going to be a mite pissed that Jamie is dead, but that responsibility will fall on Harry too."

"You think this will work?" Tom asked to see whether Miller had confidence in his own plan.

"Depends on if they dump this on me like I think they will," Miller shrugged, "But the longer I wait the longer you have to wait."

"Then get moving," Tom grinned, "We'll be here all night. And here, take these."

Tom tossed Mike a set of handcuffs, complete with keys. Miller nodded and hugged Tracy before he left. He pulled the little car out of the drive and headed back onto the highway to go ruin the nights of several powerful men. Tom and Tracy stood there and watched him as he drove away, wondering if Mike would be able to pull this harebrained scenario off.

"Think he has a chance in hell?" Tracy asked.

"I hope so," Tom said, "It would be nice to get a fish as big as Harry Lupo. He might have fallen from grace, but he's been around long enough that he'd unlock a lot of puzzles. He'll probably be testifying in trials for the next ten years for both us and the feds if he turns."

"I just hope we can keep the bastard contained," Tracy said, "I'm still worried about Mike."

"He's one of the best we've had," Tom said, "He'll get out when it's time."

"That's what we thought about Frank," Tracy said as she looked at her boss, "We didn't find his remains for over a year."

"Miller is smarter than Frank ever was, kiddo," he told her, "Don't ever forget it. Now come on, we've got some work to do before Eric and Al get here."

With that they went into the barn to figure out where to set up for the impending arrival of a monster.

Chapter Thirty-One – August 25, 2000 – Late Evening

Miller pulled the Neon up to the front gate of the Bullock mansion. Standing watch outside the gate, much to Mike's surprise, was Matt D'Antoni. Miller came to a stop and waited for Matt to come over and let him into the gate. D'Antoni was surprised to see Miller there so late in such a piece of shit car.

"Ray," Matt said, "Why are you driving that thing?"

"Long story," Miller shrugged, "Who did you piss off?"

"Huh?" the bodyguard asked.

"Why are you working the gate so late?" Miller clarified.

"Going out with Max in a bit," D'Antoni chuckled, "Marco is working the gate tonight, but he had to take a monster shit and asked me to watch the gate for him for a little bit. You going with us tonight? Max is planning on hitting the clubs tonight."

"I don't think he's going to make it," Mike said.

"Oh?" Matt asked, confused.

"Let me put it this way," Miller said sadly, "After I ruin Max's night, we're probably going to go ruin Charlie's."

"What happened?" Matt asked, "Harry pull something?"

"Did you hear about the murders?" Miller asked.

"The ones at the intersection on Third?" Matt said, "Someone went nuts and killed four people after an accident. Why?"

"That someone was Harry," Miller stated flatly.

"Oh shit," Matt said, "He did?"

"Yeah," Miller nodded, "About five minutes after offing Matt Reams in front of his fucking family."

"Go on in, Ray," Matt said, "You know the way up to Max's apartment?"

"I know it," Miller nodded, "Catch you in a bit."

"I'll be up after Marco comes back," Matt said, "You may want to give Tony a heads up on this too."

"After I tell Max," Miller said as he drove the Neon through the gate.

He parked the piece of junk car in the same place he usually did and walked up to the house. Fat Tony was sitting talking to a man in a black suit whose name Miller hadn't heard yet. Tony waved to Mike and Mike walked over.

"Max still here?" Miller asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, "Go on upstairs. He expecting you?"

"No," Mike said, "And he won't be particularly happy to hear what I'm going to tell him either."

"What?" Tony asked.

"You'll hear in a few minutes," Miller said glumly, "I don't want to tell it a dozen times."

"Gotcha," Tony said, understanding, "Harry again?"

Miller nodded and made his way to the familiar set of stairs. He climbed up and went down the hall to the separated apartment that Max Bullock called home. Mike rapped on the door a few times and waited for an invitation, one that came quickly.

"Ray!" Max said as soon as he saw who it was, "I forgot to ask you this afternoon if you wanted to go tonight. Someone else clue you in?"

"That's not why I'm here, Max," Mike said, "I've got some news for you and you're not going to like it."

"Oh?" Max said and looked hard at Miller as he wasn't used so seeing the man like this. Mike actually looked bothered, which was something he usually avoided looking like around the Bullock place.

"Sit down," Mike said.

"What did Harry do this time?" Max said.

"He murdered Matt Reams to start with," Mike said.

"So that was Harry huh?" Max said, "I heard that on the TV a few minutes ago."

"What they probably didn't tell you was that Harry shot Reams in front of his whole family," Mike said, "Over a missed percentage."

"Was he skimming?" Max asked, alarmed at this.

"No," Mike said, "Matt had nothing to pay. Harry hasn't been paying his cops, and a bunch of Matt's people took the hit. Reams had been spending money to get them out."

"Shit," Max said, "That asshole. Anything else?"

"If it had just been that would I be here?" Mike said honestly.

"Of course not," Max frowned, "What else did he do?"

"Third and Hobby," Miller said, "Ring any bells?"

"Son of a bitch!" Max exclaimed, "He didn't?"

"He did," Miller confirmed, "About five minutes after Reams."

"Son of a bitch!" Max exclaimed again, "Why the hell didn't you stop him?"

"How could I?" Miller asked, "I was in the back passenger seat during the accident. By the time I realized that Harry had left the car it was too late. I went out and took his gun away and got him out of there. What else could I do?"

"You should have shot him there," Max growled.

"Came this close, Max," Miller said as he held his thumb and forefinger close together, "But Harry is the boss. I can't do that without permission, you know that."

"I know," Max said, letting his head go down on the table, "Please tell me you've bottled him up where the cops can't get him."

"Put him and Nick in a motel downtown with a couple whores and a case of beer," Miller informed him, "Nick has strict instructions to keep Harry there and drunk until I get back."

"Good man," Max nodded appreciatively, "Did Nick have anything to do with this?"

"No more than I did," Miller told him, "He's a good kid. I don't know if I'd have been able to keep things going this long without him."

"You know what Eric is going to ask for this time don't you?" Max asked Miller.

"Harry's head on a platter I'd imagine," Miller said, "After tonight, I don't think I'd fight the resolution as long as my head doesn't go on the block too."

"I'll protect you as best I can," Max promised, "You think you're up to taking Harry's place?"

"What place?" Mike asked, thinking quickly, "There's nothing left. After what he did to Matt Reams there will be a full revolt if something isn't done."

"You know," Max said, thinking aloud, "I could use you here. I've never asked cause Harry needed you. Well I don't think he'll need you much longer."

"If you're offering," Miller said, thanking his lucky stars, "I'll take the job. Gotta be better than what I'm going through now. Just one thing."

"What's that?" Max asked.

"Got room for Nick?" Miller asked, wanting to keep Nick's head out of the block, "He and I make a good team."

"Sure," Max nodded, "Gotta keep faith with your people. We need to go talk to my father about this though."

"He still here?" Mike asked.

"Sure," Max said, "Dad doesn't go out anymore. Most nights he and Eric sit down in the den smoking cigars and drinking brandy. Some nights they watch a movie. They're probably down there now."

"There's one other thing you should know before we go downstairs," Miller said, remembering Jamie's body in his trunk.

"What's that?" Max asked suspiciously.

"How pissed is your father going to be if something happened to Jamie?" Mike asked.

"Shit," Max groaned, "Did Harry kill him too?"

"Indirectly," Miller sighed, "He died in the crash. Idiot wasn't wearing a seatbelt while Harry was driving 90 down Hobby."

"No great loss," Max muttered, "Probably best thing that could have happened to him."

"No lie," Miller nodded, "That's all, I promise. No more surprises from me."

"I hope not," Max chuckled, "Ok, I guess we'd better take this to the old man. He's not going to be happy."

"I didn't expect him to be," Miller shrugged, "What makes you think I'm happy about it?"

"Cheer up," Max said and put his hand on Miller's shoulder, "This should be the last mess of Harry's you have to clean up."

"I hope so," Miller nodded, glad that this was going the direction he wanted.

Max led Mike downstairs past Fat Tony and the thin man in the black suit. Miller was nervous, as anyone in that position would be, but he was still hopeful. Things went better with Max than he could have planned. Tony and the unidentified man followed Max and Mike into his father's sitting room, where Charlie and Eric Roth were sitting in easy chairs enjoying fine cigars and brandy.

"Hello Max," Charlie said as they entered the room, "How's it going, Ray?"

"Had better nights," Miller said, letting Max take the lead.

"There've been some problems," Max said, "I think you need to know about them."

"Come on in and have a seat, gentleman," Charlie nodded, "Tony, can you pour the brandy for everyone. Pour one for yourself as well."

Fat Tony nodded meekly and poured glasses for everyone. Miller took his with a thankful nod and let things proceed at Charlie's pace. He was famous for trying to defuse situations with a quiet drink or a dinner. This did not mean he was not capable of great violence, he just preferred to go about it calmly.

"Ray," Charlie said, "I don't think you've met our friend here. Frank Lentz, this is Harry Lupo's right hand man, Ray Nester."

"Nice to meet you, Ray," Lentz said and held out his hand.

"Likewise," Miller lied and shook the man's hand. He immediately did not like something about the newcomer.

"So what's so important?" Charlie asked Max finally, "You usually are on your way out by this time of night."

"Have you watched the news tonight?" Max asked.

"No," Charlie said with a shake of his head.

"Ray," Max said, "You know the details better than I do."

"Indeed?" Charlie said, "What happened, Mr. Nester?"

"Harry," Miller said flatly, "He lost it tonight. Badly."

"How so?" Charlie asked.

Miller told him, spending the next fifteen minutes going through the story in detail. Charlie asked questions and dissected the events much the way a police officer would do. Charlie Bullock was certainly no slouch. He was seriously pissed at the end of Miller's story, but not at Mike. Eric Roth on the other hand, was seriously pissed and not afraid to show it.

"I told you something like this would happen!" Roth fumed, "That moron is going to have the cops all over us again!"

"Calm down Eric," Bullock said and directed his attention back to Miller, "He killed five people tonight, right?"

"Six if you include Jamie," Miller sighed.

"What the hell happened to Jamie?" Eric asked, "Did Harry kill him too?"

"Not intentionally," Mike said, "He wasn't wearing a seatbelt and the crash killed him."

"Figures," Charlie growled, "Where is the body?"

"In the car I drove here," Mike said, "I didn't want to leave him to be found if someone happened on to the remains of the car. I figured that I'd ask you what you wanted done with him."

"We'll deal with that later," Charlie said, "It won't hurt him to stay there for a bit longer."

"We should have let Northrup ice that bastard years ago," Roth fumed, "Now what do we do?"

Miller took this opportunity to hit the record button on the recorder in his pocket. He knew that if the decision to kill Lupo was going to be made it would be soon. He just hoped he could figure out how to get the contract without acting too anxious for it.

"We take care of it," Charlie said, "What else can we do?"

"We can kill him," Roth growled.

"That is a possibility," Bullock admitted.

"A little more than a possibility, don't you think?" Max stated.

"You have been supporting him for a while," Charlie reminded his son, "Don't forget that fact."

"You know where I stand, Charlie," Eric said, "I've wanted the son of a bitch gone for months."

"What do you think, Frank?" Charlie asked the quiet guy in the suit, "You're Freddie's man here."

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I don't handle that end of the business, you know that. I can talk to Freddie tomorrow, but this isn't something he's going to worry about."

"I know," Charlie sighed, "Where is Harry now, Ray?"

"I put him in a motel room with a case of beer and two whores," Miller shrugged, "Nick is keeping an eye on him. The room is in a fictional Russian name. Unless the clerk knew me somehow, it's unlikely the cops will find him tonight."

"The cops will be able to put together a good case for this one," Frank said, "I saw the news earlier. They already had leads and probably a dozen witnesses. Third and Hobby is a busy intersection. They may not have their hands on your man, but once they do it will go quickly."

"Charlie," Eric said, "You know they'll offer him a deal. He's been around a long time. He could hurt us."

"Harry wouldn't squeal," Charlie said emphatically, "Not a chance. Right Ray?"

Miller said nothing. He knew that Harry would not do it willingly, but that definitely was not the right thing to say. Miller needed this contract to go forward; he could just not afford to outright back Roth's desire. Inadvertently, saying nothing was the single best thing he could do.

"Ray?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know anymore, Charlie," Miller said honestly, "Three months ago, I would have said 'Hell no!' in a heartbeat. But, he isn't the same man he was back then."

"How so?" Charlie asked as Max and the others looked on.

"He's a junkie," Miller said flat out, "He's unpredictable and probably very close to insane. Nick and I have been keeping the businesses going as well as we could, hoping that Harry would come to his senses. Unfortunately he's just getting worse."

"You think we should off him?" Max asked.

"I don't know," Miller lied, "I'm glad that isn't my ball of wax to deal with."

"Do you think he'll break?" Charlie asked again.

"He's facing the needle this time, Charlie," Mike said, "I'm not sure I would be able to withstand under that threat, and I've been sober for months. This isn't a case that you'll be able to fix without a major uproar. In his drug-addled mind, anything is possible. I think it's very possible that he could break."

"Now, the question remains," Charlie said with a knowing smile, "Do you say this because you want his job or because it's true."

"Dad," Max said, "Ray and I already discussed this a bit before we came to you."

"Oh?" Charlie said.

"He knows he hasn't been around long enough," Max continued, "You know I've wanted more people for a while. If you decide that dismantling Harry's end of the business is best, I want Ray to work for me."

"How much business is left?" Charlie asked Miller.

"Not a whole lot," Miller admitted, "Another reason I don't want Harry's job. I'm a shitty manager. I'm much better at solving problems than I am at the day to day."

"What is left though?" Charlie asked.

"Well, up until tonight we had Reams with bookmaking," Miller told them, "Jason Travis is still running our girls concession, though he's barely making ends meet. Our main source of income right now is Robbie Cook's drug distribution. That one is still making a profit, though quite a bit of the product has been disappearing up Harry's nose."

"Nothing else?" Charlie asked, surprised, "Kirby used to have his hands in more pots than that."

"There are a whole pile of side businesses," Miller admitted, "But most of them have fallen apart from mismanagement. Most of my time has been spent doing his job. Nick has been trying to make collections and try to get to the other businesses, but we're at a disadvantage."

"Nobody would listen to you?" Max asked.

"You got it," Miller nodded, "Without any backing from Harry, it was hard to get anything done. Only reason we've made your percentage is because Cook has been doing well. And that can't last forever, cause Cook has been pushing at the leash."

"Sounds like there isn't much to leave to anyone else," Charlie said, "Eric, who has the most drug connections now?"

"Other than Harry?" Roth asked, "Hmm, probably Rob Ford, and he's looking to spread out."

"Ray," Charlie said, "Next week, have Robbie Cook come over here. I would like to meet him. I'll probably put him in with Ford's outfit if he wants to go."

"Fine by me," Miller shrugged, "Hopefully by next week it won't be my problem anymore."

"Max," Charlie said, "You think Ray will fit in well with you?"

"Better than Alex," Max said, "I've been looking for a reason to get rid of that moron."

"Alex has his uses," Charlie chuckled, "And you have to admit; he's good at management."

"Much as he annoys me I'll keep him for that," Max admitted, "Ray will be my troubleshooter, an extra pair of eyes and ears if you will."

"Two pairs," Miller reminded him, "Nick comes with me."

"Of course," Max said.

"Is Nick going to take Harry's removal lightly?" Charlie asked, "Last I knew they were close."

"After tonight, he's behind us all the way," Miller told them, "He and I talked about it before I came this way. We knew that this would probably be a death sentence for Harry, but we have to think about ourselves too."

Just about that time Matt d'Antoni entered the room with a glum look on his face. Everyone looked at him for a second, wondering what he was so glum about. He said nothing, but walked over to the television and turned it onto the local news. The 10PM broadcast was just getting underway. Everyone watched the newscaster silently.

"Recapping the local news," The man with an indelible smile said over the TV, "Police have stated that they are indeed searching for local organized crime figure Harrison Luponi, pictured here after an indictment two months ago, for the murders of four local teenagers following a car accident. Several witnesses have reportedly identified Luponi as the shooter. Any information on Luponi's current whereabouts, or the identity of the other people in the car, should be reported to your local precinct."

"Shut that bullshit off!" Charlie growled, "I guess that confirms Ray's story."

"We need to get Harry off the streets before the cops do," Roth stated emphatically, "We can't wait for Pena to get Elise back here to do the job."

"I don't do this often," Max said, "But I'm going to agree with Eric on this. Harry is a danger. You heard what Ray said."

"Ray," Charlie asked Miller, "You know where Harry is and can get at him, correct?"

"Yes," Mike nodded, "Provided he didn't leave the room. I left Nick there, but there's only so much he can do."

"How much money are you down due to Harry's bullshit?" Charlie asked him.

"Let's just say I'll be eating McDonalds for the next week," Mike shrugged, "Haven't had a decent percentage in weeks trying to keep the thing afloat."

"Max," Charlie said decisively, "Ray now works for you, but he's going to do a job for all of us first. Ray, you know Harry better than any of us. Will you get rid of him? As a reward I'll pay you fifty thousand dollars on top of what Max pays you."

"After tonight?" Mike asked rhetorically, "I'll bury him so deep that even Jimmy Hoffa is going to ask where he is."

"I don't want to know what you do with him," Charlie said, "Just get rid of the son of a bitch. Make sure he can never talk to anybody again."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Max said.

"I'm in full agreement," Roth said, satisfied with it.

Lentz evidently did not care one way or another. Fat Tony and Matt were simply glad that they did not have to do the dirty work. Miller hid a smile inside that things went just the way he wanted them to. He had the contract and that was what mattered. He was free to set his plan in motion now.

The meeting broke up soon after that. The D'Antoni brothers left quickly, mainly to avoid being tapped by Miller to help with the Lupo hit. For people that were attuned to violence there was a distinct lack of interest in participating on a hit of one of their own. Miller, however, was just fine with this fact. He and Max went up to his area to talk a little bit before Miller left. Miller clicked off the recorder as he walked.

Charlie and Eric stayed in their den to have another brandy. They were quiet for a few minutes before Eric finally started talking about what was on his mind. He was all for Harry's departure, but not so sure about leaving it to someone so close to the problem.

"You think it's a good idea leaving it to Nester?" Roth asked.

"Kid has a good head on his shoulders," Charlie said, "And my guess is that he had to fight hard to keep from shooting him on the spot. I'm not so sure that I would have waited."

"True," Eric said, "Maybe he'll give Max some grounding."

"That's another thing," Charlie agreed, "I give Max credit for realizing Nester's potential. I think he and Max will make a good team."

"What do you think Freddie will think about this?" Eric said.

"He won't care," Charlie shrugged, "The underbosses have always been my end of the business. Harry has been a festering sore for months, no thanks to your meddling."

"Me?" Eric said in mock surprise.

"That's one of the things that brought Lentz back to town," Charlie said, "You were the one who put Northrup in charge of the hitters."

"So?" Eric shrugged, "Northrup would have been a better boss than Lupo."

"Maybe two decades ago," Charlie chastised, "Not now. Lentz also gave me proof that it was Northrup that was mostly responsible for Harry's drug habit."

"Maybe you should blame Nester for covering it up," Roth said quickly, trying to shake the blame.

"Nester was trying to deal with it," Charlie said, "Like a good second hand is supposed to. He also was not scheming against his boss. Eric, you've been a good numbers man for me for many years. But, if you try any political bullshit like this again, it won't be the boss we're burying, but you. That comes directly from Freddie, ok?"

"Yes," Eric said with a gulp.

Roth had been Charlie's closest friend and associate for many years, but his propensity to dabble in underworld politics had annoyed him for years. This was not the first situation Roth had mucked up, but it was certainly turning out to be one of the most serious. Charlie decided that he'd had enough of it.

Meanwhile, Max and Mike went back up to his apartment for a few minutes. Miller was itching to get moving, but Max wanted to have a drink first. Miller decided to humor his new boss before going to deal with Harry.

"What's your poison, Ray?" Max asked from behind the bar.

"Ginger ale," Miller said, "I want my head clear."

"You're braver than me," Max chuckled, "I'd want a drink to steady my nerves."

"It has to be done, Max," Miller explained, "I'd made my peace with that before I came here. I half figured that I'd get stuck with the job."

"You're closest to him," Max admitted, "How long do you need?"

"It'll take a couple days at least," Mike said, "I'm probably going to get out of the area to ditch the body. I want to make damned sure that if he's found they won't identify him easily."

"I don't want to know how you do it," Max said, "Just report here when you get back, ok?"

"Not a problem," Miller agreed, "Nick will be here on Monday though. He'll be able to help you deal with what's left of Harry's business. He knows it as well as I do."

"You're not going to use him to help you?" Max asked, surprised, and handed Miller his ginger ale.

"I wouldn't do that to him," Mike said with a shake of his head, "Harry has been a factor in his life since he was a kid. He doesn't need to help kill him."

"Also less witnesses," Max nodded appreciably, "Well, I'll leave word at the gate for Nick to be let in. I'm assuming you'll deal with him before you deal with Harry?"

"Have to," Mike grinned, "He's watching Harry."

"Do you have any cash, Ray?" Max asked.

"Not much," Miller admitted, "We've been barely covering your percentages."

"Here," Max said and peeled off a quick thousand, "Consider that a bonus for bringing things to us instead of trying to hide it. Pass some on to Nick if he's broke too."

"Thanks," Miller said, "I hate to drink and run, but I want to make sure I catch Harry while still drunk and with the hookers. It'll be far easier that way."

"Get moving, man," Max agreed, "I'll see you when you get back."

"You know it," Miller agreed, "One thing your father forgot to answer though, is what the hell do you want me to do with Jamie?"

"Dispose of him when you get rid of Harry," Max said, "Nobody will notice he's gone."

Mike nodded and left quickly, avoiding talking to anyone else. Life was certainly cheap in those parts. He quickly went to the Neon and drove out of the facility, getting ready to face his greatest challenge of his short undercover career.

Chapter Thirty-Two – August 25, 2000 – Just Before Midnight

Miller pulled into the motel parking lot and pulled into the parking space in front of the car. He put the handcuffs in his pocket and went up to the door. He rapped a few times and a very relieved looking Nick stepped outside. He motioned Miller away from the door and looked in fear at his friend.

"How did things go?" Nick asked, "Any luck?"

"You knew as well as I did what would happen," Mike said, still playing the part, "The order has been given. Harry has got to die."

"Shit," he said, "Who's doing it?"

"Guess," Miller said.

"Us," Nick said glumly.

"Me," Miller corrected, "I'm not going to make you take part in it."

"You sure?" Nick asked, surprised.

"Yep," Mike nodded, "You've been too close for too long. Me, after what he did tonight I'll consider it justice."

"I guess this is it, huh," Nick said glumly, "We're in for it now. No way we can keep it going after this."

"Not really," Mike grinned.

"You get an offer from Max Bullock?" Nick asked.

"More than an offer," Mike grinned, "We're moving up in the world."

"That's great for you," Nick said, and then realized what Miller said, "What do you mean, we?"

"Think I'd move up without you?" Mike grinned, "You need to report to the mansion on Monday. Your job for the next few days will be to help Max deal with what's left of the problems resulting from Harry. That ok with you?"

"That's fine with me," Nick agreed, "What are you going to do?"

"Don't ask," Miller said, "Is Harry still fucking away?"

"He never could get it up," Nick said, "He passed out an hour ago. The girls are lying with him anyway."

"Ok," Miller nods, "Let's get them out of here. I'm going to take him while he's out. Safer that way."

"Ok," Nick said, though his nerves were showing.

Nick opened the door again with the keycard and sure enough Harry was sleeping peacefully between the two women. The women had been talking about something or other when they saw Mike and Nick enter. They shut up, expecting to have to go back to work.

"Time to go, ladies," Miller said, "Your work is done for tonight."

"You sure you don't want to party some more?" the older, uglier one asked.

"Positive," Miller scowled, trying to stem the nausea from the thought.

"You heard the man," Nick said, "Get out of here."

"Wait a minute," the same one said, "What about our money? It's not our fault that he couldn't get it up!"

"Here," Miller growled and handed them a hundred dollar bill each, "Get your ugly ass out of here. If I see you again, the cops will find that bill shoved up your asshole when they find your body."

The girls were out of there like a shot. Miller felt nothing about threatening them like that, knowing that it would be in their minds that he would do it. He knew he would not, but a little fear never hurt to keep things in control. He then looked at the sleeping form of the once powerful mob boss, the man he had been told to eliminate.

"What now?" Nick asked.

"This," Miller said and pulled out the pair of handcuffs.

Nick watched in awe as Miller went over to Harry and quickly cuffed the sleeping man. Miller tossed Nick the keys and told him to go get ready to open the back door. Miller wanted to get this done quickly.

"Make sure there's nobody there," Miller told him.

Mike dragged Harry out to the door, luckily not waking him up. Nick gave Miller the ok sign and he quickly dragged Harry out to the Neon. Nick opened the back door and they tossed Harry into the seat. Mike went back into the room and took the linens from the bed, tossing them on top of Harry to cover him up.

"Why didn't you put him in the trunk?" Nick asked after the job was done.

"Jamie is there," Miller said, "I'm going to have to dispose of him too."

"Lotta love there," Nick chuckled, "What do you want me to do next?"

"Clean up the room," Miller instructed him, "Then get out of here. Walk away, do not call a cab whatever you do. The cops are already looking for Harry."

"Already?" Nick asked, surprised.

"That's why I'm doing the job," Miller said, "Bullock wants Harry taken care of quick."

"I'll lay low for a couple days," Nick said, "I probably should go see my mother anyway."

"If you get arrested just tell the truth," Miller said, "You have no idea where Harry is, and you weren't behind the wheel of the car. You don't know where any of the others are."

"And you?" Nick asked.

"You don't know anything else," Miller grinned, "Keep your mouth shut and get Robbins if you're arrested. If you make it 'til Monday go to the Bullock place. I'll join you as soon as I can."

"That works," Nick said, "See you Monday?"

"Maybe," Miller said, "I may take a few days to get this done. I may also lay low for a bit myself before coming back. I was seen pulling in Harry, so if I disappear for bit then things might quiet down before I get back. Good luck, Nick. Stay safe."

"You too, Ray," Nick said and started towards the back alley.

Miller started the Neon again and pulled out of the parking lot. He drove past several police cars, two of which actually saw his face. Either no APB had been put out on him, or the police officers just had not taken notice.

He made tracks directly for the Steinway place. He wanted to take care of Harry before he woke up. He had the prize in his hands. He just did not know whether he would be able to keep it. He was at the point where it just did not matter much to him anymore. He was almost hoping that Lupo would refuse the deal so his cover would be blown.

He pushed these thoughts out of his head as he drove. Then, he realized that Jade was still in the thick of things and spent a few minutes to drop a quick 35 cents to tell her to get out of dodge for a while. After that quick call, he drove out to the Steinway place and drove into the barn, illuminating a resting Eric Craig.

"Mike!" Eric said when he saw Miller in the car, "What happened?"

"Lupo is under the blankets in the back," Mike said as he got out of the car, "He's alive, or he was when I put him there, just passed out from too much booze and drugs."

"Did you get the hit order on tape?" Eric asked.

"Right here," Miller said and tossed the recorder to Eric, "Don't know how good it is."

"I'll go check it," Eric promised, "Tracy and Al are in the back. She'll be glad to see you."

"Did Tom leave?" Miller asked.

"Yeah," Craig said slowly, "Another operation got blown an hour ago. Tom had to go deal with it."

"Bad one?" Mike asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight.

"They're still trying to sort through the bodies," Eric muttered, "We aren't going to need him anytime soon are we?"

"Odds are that Harry will be out for at least twelve more hours anyway," Mike grinned, "Get the recording ready. I want to talk to Al and Tracy."

"You got it," Eric grinned, "They're back this way."

Miller walked into the room and saw Al and Tracy stretched out on piles of old Hay. The looked so comfortable that Miller hated to disturb them, but he knew he had to get Harry out of that car before he threw up and pulled a Jimi Hendrix.

"I hate to move you," Mike said, "But I've got a package in the back seat you two will be interested in."

Tracy looked up and blinked herself awake.

"Mike?" she asked, "You got him?"

"Contract and all," Miller nodded, "Let's get him out of the car, shall we?"

"What condition is he in?" Martinez asked.

"Passed out," Miller shrugged, "He'd been out for an hour when I got him about 30 minutes ago."

Mike and Al went to the beat up Neon and pulled Harry out from under the blankets. Luckily, Lupo had not thrown up and was still sleeping peacefully. Al and Mike dragged the sleeping deposed boss to the room that had been prepared especially for the meeting of the minds that would decide all their futures.

They put Lupo into the chair and locked him in. He was still dangerous, and they did not feel like risking their own lives by letting him loose. Luckily, now he was not anywhere near coming awake. With enough alcohol and drugs in his system to kill a horse it would be many hours before he could be able to even realize where he was, let alone try to do anything about it.

Chapter Thirty-Three – August 26, 2000 – Morning

Tracy woke up first, lying in a heap of hay left in the barn from the building's farming days. Miller was curled up next to her, still sleeping. She slid closer to him and stroked his hair lightly. She was enjoying watching her man, which is what she considered him, lightly resting. She remembered the best of times with Frank and remembered that while she truly loved him, Frank had never been near as nice or understanding as Mike was.

She reached over to her backpack and pulled out her wallet. She looked down at Miller for a second as she held the wallet close to her. She watched Mike's chest go up and down softly with his breath. She pulled out her little picture case from the wallet and started flipping through it.

She smiled at the pictures of her father and little brother. Both of them were police officers, her father now retired and working security and her little brother walking a beat in a little city to the north. She next pulled out an old dog-eared picture of her mother who had died of cancer when she was only nine and her brother was only two.

She smiled as she looked at the picture of her mother, touching it lightly the way she always did. Her mother's last year was a painful one, and though Tracy missed her badly, she was never sorry that her mother had died of the disease. Her mother was a strong woman, and what little was left after the cancer was not enough to sustain her. Tracy always thought that her mother was better off not suffering anymore.

She quickly flipped through the remaining family and friends pictures until she got to the one that she had been hunting for. She gazed on the last picture she had of Frank Price. She remembered his cool demeanor and his touch. The picture was illicitly taken, barely two weeks before his death. They were sitting together in a booth of a restaurant. Ray Proctor took the picture during one of their last meetings before Price disappeared.

She was looking at the picture and trying not to start crying when Miller stirred. She barely noticed as he sat up and slid closer to her. He slid an arm around her and kissed her neck a little. She smiled a little and put the wallet down. Mike was barely awake, and his eyes were blurry.

"Morning kiddo," Miller said, "Enjoy your night in the hay?"

"Been a while since I've done that," she grinned, "Not since I was a teenager."

"This is a first for me," Miller admitted, "Never spent the night on a farm before, even an inactive one."

"I used to spend summers with my grandparents," she remembered fondly, "My first time was with a boy that lived nearby when I was seventeen. Not a bad way to lose your virginity."

"Yeah," Miller chuckled, "I can imagine. My first time was at my cousin's house, with a girl several years older than me. It was cool, but not very idealistic let me tell you."

"The first time is never very good," Tracy told him, "I didn't start to enjoy it until much later."

"That may be true for the girls," Mike grinned, "But I enjoyed it from the first time, thank you very much."

"You would," she chuckled and pushed him back into the hay.

Miller smiled and rubbed his eyes. He was relaxing for the first time in a long while. He was beginning to wonder how Harry was doing, however. He stood up and stretched out a little, letting the morning sunshine beat down on him in a pleasant way. It was warm out, but not too warm. It was a pleasant summer morning, and Miller simply reveled in it.

"You think we'll be able to do this today?" Tracy asked.

"Not likely," Miller said with a shake of his head, "If he wakes up today he'll still be hyped up from the coke. I want him sober before we start working on him. I don't expect to be able to do that until Tomorrow some time."

"Good," Tracy said with a smile, "Means we get to stick around for a while. It's actually rather beautiful out here."

"I can live with that," Miller said as he helped her to her feet, "We need to check on Harry though."

"I'll do that," she said, "Probably need to see who else is around."

"Hopefully they got some sleep too," Miller said as Tracy bounded out of the room.

Miller was about to follow when he saw Tracy's stuff on the ground in the Hay. He bent down and picked up the wallet. He reached down to pick up her bag as well and was about to put it back in the bag when he saw the last photo she had been looking at. He pulled the thing open, and his eyes went wide. He stayed that way until Tracy came back into the area where he was.

"What's wrong, Mike?" she asked, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Who is this a picture of, Tracy?" Miller asked her, holding up the picture that had caught his eye.

"Why?" she asked him, not wanting to get into another depressing discussion of her past.

"Who is he, Trace," Miller asked, more firm about it this time.

"It's Frank," she sighed, "I'm sorry, I was just remembering..."

"Don't worry about that," Miller interrupted, "You mean this is a picture of Frank Price? The man you were involved with before?"

"Yes," she said slowly, not sure what Miller was getting at "That was Frank Price."

"Son of a bitch," Miller said, "Are Eric and Tom here?"

"Uh huh," she said, looking at the weird look in Mike's eyes, "What the hell is going on here?"

"I want to check something before I alarm you," Miller said and went out looking for Eric, finding him at a laptop terminal he brought with him.

"Hiya Mike," Eric said over the sound of Cinderella music that was emanating from his laptop.

"Eric," Mike said, "Do you have access to the main database from here?"

"Sure," Eric said, "Don't go anywhere without it."

"Mike," Tracy pleaded and pulled Mike towards her, "What are you doing?"

"Praying I'm wrong," Miller said tersely, turning back to Eric, "I want you to do a cross check and see how many of the officers killed in the past few weeks worked with Frank Price."

"Why?" both Eric and Tracy asked.

"Do it," Miller said harshly, "Just do it."

Tom came out in the middle of this. Al Martinez was right behind him, wondering what the hell Miller was up in arms about. Eric looked up at his boss wondering whether to follow Miller's instructions. Richter looked at his undercover operative and saw the desperate look in his eyes. He said nothing but nodded at Eric to perform the search.

"Son of a bitch!" Eric exclaimed when the results came on the screen, "Frank worked with almost every single one of these people, especially the front men. How did you know that, Mike?"

"How indeed?" Richter asked, looking at his agent quizzically.

"No!" Tracy exclaimed, the knowledge partially coming to her, "Frank is dead, Mike!"

"I wish I could be so sure," Mike said sadly, "If you hadn't had the photograph I would never have put it together."

"Spit it out, Miller," Martinez said, "What do you know?"

"I met a man at the mansion last night," Miller said, sitting down on a truck bumper, "He was one of Freddie Pena's people. They introduced him to me under the name of Frank Lentz."

"You're lying!" Tracy screamed, "You have to be lying! We found Frank's remains nearly two years ago!"

"You're saying Frank Lentz is Frank Price?" Tom said, "Are you sure?"

"Six foot four," Miller started describing, "His hair was dark, with a speckling of gray. Very thin man, right down to his face. He had a very quiet manner about him. When Charlie asked him about Pena's opinion on this sort of thing he had nothing to say about it; he said he was here for other business."

"Wait a minute," Eric said, "He's on the tape?"

"Think you'll recognize the voice, Tracy?" Tom asked her.

"Play it," Tracy said, still trembling a little, "I'd recognize his voice anywhere. I have to know that you're wrong, Mike."

"I know it, Trace," Mike said, "I hope to God I am."

Eric searched through the digital recording to find the point where Charlie Bullock talked directly to Frank Lentz. It took him a few minutes to find it, but once Miller pointed it out Eric cleaned it up a little and played it a few times. Miller identified the voice as Lentz, but Tracy needed to hear it a few more times before she was sure.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" she fumed, "He told me he loved me!"

"I'd say that is a confirmation," Richter said, pointing out the obvious.

Tracy began to break down after that. Miller pulled her close to him, not caring that his boss was watching them. Tracy started weeping openly into Miller's shoulder. Eric, Tom and Al just watched, not knowing what to say. Eric had never even met Frank Price, so it did not hit him as hard as it did Tom and Al.

Al had been on Price's support team along with Tracy. He had never really understood what Tracy had seen in Price. Neither Tom nor Al was near as surprised as she was. They were both extremely pissed off by the fact that one of their own could turn on them like that.

"Tom, Al," Mike said, "Keep an eye on Harry. I'm going to take her into the back for a while and let her cry it out, ok?"

They nodded and watched as Miller led her to the same area where they had slept before. Tom sat down on the edge of a truck and looked at his two subordinates who were still being very quiet. Al continued to stand up, that being his most comfortable position after all these years of tailing people.

"You knew him as well as I did, Tom," Al said after a minute, "Are you surprised by this?"

"I wish I could say I was," Tom said sadly, "I suspected it for a while, but I let him slip from mind as a suspect after we found those remains."

"How the hell could he get the remains identified as him?" Eric asked, "Faking your death is one thing, but getting remains identified is something else."

"We had no DNA or fingerprints," Tom said, "He hadn't been to a dentist in years. Tracy identified his personal effects. No reason to think he was still alive until now."

"The question," Al said seriously, "Is what the hell do we do about it?"

"That's up to Mike," Tom said, "It depends on what happens with our guest in the other room as well. If he doesn't roll, we'll just go ahead with Price. Now, we know who the enemy is, we can prepare and pull out anyone who was connected to him."

"Want me to run a cross check on everyone still out?" Eric asked, "It'll give me something to do."

"Go ahead," Tom said, "We're going to have to yank anyone who's at risk, no matter what we do about Miller's cover."

"I'll get that list together," Eric said and turned to his computer, starting the music again.

Tracy was still crying on Mike's shoulder after a few minutes. He simply held on to her for a while. He stroked her hair slowly kissing the top of her head a little. It took her a while to get the crying out of her system. She had kept a torch for this man for several years, and now hearing his voice again she knew that he had lied to her. She realized that he had lied to everyone.

"How could he do it?" She bawled to Miller, "How could he do this to me? How could he do this to all those innocent people?"

"I don't know kiddo," Miller said softly, "People like that defy description, Tracy."

"Easy for you to say," she sighed, "It wasn't you that he led on and made love to. I truly loved him, Mike."

"I know you did," Miller nodded, "And there is nothing wrong with you for it. He is the slime, not you. It's not your fault that he didn't reveal his true character to you."

"I should have seen it," she whined, "I should have known better."

"How?" Mike asked and then forced her to look into his eyes, "Look at me, Tracy. Do you know my true character? Do you know who I am? You can't know just by looking at someone. You can only see what they show you. He showed you what he wanted you to see, don't blame yourself for being taken by a master."

"You say you love me, Mike," she said, "But after what happened with him, how can I even trust you?"

"I can't answer that, Trace," he shrugged, "All I can do is offer myself and my support. If you don't chance it, there's no real point in living."

"Where do we go from here?" she asked him.

"Same place as before," he smiled, "One step at a time. We've identified another enemy; we'll take care of him when the time comes."

"Too bad we can't get him now," she groused, "I'd love to kick him in the nuts."

"He's here, why can't we?" Miller asked, "Why let him go?"

"Your cover," she said, her clarity coming back, "If we get him, we blow your cover."

"Maybe not," Eric said from the doorway, "Sorry for interrupting guys."

"How do we do it?" Tracy asked, wiping some tears from her eyes.

"There has been a photo crew on Bullock's place for six months," Eric said, "Want to bet someone caught him on film?"

"Have Tom go through them?" Tracy asked.

"He's on his way now," Eric said, "He realized it soon after I remembered the photo crew."

"Has anyone checked on Harry?" Mike asked.

"Still out cold," Eric replied, "Looks like he'll be out for a while yet."

"Good," Miller said, "The longer he sleeps the more sober he'll be when he wakes up."

"We're still going to be waiting around for a bit," Eric shrugged, "he's going to have to be awake for a while before you can talk to him and have things stick."

"Can you and Al watch Harry for a bit?" Mike asked, "I think Tracy and I still need some time to work things out."

"Sure," Eric chuckled, "Just try not to make too much noise while doing it, ok?"

They both laughed, and Tracy threw a handful of hay at him. Tracy was coming out of her funk a little, but it was going to be a long road for her. There was no sex happening for either one of them that day, but they didn't need it. Mike spent the next few hours simply talking with her.

Around noontime Tom Richter came walking into the room and interrupted the couple as they talked the day away. He was wearing a smile on his face that really surprised both of them.

"You are seriously too happy, Tom," Mike said when he saw the smile on his boss's face, "What happened?"

"A bit of luck," Tom grinned, "I was about to go in and look at the pictures when who shows up in the back of a police car..."

"He got himself arrested?" Tracy blurted, "He made a mistake like that?"

"Freak accident," Tom chuckled and sat down on a hay bale, "The car he was in had an expired license plate when it was involved in a minor accident. It seems that Old Frankie threw a fit, and the officer decided to run a check on him. When his ID came up as bogus they threw him in the back and decided to run him in. I made the ID immediately."

"That's great," Miller chuckled, "When it rains it pours."

"It sure did for him," Tom agreed, "Anyway, Tracy, you're the ranking expert on Frank Price. You wanted to go see him, you've got your chance. They're counting on you for identification."

"What are they charging him with?" Tracy asked.

"A slew of felony charges," Tom said, "Pending identification he'll get hit with the whole gambit that we have records on. We're hoping he'll deal on those and give us the rest of it."

"Best part is that my cover isn't in jeopardy from it," Mike nodded, "I like it."

"Do I get to kick him in the nuts?" Tracy asked seriously.

"I won't reprimand you for it," Tom chuckled, "Just don't kill him. We need him to be able to testify."

"Want to go down with me, Mike?" Tracy asked, "I could use a strong arm."

"That's not in the cards," Mike said, "He knows me as Nester. We can't afford to have him connect me as a cop. We can't isolate him like we're going to do with Harry."

"Take Al with you, Tracy," Tom said, "Mike, Eric, and I can handle the job here. Get your demons out in the open and make the identification."

"I'll be here when you get back," Miller promised, "After we get Harry squared away you and I will go off for a couple days out of the city. They're not expecting me to return until at least the middle of the week. We'll go somewhere that we're not known and register under phony names."

"Sounds good," Tracy smiled, "I just hope I'll be able to enjoy it."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Al said as he came in, "Just did a check on sleeping beauty. He's still out cold. You still want me to take Tracy over to see the traitor?"

"Yes," Tom said, "You can back up her ID; you knew him too. See if you can make him talk."

"Anything else?" Al asked.

"Yes," Richter said, "Keep Tracy from killing him, please."

"Hey!" Tracy said, "I can do that myself!"

"I know," Tom agreed, "But in this case you could use some backup."

Tracy scowled at Tom a little, but then blew it by flashing a little bit of a smile at Miller. Al just shook his head and went out to his unmarked squad car. Tracy, not wanting to miss her big chance to give Price a piece of her mind, walked quickly after him. Tom, Eric and Mike watched as Al pull away from the barn.

"You think she's going to be ok?" Tom asked Miller after the car was out of sight.

"It's been a shock," Mike said, "I think that seeing him one more time will help."

"Why would anyone pull something like that?" Eric asked, "He has to be crazy."

"The life has a certain allure to it, Eric," Mike said, "I'm sure Tom knows what I'm talking about. There's a feeling of power in this sort of life. There are rules, but they aren't as rigid. You have the power of life and death and the feeling that nobody can touch you."

"Mike is right," Tom agreed, "I got that same feeling from the crew running around with Gotti. Gotti was a lunatic, but you felt that he was invulnerable. The social norms bend and twist around you in that situation. For some people it can be a narcotic effect. Frank just enjoyed it too much. He looked for a way around the system. I guess he found it, at least for a little while."

"If this feeling is so great then why don't more people go into that life?" Eric, ever the curious one, asked.

"I think most people are basically good," Miller told him, "I can see the attraction, but I can't wait to get out of this. There have been times lately that I have hoped that Harry would make me have to pull the plug. Then, I can go back and become a normal person again."

"At least as much of a normal person as you can be after confronting scum this close," Tom said, "Much as you hate to admit it, Mike, you'll never be the same again."

"That's a good thing," Miller grinned, "But there's a difference between being the same and living normally. I'd sort of like to be able to live without a gun under my pillow."

"Wouldn't we all," Tom chuckled, "My wife still gets annoyed by the fact that I still can't sleep without a gun in the bedside table."

"Have you got everything ready, Eric?" Miller asked to change the subject.

"Audio is ready," Eric said, "So is the film. Just need a guest of honor that's awake and coherent."

"Let's go do a run through of all of it," Mike suggested, "We've got nothing better to do."

Chapter Thirty-Four – August 26, 2000 – Afternoon

Tracy Howard walked into the precinct slowly, not quite sure of what to feel. Al Martinez followed her a few paces behind, watching to see how she took things. They asked at the desk to find out where they needed to go. They were directed to a captain who had direct jurisdiction over the whole thing.

"You here to identify our man in there?" Captain Roberts asked, "Frankly, I hope Tom is wrong about this. IA will have to come in on it if he's right."

"I hope he's wrong too," Al said glumly, "But I don't think so. Nothing else fits, really."

"Both of you here to identify him?" Roberts asked.

"Yes," Tracy said, "I knew Frank Price better than most. I can also identify some of his physical features."

"You will probably have to go that far," Roberts groused, "If Tom Richter hadn't identified him tentatively, he'd probably have hit the street by now."

"No fingerprints?" Al asked curiously.

"Laser burned," Roberts said, "That's one of the reasons we think Richter is right. Only pros do stuff like that. This was a professional job, not some junkie with a lighter. They'd grow back if we could hold him long enough, but we don't have enough to hold him that long otherwise."

"Let's get this over with," Tracy said impatiently, "I need to see if it is him."

Tracy walked into the back and waited for Al and Captain Roberts to follow. Roberts looked at Al for a second before he asked what was in his mind.

"What's wrong with her?" Roberts asked.

"She was dating Price," Martinez explained, "If this is him, it means that she was not only betrayed professionally, but in a most intensely personal way."

"Gotcha," Roberts nodded and followed Tracy into the back.

Roberts took the lead again and brought them to a special cellblock. This one had a Plexiglas cell and was usually used for the real hard cases or for people that they were not sure what to do with. Franklin Lentz fell into several of those categories at the moment. He was pacing around the cell with a deep glare of hatred in his eyes.

"Here he is," Roberts said as he pulled up a chair, "In all his dilapidated glory."

"I want my lawyer!" Price/Lentz growled through the glass, "Now."

"He's probably still on the way," Roberts shrugged, "I've got a couple of old friends here to see you while you wait."

"I'm not saying anything to anyone," Price/Lentz fumed, "Now get out of here until I get a lawyer."

"Stuff it Frank," Tracy said, "You'll talk to me, you son of a bitch."

The thin man in the cell looked at Tracy for a long moment. Tracy looked closely at the man in the cell. She could not believe he was still alive. If the situation had been different she would have considered jumping into his arms, but in this case it was all she could do to keep from pulling her gun out and shooting him.

The man was one cold piece of work. He did not even let on that he knew her. He knew that his most likely way out of this was to not admit that he was actually Price. He sat down again and did little but look outside the cage.

"You forget me already, Frank?" Tracy said, "I sure as hell haven't forgotten you. I thought you were dead."

"Who are you talking about?" Price/Lentz asked, trying to fake her out.

"You," she said flatly, "Franklin Jerome Price. You were born on August 2nd, 1965. You were a rookie in the 82nd precinct until Tom Richter tapped you for the fledgling undercover program. You spent the remainder of your career working for Tom until you broke off contact in late August 1998. Nobody has seen you since, and a set of remains were identified as yours due to your personal effects being on the remains."

"Prove it," Price said through gritted teeth.

"Got any surefire ways?" Roberts asked.

"Easy," Tracy smiled, "Make him show his left leg. My guess is that there is a scar where his tattoo used to be. Need more proof? There's a crescent shaped scar on his lower back from a knife wound."

"Pull up your pants leg," Roberts instructed the prisoner.

"Fuck you," Price/Lentz growled.

"You can do it the easy way," Roberts said, "Or I can let these two in to do it forcefully. I'm sure they'd love the opportunity."

"Your choice, Frank," Martinez smiled.

Price knew he was done in. He had always planned on getting the scars altered or removed, but had never found the time to do so. His only hope was that they didn't have anything on him other than a minor traffic incident. There was nothing against the law about disappearing.

"That doesn't change anything," Price shrugged, "You have nothing on me."

"Sure we do," Martinez said, "Eight counts of assault. Seven robberies. Fifty-two counts of racketeering. I'm sure we'll come up with more when we reopen your undercover record."

"Never stick," Price sneered, "I have immunity for that stuff."

"You never were very good on the details, Frank," Tracy said, "You never did read the fine print either. Every single one of those immunity agreements has a standard rider. If you go over to the other side, all of them are null and void. Every criminal act you committed while working for us is now prosecutable."

"That's enough to lock you away for life," Martinez pointed out, "Add on the deaths of the police officers during the past few weeks and you're a good candidate for the needle."

"You'll never prove that," Price growled at them.

"Fifteen people dead, Frank," Martinez said, "All of whom you worked with."

"I want my lawyer," Price growled.

"I'm sure he's on his way," Tracy said, "I just had to see if it was you."

"It's me," Price said, "Now get out of here."

"Let's go, Tracy," Martinez said, "We'll see him again in court if he survives the lockup."

"I'll be out in a minute," Tracy said, "I want to talk to him alone."

"I can't..." Roberts started to say when Martinez stopped him.

"Let them talk," Al said, "We'll be outside. Don't shoot him, ok Tracy?"

"I'll restrain myself," she said dryly without taking her eyes off Price.

Martinez and a reluctant Captain Roberts left the room, leaving the former lovers alone. Only the plexiglass barrier separated them. Tracy took a step closer to get a better look at the man that she had once loved so deeply and unconditionally. She was merely trying to figure out how she could have been so wrong.

"What do you want?" Price asked.

"Why?" Tracy asked simply, "How could you do it?"

"Do what?" Price said and sat down on the hard bunk.

"I trusted you," she said, "We all trusted you."

"Get out," Price said and turned away from her.

"Turn around and look at me you son of a bitch," she ordered, "I loved you and you claimed to feel the same for me. Was it all lip service? Was everything I felt bullshit?"

Price said nothing, did not even turn around. He still was not sure what to make of all this. Tracy pulled up a hardback chair and continued to look at Price. Time had not made too many changes. The hair was still dark, though she did not know it had been dyed to begin with. When Price actually faced her again, she noticed that the strain of life had added more lines to his face.

"How could you leave me like that?" She asked again.

"Why should I have stayed?" Price stood up and growled, "I spent years trying to put these people away. Thing is, they got richer and I just got older. I was an underpaid cop risking my life for no good purpose. My only fringe benefit was getting to fuck you a few times a month. Big fucking deal."

"You never felt a damned thing for me, did you?" Tracy asked him, "I was nothing but a piece of ass to you."

"And not a very good one either," Price stated, intentionally trying to piss her off.

"I can't believe I spent so long grieving for you," she said as she stood up and paced, "I was blind. More than one person warned me away from you. You really are a cold son of a bitch."

"No more than you are," he said to her, his eyes staring at her with no life in them, "We had sex. We didn't have a life. There was no life to have in the life I was leading. Now get the hell out of here and get me a lawyer. I have nothing more to say to you."

Price turned away from her for the last time. Tracy stood there in shock for a minute trying to absorb the sheer amount of treachery and hate coming from the man that she had loved for so long. All she could do was look at him and shake her head.

Martinez and Roberts walked into the room a few minutes later. Tracy was still standing there just looking at Price. Price did not even take notice at the reentrance. Martinez walked over to Tracy and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, Kiddo," Martinez said, "Let the DA deal with this waste of human flesh."

"He's got a date with a judge in twenty minutes," Roberts said, "I highly doubt he'll get bail."

"You're not taking me anywhere without my lawyer," Price said, still not turning around.

"Your lawyer called," Roberts informed the ex-cop, "He'll meet you at the courthouse."

"Let's go, Tracy," Al said, "We need to get back."

Tracy nodded sadly and walked out the door. She was tempted to take one final look at Price, but decided against it. She said nothing else and followed Al outside. They walked out towards Al's car as she tried to keep her composure. She was not about to let herself break down over that slime.

"You ok, Trace?" Martinez asked her.

"No," she said honestly as they approached the car, "But I've got to go on, don't I?"

"You can't let him win," Al shrugged, "If you let him get to you then you win."

"I just wonder if I'm making the same mistake with Mike," She said as she looked at him over his car, "We all thought Price was fine too until now. How can I trust Mike?"

"Mike is not Frank," Al reminded her, "But I can see your point."

"I know he's not," she said, "But how..."

"Follow your heart, Tracy," Al grinned, "All you can do. Mike said that after we finished dealing with Harry he'd take you away for a few days. Take advantage of it and see if that's what you really want. See if you can trust him."

"I'll think about it," she nodded, "Let's get back to the farm."

Martinez nodded and unlocked the car. They were both about to crawl inside when they heard three shots in quick succession. They both drew their weapons quickly and headed towards the area where the shots came from.

The shots had reverberated around the corner. It was obvious from the distinctive crack that they came from a rifle, one that fired supersonic bullets. There was a commotion around a group of people in front of the precinct house. Al and Tracy went over quickly and saw a man lying on the ground. The surrounding police officers were in frenzy.

"What happened?" Martinez asked Captain Roberts who was looking around a little bit dazed.

"We were escorting Price out," Roberts said, "Three shots rang out and he hit the ground like a wet paper bag."

Tracy looked down and looked at what used to be Frank Price. The shooter was good; one hit to the head and two in the chest. Not a scratch on any of the police officers that were around him either. She looked up and tried to see whether there was still a shooter present.

"Had to have been one of the buildings across the street," Martinez said to a group of officers, "Go find the shooter."

"I saw the shooter," one officer stammered, "On the sixth floor of Mazzy's!"

"Go find him!" Roberts shouted at the officer.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Tracy muttered and started walking towards the building.

The scene went on for a little while and nobody was able to find the shooter. They found the shooting location, a cubbyhole of an office on the sixth floor. It had been broken into, and the rifle was still lying on the floor. The crime scene was sealed and Roberts herded the officer who actually saw the shooter into an interview room. As a courtesy he let Al and Tracy sit in.

"Could you see anything but the gun?" Roberts asked.

"Black hair," the young officer said, "Other than that I couldn't see much."

"Long or short," Tracy asked.

"Not as long as yours," he said, "But long. I couldn't see much from that distance you know."

"Any ideas?" Roberts asked.

"Probably whoever employed Price," Tracy said, trying to keep her emotions out of it, "Probably a representative of the Bullock people."

"Did you see anyone in the building?" Martinez asked.

"Not really," the officer shrugged, "Though in the lobby I must admit that I was a bit distracted by a woman."

"Nice going," Roberts groused.

"I couldn't help it," the kid shrugged, "She was very hot. Taller than I am with a figure to die for. She had black hair too, come to think of it."

The bells rang for Tracy. She stepped out of the room and went to the online system. Eric had taught her how to access the information system that he had set up for Miller. She pulled up one of the few pictures of Elise Steele they had on a hunch. She printed it out on the photo printer and brought it back into the interview room.

"Is that the woman?" Tracy asked and gave the picture to the young officer.

"That's her all right," the kid replied and handed it back to her, "Who is she?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Roberts asked.

"Elise Steele," Tracy said and held up the photo, "She works for Freddie Pena; the man that probably was Price's boss in the outfit. Five will get you ten she's the shooter."

"That pretty girl?" the kid asked, shocked by this, "You're kidding?"

"Steele is one cold blooded bitch," Martinez confirmed, "We've dealt with her before. Something like this is right up her alley. My guess is that she was dressed as provocatively as possible to throw people off."

"You can say that again," the kid said.

"Good luck in finding her," Tracy said, "She's probably long gone. Even if you find her, good luck in tying her to it."

"We've still got the gun," Roberts reminded her.

"No fingerprints," Tracy said, "The gun will turn out to be stolen. Steele is a professional. She doesn't make stupid mistakes. If the bell hadn't rung with me you wouldn't even have known it was her."

"So you want me to throw this on the dead case file?" Roberts fumed, "A man is shot in our custody and you want us to give up?"

"Of course not," Tracy sighed, "Do your normal investigation. Just know that you probably won't get a conviction on it. At any rate, you know all we do about it. If you have any questions, call Tom Richter."

"I'll fax a statement over to him for you to sign," Roberts nodded, "Sorry about this mess."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Tracy quipped and then walked out the door.

Chapter Thirty-Five – August 26, 2000 – Mid Afternoon

Miller stood outside in the summer sun smoking a cigarette. He was watching some crows fly around in the blue sky of the country setting when Eric Craig came out to sit with him. He adjusted his glasses a little bit in the bright sunlight and looked at the undercover man that he'd been supporting.

"What's going on, Eric?" Mike asked as he ground the butt into the dirt.

"He's awake and yelling," Eric informed him, "Tom is letting you handle the show. You know Harry better than anyone else."

"Is he coherent yet?" Mike questioned.

"Getting there," Eric nodded, "I don't know what he sounds like normally."

"It's been over fifteen hours since he passed out," Miller said, "The son of a bitch has a constitution like a horse. He should be just about sober by now. I guess it's time."

They walked into the barn and found Tom standing looking at Harry from behind the spotlights. The room setup was elaborate. It was chosen because none of the natural light got into the room. Eric had set up spotlights on Harry so that he would not be able to see anything, even the walls. Tom was being quiet enough that Lupo didn't even know he was there.

Miller tapped his boss on the shoulder, and they walked out of earshot to talk for a minute.

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Richter said with a shake of his head.

"Is he sober enough to start the show?" Miller asked.

"I think so," Tom said, "You know him better than I do. What's the best way to proceed?"

"I'm going to wing it," Miller shrugged, "Nothing else I can do really. Have you got the screen set up, Eric?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Running it through a projector screen. I set up the projector behind him and the screen is behind the light. I'll dim the light at the time so he can see it."

"Good," Miller said, "Be listening to what I say. I'll cue you what I want when I want it."

"Sounds good to me," Eric agreed.

Miller walked back into the room and took a good look at Harry Lupo. The man was visibly agitated, probably wondering if he were dead or alive. Miller decided it was time to end the mystery.

"Where the fuck am I?" Harry shouted, "Let me out of here!"

"Shut up, Harry," Miller said quietly as he walked into the lighted area.

"Ray?" Harry asked, "Come on, get me the hell out of here!"

"I don't think so, Harry," Miller said, dragging a steel-folding chair into the circle of light, "You and I need to have a little talk."

"We'll talk after you fucking untie me, you ungrateful prick," Harry fumed.

"We'll talk now," Miller stated calmly, "I take it that you've finally sobered up a bit."

"Ray!" Harry shouted, "This is not funny."

"Neither is what you did last night," Miller noted, "Do you even remember?"

"That?" Harry asked, "You're getting on me about killing that prick Reams?"

"In front of his family, Harry," Miller said with a sad shake of his head, "His kids are going to remember seeing you blow their father's head off for the rest of their lives."

"He had it coming!" Harry yelled.

"So do you," Miller shrugged, "Especially after killing those kids that hit us. Just what the hell were you thinking?"

"Fuck em if they can't take a joke," Lupo shrugged.

"That last one was stupid," Miller said, "Reams we could have covered, but you shot those kids in front of thirty witnesses, Harry. The police had you identified in less than an hour."

"So what are you?" Lupo sneered, "Their avenging angel? I'm a boss, you fucking prick! You can't do this to me."

"Me?" Miller asked mockingly, "I wouldn't dream of it. But your boss would."

"Charlie loves me!" Harry said, still actually believing it.

"Charlie has tolerated you," Miller corrected, "The only reason you weren't removed after Barry's fuckup was because of my intervening. Max Bullock kept Eric Roth at bay for my sake, not for yours. Once I removed my objection to your removal, the order was given."

"So why am I still alive, asswipe?" Harry asked, "Do you get your kicks out of toying with me? Or are you talking through your ass?"

"Please," Miller said disdainfully, "Don't put me in your sadistic league, Lupo. You see, I have a little confession to make. I don't want to kill you. I think you might actually still serve a purpose in life."

"Bullshit," Harry stated simply, "I think you're lying to me."

"You do?" Miller asked, "Roll the tape."

Eric Craig had already reviewed the recording a few times and had already electronically set the points that Harry would most need to hear. Miller stepped out of the light and let Harry listen to the recording. His face went white as he heard the distinctive voices calmly discuss his fate.

A few minutes later, after the recording finished playing and Harry had a chance to absorb the meaning of it Miller walked back into the circle of light for his reaction.

"Eric Roth has wanted you dead for months, Harry," Miller said as he sat down on the folding chair, "Charlie was undecided. Max was on your side mainly for my sake. He and I are getting along quite well, you know."

"How did you get a recording of that?" a visibly stunned Harry asked.

"That's not your problem," Miller shrugged, "Your problem is your future."

"According to that tape I have none," Harry sneered, "Why don't you stop playing with me and end it, Ray?"

"Like I said," Miller grinned, "I have another use for you, Harry."

"What?" Harry asked, not sure what to make of this.

"Simple," Miller said forthrightly, "I want you to testify against the Bullocks and in any other trial we need you to testify in."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry asked, "Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Miller smiled, "I'm just doing my job."

"Bullshit," Harry said, "Bullock would kill you for that."

"But Bullock isn't my boss," Mike informed him, "You've been hoodwinked, Harry. I'm an undercover cop."

Harry's jaw dropped at that one. That revelation hit him blindside, even after the turn that this conversation had taken. He could not believe that he'd been so completely outmaneuvered by a police officer.

"You can't be!" Harry yelled, "You've passed every bit of scrutiny that we've ever given you. You even managed to get through one of Elise Steele's investigations."

"My support team is very good," Miller shrugged, "But this leaves us to where we were before."

"Fuck you!" Harry growled, "I'm not turning stool pigeon. Now, I want a fucking lawyer."

"You don't need one," Miller smiled, "You're not under arrest. You can leave here at any time."

"Let me go then," Harry growled, "They'll think twice about killing me when I tell them about you."

"You won't get that chance," Miller stated, "You walk out of here; we blow my cover before you can. How long do you think you'll live after that revelation?"

"You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed.

"Sure we can," Miller confirmed, "You see, you have very few choices right now."

"I want my lawyer!" Harry exclaimed.

"Not an option until you are arrested," Miller said coldly, "Now would you like to walk out of here or listen to something that may keep your pathetic ass alive?"

Harry shut up and decided to let Miller talk.

"Thank you," Mike said, "You have a simple choice. You can plead guilty to six counts of murder and receive a sentence of 25 to life on each. You will serve these sentences concurrently, so you'll have a chance at parole in 20 years."

"And I'll get killed in ten days," Harry growled, "No fucking way. Besides, I'm no stool."

"I'm not finished yet," Miller said, "This time would be served in a solitary cell in a supermax. No contact with anyone except guards, and they won't even know your real name. You even get a cable TV in the deal."

"I don't stool on my friends!" Harry shouted.

"Friends?" Miller asked, "They are the ones who asked me to kill you, Harry!"

"Blow me!" Harry said.

"You're not my type," Miller shrugged off, "Think about this a little."

"You think I'm crazy enough to plead to this many murders?" Harry laughed, "You couldn't even convict me on them."

"I'm sure they could make the case," Miller shrugged, "Doesn't matter. We have you cold on another one even if they screw up the most recent case."

"Bullshit," Harry said firmly.

"Ok," Miller said, "Eric, roll the security film."

Miller stepped back behind Harry and out of the light as the recording from the security camera appeared on a screen in front of them. Harry watched in abject horror at the image of himself beating that teenager nearly to death. He actually winced when he saw himself fire the shots into the kid's head.

"Seen enough, Harry?" Miller asked from behind him.

"How?" Harry stammered.

"Security camera," Miller said, "I turned it on when I saw what you were up to. We have you cold on that one. The kid's body is nicely preserved in the morgue too. The trial would be a formality with that one."

"You son of a bitch," Harry said quietly.

"Count on it, Harry," Miller replied coldly, "This offer isn't good for much longer."

"What's the deal again?" Harry asked dejectedly.

"You plead to the six murders," Miller stated, "This kid and the five last night. You submit to any questioning required of you and testify against anyone on anything we ask."

"If I refuse this?" Harry asked in what might have been the most lucid state he'd been in months.

"We'll put you out on the street," Miller stated, "Word of my real occupation will hit ahead of you. From there it will be a race for you to see who gets you first, the police or your own people. If the police get you, you go to trial for murder one. Probably get the needle when this evidence is put in. If your people catch you, you won't live long enough to get the needle."

"You're screwed either way," Harry said, "You can't keep this quiet."

"Yes he can," Tom said as he stepped into the light.

"Who the hell are you?" Lupo asked Tom.

"Thomas Richter," he said, "I'm the man who has made your life a living hell."

"The undercover guy, huh?" Harry said, "You're behind this?"

"Of course," Richter said, "The idea of this deal is that you are kept out of sight until Ray Nester's cover is blown."

"Do I have a choice?" Harry asked dejectedly.

"Yes," Miller nodded, "You do. Frankly, I'm fed up with this life anyway. If you reject the deal, I'll let you go gladly and wait for the Bullocks to finish the job. Just means I get to take a vacation and forget this for a while."

"No general population for me?" Harry asked Tom.

"Not if you keep your end of the deal," Tom agreed, "I will warn you, you do anything to compromise Nester and you will be in GP within hours. I assure you that you won't last ten minutes down there once we release tapes of your depositions."

"Think about it for a few, Harry," Miller said, "We'll be back."

Mike and Tom walked outside so they could talk and let Harry mull this over for a few minutes. Tracy and Al were waiting for them by the tractor. Eric emerged from the darkness as well. The five of them looked at each other.

"Was it him?" Miller asked them.

"It was," Martinez replied glumly, "For about ten minutes."

"Explain," Tom said.

Tracy sighed and spent the next few minutes explaining what had happened at the precinct. Nobody was particularly surprised at the way things turned out. Miller was impressed that Tracy had even figured out that it was Elise Steele. They asked how things were going with Harry.

"He's mulling over his options," Miller chuckled, "I think he's probably going to take the deal. He's crazy, but he's not stupid."

"Too bad," Tracy said dryly, "I was looking forward to ending this."

"Me too," Miller agreed, "But if he takes it then we go on as before, with me firmly entrenched into Max Bullock's posse."

"You ready for that?" Tom asked him.

"As ready as I can be," Miller shrugged, "At least it'll be a step into the light. I won't have to deal with the seedier elements as much."

"True," Tom nodded, "How long should we give him?"

"A few more minutes," Miller shrugged, "I'm going to have a cigarette first."

Miller walked outside and lit a cigarette. Tracy followed, and Miller offered her the pack. She took one and handed the pack back. They walked together in silence for a few moments before the ice broke.

"How are you holding up, Trace?" Miller asked her.

"I feel like a punching bag," Tracy admitted, "I didn't even get a good answer out of Frank before Steele killed him."

"It's probably better that way," Miller sighed, "You would never have gotten the answer you wanted."

"You think?" she asked.

"No way you could," Miller shrugged, "What he did is just so alien to what we are that could never be a sufficient explanation for why he did it. What seemed justified to him is abhorrent to us."

"I guess," she admitted.

"He got what was coming to him," Miller said, "Even if we don't like it, there's some sort of cosmic sense to it."

Tracy merely nodded. She was still undecided on how to feel about this. Miller watched the look on her face and realized what the problem was. She was trying to reconcile what she now knew as fact with what she still felt in her heart for the old Frank. Despite the fact that he'd left her and become a criminal himself she still loved him a little. Old habits are hard to break.

"You still love him, don't you?" Mike asked her as they got to the edge of the property.

"Yes," she admitted sheepishly, "I shouldn't, but I can't help it."

"Why should you?" Miller asked her, "He was a part of your life for a long time. You held those feelings dear for years. All of a sudden you find out something different and they are supposed to change?"

"But..." She tried to get out, but Miller interrupted her.

"But nothing," Mike said, "You can't change the way you feel in a matter of hours, Tracy. Whatever happened on his side, what you felt was real for you. The rest of it doesn't matter, does it?"

"I guess you're right," Tracy admitted, "It's just confusing as hell. I was pretty secure with things until a few hours ago."

"Arthur Dent was pretty secure in his identity," Miller grinned, "Until Ford Prefect saved him from the planet earth's destruction and they started hitchhiking across the galaxy."

"True," Tracy laughed, "We'll talk about this later."

"We still on for afterwards?" he asked her, "I was serious about taking you away for a few days if you want."

"I'd like that," she smiled.

"Good," Miller said.

They walked quietly back into the building and they went to Al, Eric, and Tom who were sitting outside. They were all wearing a glum look on their face.

"What's wrong?" Miller asked.

"Whitmore is livid," Tom said, "I don't know if he's going to approve the deal now."

"Get him over here," Mike suggested, "I'll talk to him about it."

"Get Harry to agree quickly," Tom suggested, "Whitmore will be here in about thirty minutes."

"I think he's about ready to crumble," Miller shrugged, "If Whitmore kiboshes it, screw it. I'm ready to get out anyway."

"I understand," Tom said, "It's your call."

"Let's see how things play first," Miller suggested.

"After you," he said and directed Miller into the dark area.

Miller walked in and saw Harry looking glumly at the wall. He was fully sober for the first time in months, and it was weighing on him. Mike stepped into the lighted area, and Harry looked up at him.

"Can I make a couple requests?" Harry asked.

"If it's in reducing the charges, forget it," Miller said, "After last night you're lucky to be getting this much of a deal."

"I figured that much," Lupo said, "I don't want to have to testify against Nick or Jamie."

"You really don't remember last night very well," Miller growled, "Jamie died in the accident."

"Oh," Harry said softly, "I don't want to testify against Nick though. Charlie and his bastards deserve it, but Nick is a good kid."

"That's fine," Miller nods, "I plan on getting Nick a deal when the lid falls out anyway. Once I turn his position is screwed as well."

"I accept the deal," Harry said dejectedly.

"Fine," Miller nodded, "I'll be back in a bit. Stay put."

"Funny," Harry growled as Miller walked out of the light.

"He accepted," Miller told them to a general sigh of relief.

"Now, all I have to do is get Whitmore to sign off," Tom said.

"You should have done that before," Miller said.

"I know it," Tom replied, "Unfortunately he's proving a bit obstinate on it."

"Great," Miller sighed, "Guess we aren't out of the hole yet."

It proved to be an agonizing thirty minutes waiting for the district attorney to show up. Mike and Tracy sat together waiting. Eric poked away at something on the computer. Tom and Al both sat on the edge of city vehicles waiting. Whitmore came storming into the barn.

"What am I doing here, Tom?" Whitmore asked brashly as he walked in.

"I'm to blame for that," Miller said.

"You?" Whitmore asked, "You're the one who saved Mary Anne, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Miller said, "I'm also why you're here."

"You were the second man, weren't you?" Whitmore sighed.

"I was the one who pulled Harry away, yes," Miller admitted, "I also put him on ice for a while."

"Why on earth did you let him get away?" Whitmore asked.

"Away?" Miller asked, "He's sitting in the other room."

"What?" Whitmore asked.

"He's here," Miller smiled, "And we've gotten him to agree to a deal."

"No deals!" Whitmore said emphatically, "They'll skin me if I don't seek the needle for that son of a bitch!"

"Six counts of Murder one," Miller said, "25 to life. Served concurrently."

"Yeah," Whitmore laughed, "He wouldn't agree to that."

"Would you?" Tom asked, "Especially if he'll testify against the Bullock family in detail?"

"You already posed it to him, didn't you?" Whitmore asked.

"Of course we did," Tom said, "He's agreed."

"It won't stand up," Whitmore noticed, "I doubt you brought his lawyer here."

"He doesn't want one," Miller grinned, "You see, there's another slight problem."

"Which is?"

"Bullock put a contract out on Lupo," Miller informed the flustered district attorney.

"Good," Whitmore shrugged, "He'll last about an hour in lockup."

"I took the contract," Miller said, "If he disappears until I break cover, I get the credit for his demise. We also have his testimony for the case that we're building."

"Supermax quarantine?" Whitmore asked.

"Already have it approved through Judge Brooks," Tom told him, "I just need you to sign off on it."

"He submits to full deposition?" Whitmore asked them.

"If he lies on anything," Miller said, "He goes directly into the general population in the supermax. I give him about an hour before someone decides to ice him."

"How did you get him to agree to this?" Whitmore asked.

"Easy," Tracy put in, "If he didn't agree and agree now we let him back out on the street."

"You wouldn't?" Whitmore asked them, aghast at the thought.

"Sure we would," Tom smiled, "But not until we put out word on the street that Mike was an undercover operative. It would be a race to see if we got him or his own people did."

"Why six murders?" Whitmore asked after a thought, "He only committed five last night?"

Tom explained about the kid who had been killed months before. The District Attorney wasn't particularly thrilled that information about a murder had been held back, but he was pleased that he'd be getting Lupo without a fight. His pragmatic side was kicking in and he liked the idea of maybe being able to break the Bullock family before the 2002 elections.

"How much longer are you going to stay under?" Whitmore asked Miller.

"I'm in the big leagues now," Miller informed him, "With this assignment I begin working for Max Bullock directly."

"You're right up there then," Whitmore agreed, "Hopefully you can wrap this up in a few months."

"Only thing I'm worried about is that the Bullock family might not be the top of the food chain," Miller said.

Everyone was taken by surprise by this statement. Even Tracy had to look hard at Mike. Miller shrugged his shoulders and let the surprise wear off before continuing.

"For a boss of bosses," Miller continued, "Charlie defers way too much to Freddie Pena for him to be totally in control."

"Have you even met Pena?" Tom asked.

"Not yet," Miller replied with a shake of his head, "If anyone below the inner circle has, it would surprise me. He usually sends Elise Steele to deal with the peons."

"I heard about that too," Whitmore frowned, "She moves quick."

"Too quick," Miller put in, "How long had Price been in when they shot him?"

"Ninety minutes," Tom said, "Two hours at the outside."

"No way Bullock got Elise out there that fast," Miller told them, "And you heard the recording. He usually defers this stuff to Pena. He was hesitant to even order the hit on Harry. No way in hell he ordered Elise to do in Price."

"Pena has been an enigma for a while," Whitmore said, "I take it you're trying to find out who he is?"

"It's on the agenda," Miller said, "Along with figuring out what happened to Howard Bronson."

"Ok," Whitmore sighed, "I'll sign off on Lupo. I just hope you come up with something."

"So do I," Miller agreed.

Chapter Thirty-Six – January 1, 2001 – Late Morning

When Mike Miller finished talking he downed the rest of his coffee. Stone and Entragian were watching him with awe. Most of the department had thought that the syndicate had actually taken care of business. Word on the street was that he had been eliminated as well.

"Harry Lupo is still alive?" Stone asked, surprised.

"Currently doing time as inmate 23,817 in the ADX Florence supermax," Miller grinned, "Probably a few cells down from Ted When Mike Miller finished talking he downed the rest of his coffee. Stone and Entragian were watching him with awe. Most of the department had thought that the syndicate had actually taken care of business. Word on the street was that he had been eliminated as well.

"Harry Lupo is still alive?" Stone asked, surprised.

"Currently doing time as inmate 23,817 in the ADX Florence supermax," Miller grinned, "Probably a few cells down from Ted Kaczynski. They have him in under the name of Travis Costello. Probably be there until he's nearly seventy."

"I'm impressed," McCord said, "How did things stack up after Harry's departure?"

"I missed the initial stuff," Mike said, "Tracy and I took most of the week off to rest. We both needed the time to reconcile things."

"Did you?" Entragian asked.

"We did," Miller smiled, "Price is always going to be a sore spot for her, but she's getting over it."

"What happened when you went back?" McCord asked, "You were working directly for Max Bullock, right?"

"Nick and I slipped into the Bullock household like a glove," Miller smiled, "Nobody ever knew the wiser about Harry. The subject was never even mentioned again."

"I see now why the official pressure to find him was dropped," Stone growled, "I thought that someone had interceded for him from the Bullock camp."

"Tom did it," Miller said and drained his cup of coffee.

"How were things with you and Jade during this period?" McCord asked Miller, wanting to change the subject a little after so many hours.

"Strained to say the least," Miller replied, "After the sexual relationship ended there was not really much for us. She and I didn't get along intellectually, two totally different types. In some ways, I liked her much better when I didn't know what she really was."

"When did the sexual relationship end?" Entragian asked, receiving a glare from Stone.

"Pretty much as soon as the mystery ended," Miller chuckled, "As soon as she didn't have to screw me to get information, she didn't. That was fine with me; I much preferred being with Tracy anyway."

"Too bad," Entragian shrugged.

"I can read your reports for this period if nothing major happened," McCord said with a yawn, "Were you and Jade doing anything of severe interest at this point in time?"

"Fighting mostly," Miller chuckled, "Though we had to start pulling together towards the end of October."

"Why's that?" McCord asked, "Change of heart?"

"Pena's people renewed their war against informers in the ranks," Miller said, "After Price was removed they had slowed things down for a bit, but the information Jade and I had been reporting was just too good."

"What happened?" McCord asked

"We were basically besieged" Mike shrugged, "They were all over the place...".
Chapter Thirty-Seven – October 22, 2000 – Morning

Mike Miller, Max Bullock, Nick Jones, Jade and a young blonde girl that Max had picked up the night before were sitting on the patio of the mansion. It was abnormal for any of them to be up this early, but the club scene had been lousy the night before, and nobody felt like sleeping. Mike and Jade had long since moved to a hotel just down the street from the mansion and had been taking most of their meals with Max.

Miller had become Max's official right hand because the longer they worked together the more he realized that his predecessor was an idiot. Mike and Nick quietly took over the job with little fanfare. The three of them had also become thick as thieves, spending a lot of their off hours together as well.

"Damned club was a disappointment last night," Max growled, "What is up with the management?"

"Beats me," Miller shrugged, "And we own a chunk of that one too."

"We do?" Nick asked, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah," Max nodded, "It's turning into a real waste of money too. Place is losing as much as it makes."

"It's a good tax loss," Miller shrugged, "And there are few better ways to launder dirty money."

"I thought we were legit on that one?" Max asked.

"Nope," Miller chuckled, "Where do you think Crazy Lennie is putting his cash and getting his customers?"

"Good point," Max chuckled.

"What's going on over there?" Jade asked and pointed at the three black Mercedes driving into the drive.

"Good question," Miller said as he looked over.

The three identical sedans were lined up in the front driveway. None of them had seen them before, though both Max and Mike had an idea as to what they might mean. Their suspicions were confirmed when Elise Steele stepped out of the lead car. A squad of Pena's people was descending on the mansion. Miller wondered if Pena himself was going to make an appearance.

"Looks like Pena's people are making an appearance," Max said dryly, "In force this time."

"In this many cars?" Mike noted, "Wonder if the big man decided to pay us a visit?"

"Not likely," Max said, "Freddie and dad have been friends for thirty years and I haven't seen him but four times in the past decade."

"A man who likes his privacy?" Nick asked.

"A man with a past," Mike speculated.

"A little of both," Max shrugged, "I'm wondering why nobody bothered to tell me."

"Let me go talk to Elise," Miller said, "Maybe she'll spill it?"

"Go for it," Max nodded.

Miller stood up and hopped over the fence, walking towards Elise and the other blacksuits. Elise was looking like her normal villainous self, black business style dress, pale white skin, her hair dyed its normal jet black. She actually smiled a little when she saw Miller approach.

"Long time no see, Nester," Steele said in that cold, even tone of her voice, "How are you?"

"Not too bad," Mike shrugged, "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"Too much heat for me here," she shrugged, "It's still warm, but livable now."

"I can imagine," Miller nodded, "What's up with the invasion?"

"Trouble," Elise told him, "We've got an informer."

Miller did not like the sound of that. He had been careful about what had been passed on, and he knew that his people were paranoid as hell about sending information up and down the line. He debated for a split second on what to say.

"That's not good," Miller frowned, "Why wasn't Max told?"

"We just found out last night," Elise shrugged, "They probably didn't have time to tell you. Freddie called us in at about eleven last night."

"Gotcha," Miller nodded, "Good luck."

"We'll need it, I'm sure," Elise said with a frown, "I'll be in town for a few days. Catch you later?"

"I'll be around," Miller nodded, "I work for Max now, so I'm usually here unless I'm running something for him."

"See you later, Ray," She nodded and walked off towards the house.

Miller nodded and walked back to the patio. Nick and Max looked at him questioning. Jade was wondering as well, but was pretending to be engrossed in brainless conversation with the blonde from the night before. Mike sat back down and lit a cigarette before telling the others what Elise told him.

"What is it?" Max asked.

"Come on," Nick pleaded, "Don't leave me hanging here."

"There's a spy in the outfit," Miller said glumly, "Elise and her people are here to weed it out."

"Not surprising," Max frowned, "Why didn't they tell us?"

"Elise said they got the call late last night," Mike told them, "Probably happened while we were out at that stupid club."

"Oh," Max said and looked down at the table, "Guess I should go check in with dad then."

"Want me to go?" Miller asked.

"Come on," Max said, "Nick, why don't you stay with the ladies out here?"

"Works for me," Nick smiled, still trying to avoid dealing with the big man himself.

Mike and Max walked into the house and headed towards Charlie's study. Both men were familiar fixtures in the house, and nobody paid them any mind. Mike, however, had to fight very hard to keep his composure. He was deathly afraid that they were taking aim for him this time.

They walked up to the door and were waved inside by Charlie. The two of them sat down on the chairs behind Max's usual desk. Elise and a man that neither one of them had seen before were already in mid spiel. Both Charlie and Eric looked exceedingly pissed off. Mike and Max looked at each other and then Max asked what was happening.

"It seems we have a traitor in the midst," Charlie growled.

"What makes you think so?" Max asked.

"John," Charlie said to the newcomer, "This is my son Max and his associate Ray Nester. Would you go ahead and fill them in before you continue?"

"Nice to meet you finally, Max," the newcomer said, "I'm John Stockton."

"You work for Freddie I guess?" Max asked.

"John has been with us for years," Elise explained to Mike and Max, "He's mostly worked behind the scenes until now."

"So what's the emergency?" Mike asked them, a little anxious to know.

"I had a contact with the feds," Stockton explained, "We've been mostly safe here because of Lentz's work, but the feds have been preparing a case. They are getting some good inside information, and Freddie decided that we needed to figure out who was supplying it."

"I still don't see the fire," Max said, "We've had leaks before."

"Not like this," Stockton replied and tossed a report over to Max.

Max spent a few minutes going over the report and his jaw was dropping. Miller waited patiently and watched Max read the report. Max silently finished it and passed it over to Miller to read. Miller was gratified to read that it came out of the federal agencies, rather than out of his own department.

The report detailed some very sensitive information about one of Robbie Cook's latest deals. Miller had known a little about it, but nothing like this. Somebody at the federal level had a very good source in the organization. He just hoped that Jade was keeping her head low, though he thought it was unlikely that it had came from her.

"How can we help?" Max asked.

"Not much you can do," Stockton said, "Just keep your people out of our way. The leak is somewhere in Cook's outfit, not yours."

"There must have been more than that," Miller said, "This is an awful lot of activity for just one report."

"This source is a good one," Stockton said, "Freddie wants us to tear things apart again and see what else we can shake out."

Miller nodded and shut up. He knew that there was probably more to it than that, but if he asked too many questions he would end up under suspicion himself. The meeting broke up soon after and Miller followed Max back out onto the patio. Jade looked up for a second, and then went back to her inane conversation.

"You believe this shit?" Max asked, "Why do the police try so hard?"

"Damned if I know," Miller lied, "I'll never figure it out myself."

"Wonder what we can do?" Max asked no one in particular.

"Stay out of their way," Miller advised, as he didn't want any part of it, "You know Pena's people as well I do. Best to just let them go through everything and get it over with."

"True," Max agreed, "Let me know if Elise spills anything when you fuck her later."

"Funny," Miller said, "There's rarely any talk when that happens."

"I think I'm going to have a drink," Max groused, "You want one?"

"Too early for me," Miller chuckled, "I think I'm going to go back to the motel for a while."

"Suit yourself," Max shrugged.

Miller got up, and Jade followed him like the dutiful woman she was supposed to be. They walked down to the car and piled in. Miller kept quiet until they were well out of the compound. Jade looked at him, but knew better than to break character until they were alone.

Chapter Thirty-Eight – October 22, 2000 – Late Morning

As soon as Mike and Jade walked into the motel room all pretenses were dropped. Jade returned to her true self and the slightly glazed look of stupidity in her eyes disappeared. She looked slightly worried and sat down on the bed. Mike pulled out the laptop and jacked it into the wall so he could begin to compose a report to the support team.

"Ok Miller," she said, "Spill it. What are the ghouls doing here?"

"Pena's people," Mike said as he started the computer.

"I figured that much," Jade frowned, "What are the storm troopers doing here? I seriously doubt they would come in force for something small."

"They think there is a leak," Miller sighed, "They've got good evidence, so Freddie sent them in for a good housecleaning."

"That's not good," Jade frowned, "You're not panicking?"

"No," Mike said and turned around to look at her, "But you might want to consider it."

"Why's that?" She asked, puzzled by this.

"They aren't looking at the locals this time," Mike informed her, "That's why I'm not panicking. They have something from the feds though, probably a leak in your area of things. I don't think it's from you because it was information on something recorded about Robbie Cook."

Jade paled at that one a bit. Miller didn't know it, but that could easily have been something she turned in. She hadn't told Miller since she wasn't sleeping with him anyway, but she had been cultivating one of Robbie Cook's lieutenants for nearly a month.

Miller looked at her for a second, as she turned pale. He briefly turned around to punch his password into the machine and then looked at her again. They made eye contact, and he knew that something was wrong. It didn't take much brainpower on his part to figure out that he had been wrong.

"Who is the information from?" Mike asked her, "You?"

"Possibly," she nodded, "I've been having an 'affair' with one of Cook's people. He likes the adventure of screwing somebody so close to the top men. I figured that since that part of it had ended between us you wouldn't care."

"I wish you'd have told me," Mike said, "But you have a job to do. I can't fault you for doing it."

"You haven't exactly been plentiful with useful information," she grinned, "He has."

"Get out now," Miller advised, "If you're the one who gave the information on that shipment, they're gunning for you."

"You're staying?" she asked.

"For now," Miller nodded, "But I see one hint that they are on to me; I'm out of here like a shot. What I saw today was more than a hint. They have a memo on your information."

"They sanitize those," Jade smiled and sauntered over to Miller, "I'm not worried. I'll just keep a low profile for a while."

"You have Elise and company on your tail," Miller reminded her as he looked up into her green eyes and put his hands on her waist, "Elise is a bloodhound, Lisa. I'd be worried about that if I were you."

"She's nothing but a pussycat," Jade/Lisa grinned, "Besides, this guy doesn't even know that I know most of this stuff. The dumb girl is the last person to be suspected. You know that."

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He just shook his head and sighed. He knew that there was no way he could convince her to get out while the getting was good. He just hoped that she lived to regret her mistake and that she would be able to get out in time.

"Be careful kid," Mike warned her, "Like I said, Elise is a pitbull. The guy with her didn't seem to be a slouch either. Keep a low profile for a while."

"Like you are?" she asked with a derisive grin.

"I don't call suspicion to myself," Miller said seriously, "And my support team doesn't use things that can be traced to me easily."

"My support team is good too, Mike," she said and slid into his lap, "Don't worry about me. We haven't lost an agent in years. Your people are in no position to say that."

"You're as likely to have a rogue as we are," Mike reminded her, "Frank Price screwed our pooch good."

"Don't worry about me," she said with a disarming smile and a kiss on the cheek, "I can take care of myself, lover."

"That's what scares me, Lisa," Miller grunted.

She laughed and surprised him with a kiss. It was the first time they'd had that sort of contact in months. Not being one to shrink from it, Mike kissed back and they sat together for a few minutes. She leaned on his shoulder for a while getting what she needed, a welcome respite from the strain.

She didn't let Miller see it, but she was scared as well. She was older than Miller had originally thought, but at 22 she was still a scared kid. Parts of her brain were screaming at her to get out of this situation while she was still able to do so. But, she was too stubborn to do so.

"How did you get into this business?" Mike asked her.

"My father," she said and shifted in his lap.

"Your father lets you do this?" Miller asked, surprised.

"He never had a choice," Jade said and got up.

She walked around the room and looked for Miller's pack of cigarettes. She sat down on the bed and lit one up. Miller decided to delay work on his report for a few minutes and sat down with her. She handed him the pack, and he shook out the last one, borrowing her cigarette to light his own.

"How did your father get you into this?" Miller asked after a minute.

"My father was a hood," she said with a face, "A real nothing son of a bitch. He abused the hell out of my brother and me."

"I'm sorry," Mike said.

"He can't hurt me anymore," she said while staring off into space, "He got himself killed during a robbery six years ago."

"Sounds like the best thing that could have happened to you," Miller nodded.

"It didn't hurt that's for sure," she said, still focusing into space, "I was glad to see him go."

"So this is your little way to get back at him?" Mike asked her.

"After years of him," she said slowly, "I could never feel normal with another person."

"You did well with me before we knew," he reminded her.

"Cold, calculating seduction," she said with a half smile, "Sex doesn't mean anything to me anymore, Mike. It just isn't special."

"You don't enjoy it?" Mike asked.

"Never have," she said, letting her revulsion come out a little, "It's a tool, nothing more. That's why I was chosen for this. I have what they call a 'moral flexibility' when it comes to sex."

"I can't imagine what that is like," Miller said.

"Like you felt anything for me when we were still doing it," she said testily, "I was simply a piece of meat to you."

"I did my best to treat you well, Lisa," Mike said and looked at her pained expression, "And I certainly felt something for you."

"Sure," she sighed, "Pity, lust, desire. Men are all the same, Ray. You may try not to be, and you may be a bit better trained than most, but you have the same instincts as any of them."

Miller sighed. He didn't know what to say to her. They'd been together for several months, and he still didn't know the person that she really was. He considered trying to reach out for her, but didn't want to give her the wrong impression.

"Why do people who say they love you hurt you, Mike?" she asked him, a question that she'd had inside for years.

"Not everyone does that," He tried to explain, "You've had some bad experiences, Lisa. Not every man is out there to hurt you."

"It surely seems like it sometimes," she stated.

"To the world's credit," Mike grinned, "We're kind of on the underside of it right now. There are very few people here that I'd expect to see any form of understanding out of, you know?"

"That may be true," she sighed, "But my father wasn't the only one who hurt me like that."

"I'm listening if you want to talk," Mike told her.

She looked at him. Her emotions were mixed about him still. She had always known that he was more decent than most of the men that she had known in her life. She knew this even before she knew he was a cop. He had always treated her well and was even respectful when they had been having sex, something that most of the men in her life had not been.

It was at this point that she started letting it all loose. Lisa (Jade took a holiday) let the whole gambit of pain out of her system, telling him the most intimate stories of pain that she had never told anyone else before. Mike sat there with her and listened to her stories, encouraging her when she needed it, and letting her get it all out.

Four hours later, after the most sordid stories of abuse that Miller had ever heard, Lisa Collins collapsed into his arms and simply started crying. It was the first time she had ever let the full amount of pain escape from that dark place in her mind where it had been stored. She still was not sure as to how feel about what she had just told him.

Mike held her tightly and let her get the crying out of her system. She clutched on to him and just tried to push the images back out of her head. Mike stroked her hair lightly and touched her in a friendly, caring way. The last thing she needed was more sexual contact. Mike knew that a normal sexual relationship was something that she was never likely to be able to have.

"What do you think now?" She asked him bravely, trying to gauge his reaction to what she'd told him.

"I think you're a strong woman, Lisa," Mike told her, "One that's taken a lot more abuse than any ten people deserve."

"You don't care?" she asked him, looking into his eyes.

"Of course, I care," Mike said, "But you're going about getting over it the wrong way, you know."

"I know," she sighed, "I think I know that now. But here I am, and I am good at this. I'm not going to quit."

"There's a difference between quitting and self preservation," he reminded her, "You stay here and you're going to burn out inside, Lisa. And that's only if you don't get caught in Pena's net. Stockton and Steele are bloodhounds kid. They will tumble to you, eventually."

"What about you?" she asked.

"They have no reason to suspect me yet," Miller replied, "The leak didn't come out of my people."

"Would you leave?" she asked him.

"With them on my tail?" Mike asked and answered, "I'd be holing up downtown getting deposed. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"I don't think they'll find me, Mike," she said, "And I'm close to getting through on those shipments."

"What shipments?" Mike asked her.

"Cook has something brewing," she said, "Something big. The biggest deal that they've ever done. I'm still trying to find out what it is."

"Be careful," Miller reminded her, "This is a dangerous time to be putting your neck on the block."

"That's the beauty of it," Lisa smiled, letting Jade return to the surface, "I haven't asked question one to this guy. I simply do him for a couple hours, and he just starts babbling, trying to impress me. I just give him my empty glazed stare and he'll rattle off times, dates, places."

"Cute trick," Miller chuckled, "Well I've still got to make my report for the day. They're probably beginning to wonder where I am since I didn't report yesterday either."

"Go for it," she nodded as she turned the TV onto the News, "I'm going to catch a few minutes of the news before I go out."

Miller nodded and went over to his machine to begin typing his emailed report. He logged into the secure server and noticed that the email indicator was already blinking. He clicked on the email button and brought up the new email that had been forwarded to him by Eric Craig.

Mike,

Tom sent this out to all the support teams and had me send this out to you as well because you were so high up in Bullock's organization. Keep an eye out for this guy, he's been missing for a couple days.

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Date: Fri, 21 Oct 2000 14:34:13 -0400

Reply-To: Thomas Richter <Thomas.Richter@citypd.us.gov>

Sender: Thomas Richter <Thomas.Richter@citypd.us.gov>

From: Thomas Richter <Thomas.Richter@citypd.us.gov>

Subject: Missing Undercover Operative: Phillip Kane

To: Eric Craig <Ecraig@citypd.us.gov>, Tracy Howard <Thoward@@citypd.us.gov>, Albert Martinez <amartinez@citypd.us.gov>

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Status:

To all Support Team personnel:

Agent Phillip Kane has gone missing from his position in the Cook narcotics gang. He last reported in about six days ago and hasn't been seen since. Any information on agent Kane needs to be forwarded on to myself or to any other senior member of the team.

Tom

There was also a file photograph of Phillip Kane included in the directory on the server. Miller had never met him before, but he memorized the face in the photograph just in case. He knew that the likelihood of him ever meeting Philip Kane from his position was slim. If he had been discovered then Pena's people had probably already disposed of him.

After he finished memorizing the photo, he typed up his report on what had transpired at the mansion earlier in the morning. He left out any mention of knowing that Jade was involved. He still wanted deniability when it came to her and he knew that once her vulnerability was discovered Tom would pull him in a heartbeat.

Mike had just hit send on the program when the phone started ringing. Mike and Jade looked at each other for a second when Miller picked up the phone. He greeted the caller and was caught with Nick's excited speech.

"Oh man!" Nick exclaimed, "You're not going to believe this!"

"Try me," Miller chuckled "And calm down."

"You and me are going to Cali!" Nick exclaimed with glee.

"What?" Miller asked, wondering what the hell was going on.

"I don't know all the details yet," Nick said, "Elise said that she'd tell us both when you got here, but we're going to Cali for a week or so."

"Did she say why?" Mike questioned, not liking the sound of this.

"Something about needing extra hands for something or other," Nick said, "She'll tell us when you get here."

"Ok," Miller said, knowing it was useless to pump him anymore, "I'll be there in an hour or so. I need to clean up and get dressed. Do I need to be packed and ready?"

Nick left the phone for a second and asked Elise, whose voice Mike could hear in the background. After a few seconds of conversation Nick came back onto the phone.

"Plane leaves at five," Nick said, "Elise wants us to meet her here in an hour."

"I'll be there," Miller promised, "One question for her?"

"Let me pass the phone to her," Nick said, "That'll make it faster."

"What is it Ray?" Elise Steele's cool even voice asked over the phone.

"Where in Cali are we going?" he asked, "I need to know what to pack."

"We're going to LA," she told him, "Your regular clothes will be fine."

"Gotcha," Miller said, "What are we doing?"

"Not over the phone," she chastised, "I'll tell you on the way to the Airport."

"Ok," Miller agreed, "See you in an hour."

Without any further ado Steele hanged up the phone and ended the call. Miller sighed and started packing clothes quickly. He was going to have to quickly meet with someone on the support team before he left.

"What's going on?" Jade asked him.

"I'm going to California," he said, "With Nick and Elise and God knows who else."

"Sounds like fun," she said, "Do I get to go?"

"'Fraid not," Miller said.

"That's ok," she smiled, "Just gives me time to work on this new guy."

"Keep your head low, kid," Miller told her, "If things look iffy at all, just leave me a message of some sort and get out."

"Don't worry about me," she said, "Watch your own ass out there, ok?"

"You know it," Miller smiled as he put the last of his stuff in the suitcase, "I don't know when I'll be back, but the room is paid for. I think it's current until the end of next month, actually."

"Don't sweat it," she said, "If they talk to me about it I'll go to Max. He'll pay for you."

"That works," Miller nodded and picked up his stuff to leave.

"Good luck," she smiled at him as he left the room.

Chapter Thirty-Nine – October 22, 2000 – Afternoon

Mike Miller rushed over to a pay phone to call the support team. He did not know what the procedure for leaving the area was, or if he was even going to be allowed to go. He dialed the sterile number, and Al Martinez answered the phone quickly.

"Congressional Office of Curly Howard," Martinez answered, "How may I direct your call?"

"Funny," Miller said, "New circumstances. Need your input on what to do."

"Shoot," Martinez said.

"I'm due on a plane with Nick and Elise Steele in an hour and a half," Miller told them, "We're going to California. Don't know why."

"Shit," Martinez growled, "What's your feel of it?"

"Elise is too cordial for anything to be up yet," Mike said, going with his gut, "I think going will probably be the smart thing to do. If I don't go we might as well blow my cover right here and now."

"When is your flight?" Martinez asked.

"Five," he said, "What do we do?"

"I'm going to call Tom," Al told him, "For now go along with the plan. Listen to the announcements at the airport. If you hear someone paging Mike Miller, get out. That's the cue to get the hell out of dodge. If your gut instincts tell you to get out, listen to them."

"Got it," Miller said, "Anything else?"

"If you go," he instructed the undercover man, "Keep an eye out for me. Most likely I'll be hopping the first flight to LA."

"Right," Mike nodded, "Ok. I've got to get to the Mansion. Don't want to keep Elise waiting."

"Good luck," Al said as he hung up the phone.

Miller mumbled something about needing it and went back to his car. He drove straight to the mansion and tried to curtail his nervousness. He idly lit a cigarette that he didn't really smoke, but merely let sit in the corner of his mouth. He drove the car slowly to the mansion and parked it in his usual place in the corner of the drive.

"Hey Ray," Fat Tony said from his post outside the door, "They're waiting for you inside."

"Cool," Miller nodded, "What's going on?"

"Damned if I know," Fat Tony shrugged, "They don't tell me shit nowadays."

"Nothing new," Miller grunted and walked into the mansion.

Fat Tony shrugged and watched Miller walk inside. Once inside he made his way to the front room that seemed like the logical place to meet he saw Elise sitting down on the couch. He was surprised by the fact that she was actually wearing lightly colored clothing for a change. It was a look that didn't go well with the expression on her face, the serious one that hadn't changed much.

"Very nice, Elise," Miller complimented, "Different look for you."

"Yeah," she said with a sour expression, "Only way I can travel by air. I get overlooked this way."

"I don't know how," Miller chuckled, "Why are we going to California?"

"I've got some work to do out there," she said, "I need a couple of good hands. Max was kind enough to volunteer you."

"I'm surprised you aren't using your own people for this," Miller said.

"I need people who aren't known on that coast," she said, "Most of Freddie's people are known out there, and we're a little bit short handed right now."

"Sounds interesting," Miller nodded, "Ok."

"Besides," Elise smiled coldly, "I could use some entertainment out there, and I'm sure you could be entertained as well. The rooms will be registered under your fake name, and I'll be playing the girlfriend."

"Sounds even better," Miller smiled, relieved at this fact.

Miller wasn't overly enthused about a week with Elise Steele, but he could think of worse things. He was still curious as to what the whole job was about. He didn't want to ask too many questions, however.

"Here are the tickets, Ray," she said and handed them to him, "You're Paul Raymond for this trip. Nick, you're name is Eddie Bracken. I'm Elouise Blondell."

"Colorful names," Miller chuckled, "Sounds interesting. Doesn't Stockton need your help here though?"

"No," she grinned, "He has this under control. The situation in LA is mostly a nuisance, but one that could get out of hand. I'll be honest. I don't really need you two out there for anything other than a cover. I'm under an indictment out there, so I can't really afford to look anything like my normal self."

"I see," Miller nodded, "They're looking for a woman traveling alone that wears all black, not a brightly dressed woman traveling with two men having a good time."

"You got it," she nodded, "Let's go. Time to get this over with. Don't be surprised when I start putting on an act and hanging all over you."

"Nothing wrong with that," Miller grinned.

"Figures you'd say that," she grumped and led them out to the car.

Elise Steele wasn't particularly thrilled about having to rely on people outside of her own crew for this, but Stockton had pretty much every available man on the cleaning crew. She was also fuming at Freddie Pena's quick decision to send her back to California, a place that the FBI had been scouring for her for months.

The three of them went out to the waiting taxi and drove to the airport. Steele was quiet most of the trip while Nick babbled endlessly, since this was his first time going to California. Elise ignored him, and Miller made small talk to keep in character.

At the airport Miller listened hard for the announcement, but it never came. Elise was completely in character after they left the taxi, hanging on Miller like a girlfriend. She was smiling and laughing and looked very little like the Elise Steele he knew. The woman could have been an award-winning actress had she took on a more honest trade.

They checked in, and Elise upgraded them to first-class. They were waiting for their boarding call when Miller decided that he wanted to go to the bathroom. Elise sat and made small talk with Nick, something that was decidedly painful for her to do. Mike walked to the small bank of bathrooms and walked inside, going over to one of those automatic urinals.

"How does it look?" Al Martinez asked as he slid into the urinal next to him.

"Jesus Christ," Miller said with a start, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Following you," Al chuckled, "I'll be on the same plane you are."

"Riding coach I hope," Miller said.

"You think the department would pay for first-class?" Al grinned.

"Good point," Miller nodded, "Why are you following me out there?"

"Tom doesn't like the sound of this," Martinez said, "He wants one of our people local, and I was elected. I'm better at this type of solo work than Tracy is."

"No surprise there," Miller nodded.

"So how does it look?" Al repeated.

"Nick and I are basically cover," Mike told him, "Elise has a job to do, one that she hasn't told us about yet, and she probably won't. Evidently, the feds are looking for her out there."

"Not surprising," Martinez nodded, "I'll have Eric poke around their computers and see whether he can find out why."

"That works," Mike said, "Do you have a cell that works out there?"

"I'm carrying a clean PCS," Martinez nodded, "555-867-5309. Call me when you can."

"Don't follow too close, eh?" Mike told him, "Elise is nervous enough as it is."

"I'll keep my distance," Martinez chuckled, "Get on out of here before they miss you."

Miller nodded and finished up at the urinal. He walked back out just in time for the start of boarding. Elise took his arm, and they clambered onto the plane. She and Mike took their seats with Nick being put across the aisle. Elise started reading a magazine she had bought, and Miller laid his head back and let himself go to sleep for a while.

Chapter Forty – October 23, 2000 – Morning

Mike Miller shook his head as he started to wake up. He was sore over most of his body from the workout he had received with Elise the night before. Elise herself was still sleeping. Mike sat up and reached for his cigarettes, knocking one out of the pack and putting it into his mouth.

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom, grabbing one of the complimentary robes and putting it on. He walked out onto the balcony and lit his cigarette, sitting down on the simple chair to enjoy his first smoke of the day. He watched the people move around on the California Beach down below.

Elise did not take too long to wake up after he did. She did not bother with a robe, but just wore the sheet from the bed, wrapped carefully around her back to conceal the scarring. She stood behind Miller who looked up at her from the deck chair.

"Morning," Mike said as he shifted his gaze back to the beach.

"I'm trying to forget that fact," she said and wrapped her icy stare on the beach, "Damn Freddie. I hate California. He should have sent Stockton out to this damned city."

"Seems perfectly nice to me," Miller shrugged.

"You would think so," she muttered, "If there's a hell, Nester, L.A. is it. Don't let it fool you."

She leaned against the back of the chair. Miller tried to lightly caress her hand, but she pulled away quickly. She shot a harsh look his way and pulled the sheet even tighter around herself. Mike realized he had gone too far and put his hands back into his lap. He did not know Elise Steele's full history, but he knew from the scars on her back and her demeanor that some bad stuff must have happened to her as a kid.

She went into the room and quickly got dressed, putting on the lightly colored clothing again, though adding a long jacket this time. Miller looked into the room and wondered what he should do next. While she finished dressing he went into the room and got himself dressed into his normal outfit, slacks and a polo shirt.

"What's on the schedule for today?" Miller asked her, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I've got to go see Johnny Bowen," she said as if nothing had happened, "You and Nick are going to follow along to watch my back. Freddie said that Bowen had run across some problems here."

"Doesn't he have anyone here right now?" Mike asked.

"Just Johnny," she shrugged, "Bowen is an asshole, so anything could be up. Only way to find out is to go see him."

"I'm ready when you are," Miller nodded, "I'll go get Nick and meet you downstairs."

"Sounds good," she nodded, "Round him up and we'll go get some food."

Mike nodded and went over to the next room where Nick had spent the night. After a couple minutes of knocking on the door, a very bleary eyed Nick poked his head out of the door. He obviously had not slept very much. Mike could see through the crack in the door a blonde beach bunny that he had spent the night with still sleeping.

"What is it, Ray?" Nick asked him.

"Time to go," Miller told him, "Wake up and ditch the bitch, Nicky."

"Gotcha," Nick nodded, "Give me ten minutes."

"I'll be waiting with Elise downstairs," Miller nodded.

Mike went downstairs and saw Elise helping herself to some of the fruit on the continental breakfast. Mike skipped the fruit and opted to get a large mug of coffee. By the time he had finished his second cup, Nick had finished getting dressed and showed up downstairs.

Nick skipped the food entirely and waited for Mike and Elise to finish what they were ingesting. Once Miller had finished his coffee, he sat over by Nick and waited for Elise to finish her bowl of fruit.

"You two ready?" she asked them.

"Waiting for you," Miller nodded.

She nodded and finished the last pieces of fruit. She had already taken care of getting the car ready, so they followed her and got into the back seat of the Lincoln Town car that she had rented for the duration of the stay. Since neither Mike nor Nick had any clue where anything was in LA, she took the driver's seat, with Mike in the passenger side.

"Where are we going?" Nick asked.

"Johnny Bowen's place," Elise told them, "We'll find out what the emergency was then."

"Got a smoke, Ray?" Nick asked as they drove the streets of LA.

Mike idly handed Nick the pack and watched Elise as they drove. Elise was back to being her usual icy self, though she was still dressed in the lighter clothing that masked her appearance as well as anything possible. The only thing that identified her as the ice woman he knew was the harsh glare exuding from her eyes.

Elise parked the Lincoln behind what looked to be a derelict building. Mike and Nick looked at each other, slightly worried by this, but they followed Elise into the building. He knew that she wasn't armed yet, and she didn't seem worried at all. Nick just took strength from his boss and followed along.

Elise knew exactly where she was going, as she'd been there numerous times. She hated Johnny Bowen, but she knew that he'd worked out well for the organization's LA operations. They went into the seemingly derelict building, where Elise immediately went to one of the internal doors and started pounding on it.

"Open up," She shouted.

A makeshift peephole opened up, and a very white eye stared out of it for a moment, taking in the three of them. After a moment the door opened, and an older man with a slight build and the nuclear weapon proof televangelist hair walked out into the derelict building.

"Elise?" he asked, looking her up and down, "That you?"

"Who else would it be, you idiot?" she growled, "You going to let us in or not?"

"Sure, sure," Bowen nodded, "Who are your friends here?"

She introduced Mike and Nick curtly, and the four of them went inside the building. Bowen led them downstairs to the main area of the building. It looked mostly like a warehouse, with various commodities lying around. Bowen led them into an office where they all took seats on old wooden chairs.

"Ok Bowen," Elise said impatiently, "Why am I back in California?"

"No greetings?" the man said with an overly cheerful face, "No chit chat? Down to business already?"

"Listen," Elise said with bared teeth while grabbing his collar, "You got me back into this goddamned city. The feds are scouring the whole area for me. I had to use Mike and Nick here for cover. Now are you going to tell me why or am I just going to have to kill you and ask Jacko?"

"Chill out, girlie," Bowen said and backed off, "You know I wouldn't have had Freddie send you out here if it wasn't important."

"Spill it," she growled and sat back down.

Mike and Nick looked at each other. It was obvious that Elise didn't like this guy, and from the first impression, they didn't care for him either. Bowen went to his desk and pulled out a folder and gave it to the still glaring Elise.

"It's all in here," Bowen said as she started to read.

"What is it?" Miller asked him.

"We've got a leak," Bowen said, "Seems to be a ripe one too."

"So?" Elise said, "Why am I here to deal with it?"

"It came out of your neck of the woods," Bowen said, "We've got one of them already, but we think he knows more than he's telling. You know the players better than we do. That's why Freddie sent you out here."

"Where's the one you have?" Elise asked.

"In the back here," Bowen said and pointed to a doorway.

Miller tensed a little, the feeling in the pit of his gut was that he knew exactly who Bowen had in that room. Elise went to the door and opened it up. Mike walked a couple steps behind her and his fears were confirmed when he saw the face of the agent he had seen in the photo on his computer.

Phillip Kane was on the floor with his hands and feet bound. He had already been worked over quite a bit. His nose had crusted blood under it and one of his eyes was already quite black. He was awake and quiet, but he did not look as if he were having very a very good time.

"Who is he?" Miller asked.

"We're fairly sure he's a cop," Bowen said, "Jacko brought him out here with him last week. He's stubborn though, won't talk."

"What tipped you?" Elise asked.

"One of Price's descriptions," Bowen said, "And he was asking too many questions."

"Great," Elise said with a frown, "If you're so sure, you should have just shot him."

"I don't kill cops," Bowen shrugged, "That's your job."

Elise bared her teeth at that one. She was losing her patience with Bowen. He could have easily taken care of this. There was no reason at all for him to have called foul to Freddie. Elise looked down at the beaten cop and then up at Bowen.

"How much have you gotten out of this one?" Elise asked him.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "Again, your job and not mine."

Elise was not happy with this situation. Bowen could easily have taken care of this situation himself without calling her in. Now she was going to have to tear into some asses to figure out just how much was actually compromised. She briefly considered killing Bowen on the spot, but decided that could wait until she finished fixing what that idiot had screwed up.

"Ok, Johnny," she growled, "Let's go check out the other people."

"What about this guy?" he asked, "You going to off him or what?"

"Nester," she said, "You and Nick watch this guy. If you get ambitious, go ahead and try to pick his brain."

"That could take some work," Miller said, staying in character, "Any place you want the body disposed of?"

"Bowen?" she asked.

"Nothing to connect him to us," Bowen shrugged, "Just make sure he isn't connected to this place."

"Ray," she said, "You and Nick take care of this. If you don't want to dirty your hands then wait for Johnny and me to come back. Find out who he is and if he's a cop."

"How will we know for sure?" Miller asked.

"Here," Bowen said, "Freddie passed these out a few months ago. That's how we identified him in the first place."

Bowen passed Miller a loosely bound sheet of papers. Mike flipped through and found that these were descriptions and bad photographs of nearly every person that Tom Richter had in the program. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping.

"How the hell did you get this?" Miller asked.

"You met him," Elise said, "Frank Lentz, a defector from the police department. He was a good man; too bad I had to ice him to keep his mouth shut."

"I bet," Miller nodded, "Looks like you have the kit and kaboodle on these people."

"Not really," Elise said, "This information is old. We're trying to figure a way to update it now."

"Gotcha," Mike nodded, "We'll talk to this guy here."

"Here are the keys," Elise said and tossed them to Miller, "Be careful. You still don't know this town yet."

Mike and Nick nodded and watched Elise follow Bowen outside. Mike and Nick walked out to the front room and sat down in silence for a minute. Neither one was expecting to have this sort of job fostered upon them.

"You're not going to do this are you?" Nick asked Mike, "I didn't sign up to go up for a lethal injection."

"Neither did I," Miller said, still going over the list, "Good Christ, they really have declared war on the police department."

"We can't do this," Nick said, "Killing a crook is one thing, they're usually asking for it. But killing a cop is bad."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Miller asked.

"We could let him go?" Nick asked hopefully.

"I don't know about that," Miller sighed, "I don't think I'd particularly care to have that psychotic bitch pissed at me."

"There's got to be a way around it," Nick asked, "If we kill this guy and he's a cop, Steele will have us locked for life."

"I need to have a talk with this guy," Miller said, trying to figure out how to use Nick's reluctance to his advantage, "Go upstairs and keep an eye out for Elise and Bowen."

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I want to find out who he is before we decide whether to risk our asses to save him," Mike shrugged, "And I don't want to have that conversation with Elise around."

"Gotcha," Nick nodded, "Ok, I'll be at the top of the stairs."

"I'll call you if I need you," Mike promised.

Nick nodded and went upstairs to the door. Mike went into the room that Kane was in and sat down on the floor next to him. His fellow undercover cop looked like hell, and Miller wasn't sure how to proceed. He made the first step and pulled the gag off his mouth.

"Just kill me and get it over with you motherfucker," Kane spit out, "Be a goddamn man."

"Chill it, Kane," Miller told him, "You don't want to die that much do you?"

"My name is Robinson," Kane protested, "Who is this Kane person?"

"Phillip Kane," Miller said, "Detective Lieutenant third grade. You work directly for Tom Richter and have been missing for a week."

Kane's eyes widened as Miller rattled off a few more stats that he had remembered from the email. Kane wasn't sure whether to trust this new man or not, so Miller had to take the first step.

"Relax Kane," Miller said, "I'm one of Tom's people too."

"How did they not recognize you?" Kane asked, "That damned list has everybody!"

"Not everyone," Miller said, "I was recruited after Price defected. You are probably one of the last that Price knew."

"Small comfort," Kane groused.

"Elise left your disposal to Nick and me," Miller said, "Nick is squeamish about killing a cop."

"That's good to know," Kane nodded, "How are you going to play it?"

"I think I'm going to dump you off on an old military buddy," Miller smiled, "With the warning that if I see you again, well you know the deal."

"What military buddy?" Kane asked suspiciously.

"Martinez," he replied, "Al followed me out here."

"Ok," Kane said, "What do we do then?"

"You get put on ice for a while," Miller told him, "You stay out of the light until after I'm out."

"Works for me," Kane said with a cough, "I think I've lost my taste for it anyway."

"Ok," Mike said, "Stay in character. I'm going to lie my ass off and tell Nick that I don't think you're a cop. Since you've blown it with this group, stay in character and just say you're going to break for Canada for a while."

Kane nodded and Mike put the gag back on him, though looser this time. Mike went out to the front and called Nick downstairs. Nick took the steps three at a time and came down.

"I'm not sure he's a cop," Mike said, "He doesn't give me the right answers. He's either a good actor, or they fucked up."

"Great," Nick said, "What do you want to do?"

"Let's get him out of here," Mike apparently decided, "I've got an old army buddy in the area. Al should be able to get this guy out of the city. I'm sure that if he's let go he'll disappear for a while."

"Ok," Nick said, "I'm game."

Mike and Nick went and picked up the bound man and brought him upstairs to the Lincoln that Elise had left them with. Miller took a sheet with him from the downstairs and put it into the back seat, to keep it from getting covered with Kane's blood. Mike also took the description list with him, figuring that Tom Richter could use it to decide which agents he had to pull.

They drove out of the area and found a pay phone. Miller instructed Nick to stay with the guy in the car while he called his 'army buddy' to set up a meeting. Mike made a show of dialing information and getting a bogus number, then he dialed the PCS number Martinez had given him.

"Alice's wonderland," Al grumbled, "How may I help you?"

"It's me," Miller said, "I've got a situation."

"Shoot," Al said, instantly alert.

"That's what I'm trying to avoid," Mike said, "I found Kane."

"Shit," Al said, "That's the reason for this?"

"Yep," Miller acknowledged, "Local asshole by the name of Bowen caught Kane, though I still don't know what the hell he's doing here."

"Can you save him without blowing cover?" Martinez asked.

"I need you for that," Miller said and explained the situation.

"Steele must trust you," Martinez said.

"As much as that psycho bitch trusts anyone," Mike agreed, "The weak link right now is Nick."

"Is he going to fall apart on you?" Al asked.

"I don't think so," Mike opined, "Saving him was Nick's idea."

"Be careful or he's going to turn state's on you," Martinez chuckled.

"I'll work out the deal myself when I blow my cover," Miller said with a smile, "Can you play the part I need?"

"Sure," Al said, "We'll use my motel room for it. Come on over now. It'll be ready by the time you can find this place."

"Ok," Miller said and wrote down the address, "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Gotcha," Al said and rang off the line.

Mike went back to the car and hopped back into the driver's seat, lighting up a cigarette before saying anything else. Nick looked at him nervously, hoping that things went well.

"Al can help us," Mike said and handed Nick the piece of paper, "We've got to find this address."

"Not a problem," Nick said and started looking on the map.

Mike put the car into drive and pulled out into LA traffic, trying not to get killed by one of the lunatics out there.

Chapter Forty-One – October 23, 2000 – Afternoon

After an hour of wrong turns and bad navigation Mike and company managed to make their way to the motel that Al was staying at. Mike pulled the Lincoln into a parking space and put his cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Let's go, buddy," Miller said to their captive, "Time to dump you off on Al."

"Can we trust him?" Nick asked nervously, getting a little cold feet.

"He's not syndicate," Miller said with a crooked grin, "He's probably going to be pissed that I'm dumping this on him."

"Why don't I stay right here?" Nick asked sheepishly.

"Good idea," Miller agreed, glad that Nick said it and not him.

Nick undid Kane's feet and handed him off to Miller. Mike led him into the complex with a jacket over his hands to cover the bonds. Luckily the place was a seedy strip motel and they got to Martinez's room quickly. Martinez opened the door before Miller even had a chance to knock.

"Get him in here before you make a scene," Al hissed, "Lay him down on the bed."

Miller did so and after Al shut the door removed the last of the bonds on Kane. Kane moved his arms around a little bit and coughed a little. Mike lit a cigarette and sat down on the easy chair in the room. Martinez pulled up the desk chair about halfway between the two of them.

"You look like shit, Kane," Martinez asked, "What happened?"

"They figured out I was a cop somehow," he explained, "Goddamned list."

"What list?" Al asked.

"This," Mike said and tossed the packet he'd retrieved.

"Jesus Christ," Al said as he flipped through it, "They've got most of our division in here!"

"Including Kane," Mike nodded, "Price fucked you and fucked you good."

"Great," Al growled, "Means that Tom is going to have to pull a good chunk of the team."

"Probably so," Mike nodded, "Not my concern right now."

"It should be," Al said, "You are probably going to be compromised soon."

"I'm not leaving yet," Mike said, "I'm solid for now."

"You're crazy," Kane said, "Up until a few days ago I thought I was solid as well. Things can change in a heartbeat."

"Certainly can in this business," Mike nodded, "I've got to get moving. Keep out of sight, ok? I don't feel like having my end hastened by saving your ass."

"Count on it," Kane nodded.

"Any last minute instructions?" Mike asked.

"Be careful," Al told him with a sigh, "Call me on this line before you leave."

"Will do," Mike nodded, "I've got to get back to Nick. We need to head back soon and face the ice bitch."

"Good luck," Kane said as Miller left and got into the car with Nick.

"He's good," Al said as he watched Miller's departure, "But he's pushing the edge. The way none of us have managed before."

"How high is he?" Kane asked.

"On crack or in the organization?" Martinez quipped, "He's Max Bullock's right hand man."

"Shit!" Kane said, "He's Nester?"

"You've heard of him, eh?" Al asked.

"Golden boy in the outfit right now," Kane nodded, "Started with Harry, then Max grabbed him. He's known to be the guy to go to if your boss is screwing you over. He's had experience with that and actually managed to get permission to kill a boss."

"Yeah," Martinez grinned.

"How did he get away with that anyway?" Kane asked, "He's got a reputation of having iced a few enemies."

"The Northrup crew were kidnappers," Al told him, "Their killings were self defense."

"Harry wasn't," Kane reminded him.

"What makes you think Harry is dead?" Martinez smiled.

"What?" Kane asked, surprised at the thought, "Word on the street is that Charlie ordered him gone and Nester did it, as he was able to get close enough to break through Harry's paranoia."

"Yes," Al chuckled, "That's true as far as it goes. But, they don't know the rest of the story."

"You sound like Paul Harvey," Kane grinned, "So where is Harry Lupo?"

"He's sitting in a federal penitentiary," Al smiled, "Doing solitary. He's staying incognito until Miller comes out from under."

"Well that had better be soon," Kane told him seriously, "The outfit has a positive hard on for undercover men right now. If he even gives them one hint that he's not who he says he is then he's a dead man."

"I know it," Al sighed, "I'm probably going to recommend that he be pulled when we get back to the city."

"Think Miller will go?"

"No," Al said with a shake of his head, "Mainly cause he isn't high enough to put a stake through the beast's heart."

"What he knows could convict the Bullocks easily," Kane told him, "How much higher is there?"

"Mike doesn't think that Charlie Bullock runs everything," Al explained, "It's the shadow man, Freddie Pena. And from the fact that we're out here at all I'd say that Miller's suspicions are right on the goddamned money."

"He's after Pena, eh?" Phil Kane chuckled, "I wish him luck. I think he's shooting for the moon."

"Well," Al said, "Miller has pulled off a few hairy stunts. He may just have one more in him."

"Yeah," Kane agreed, "I just can't wait to get home and into a nice hot bath."

"I'm afraid that won't happen anytime soon," Al said, "You're going to be living in a hotel for a while."

"Why?" Kane asked.

"If anyone in the outfit finds out you are alive then Miller is dead," Al reminded the newly freed captive, "You're still under cover until Miller is out."

"Shit," Kane growled, "I hope it's worth it."

"So do I," Martinez said softly, "And I hope Tom does the smart thing and pulls Mike out of there when he gets home."

Chapter Forty-Two – October 23, 2000 – Late Afternoon

Mike and Nick pulled back into the place after a couple hours. There was another car in the alley, but nobody was visible. Miller was still a little nervous, however. He looked around and tried to see whether he could see anyone on the street.

"Think they found us out?" Nick asked.

"Not likely," Mike said, "Get the tire iron out of the trunk though. Just in case."

Nick nodded and did so. Mike got out of the car and looked for some sort of weapon. He picked up an old pipe and led the way down into the room. He heard a scream of pain and went in quicker.

Mike had to pause for a second when he saw what was happening. Johnny Bowen was tied to a chair, or at least what was left of him was. Elise was walking around him smiling up a storm. In her right hand was a large butcher knife and in her left hand was a ball peen hammer.

Mike had not seen anything like this since he was in the police academy. He remembered being lectured about serial killers. The case study was a kid who had lost it back in the mid 80's. Jerry Healy, a simple teenager, was a serial killer of the type that even the movies could not tackle. Elise had the same look in her eyes as Healy did in the last photos taken of him before his brother killed him.

"Elise?" Mike asked her, snapping the woman back into reality a little.

Nick slipped back upstairs while Mike kept his guard up. He knew that Elise had snapped a little, though he wasn't particularly surprised at the fact. Much to his surprise, she only gave him a cursory look before going back to Bowen. Miller had a hard time watching as she finished him off but knew that it would be complete suicide to try to stop her.

"Having fun?" Mike asked as deadpan as he could manage, "Or should Nick and I just meet you back at the hotel?"

"No," she said as she peeled off the rubber glove she had been wearing, "I'm quite finished with this son of a bitch."

"I hope you aren't planning on having us clean this up," Mike said sourly as she passed him.

"Come on," she said with a bright smile, one that he'd never seen on her before, "I think it's time for some fun. Our work is done for today."

Mike was about to say something, but decided that he'd better not. Instead, he just followed her to the car. He was not overly concerned with Bowen's death. He had seemed like a real moron, and the longer he was in the outfit the less he cared how long any of its members lived.

Elise went up to the car and hopped directly into the driver's seat. Nick who was still standing outside, looked at Mike, who directed him into the back. Mike, uncharacteristically, sat next to Nick in the back seat, not particularly wanting to be very close to Elise at the moment.

The three of them sat in silence until they got to the Hotel. Elise still had a smile on her face, something that wasn't common for her. It was then that Mike knew for sure that she was a serial killer. She was more relaxed than he had ever seen her, which given what she had just done made him more nervous than ever. They walked into the building with Elise in the lead, cover forgotten by all of them for the moment. Elise bounded up the stairs towards the room, but Mike and Nick opted for the elevator, seeing that they were on the sixth floor.

"What have we gotten involved with, Ray?" Nick asked as the elevator doors closed.

"She's a pure sociopath," Mike nodded, "She gets off on it."

"What's a sociopath?" Nick asked.

"Psychologists term for a psychopath that crosses the line and becomes a criminal," Mike explained to him, "It's not real for her. When I kill, it is for a reason. For her the killing is the reason."

"I've never met anyone like that before," Nick said, "Harry might have been close, but at least he usually had a reason for it. Or he did when he was sober, at any rate."

"Very few of them are still free," Mike told him, "Most of them either burn out, are caught, or kill themselves."

"Such as?" Nick asked.

"Ted Bundy," Mike said, "He burned out and was finally caught. John Gacy pretty much had the same thing happen. Jerry Healy was stopped by his own brother at the end of his killing spree."

"Christ," Nick muttered, "What do we do?"

"Endure," Mike said bitterly, "Don't piss her off and you'll be fine."

"I'm more worried about you," Nick said, "You're actually sleeping with her?"

"With one eye open after this afternoon," Mike nodded, "I'm willing to bet I'm in for one hell of a workout as soon as I go into the room."

"You sure you want to fuck her after that?" Nick asked.

"No," Mike said honestly, "But it beats becoming her next victim."

"True," Nick conceded as the elevator came to a stop.

"Wish me luck," Mike said as he stepped out and walked down the hall.

"You'll need it," Nick agreed and went into his room.

Mike sighed and slowly walked to the door of the room he was sharing with Elise. He knew he was relatively safe where he was, but he had no idea how long that would last. He opened the door and walked in to find just what he expected. Elise was waiting for him.

"About time you showed up," she smiled, in her smile that was devoid of humanity, "I've been waiting for you."

"Oh?" Mike said, trying to look more interested in her than he was.

"Oh yes," she said and moved close to him, pulling her in to the most passionate kiss he had ever gotten out of her, "And that is just for starters."

She did something else that was uncharacteristic for her and removed her clothes with the lights still on. She was feeling playful, the same way she always got after she killed someone. She removed Mike's shirt and started to play with him a little. She did not even notice that he was less enthused by this than usual.

She wordlessly led him over to the bed and pushed him down. He let her take the lead, just as she wanted. He looked into her dark eyes as she went to work on him, managing to bring him to attention despite his lack of interest. For someone who knew as little about love as Elise Steele did, she was quite skilled in bringing about pleasure in an uninterested party.

Miller went along with things, but in a civilized discourse there is nothing that could be considered consensual about what happened in the room that afternoon. He performed for her and made her happy. When they were done they collapsed in a heap on the bed, with Mike rolling off to the side as best he could.

She no longer cared by then, content in the black recesses of her mind. Mike finally retreated to the easy chair and smoked a quick cigarette. Now more than ever he longed for the loving embrace of Tracy, or at least the healthy sexual vibe he had with Jade. He also realized that he probably had a good idea what a rape victim felt like.

Chapter Forty-Three – October 29, 2000 – Afternoon

Mike, Nick and Elise stepped off the airplane back in the city, completing their trip several days later than expected. After Elise's removal of Johnny Bowen, they had to spend the next week cleaning up the mess he had made of things. Mike, who had more practical experience in this than Elise did, was given the bulk of this work.

Miller did not mind it, as it beat having to deal with Elise for the rest of the trip. With Nick's help, he managed to get the whole place in shape in a matter of days, or at least as much of it as he had control over. Evidently, the Bullock/Pena Empire was newly expanding into the area and did not have much sway yet.

Mike was glad to know this, but even gladder to be finally getting out of Elise Steele's clutches. He had not truly slept in over a week and the strain was beginning to show on him. His eyes had even bigger bags under them than normal. Even though his body had been begging him to get some sleep, he and Nick accompanied Elise back to the mansion and were able to officially end their tenure with her.

Max Bullock was waiting for them on the patio, having been appraised by phone of their impending arrival. He saw Mike climb out of the car and remove his suitcase. Max hopped over the fence to greet his right hand man as Mike put his stuff into his own car, which was still in the same place that he'd left it over a week earlier.

"Welcome back," Max smiled, "We missed you around here."

"Yeah, I bet," Miller groused and waited for Elise to walk into the house, "We need to talk."

"I know," Max agreed, "Dad wanted me to get a report from you about what happened out there."

"That psychotic bitch is what happened out there," Nick grumbled.

"Steele?" Max asked, "She's usually reliable."

"Let's go to your apartment," Mike suggested, "I don't want wind of this getting back to her."

"Good idea," Max agreed and they retired to his apartment in the mansion.

Max offered around drinks, but after Miller's decline called downstairs to have some coffee sent up. Mike looked as though he was about to drop over from exhaustion. Nick wasn't much better, but he certainly looked more awake than his boss did.

"I was expecting you back a few days ago," Max said as he sat down, "What happened?"

"Nick said it straight earlier," Mike said with a sour face, "Elise happened. If she hadn't iced Bowen we would have been back in a couple days at most."

"I figured it was something like that," Max nodded, "She wasn't particularly thrilled when we told her that she was going out there. When she's that pissed off someone usually dies."

"We spent the rest of the time restructuring," Miller said, glossing over the 'death' of the undercover man.

"I'm sorry, Ray," Max apologized, "But it's not like I had much of a choice in the matter."

"Get a choice," Mike advised, "Because I'm not going anywhere with that psycho bitch again."

"Ditto for me, man," Nick said.

"Not a problem," Max nodded, "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Not since she iced Bowen," Miller nodded, "Been keeping one eye open since then, you know?"

"I understand," Max said, "She's a tasty morsel, but not worth the baggage."

"She's more like a dose of arsenic wrapped in a cookie," Miller said, "At any rate, I'm going home. I'll see you when I actually get some sleep."

Miller, not even waiting for the coffee to arrive, promptly got up and left. He walked straight out to his car and did exactly what he said he was going to do. He drove straight to the motel and went inside. Finding that Jade was nowhere to be found he went to bed and fell asleep quickly, sleeping soundly for the first time in over a week.

Nick stayed with Max for a while, not quite sure what to do next. They talked about nothings for a little while when the subject, as it inevitably did, turned to Raymond Nester.

"Is he all right?" Max asked, "Ray looks like hell."

"How would you be after a week with Elise?" Nick shrugged, "It would surprise me if he'd managed four hours of sleep this week."

"If I'd known it would have been like that I would have fought it more," Max said, "It's just as well you two were gone this week though. Stockton has been tearing things apart."

"How so?" Nick asked him.

"They've been checking phone records, suspicious stuff," Max shrugged, "Simple shit, but stuff that usually works. Robbie Cook's people are just about ready to revolt though. Stockton has been riding them pretty hard."

"Better him than Elise," Nick stated, "It's not like we have anything to worry about from him, right?"

"As long as you're on the straight and narrow you're fine," Max assured him, "Dad has been going nuts over something though. I'm not sure what it is. Stockton has kept me out of the loop on it."

"I hope it's nothing serious," Nick said, "I've had enough bad news this week."

"Wait and see is all we can do," Max shrugged.

They heard someone walking up the steps and looked as Stockton, still wearing a suit but in a loosened tie, walked into the room. The coffee had been brought up and left by this time, and Stockton helped himself to a cup.

"What's going on, John?" Max asked.

"Nester is back?" he asked, "Do you know where he went?"

"He's asleep by now," Nick said, "Why?"

"We need to talk to him," Stockton said as he sipped on his coffee, "There may be an irregularity."

"You don't think he's a cop do you?" Max asked, almost in horror.

"Nothing like that," Stockton assured him, "But there may be a problem close to him. We'll find out later today for sure. Bring him in when you can, ok?"

"Sure thing," Max said as Stockton walked out of the room.

"Problem close to him?" Nick asked, "The only ones close to him are you and me. I know I'm not a cop, and I seriously doubt you are."

"I don't know," Max shrugged, "But I have a sinking feeling that we'll find out soon enough."

"That's what scares me," Nick sighed.

Chapter Forty-Four – October 29, 2000 – Evening

Mike Miller was in the middle of a very pleasant dream that had him and Tracy together again when loud knocking interrupted him just before the good parts started. He woke up slowly, growling the whole time. He waited for a few moments hoping that the person would go away, but when they did not he finally stood up and went to the door.

He did not have to find a robe as he had gone to sleep in his clothes. He looked through the peephole and could not see anything, so he backed up, rubbed his eyes, and looked through it again to see Tom Richter's glaring face outside. Miller unlocked the door and opened it for them, not watching them come in before retreating to the bed.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," Mike asked, "You interrupted one very good dream for it."

Tom walked into the room, followed closely by Tracy. Tracy looked slightly happier than Tom did, but she was not exactly smiling either. Miller was wondering just what the hell was going on.

"Enjoy your trip?" Tom asked, trying to sound more pleasant than he felt.

"No," Mike said, "But if you've talked to Al you know this already."

"True," Tom agreed, "And we have a problem."

"The list I gave him?" Mike asked.

"That's part of it," Tom nodded, "There's also something I got from the feds today. You have it still, Tracy?"

Tracy nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Miller. She handed him a couple pieces of fax paper. They were blurry, and it took a few minutes for his bleary eyes to read the text. He was still tired enough for the text to not quite break through. The picture on the second sheet jumped out at him, however.

"Jade," Miller said, "Shit."

"That is the girl you've been with?" Tom asked, "Tracy thought it was, but I figured we'd better ask you."

"That's her," Miller sighed, not liking this at all, "I'm not sure I want to know, but where did this come from?"

"The feds," Tom told him, "It's what we call a death sheet. We do it too. When we lose contact and think one of our agents is lost, like Phil Kane, we'll send one out to the other undercover groups. Sometimes they can either find our person, or at least find out what happened. We do the same for them."

"Shit," Mike said again, "So Jade is a cop huh?"

"A missing one," Tom nodded, "Since the feds sent this, it's a good bet that she's in the hands of the Bullocks already."

"Bullock wouldn't touch this," Mike said, "Probably Pena's people. Stockton would be my guess. She's probably why he's been tearing things apart this week."

"Might also be why they sent you out with Elise," Tracy said.

"Its time for you to come in," Tom said, "I don't want to risk having you go down with her."

"What good is that going to do?" Mike asked, "We're not close enough yet!"

"You can bring down Charlie Bullock," Tom reminded him, "That's not half-bad."

"Bullock isn't the problem," Mike told him, "Charlie Bullock is a figurehead. He may run the day to day of the rackets, but he isn't the one that keeps things going. That's Freddie Pena's job. You take out Bullock and Pena will replace him in six months. Then it's right back to square one."

"You're exposed, Miller," Tom reminded him, "You think you can survive your girl being found out as a cop? You don't think they're going to take one hell of a hard look at you?"

"They already have," Mike growled, "They are looking for feds right now. If that's who she works for, I'm not surprised they found her."

"Doesn't matter," Tom said, "It's my call. I'm pulling you now. Grab your things and let's go."

"No," Mike said, "I'm staying. I'm too close to Pena. Not to mention I haven't found a whiff of Bronson yet. I'm not going anywhere until I find that son of a bitch."

"You'd throw away the whole operation for one goddamned man?" Tom asked him.

"As far as I'm concerned he was the reason for it!" Miller told him emphatically, "And I'm not throwing away shit. My job was to go in and tear this syndicate down. That job isn't done yet! And I'm not leaving until it is."

"Your job was to go in and get information," Tom reminded him, "Not to get yourself killed."

"I'm not going, Tom," Mike said, "I may also be able to get her out."

"Tracy," Tom said, "You try to talk some sense into him. I'm going out to the car."

Tom Richter stormed out the door, leaving behind him an awkward silence. Tracy sat there and looked at Miller for a few minutes. Mike didn't know what to say and neither did she. Finally, she managed to break the ice with a thought that had been forming in her head.

"How long have you known about her?" she asked him.

"What?" Mike asked, surprised by the question.

"You weren't surprised when Tom told you she was a fed," Tracy said, "And from the descriptions of her you gave us; you should have been shocked. The only way for you not to be was to have known."

"Did Tom pick up on it?" Mike asked.

"Not yet," Tracy shrugged, "At least I don't think so. He will though, and he won't be happy."

"Yeah," Mike agreed.

"So how long?" Tracy asked.

"Since the end of that mess with Barry," Mike said, "She went barreling in there before I did. She didn't see the third man. I had to go in and save her ass."

"You've known for five goddamned months?" Tracy asked, "And you never fucking told me?"

"What would you have done if I told you?" Mike asked.

"Same thing Tom would have," she said, "I would have pulled you out right then and there!"

"That's why I didn't tell you," Mike said evenly.

"You can't go back now," she told him, "Christ. If she knows about you, you're a goddamned dead man if you go back."

"She won't break," Miller said, "She'd die first. She hates them that much."

"And you're willing to risk your life for her?" She asked him.

"If I can get her out, I have to," Mike said.

"She means that much to you?" Tracy asked, her true colors coming out.

Mike realized what was going through Tracy's mind then. She was afraid that he felt more for Jade that he did for her. He slid a little closer and looked into her eyes.

"You think that is what it is?" Mike asked her, "You think I'm doing this because I'm in love with her?"

"What am I supposed to think?" Tracy asked, tears welling in her eyes, "You are going back into the fire for her."

"It's not what you think Trace," he said, "Truthfully, the sexual relationship between her and me ended when we found out the truth."

"Really?" she asked, "And you never told me?"

"I wanted to," he said, "But I gave her my word. That still means something to me, you know. It's one of the few things I have left."

"You're still risking your life," she said, "Don't do that."

"Think about that for a second, Tracy," Mike said, "How long have they had her?"

"Three days," she said, "Maybe more, depending on their contact schedule."

"I was at the mansion a few hours ago," Mike said, "If they had known about me, I wouldn't have walked out. If Elise Steele ever finds out I'm a cop she's going to be out to kill me, and she won't be waiting around."

"And you still want to go back there?" she asked him in horror, "You must be insane, Miller."

"Tracy," Mike said, "If you want to make this safer for me, go ahead and pick up Elise Steele. I'm assuming you have warrants for her?"

"Sure," she replied, "Most of the country probably does. But she's a slippery little bitch."

"Get warrants on the mansion," Mike told her, "That'll confuse them. Elise Steele is a menace, and I'll be safer if she's gone. But, I can't run away yet. I'm too damned close."

"You can't do any good if you're dead," she said, "And you can't be here with me if you're dead."

"Soon Tracy," Mike smiled, "It'll be over soon. Just have to get through this. I'm so close. I just need to see it through."

"Follow your instincts Mike," she cautioned, "If it doesn't feel right, run. Don't become a martyr."

"Don't worry," Mike said, "I won't."

"Come back," she said to him.

"I will," Mike said and then thought for a minute, "You know the damnedest thing about this mess?"

"What?" she asked.

"I was telling her the exact same thing you and Tom were telling me," he chuckled, "Right here in this room just over a week ago."

"Just make sure you don't end up like her," She told him.

Tracy stood up and walked to the door. She looked at Mike and wondered how she could love someone that crazy as much as she did. He smiled at her and hoped that it would not be the last time he saw her. She smiled at him as best she could and then slipped out the door, letting it latch behind her.

While Miller had gone back to bed to catch up on his sleep Tracy walked out to the car and slipped into the passenger side. Tom Richter looked at her for a second before asking what was on his mind. She did not say a word.

"He's staying," Richter stated, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"He is a stubborn son of a bitch," she nodded.

"How long has he known about her?" Richter asked.

"You caught that too, huh?" She asked.

"Yes," Richter nodded, "How long?"

"Five months," she said, "She was the missing link at the Northrup death scene."

"Figures," Richter chuckled, "Do the feds know about him?"

"I doubt it," she said, "If the girl had spilled it to her bosses they would have pulled her. Just like we would have pulled Mike."

"I'm not surprised," Tom said, "I'm annoyed, but not surprised."

"I'm worried about him, Tom," she said, "He's going to get killed if he screws this up."

"I want him out too," Richter agreed, "But I can understand his position. And the damned thing about it is that he's right. We take out the Bullocks and Pena will replace them with another front man."

"I know it," she sighed, "He did say that we may want to go ahead and pick up Elise Steele while she was in town."

"I'd been thinking about that," he agreed, "We can use that information without compromising him. I need to talk to Whitmore about getting warrants issued for the mansion."

"Lets get out of here," she said, "I don't want to compromise him."

"How bout we go to O'Neill's and have a beer," Richter asked, "We'll figure out what to do about this later."

"Sounds like a plan," she nodded, "I have a contact with the Feds that may have a way to deal with Steele too. I'll call him tomorrow."

Chapter Forty-Five – October 30, 2000 – Morning

Shortly after 10:30 in the morning on Monday morning Mike Miller drove decided that he could no longer put off the inevitable and drove over to the Bullock mansion. He was expecting to see a normal slow Monday morning when he got there, but the roadblock surprised him. It was just before the mansion, manned by several police officers.

"What the hell?" Mike muttered as he stopped at the roadblock.

A patrolman walked over to the car and motioned for him to open up the window. Miller looked at him for a second and then opened the window to the car. When he had told Tom Richter to go in and get Elise Steele, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"Yes officer?" Miller asked after opening the window.

"You going to the mansion?" the patrolman asked.

"That was the plan," Miller nodded.

"Could I have your name and identification please?" the officer asked.

"Name is Ray Nester," Miller said as he pulled out his driver's license, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Serving warrants," the officer explained, "Are they expecting you up there?"

"Max should be," Miller said.

"Hold on a second," the officer asked.

The officer took his license over to the car and ran him for warrants, like they were doing to everyone in the house. Mike knew his record would come up clean, so he just sat back and waited. Within a few minutes, the patrolman came back and handed Miller's license back.

"Go on up," the young man said, "Though I'd stay out of the way of the officers up there."

"Yeah," Mike nodded and drove up into the driveway.

He parked the car in his usual spot and saw Max and Nick standing outside watching the stream of policemen flow in and out of the house. It was as if they had invaded and decided to set up residence. He got out of the car, making sure to hide his pistol under the seat, and walked over to Max and Nick.

"What's with the invasion?" Mike asked.

"They flooded in a half hour ago," Max said, "A whole pile of warrants in hand. Dad's got the lawyers working on it, but we're not allowed to go into the house right now."

"Damn," Mike said.

"Oh," Max said, "Stockton wants to see you about something. Have any idea what?"

"No clue," Mike lied. He knew exactly why Stockton wanted to talk to him.

"Stockton is one cryptic son of a bitch," Nick said, "Came in last night soon after you left looking for you."

"I'll talk to him later," Mike nodded, "Provided of course that he isn't why the cops are here."

"Yeah," Max chuckled, "If his operation has brought this down on us, Dad and Freddie are going to have some words."

"Somehow I don't think they're here for Stockton," Nick said and pointed at the door.

Mike and Max looked over and saw a very pissed Elise Steele fighting with some Police Officers. They had managed to cuff her inside, but she was putting every ounce of her considerable strength into fighting with them. Her hair was flying around, and she even managed to kick one or two of the police officers.

She was screaming unintelligibly, merely trying to get away from her captors. She was back in her normal clothes and quite obviously the reason that they had gone there in the first place. Mike, Nick and Max watched with bemusement as the police officers fought to bring the woman to one of the patrol cars.

"Figures that they were coming for that psychotic bitch," Miller said, "Wish they'd done it a week ago."

"Yeah," Nick nodded, "you said that right."

Max simply shrugged and walked up onto the porch. Mike and Nick followed and watched the police circus continue. Everyone on the premises with open warrants was taken in, and evidence covered by the warrants was removed. Somehow John Stockton managed to remain outside of the net and was allowed to remain. To nobody's surprise, Elise Steele was taken in because of several open federal bench warrants.

The police filed out of the residence as quickly as they had entered. After their departure the principles still remaining met in Charlie Bullock's office. John Stockton did a quick sweep for electronics and removed the two bugs that had been planted by the officers rifling through everything.

Mike Miller sat on a folding chair next to Max's desk. Eric Roth, looking very haggard and very pissed off, sat in his usual spot. Stockton remained standing by the door, as did Fat Tony D'Antoni. Charlie Bullock himself looked exceedingly pissed off while sitting behind his desk.

"Those sons of bitches invaded my home!" Charlie exclaimed, "Get Freddie on the phone. Right now!"

"There's no way Freddie could have done anything," Stockton said, trying to sooth Charlie's ruffled feathers, "This came through too fast."

"What the hell do we pay all those cops for?" Max asked.

"This was a quick operation," Stockton replied, "My guess is that those who did know didn't have a chance to call first. The powers that be probably got the warrants themselves and grabbed who was around. It's a crude method, but sometimes it's effective."

"That's nice," Charlie said sarcastically, "But it cost me eight good people that it's going to cost me a fortune to get out."

"It cost Pena one too," Miller commented, "The feds aren't going to let Elise out of custody. They want her too badly."

"Elise will be taken care of," Stockton replied coolly, not specifying just how, "You can take care of your people too. I'm not concerned as much about them. They can be replaced. How much hard evidence were they able to take."

"Not much," Roth said, "My books never stay on the premises for long on the rare times they are here. I do most of that off site."

"We meet here," Charlie said, "Very little formal business is actually conducted here."

"Interesting," Stockton said, "If their intel is any good then they already know that."

"Maybe they just wanted to piss us off?" Miller asked.

"That's possible," Charlie agreed, "That DA, Whitmore, has had a hard on for the outfit since that mess with his daughter."

"What mess with his daughter?" Stockton asked, as he was the newest one to the area.

Max had Miller explain the situation, since Mike was the one who had dealt with the situation directly. Stockton nodded his head and frowned when he heard just how badly that went.

"No wonder the DA wants your heads on a stick," Stockton grumbled, "Ok, nothing we can do about it now. You took care of it back then as best you could."

"Can you get Freddie on the phone?" Charlie asked Stockton, "We really do need to confer on this."

Stockton relented and gave Charlie a number to call. The phone rang six times before a young woman answered. Stockton gave a code phrase and was transferred. A few minutes later a husky voice materialized on the line. Miller shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was his first time even hearing the voice of the shadow man. It was different than he expected, without even a trace of an accent.

"What's going on, Stockton?" Freddie Pena asked over the phone.

"It's been a busy morning sir," Stockton said, "Police raided the mansion here. I'm on secure speaker with Charlie, Eric Roth, Max and his assistant Ray."

"Where's Steele?" Pena asked. He had a soft spot for the psychotic woman.

"That's part of the problem," Stockton replied.

"The fucking cops raided this place, Freddie," Charlie spat out, "Walked out with several of my people on old warrants. They grabbed Steele too."

Pena swore briefly. He was losing too many people. Steele had taken out Bowen, the police had Steele and Frank Price had to be removed before he could talk. He was not thrilled, but listened quietly as Charlie and John Stockton detailed the events of the morning.

"There was no warning, John?" Pena asked at the end, "Not one of the people we have in the department saw fit to call you in on this?"

"I think it was a slapdash operation," John replied, "Probably went together too quickly. My guess is that a few key people at the top knew, and they didn't tell anyone."

"They should have been able to get off a phone call," Pena grumbled.

"I'll look into it after I take care of some other matters," Stockton promised, "The damage is done, so it's not a top priority."

"Take care of business first," Pena agreed, "But look into this pretty quick. We can't afford to have our people taken like that."

"I will," Stockton promised.

"John," Pena said, his voice crackling on the phone, "Go take care of your other business. Have Charlie stay on the line for a bit so I can talk to him."

That was the cue for all of them to get out of there. Max and Mike went out to the porch, followed by Stockton. Nick was waiting out there with a glass of iced tea. They sat down and waited for Stockton to drop what was on his mind. Miller was dreading it and wondering how he'd fend it off.

"Ok John," Max said, "What's eating you?"

"How long have you known that girl I've seen you with?" John asked Miller.

"Jade?" Mike asked, trying to act surprised, "Six months?"

"She started showing up at Jack's just before Ray got into town," Nick confirmed, "Just another chickie looking for a free drink and free meal."

"Yeah," Mike nodded, "She and I got along well. Not to mention she's cute and pretty good in the sack."

"What's going on, John?" Max asked, "Why are you asking about her?"

"I found out where the government leak was coming from," Stockton said.

"No way," Mike said, "There is no way in hell."

"He's right," Nick said, "The girl just isn't bright enough."

"You think Jade is a cop?" Max asked Stockton.

Before Stockton could reply all three of them busted out laughing. Miller's only hope was to play cool, and he knew it. From the position that he had taken publicly, the initial thought of Jade being anything that required intelligence was pretty funny. He was glad Max had started the laughter though.

Stockton was expecting this and let the men have their laugh. Max, Mike and Nick laughed long and hard at the thought of Jade being anymore than an empty-headed bimbo. It was as if Stockton had opened a can of laughing gas in the room. Miller was the one who began to recover first.

"I'm sorry, John," Mike said as he began to stifle the laughter, "But that's way out in left field. I thought it was something serious."

Stockton smiled a little and slid over a folder to Miller. Mike took only a glance at it, but he soon did a double take on it. The smile faded from his face as he read down the paper. Nick and Max looked at him and slowed their laughter down to a stop as they saw the expression on Mike's face.

"What is it?" Nick asked, seeing the expression on Mike's face.

Mike Miller did not have to feign any form of surprise at what he was holding in his hands. He had known that she had probably been captured, but he had no idea how much Stockton and his people actually knew. Well it seemed that they knew everything, because what he was holding in his hand was a full dossier on Lisa Catherine Collins, better known to everyone there as Jade.

"Jesus Christ," Miller muttered as he flipped through the folder, "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Jade had to have been betrayed by one of her own. The feds did not leave this sort of dossier lying around to be found. The feds had a serious leak on their hands, one that had just cost Lisa Collins her life. Miller looked over at Stockton with an expression of surprise and anger. He had to fight hard to suppress the hatred he felt for that man right then.

As Mike read the file he passed on the pages to the others. The laughter stopped dead as they read the file. Inside the dossier were details about her approach to Jack's Place and her integration into Nester's life. Miller was just thankful that she had kept her promise to not tell her superiors. If any of them had known about him, he would have been dead.

"She's a fucking fed?" Nick asked in surprise, "I don't believe it!"

"Believe it," Stockton said, "This is just part of the confirmation. The other part is due in town in an hour. I've just had to delay it until we got the cops off our back here."

"Do you already have her?" Mike asked, "I haven't seen her since I got back from Cali."

"We grabbed her three days ago," Stockton confirmed, "We've got her at a safe house out of town."

"What is this confirmation you're talking about?" Max asked him, "Something new in the works?"

"We scored a major coup this week," Stockton smiled, "We got a fed to turn over and join us."

"Not bad, John," Max said with an appreciative nod.

"Cool," Nick said, not particularly impressed by it.

Miller said nothing. He knew now that Jade was going to die.

"How did you do it?" Mike asked finally.

"New life," Stockton grinned, "Same old shit. Not the first time we've done this. Offer them a lot of money and a position in the organization."

"Done this before?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Stockton said, "We got Frank Lentz that way. Too bad the cops got him back."

They all nodded at that one. Miller was hoping that this would be the end of it, but he knew that Pena paid his people to be paranoid. He had the sinking feeling that he would be seeing Jade again before it was all over.

"Son of a bitch," Mike sighed, "Who the hell can you trust nowadays?"

"No one," Stockton nodded, "That's why we need you to go see her."

"Why's that?" Max asked, "You don't think he's working with her do you?"

"No," Stockton admitted, "Our guy didn't identify him. But, we have to be sure."

Mike really did not want to see her in that condition. He knew that under those circumstances it would be very likely that he would be blown. He decided to play it indignantly, just as any self-respecting con would do. It was his only hope.

"No way," Miller said, "This is bullshit."

"I agree," Max said, "There's no reason for this."

Nick was too scared to say anything about it. Mike looked hard at Stockton who was not amused at all. Stockton, expecting the resistance, pulled out a weapon, and aimed it at Miller. Nick and Max jumped up. Mike decided it would be best not to make any sudden moves.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Ray," Stockton said, "Max, this comes straight from Freddie. We don't think he's working with her, but he has to pass the face off."

"Face off?" Nick asked.

"Ray hasn't been with us long," Max explained for the younger man, "He's got to face her and she has to react appropriately."

"This is a fucking waste of time," Miller growled.

"Humor me," Stockton shrugged, "We take a little ride. If you aren't a cop, then you're in the clear."

"Ok," Miller said. He was beaten, and he knew it.

"After you, Ray," Stockton said.

Miller got up and went where directed. Nick started to follow when Max motioned for him to stop. They simply watched as Stockton and Miller got into Mike's car and drove away from the mansion.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Nick asked Max, "Ray isn't a cop and you know it."

"I know it and you know it," Max sighed, "But Pena has a paranoid streak a mile wide."

"So we just let them kill Ray?" Nick asked in horror.

"Ray will be fine," Max assured him, "As long as he isn't a cop, then he'll be home in a few hours. If he is, then he'll get what he deserves."

Nick looked at Max harshly for a second, though Max took no notice of the anger in his eyes.
Chapter Forty-Six – October 30, 2000 – Noon

Mike Miller pulled into the warehouse parking lot that Stockton had directed to shortly before noon. Stockton still had on a poker face as they pulled into the parking space and stopped the car.

"Let's go on in, Ray," Stockton said, "She's just inside."

Mike wasn't really thrilled by the idea, but he stayed in character and walked into the building. He knew that Stockton had the drop on him and that if he tried to run he would be dead before he went ten paces. He decided that he'd have to try to rely on his wits, and Jade's, to keep him alive through this.

They walked into the door, and the first thing that hit him was the smell of the place. It was all Mike could do to keep from throwing up. The smell of death was overwhelming. Miller briefly wondered if they had already killed her, but the screams he heard coming out of the back were enough to dash that hope.

"We've been busy," was Stockton's only reply as they went further into the building.

Stockton directed Miller, still at gunpoint, into one of the offices. Miller's eyes looked at the floor as long as they could, but he couldn't keep his eyes off what was happening in the room.

Lisa Collins was strapped down to a makeshift operating table. She was tied down in spread eagle condition, completely naked. It was obvious that quite a few injuries had already been inflicted on her. Her knees, fingers and toes were already a mangled mess. Her face was also cut up a bit as well. It was obvious that whoever had been doing this knew their business pretty well.

"Jesus H. Christ," Miller muttered, "You barbaric sons of bitches."

"We do what we have to do," Stockton replied and sat down in an empty chair, "The more of their agents they find like this, the less likely they are to keep coming."

"And the more fun we get to have when they do," A Large man with a bushy beard and mustache said as he walked into the room, "I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your stomach for this, Johnny Boy."

"They raided the mansion this morning," Stockton told him, "Took Elise and several of Charlie's boys."

"Figures," the man shrugged, "They're probably pissed cause we've taken six of their people this week."

It was all Mike could do to keep himself from killing both of them right then and there. The large unnamed man went over to Jade and poked her a few times. He then used smelling salts to wake her up. She looked around groggily for a minute and was unable to focus. When she did finally wake up she looked around and saw Miller.

"So you're in on this now," she chuckled, "Figures."

"What kind of shape is she in?" Stockton asked the man.

"She should still be coherent," the man said, "I'll get the sodium pentothal. That should be the clincher."

"Why?" Miller asked her, staying in character.

"Why?" She said, laughing a little despite the pain, "Because it was easy you son of a bitch."

"Fucking government whore," Miller growled, though he wanted nothing more than to remove her from that place.

"Fuck you, Nester," she said, the twinkle returning briefly to her eyes, "You're right, I only fucked you because I wanted information. It's not as if you were any good. Your pencil dick couldn't satisfy a blind whore."

The unnamed fat man walked over to her and injected a pale yellow liquid into her arm. Mike knew that when the sodium pentothal went into her system they were both goners, because her act would not be able to hold up. Mike was trying to figure out how to overpower Stockton when Jade started speaking again.

"I was hoping they'd bring you here," She said to him in a slight singsong, "I wanted to tell you that you were a lousy lay before I died. I also wanted to see the look on your face when you realized just how horribly that you were duped, both by me and by these people you are running with."

"You aren't going to die yet, chickie," the fat man promised her, "You've got a ways to go before that happens."

"That's what you think," she spat at him.

The fat man looked at her for a second and rushed to her mouth. He tried to force it open with his fingers when she started coughing hard. White foam started spewing out of her mouth, and she went into convulsions. Both Miller and Stockton watched as the fat man tried in vain to keep the poison released by the capsule in her mouth from killing her. In five minutes, he knew he had failed.

"Goddamn it," the man said, "I didn't even know they issued those goddamned things anymore."

"If you've had her for three days, why didn't you look?" Stockton asked.

"Why didn't she use it before?" Miller asked, repulsed but still trying to remain in character. He knew that she'd killed herself to save his life.

"She knew that her end was coming," the man shrugged, "She probably wanted to curse you out before using it."

"She also probably knew that once the pentothal took effect," Stockton surmised, "She wouldn't be able to think straight enough to use it."

"I guess the show's over guys," the fat man said, "Sorry I couldn't provide what you wanted."

"That's ok," Stockton said, "Her responses were what we expected."

"Ok," Miller said, "Now can we get the hell out of here?"

"I need to meet with that guy first," Stockton said, "But we can do that outside if you like."

Miller nodded and walked out of the building. He was fighting both nausea and the utter desire to kill them all. Upon walking outside of the building, he threw up repeatedly against the outside wall. Stockton simply stood out there in the driveway looking for the other car.

"How do you do it, John?" Miller asked, "How do you fucking sleep at night?"

"It's a war, Nester," Stockton shrugged, "He who plays to win usually does."

Mike looked up at him from his position hunched over on the ground and promptly threw up again. Stockton suppressed a mild chuckle. He then noticed that a car was coming up the road.

"Stay cool, Nester," Stockton said as he headed out to meet the car.

The cheap import pulled over about twenty yards from where Miller was still sitting on the ground. A self-important man in a three-piece suit stepped out of the car and looked around nervously.

"Why are we meeting out here?" the man demanded, "This is in the middle of nowhere."

"Stow it, Adler," Stockton said, "You don't expect us to take care of business in the city do you?"

"Christ!" Scott Adler said, "You brought me here to see that?"

"No," Stockton said and motioned towards Miller, "I brought you here to see him."

"Who's he?" Adler asked.

"Not one of yours is he?" Stockton asked him.

"No," Adler shrugged.

"Good," Stockton said with a sigh of relief, "He was the one we were worried about. The one Lisa Collins was with."

"The one with very little history?" Adler asked.

"Yeah," Stockton said, "We wanted to make sure he wasn't one of yours."

"Not one of mine," Adler shrugged, "I gave you all I had. Might be one of City's people."

"Lentz would have gotten him," Stockton said with a shake of his head, "Lentz knew everyone in the city's undercover crew."

"Figures," Adler shrugged, "Did you take care of that little slut?"

"She used a cyanide cap," Stockton informed him, "About thirty minutes ago."

"Hmm," Adler shrugged, "Wonder where she got it? She didn't get it from us."

"Probably did it on her own, just in case," Stockton shrugged.

"Probably so. Listen, John, where's my money?" Adler asked him, "I have a plane to catch."

Miller watched as they talked a little more. He was burning inside at seeing the way that Jade's so-called superior had sold her down the river as if she was nothing more than a side of meat. Scott Adler's callous indifference about the deaths of his colleagues was enough to put Miller in a rage. Mike finally got up and walked over to them.

"Hello," Mike said, still fighting to keep calm, "Who are you?"

"None of your business, Nester," Stockton said.

"You the one that made me have to see this shit?" Miller asked him.

"What do you care?" Adler asked.

His belligerent attitude was starting to annoy Miller.

"Just answer my question?" Mike stated.

"Cool it Nester," Stockton warned.

Miller nodded and stepped back. Stockton and Adler talked for a few more minutes and then moved over to an old rusted car. Stockton put a case on the hood and opened it up. They were going through the contents when Miller looked around and saw a rusted tire iron on the ground. He slid his hand inside his jacket and picked up the tire iron. He didn't much care if it would blow his cover or not, he was going to do something.

Miller stood up and walked over to the car. Neither one took much notice of his approach. Miller raised the tire iron and brought it crashing down on the head of Scott Adler, killing the traitorous government agent with a single crushing blow. His body crumpled to the ground without any theatrics or fanfare.

Stockton instinctively went for his gun, but was stopped by Miller pushing him down onto the hood backwards. Mike used the tire iron to brace across Stockton's neck and used his left hand to pull out his weapon. Stockton looked pissed, but said nothing. He knew that if Miller had intended to kill him he would already have done so.

"I'm not a cop," Miller said to him, "But I am a human being. If you ever bring me to see something like this again, I will kill you, just like I did that son of a bitch. If you ever pull a gun on me again you damn well better be prepared to use it. Because if you don't, I'll take it away from you and shove it up your ass. Got it?"

"You just made a major mistake, Nester," Stockton said.

"No," Miller replied, "You did in bringing me to this place. You could have just had this guy look me over somewhere else. You didn't have to bring me to see Jade die."

"Let me up," Stockton growled.

"Sure," Miller said, keeping the weapon, "I don't want you as an enemy John. I just want to make damn sure I'm understood. I've got no problems with killing, but if you have to do it, do it clean. There's no reason for that sort of torture."

"That's not my department," Stockton shrugged, "I do what I'm told. Just like you're supposed to."

"We'll see about that," Miller said, "Now let's go back to the mansion."

Stockton nodded. He was not happy, but he knew that Ray Nester was a valuable man to the organization. Scott Adler had already pretty well served his purpose. He was worried about this perceived morality streak in Nester, however.

"What do we do with the body?" Miller asked him.

"Leave it," Stockton said, "Doc will take care of it along with the others."

Miller kept the gun, but the tension dropped as they got back into the car. They were silent as they drove back to the mansion. Stockton briefly considered trying to disarm Miller, but decided that it was safer to just let him go back to the mansion. Miller was considering whether to bolt and run or whether to try to bluff his way out of this one.

Seeing Jade's death brought the possibility of death closer to home for him. He wanted now more than ever to see Pena's people brought down. His only way to do that was to try to work his way out of the hole that he was in. He just hoped that it was still possible.

Arriving at the mansion Miller made a beeline to Max. Stockton did not move on Miller, he merely went to a telephone to call for instructions. He usually worked with autonomy, but he'd never encountered a situation like this one.

"Jesus Christ," Max said after hearing Miller's story, "You fucking killed the guy and pulled a gun on Stockton?"

"I'd had enough," Miller explained, "And if any of Pena's people ever do that to me again they had better fucking shoot me, because I'll kill them before I watch something like that again."

"Damn," Nick said, "I can't believe that she's dead."

"Ok," Max said, ignoring Nick, "Let's go talk to Dad and see if he can intercede with Pena."

"I'm following you," Miller nodded.

They entered Charlie Bullock's study to see a full meeting forming. Stockton was standing against the wall while Charlie and Eric Roth were sitting in their usual places. The speakerphone was on, and Charlie was yelling at Freddie Pena over it.

"Jesus Christ, Freddie!" Charlie yelled, "Just what the hell do you think your people are doing?"

"Calm down, Charlie," Pena said soothingly.

"I'm not calming down either," Max said loud enough to be heard, "Ray works for me, not for you. You had no right to do this to him."

"And he had no right to fucking pull a gun on me," Stockton hissed.

"John," Charlie said, "I think Ray showed admirable restraint. If you'd tried that on me you'd be dead right now."

"Nester," Freddie Pena said over the speakerphone, "Are you in the room?"

"Yes," Miller said, relieved that the Bullocks were taking his side.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"I'm sick of being pushed around," Miller said defiantly, "I didn't sign on for this sort of shit. I don't want any trouble with you or with your people, but if that's what you are going to do you can do it without me there. I can understand killing her, that's part of the risk she took. She lied to me, so I'm down with that. But, this taking her apart piece by piece is bullshit."

Nick shied back into a corner. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Mike was biting off more than he could chew. Mike stood there and watched the faces of the people in the room. Both Max and his father were pissed. Eric did not much care either way this went. Fat Tony was watching, but didn't comprehend what was going on.

"I don't mean you any disrespect, Freddie," Max said, "But the way you handled this was disgraceful. If you'd asked me about it we could have handled it a lot simpler and a lot faster without your boys acting like the Gestapo."

"Max is right, Freddie," Charlie agreed, "This wouldn't have happened if you'd have just talked to us about it."

"Ok," Freddie said after a beat, knowing that he had to pacify the Bullocks, "We'll forget this incident. Adler was only of limited use to us anyway. Nester just saved us two million bucks."

A collective sigh of relief went through the room. Stockton still was not particularly happy, but he knew that things had been tense between his outfit and the Bullocks anyway. Pena was not quite ready to do without them yet, so his bruised ego was going to have to wait.

"Nester," Freddie said coldly over the phone line, "Consider yourself lucky. You attack one of my people again, you won't live to tell about it. You clear on that?"

"Crystal," Miller said, his word resonating through the room like ice.

"Charlie," Freddie said, "Let me talk to Stockton alone on the secure device."

"Ok," Charlie agreed, "You can take it in the other room, John."

Everyone started talking to each other as Stockton left the room to go talk to Freddie personally. Stockton picked up the secure phone and hit the button that deadened all other extensions on the same line. The encrypted vocal track was good for that and for making the call sound clear as a bell.

"Yes sir?" Stockton asked.

"We need to keep Bullock and his people happy for a while longer," Pena told his subordinate, "What is your feel for this?"

"Nester isn't a cop," Stockton said, "But he doesn't have the stomach for what we're doing."

"Leave him be for now," Pena instructed, "Don't let him get to you. Just keep an eye on him."

"Not a problem," Stockton said, "If he wanted to kill me, he'd have done so out there."

"Take it easy on the mansion people for a bit," Pena told him, "You've probably cleaned out the vermin for a bit."

"Anything else?" Stockton asked.

"No," Pena said, "In fact, if you're done with the cleanup, take off for a bit. You're probably going to aggravate them more if you stay longer."

"Doc will be finished tonight," Stockton told him, "The girl managed to use a cyanide capsule, so there's only two left."

"Finish them off," Pena said, "Then leave town. You've got a more important job ahead of you. I just found out that the feds have taken custody of Elise. She was transferred to the custody of someone named Chavis and dropped off the grid. I haven't been able to figure out where yet."

"Shit," Stockton swore, "I'll find and take care of her."

"You'd better," Pena said, "If you don't we're screwed."

Chapter Forty-Seven – October 30, 2000 – Evening

Mike Miller was waiting under a tree in a secluded area outside of town when a car pulled up nearby. Tracy, Tom and Eric Craig got out and approached Miller, all three very glad to see him. Tracy sat down with him and looked him over to see what shape he was in. Word that something had happened between Nester and Stockton was on the street, but they did not know what really happened.

"Ok," Tom said, "What's the story?"

"It's not been a good day," Miller conceded and idly took a drag on his cigarette.

"Do I take it you're blown?" Tracy asked hopefully.

"Surprisingly, no," Miller chuckled, "I came through bruised but not burned."

"Explain," Tom said as he leaned against the bumper of Miller's car.

Miller explained in detail what had happened. All three were aghast at what he had witnessed and actually survived. They were surprised that things had gone as well as they did with the aftermath. Not one of them was surprised that Miller had killed the government man who'd turned bad. All of them would have considered it in that situation.

"I got really lucky afterwards," Mike said, "There's a growing rift between the Bullocks and Pena. What I'd been put through was outside of their code. They may be amoral, but you don't do things like that to your own people."

"Pena is not going to be looking kindly upon you," Tom said, "This was a close call, Mike. Learn from it. It's time to close the operation."

"No way," Miller said, "I'm too goddamned close."

"You're letting your anger blind you," Richter told him, "You have to get past that."

"Fuck you!" Miller raged at Richter as he stood up, "You're the one who put me here. You told me to get the job done. Well I've been doing it. I've been doing it well. I'm in the upper reaches."

"You've done much better than anyone dreamed," Richter agreed, "But it's time to get out."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Miller exclaimed, "Not until I get the chance to wrap my fingers around Frederick Pena's throat myself."

"Will you listen to yourself?" Tracy barked at him, "You're losing your objectivity."

"Fuck being objective," Miller told them, "Tom, I'm going back. You can either support me or kill me. I'm not going to run away from this. I've invested way too much of myself to run now."

"Leave now or I'm going to pull you out by force," Tom said icily, "I can't have you in there like this."

"You pull me out now," Mike said with an eerily calm voice, "I'm going hunting. I will take them out one by one until I find Pena and can string him to the nearest light pole."

Tracy, Tom and Eric stood there in an awkward silence. They knew that Miller was going over the edge. They were also unsure what to do about it. They knew he could be a danger in the field, but if they brought him in like this then the cases they needed him to build wouldn't be worth a damn.

"Think about this," Tracy said, "You could be throwing the whole thing away."

"I have thought about it," Mike told them, "Pulling me out now won't do any good."

"You talk to him, Tracy," Tom said resignedly, "I can't listen to this bullshit."

Tom walked away and let himself cool off. Miller leaned back against the tree and looked out into space. Tracy simply sat there a few minutes looking into his eyes. She knew that the man she loved was still there, but that he was in serious danger.

"Why?" She asked him softly.

"You know," Miller said, "That's the same thing I asked Lisa, shortly before she died."

"What did she say?" Tracy asked.

"She cursed me out," Mike smiled, "Called me a pencil dick son of a bitch. Kept up with the act right up until they brought out the pentothal."

"You loved her?" Tracy asked.

"Not in the way you're thinking," Mike said, "But she died for me, Tracy. She killed herself just to keep me alive."

"And she'd want you to live," Tracy said, hoping to talk him into following Tom's instructions.

"She did it to shore up my cover, Tracy," Mike said, "She did it because she knows how bad these people are. She didn't give her life just so I could turn tail and run. That's the easy way out of this, Tracy. But it's not the right way out. We have to bring this to the end."

"If you stay you could die," Tracy said, "Do you want to die like she did?"

"If I go I'll always have her death on my conscience," Mike told her, "Along with the deaths of all the other Jade's that I could have prevented by stopping Pena cold."

"What about us, Mike?" She asked, "I can't watch you like this."

"Do what you have to do Tracy," Mike said, "I'm not selfish enough to ask you to wait for me. I'm a different person now. I'm not sure that the person who walks out of this hell will be any use to anyone."

Tracy wanted to say more, but Miller was not having any. Tom Richter walked back over after he noticed a few minutes of silence. He sat down on the ground in front of Miller and looked his agent over hard.

"Has she talked some sense into you?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Miller asked, meeting Richter's glare.

"You crazy son of a bitch," Richter muttered.

"I can see why, Tom," Tracy said.

"We'll support you for now," Richter said, "But when you go against Pena keep your head. We want him alive. You can't put a corpse on trial."

"I'll do my best," Miller said, "But I make no promises."

"I figured," Richter grunted.

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"Yeah," Richter said, "This is the last time we meet. It's too dangerous. Your in person contacts will be handled by Eric because he wasn't on Price's list. If something is dire enough to require a full person meet you come in and stay in. Got me?"

"Understood," Miller nodded.

"Get out of here and get back to your life," Richter said, "Before they figure out that it's all a lie."

Miller nodded and looked at them. Tracy sighed and just let him go. She was not happy with the way things were going, but she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him for it either. Once Miller was gone, the three of them went back to their car and sat in the darkness for a minute.

"How far gone is he Tracy?" Tom asked her.

"He sounded pretty nuts to me," Eric put in.

"Jade's death got to him," She said, "He is still focused, but he's very determined."

"How dire is his position?" Tom asked the both of them.

"Actually," Eric said, "He's still solid in the Bullock clan. Max and Charlie love him. Eric Roth isn't his biggest fan, but he's more concerned about Pena. The symbiotic relationship between the two groups may be falling apart. Keeping Miller in will help with that just because he stood up to Stockton."

"Was his threat serious?" Tom asked them.

"I don't know," Eric shrugged, "Tracy?"

"Yes and no," Tracy said, "Do I think he wants to do it that way? No. Do I think he would at this point in time. Yes."

"What do we do?" Eric asked.

"Support him," Tom Richter sighed as he started the car, "And pray he doesn't fall apart completely before this is over."

Chapter Forty-Eight – January 1, 2001 – Noon

The tape recorder was stopped briefly to allow Entragian to change tapes again and to let Detective Stone to run across the street for another batch of fast food. Miller was visibly tired, but he was still determined to get the rest of this down on tape. He was hoping that pouring this out on the record would help him cleanse his soul.

"Did they ever find Lisa Collins' body?" McCord asked him.

"Not to my knowledge," Miller said, "The warehouse burned down the next day and the bodies were probably put in a grave somewhere. Someone will probably find them in a hundred years or so."

"Sad way to go," Entragian said as he fiddled with the recorder.

"She deserved better," Mike nodded, "I'll carry the shame of her death with me until the end."

"Nothing you could do, Miller," McCord replied, "You have to know that."

"It just strengthened my resolve," Miller nodded.

"I'm sure this is when things started going to hell too," McCord said.

"Not really," Miller chuckled, "I actually came through that mess smelling like a rose. Standing up to Stockton's bullshit actually elevated me a few notches in the Bullock camp."

"How did that happen?" McCord asked.

"There was a growing rift between the old school syndicate operation that Charlie Bullock represented and the newer, more ruthless one that Pena represented," Miller said, "Pena had overstepped his bounds by having Stockton do what he did to me that day. It was a gamble that he took, believing that I probably was a cop. Lucky for me, Jade stayed in character to the end and bolstered me, fucking over Pena."

"I bet Pena was pissed," Entragian said.

"He was," Miller agreed, "And that was probably the start of my downfall."

Stone walked in with bags of fast food and spread them out on the table. All was quiet for a few minutes as they tore into the food, though Stone had to open some of the wrappers for Miller because of his bad left arm.

"So are we getting into the homestretch?" Detective Stone asked as he dumped extra ketchup on his burger.

"Yeah," Mike nodded, "November and most of December were actually pretty calm. Pena's presence pretty well disappeared."

"Something had to have happened," McCord said as he tried to fire down a lousy cheeseburger.

"The final act started about a week ago," Miller said, letting his memory drift back, "It all started when we found out that Pena was going to pay a visit..."
Chapter Forty-Nine – December 26, 2000 – Noon

Miller woke up and looked around the bedroom. He smiled when he saw the mass of blonde hair on his chest and sat back to stare at the ceiling. He was not willing to move and stir her quite yet. She was breathing slowly on his chest and sleeping as if she had not a care in the world. He just wished the feeling could last.

Tracy woke up a few minutes later and smiled at Mike who was playing with her hair at the time. They sat there for a few minutes and just enjoyed each other's presence. Miller was able to get away for a few days because everyone was involved with Christmas at the Bullock household, a holiday that Miller really was not able to take this year.

"You want some breakfast?" Tracy asked him as she sat up.

"Not hungry," he said, "Besides, I probably need to get back soon."

"You don't have to go, you know," she told him, though she knew her appeal would fall on deaf ears.

"It's safe enough for now," Miller said, "Though I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to get any closer."

"Probably not," she said, "Not after that stunt you pulled with Stockton."

"I've got to try a bit longer," he said, "Something is brewing, I just don't know what yet."

"Just try not to get caught too badly," She warned, "You came too close to the edge last time. If you do that again, Tom will have you brought in by force if necessary."

"I know it," Miller said, "I don't apologize, but I see where he's coming from."

"Next time he gives you the order," Tracy said, "Take it, ok?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded, though he was going to continue to follow his own instinct on that.

Mike proceeded to get dressed and look out the window. He saw kids playing out on the street and people moving around through the snow that had fallen the day before. He was torn on whether he wanted to go back, but he still had the strong desire to see things to the end.

Tracy walked up behind him, despite the fact that she was not wearing anything at all. Mike smiled as she wrapped her arms around him and dragged him away from the window. Perhaps he did not need to get back quite as early as he thought.

An hour or so later, Miller got dressed a second time and smiled at Tracy who was still lying on the bed. He smiled at her, mouthed a few nothings to her and slipped out the door. She watched him go out as he always did, trying hard to hold back the tears as he did so.

Mike walked down the street towards the parking lot where he parked his car. He walked quickly and lit a cigarette as he neared it. He was surprised as he entered the parking lot, however, because Nick Jones was sitting on the bumper of his own Z-28 smoking a cigarette as well.

"Nick," Miller called, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Jones shrugged, "Max has been looking for you. He wants you back at the Mansion."

"What did I do this time?" Miller asked suspiciously.

"Nothing I know of," Nick shrugged, "Something's got him jumpy as all hell. He wants us nearby."

"Great," Miller sighed, "Must be something important if he's this jumpy."

"He said he wouldn't spill it until you came in," Nick shrugged.

"Let's go," Miller told him, "Best not keep the big man waiting."

"Sure," Nick shrugged.

"How did you find me anyway?" Miller asked, stopping.

"Mom lives over here," Nick said, "I saw your car parked here on my way back. Figured you were in the area and that you'd show up."

Miller nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. If it had become known that he had been staying with Tracy his cover was as good as blown. He climbed into his car and followed Nick back to the mansion, parking in his customary spot outside.

Miller was struck by the change of mood as he got out of the car. People were scurrying around as if a hurricane were getting ready to hit. Mike and Nick looked at each other and walked into the mansion to find out just what was going on.

Max was in his father's office sitting at his desk, reading over some ledger or other. Charlie and Eric were pouring over some sort of report a page at a time as Nick and Mike walked into the room. Miller pulled up his usual hardback chair and sat down in front of Max's desk. Nick simply made his way over to the little couch that he usually sat at and watched unnoticed.

"What's shaking, Max?" Miller asked, "Why'd you have Nick run out to find me?"

"We've got company coming on Thursday," Max said, "We need to get this place ready for him."

"Who's coming?" Miller asked, wondering who could get this place in such a tizzy.

"Freddie," Max said, "The man is actually paying a visit to the city."

"I thought he didn't come here?" Nick asked, surprised at the news.

"More to the point," Miller put in, slightly nervous about this, "Why is he coming here?"

"We've been having some problems," Max said, "You know how it's been going. His activities have been bringing down some heat on us."

"No shit," Miller grumbled, "He's been killing cops like it's going out of style. I'm amazed he's even willing to risk coming here."

"You're telling me," Max shrugged, "Anyway, I wanted you to know so you could help get this place in shape. Fat Tony has more than he can handle, and you're better organized than he is. Freddie and John will be here Thursday afternoon."

"Sure," Miller said, "But do you want me here when Pena and Stockton are here? Especially considering the last time I saw Stockton I pulled a gun on him."

"Exactly why we want you here," Charlie put in as he walked over to Max's desk, "We want to put up a strong front for Freddie. We need him and he needs us, but he needs to know that there are lines that you do not cross."

"So I'm there to be a reminder that we are partners, not lackeys?" Mike asked.

"Exactly," Charlie nodded, "You showed guts in defying Stockton. It wasn't your fault that the idiot girl you were with was a cop."

"Besides," Max shrugged, "Most of the information she leaked came from one of Cook's people, not you."

"In the past," Miller shrugged, "But I'll be here."

"Expect him to be a bastard to you, Ray," Charlie chuckled, "He's like that to most people nowadays. He's not especially happy with us as of late, especially considering that he's lost several people from here."

"Steele and Lentz," Miller nodded, "Though you won't find me crying over the loss of that psychotic bitch."

"She was good," Charlie shrugged, "But I never had to watch her in action either."

"All right," Miller said, "If there's nothing else, I'm going to go help Fat Tony."

"Nope," Max said, "Just take it easy. We want to keep Pena happy, at least for now."

Miller nodded, and he and Nick beat a hasty retreat out of the room. They went outside to have a cigarette before trying to figure out what needed shaping up in the mansion. They sat down on the steps and lit up.

"Damn Ray," Nick said, "The big man is actually coming here?"

"Sounds like it," Miller nodded, "I don't particularly like the sound of this."

"Me either," Nick sighed, "But what can we do?"

"Ride it out," Miller shrugged, "Same as we always do, buddy."

Mike stepped on his cigarette butt and went into the mansion, leaving Nick to sit there and contemplate that thought for a while.

Chapter Fifty – December 28, 2000 – Afternoon

The whole Bullock Mansion was in heightened alert while waiting for Frederick Pena to show up. Max and Charlie were pacing around the office like nervous hens. Eric Roth had made a point in being absent from the festivities due to old differences between him and Pena.

Mike Miller and Nick Jones were sitting on the patio just watching the driveway. Miller had been told to be out there in the driveway with Charlie and Max when Pena's car came in. He was not really looking forward to it, but he was curious to see what the monster actually looked like.

Miller was expecting a limo, but was surprised to see that it was a simple, rather nondescript Lincoln. When he saw Charlie and Max walking outside he figured he should probably go out there to meet the big man. Nick smiled at him and pulled a cigarette out of the pack.

"Have fun, Ray," Nick chuckled, "Say hello for me."

Miller frowned at him and got up to go out there. He walked out and stood a step behind and a little to the left of Max Bullock. Max looked him over real quick and all three of them watched the car. Miller kept the expression on his face impassive as the door opened.

An older man stepped out of the car and looked over the three of them. He stepped out of the car and stood up, going directly over to Charlie to shake his hand. Charlie smiled and greeted him warmly.

"Welcome home, Freddie," Charlie said, "Been a while."

"Since the mess two years ago," Pena nodded, "Good to be back, I guess. John was supposed to be here too, but he's going to be late getting into town. He should be here tomorrow."

Miller said nothing and looked at the man. Shock did not even begin to cover what he was feeling. Many questions that had been sitting unanswered for him were settled with just a vision and a few heartbeats. Miller lost track of the conversation between Charlie, Max and Freddie. All Mike could do was look at the man's face and compare it to a memory deep in the back of his own mind.

"Ray," Max said to him, "Earth to Nester. This is Freddie Pena."

"Good afternoon," the older man said to Miller, holding out his hand, "So you're the one who gave Stockton a much overdue lesson in humility."

"Oh," Miller said and managed a smile he had to force, "Yes. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Pena."

"Likewise," The man said and looked Miller hard in the eyes, "I've wanted to meet you for a while now."

The two men locked eye contact as they shook hands. There was a bit of recognition there for both of them, but the only one of them that actually made the connection was Miller himself. He now knew that the truth had been under their noses all along, had been before he had even entered the organization. The eyes he was looking at belonged to the man who was responsible for everything.

He had seen them in the pictures handed to him in Tom Richter's office the previous May. He had seen them on the news. More important, he had seen them in an alley nearly eight years before, staring at him and firing a pistol at him. This, of course, was after murdering his rookie partner. Miller was staring into the cold, dead, eyes of none other than Howard Bronson.

"Shall we go inside?" Charlie asked them.

"Certainly," Pena/Bronson said, "We have a lot to discuss."

Miller followed along a few steps behind, prompting Nick to walk up to him. Mike must have looked a little peaked, because Nick walked over to him quickly, stopping him before he could go inside.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Ray," Nick said as he walked over to Miller.

"Not really," Miller said, starting to get his composure back, "He just reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago."

Nick started to ask who but Miller was not listening. He walked into the mansion, following the Bullocks and Pena. Everyone sat down in the office and the conversations started. Miller managed to hold his own, but he was not really listening very hard. He just looked at the man who was responsible for his presence in the underworld.

"Nester," Pena asked him, "You seem distracted."

"Yeah," Miller shrugged, trying to think of a cover, "Just tired I guess. Been a busy few days."

"Why did you kill Adler?" Pena asked him suddenly, surprising Miller a little.

"I was pissed," Miller shrugged, "I don't care if she was a cop, she didn't need to die like that. Even if she did, Stockton shouldn't have brought me out there at the point of a gun to see it."

"I'll give you that one," Pena nodded and spoke with his slow tone, "John was, perhaps, a little overzealous. You did overreact just a bit."

"Not really," Miller smiled, "If I'd have overreacted Stockton wouldn't have made it back to the mansion."

"True," Pena nodded, "Very true."

"Excuse me," Miller said, "I've got some things I need to check out with Nick."

"Certainly," Pena said, "Business comes first."

Mike walked out of the office and into the foyer. He knew that his cover was ending. He knew that his luck with Pena was not going to last. Pena had done a good job at covering his tracks, mainly because he knew how to cover his past. His slow and careful vocal mannerism was one of the ways he had covered who he really was. Miller knew that he was in grave peril if Pena remembered him from that night.

"Ray," Nick asked him, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Nick," Mike told him, "You ever had a really bad feeling about something?"

"Sure," Nick said, "Why?"

"If it happens, listen to your gut, Kid," Mike sighed as he realized what he had to do, "It's usually right."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nick asked.

"You'll know soon," Miller said and walked out the door.

Nick looked at him as he walked out the door. Miller went out to his car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving Nick at the door trying to figure out what happened. Nick walked over to the office, about to tell Max about Mike acting strangely. He was about to interrupt when he listened to the conversation happening in the room.

"Where did you find Ray Nester anyway?" Pena asked him, "I'd never heard of him until you had Elise run a check on him a few months ago."

"I don't know where he originally came from," Charlie said, "Do you Max?"

"He was one of Crazy Harry's people, Lupo picked him up shortly after being released from a Military stockade," Max told him, "He's the one that took care of that nasty business with the DA's kid."

"Really?" Pena said, suitably impressed, "The one who did away with Barry Northrup?"

"Also took care of Crazy Harry for us," Charlie told him, "After that unfortunate incident."

"He was the one who did that?" Pena asked, surprised, "You didn't take care of that yourself?"

"Nester was closer," Max shrugged, "I don't know if he did it alone or used Nick to do the job."

"Why all the questions about Nester?" Charlie asked, "Surely you can't still be that pissed over what happened."

"No," Pena said, "Stockton got an overdue lesson of humility. I just get the feeling that I've met Raymond Nester somewhere before."

Nick backed off and sat down. He knew that something was not right, but he just did not know what. He was getting a sinking feeling in his gut. He walked out onto the patio and lit a cigarette, sitting down and looking at the empty space that Miller had left when he drove his car out of the mansion grounds.

"What's going on Nick?" Fat Tony walked over and asked him, "You look like you just lost your best friend."

"Nah," Nick chuckled, "Just wondering what the strange vibe is going on around here."

"Always happens when that son of a bitch comes back into town," Tony shrugged and sat his ample rear down in a deck chair, "He always brings trouble with him."

"I've never seen him before," Nick said, "Never even heard of him 'til I came here."

"Old Howard has been around for thirty years," Tony chuckled, "Used to be a city cop. He was drummed out for being on the take back in the mid 80's. They just didn't know how deep into the syndicate he really was."

"Howard?" Nick asked, "You mean Freddie?"

"That's the name he uses now," Tony grinned, "There's an open indictment on his old name, so he had to disappear. He supposedly died in a fire eight years ago."

"Shit," Nick said, "Wonder if Ray knew him under his old identity."

"Why?" Tony asked, "He say something?"

"Not so much what he said," Nick shrugged, "But the way he tore out of here a few minutes ago."

"That's weird," Tony said, "Probably nothing though. Nester has always been a weird cat. Hell, you should know that. You've practically lived with him."

"Yeah," Nick said and looked out into space. He still was not sure.

"He'll be back later," Tony smiled and walked back into the house.

Nick was not so sure.

Chapter Fifty-One – December 28, 2000 – Evening

Mike drove around for about an hour before he got the courage to actually call into the emergency number. He used his regular cell phone because he knew that by the time the syndicate was able to figure out what was going on he would already be out of the cold. He waited for three long rings before someone finally answered the phone.

"Lana's Sex Toys," Tracy's voice chirped, "How may I direct your call."

"It's me," Miller said.

"What's wrong?" Tracy asked, detecting the note of concern in his voice.

"Code red," Miller told her, "I'm coming in from the cold."

"About goddamned time," she said with a sigh of relief, "Come to the office front."

"I'm on my way," Miller told her, "Get Eric Craig there. I want to see him."

"What urgency level is this?" she asked, "Are they on your trail."

"They don't know yet," Miller assured her, "But there is no reason for me to stay now."

"Ok," she said, "I'll get Tom and we'll bring you in."

"I don't care about Tom," Miller told her, "Just make damned sure Eric is there. I need to talk to him."

"Ok," she said, finding this request rather odd, "How soon will you be here?"

"Thirty minutes," Miller said, "I need to pick up my laptop before I come in."

"Be careful," she said, "Don't let them catch you."

"Like I said," Miller said, "I haven't been blown. I'll explain when I get there."

Miller drove quickly and pulled into the motel parking lot. He walked into his room and threw his basic belongings into bags. He threw what he could carry in a couple duffle bags and put his laptop into its case. It was time for him to leave this room for the last time.

Miller walked out to his car and put the stuff in the trunk. He was ready to get out now. He now knew he could bring down the whole kit and kaboodle. The only thing left was to actually get out alive. He was just hoping that there was still time.

"Leaving so fast, Nester?" a voice behind him asked.

"What?" Miller asked as he turned around.

"You looked like you're going on a trip, Ray," one of the two men said.

"So what if I am?" Miller asked, "Did Pena send you?"

"Why would he do something like that?" cretin number one asked, "Did you do something to piss him off?"

Miller looked at the two men approaching him. He did not know them personally, but he knew the type. The bad attitudes, the impeccable dark suits, the calm take no shit personalities. They were more of Pena's clones, through and through.

"Freddie just asked us to come check on you," he said, "Said you left the mansion rather abruptly."

"So what is it to him?" Miller asked, "I don't report to him. I don't report to you either. Get the hell out of my way."

"I think you should come back with us," the taller of the two said.

"Might be a good idea," the other one agreed.

"I don't think so," Miller said and tried to get into the car.

"We think so," they said and shut the door.

Miller knew then he was not going to get out of this one without a fight. He decided not to play the game anymore. It was time to finish Raymond Nester off permanently.

He decided that the taller one of the two clones had to go first, so without any form of warning or telegraphing he let out a furious kick to the man's balls, doubling him over in pain. This caused his partner to reach for his gun, an action that was thwarted by Miller's fast open palm blow to the solar plexus.

Mike knew better than to think he could keep winning this fight like this. He jumped over the two fallen men and drew his own pistol while they were gasping for breath. They did not disappoint him; however. As soon as they could move they were reaching for their own.

Miller did not mince words or pull his punches. He shot both of Pena's killers dead right there in the dark parking lot. Their bodies fell back in the snow, turning the dirty slush around them a dark crimson color.

Mike stood there looking at them for a half second before deciding that it was time to get the hell out of dodge. He jumped into the car and kicked it into gear quickly, pulling out of the space and out of the parking lot as fast as he could. Racing quite a bit faster than the legal limit to get to the safe office across town.

By the time he was able pull into the parking place behind the deserted office front the adrenalin rush had worn off. The shakes that come with a firefight were just setting in. Miller walked into the entryway and pounded on the back door until someone came to let him in.

"Thank God," Tracy said as she let him in, "We heard about a shooting at your motel."

"They lost," Miller said as he hugged her and came into the room.

The whole support team was sitting there looking at him. Miller saw an open spot on the couch and took it, with Tracy sliding in beside him. She looked at him and ignored the disapproving glare of Tom Richter as she hugged him tightly.

"What happened, Mike?" Tom asked, "Did the meeting with Pena go badly?"

"It went perfectly," Miller chuckled, "That was part of the problem."

"I'm not getting you," Tom said.

"Remember what you brought me in for?" Miller asked him, "The first thing you showed me in your office when we were setting up this operation?"

"Sure," Richter said, "The Bronson photos."

"Can you bring those up for me, Eric?" Mike asked him.

"Sure," Eric nodded, "They are in the system."

"Do it, Eric," Tom said.

"Which photo?" Eric asked.

"The most recent one," Mike said, "The group shot of him on Franklin Street last year."

"Here it is," Eric said and looked at it, "Now what the hell am I looking at."

"It's a picture of Howard Bronson," Tom said, "I fail to see the connection."

It was Al who managed to put the pieces together first. Al was by far the most observant of the group. He knew that Miller was not pointing at Bronson, but at who was with him. Given the context of the conversation and the fact that Elise Steele was standing next to him in the picture, there was little doubt as to Miller's meaning.

"Damn," Al said, "Howard Bronson is Freddie Pena?"

"What?" Tracy, Eric and Tom asked simultaneously.

"Al gets the cigar," Miller smiled.

"Good lord," Tom said, "No wonder we couldn't get a lock on the slimy son of a bitch."

"We should have figured that out a lot sooner," Eric said, "He must be good."

"He is," Miller nodded, "A casual glance wouldn't let you know that he's the same person. Same thing with the voice. I doubt anything less than a full spectrum analysis of it will let you know that Pena and Bronson are the same person."

"If his subordinates are any clue," Tom said, "He's probably burned off his fingerprints too."

"I can prove his identity in an hour if you'll let me," Miller smiled.

"How?" Tracy asked, "You going to go arrest him and beat him into talking?"

"No," Miller said with a shake of his head, "What do you want to bet that the feds have some pictures they can confirm as Pena?"

"No bet," Tom said, not liking the sound of Miller's idea, "They have confirmed pictures of every Crime figure since Al Capone. Even the ones who don't want to be identified as such."

"Then let's get in contact with them," Miller shrugged.

"Hell no," Tom said, "They aren't going to give us shit. Our units haven't even been on speaking terms since that fiasco last year."

"A fiasco that our friend Pena, Bronson or whatever you want to call the bastard engineered," Miller said, "He was there, remember?"

"Shit," Tom said, "What makes you think they will talk to you?"

"My guess is that they'd give a testicle to find out who Pena really is," Miller smiled, "Not to mention I have other information to trade."

"Jade?" Tracy asked.

"They're probably going nuts trying to figure out what happened to their people," Miller said.

"Ok," Tom sighed, "You've convinced me. We'll go."

"I'll go," Miller said.

"Not a chance in hell, Mike," Tom said, "You are to stay out of sight. You're a target now."

"It'll never work without me," Miller told him, "I have the personal knowledge that is the key. I also know what happened and can explain it better."

"He's right, Tom," Al agreed, "He needs to be there."

"Bah!" Tom growled.

"You going to make the call or do we?" Tracy asked him.

"I'll make the damned call," Tom said, "Al, Tracy, go with him. Both of you armed. Miller, you still armed or did you ditch the weapon?"

"I've still got it," Miller nodded, "I could use some more ammunition though."

"What are you carrying?" Al asked.

"Beretta, 9mm parabellum," Miller said.

"Here," Eric said and tossed him a spare clip, "I haven't fired my gun in months anyway."

"How old are these?" Miller asked.

"Two months," Eric said, "Got them after my last qualification run."

"Good enough," Miller nodded and reloaded his weapon.

"I'll have Gene Twombly meet you at their headquarters," Tom said, "He's my counterpart among the local feds. He's probably the only one who could authorize the release of any information."

"You're not going?" Miller asked.

"No," Tom said, "You'll get more done without me. Also, this way I can deny knowledge of the information you're trading."

"Good idea," Tracy nodded.

"We'll get the Mercedes," Tom said, "That car is too hot to use now. We'll have it put in impound."

"We can take mine," Al said, "It's fast enough and should be inconspicuous."

"Let's get this over with," Miller said, "I need a good night's sleep and a long shower."

Chapter Fifty-Two – December 27, 2000 – Evening

Tom must have been convincing, because the three of them were allowed into the building immediately. Unlike most government buildings, the local federal investigation building never shut down. The three undercover agents were led into a featureless waiting room to wait for Gene Twombly.

"God I hate waiting in places like this," Tracy sighed.

"You too?" Miller asked, "I don't think anyone does like it."

"Sorry for the wait, I'm Agent Twombly," Agent Twombly said, walking into the room, "So you work for Tom Richter, eh? This had better be good."

"We think so," Miller said, "We're proposing an information trade."

"What do you have?" Twombly asked.

"Doesn't work that way," Miller said, "What I need is knowledge that my information is good."

"If you don't have anything to trade," Twombly growled, "There's nothing I can do."

"Now, now," Mike smiled, "I thought we were after the same people."

"Yes," Twombly said, "And we have to protect our own. I see this is a waste of time. Good day..."

"Lisa Collins," Mike said abruptly, cutting him off.

"What did you say?" Twombly said, doing a double take.

"Lisa Catherine Collins," Miller said, standing up and looking at the agent, "Better known in lower class circles as Jade."

"What are you proposing?" Twombly asked him.

"I'll tell you what happened to her," Miller said, "I'll even tell you who did it."

"What do you get out of this?" he asked suspiciously, "How do you even know about this?"

"Pictures," Miller said, "I want confirmed pictures of Frederick Pena. As for how I know, let's say I was on rather intimate terms with her."

"Jesus!" Twombly exclaimed, "You don't want much do you? It cost us three agents to get those pictures!"

"And he's cost both of us much more than that," Miller agreed, "I'll give you the information on Jade first, as a token of good faith."

"Spill it," Twombly said.

"Do you agree?" Miller asked as Tracy and Al just watched.

"I agree," Twombly growled, "What happened to her."

"She's dead," Miller said.

"Is that all you have?" Twombly said, "Get out of here. We figured that already."

"She died on October 30th," Miller continued, "She was betrayed by someone on the inside, a man named Adler."

"How did she die?" Twombly asked.

"She bit into a cyanide capsule," Miller said, "She had been tortured pretty extensively already. Stockton's goon was about to put some sodium pentothal in her. She killed herself before it could take effect and she'd be forced to reveal that I was a cop too."

"Good lord," Twombly said, "I recognize you now. You're Raymond Nester, the one we had pushed Lisa on."

"Yes," Miller nodded, "But I'm also Michael James Miller; detective lieutenant third grade in the city police department."

"Adler huh?" Twombly said, "Figures. He disappeared at the same time. We weren't sure if he did it or if they got him too."

"He's dead," Miller assured them, "I buried a tire iron in his skull as he collected his blood money from John Stockton."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Twombly said, showing little surprise or emotion, "Anything else?"

"Not about her," Miller said, "I might have more information to share, but I need to see those pictures first."

"All right," Twombly acquiesced, "Let's go into my office."

"Lead the way," Miller said.

"You are taking a big chance coming here," Twombly said, "Pena's people watch this place fairly regularly."

"Doesn't matter," Mike said, "I broke cover six hours ago. They've already tried to kill me once."

"They'll try again," Twombly said.

"I know," Miller agreed.

They all went into the office and watched as Twombly picked through some files to get the photographs. He pulled out three of them and put them down on the table. Miller picked them up and studied them. He looked up and smiled.

"These are all confirmed?" Miller asked.

"Yes," Twombly nodded, "We have more too, but these are the best."

"Read this," Miller said and tossed Bronson's file onto the table, "I think you'll find it interesting reading. Especially the photographs."

Twombly flipped through it and his jaw nearly hit the table. Both outfits had been searching for the link. Twombly held his picture next to the most recent confirmed they had of Howard Bronson. The two men were identical.

"Son of a bitch," Twombly said, "How long have you known?"

"Six hours," Mike said, "I found out when I met the man as Ray Nester this afternoon. I broke cover then."

"Why?" Twombly asked.

"Because I'd met Bronson before," Miller said, "I got out before he could remember me."

"Good move," Twombly agreed, "We can start building a case now."

"We can move on one," Miller said, "There is a murder case ready and waiting for Bronson as soon as we can pull him in."

"Already?" Twombly said, "I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Miller said, "The case is eight years old now. He murdered my partner back in 92."

"We won't fight you," Twombly agreed, "We want Pena brought down anyway possible. I'm sure we'll be adding federal charges eventually."

"More power to you," Miller said, "Can we take these?"

"We have more," Twombly nodded.

"Thanks," Miller said and the three of them left the federal building.

"What now?" Al asked him, "We have the evidence. What do we do with it?"

"Go back to the office," Mike said, "We need to get the warrants drawn up. Won't be able to do that until the morning."

"We can do the paperwork tonight," Tracy said, "Hit Whitmore with it first thing in the morning."

"You can do it tonight," Miller grinned, "Me, I'm going to sleep. It's finally over. I'm going to have the best night's sleep I've had since May."

"You deserve it," Al said, "I had my doubts, especially since November, but you've gotten the goods."

"I'll feel better when we can get Pena under our net," Miller said, "Then I'll believe that it's over."

Chapter Fifty-Three – December 29, 2000 – Afternoon

Howard Bronson paced around Charlie Bullock's office, sweating for the first time since he had created the Pena persona, nearly eight years before. He was angry and wanted answers. Neither Charlie nor Max was able to give any to him. They were both sitting at their desks watching the angry man walk around the room.

"He's your man!" Bronson fumed, "Are you telling me that you never even had a fucking clue that anything was out of whack?"

"Why should we have?" Charlie asked, "He's done everything by the book, just like someone in his position should have. He's killed four people that we know of and we suspect that he's killed more. Furthermore, Elise Steele checked him out thoroughly. She was even fucking him and she never realized it."

"Dad," Max said, "Freddie. Fighting about it isn't going to solve our problem now."

"And you!" Bronson fumed, "You were the one who brought him in here!"

"And you all approved it!" Max exclaimed, "He was a good man. And we still don't know for sure he's a cop. He may still come back this afternoon."

"If he's not a cop then explain my two dead men!" Howard shouted at Max, his cool all but gone.

"We still don't know what happened to them," Max said.

"We do now," John Stockton said as he walked into the room, "I just got the police report. They were shot with 9mm parabellum slugs, probably from a Beretta. Isn't that the type of weapon that Nester carries?"

"I don't know," Max said honestly, "Ask Nick."

"Yes," Howard said, "Bring him in here."

Nick Jones looked like a frightened alley cat. He had been hearing the rumors that had been swirling around about Ray Nester and he knew that he was in a bad spot. The sad part was; he did not even really care anymore about that part. He just wished that he had his friend back.

"Nick," Max asked, "Does Ray carry a Beretta?"

"Yeah," Nick said, figuring honesty was the only way to survive this right now, "A silenced 9mm pistol that I got him during the Northrup mess."

"Have you heard from him since yesterday?" Charlie asked him.

"No sir," Nick said, "Not since he left yesterday afternoon."

"See," Bronson said, "He killed two more of my men."

"What were your men doing there?" Max asked, "He was still my man."

"Something didn't seem right," Bronson shrugged, "I suggested that they go check him out. He must have run into them at the room. Was there anything in Nester's room, John?"

"Police report says that there were some clothes," Stockton said, "It looked lived in but it had just been rifled through. Don't know whether there was anything missing."

"Anything else?" Bronson asked, "Any electronics?"

"Nothing that didn't come with the room," Stockton replied.

Nick knew then that Nester was not coming back. He knew that Ray had kept a laptop computer in there and protected it. If that was gone, most likely so was he. Nick was just hoping that he could find a way to get out of this mess with his life. After having both Ray and Jade be found out as cops he knew that his life probably was not worth a nickel.

"Goddamned it!" Bronson yelled, "Do you have anything else, John?"

"Not yet," he said, "You just asked me to find out about Meke and Ronnie."

The phone rang then and Max picked it up. He talked for a few seconds to who was on the line and went pale. After a few more words he put down the receiver and looked up at his father and at Howard.

"Shit," was the only thing that Max Bullock could manage to say.

"What?" Bronson asked him, his old accent returning a little.

"That was Frank Mozzio," Max said, "There's a crew on the way from the cops. They have a fresh set of warrants."

"Great," Bronson said, "Who for?"

"Us," Max said.

"You and Charlie?" He asked.

"No," Max said and looked Howard Bronson square in the eye, "You as well."

"They swore out a warrant on Frederick Pena?" Bronson asked.

"No," Max said, "They swore out a warrant on Howard Bronson, a.k.a. Frederick Pena. There are multiple racketeering charges against us. Against you, they've listed the murder of Edward Carmichael."

"Goddamn it!" Bronson shouted, "They put me together... Wait... Who was the indictment on?"

"Edward Carmichael," Max said, "That cop you iced back in '92."

"Damn it!" Bronson said, "We were had. I know who Nester is now!"

"Who?" They asked in unison.

"He's that cop's partner," Bronson said, "I nicked him at that time and he missed me. Forget his name, now."

"Miller," Stockton said, "I remember it now. I was working for you in the shadows back then."

"No wonder he bolted after he saw you," Max said, "What do we do now?"

"How bad can he compromise us?" Bronson asked the Bullocks.

"That man can put us in jail for a long time," Max said, "Just his testimony alone."

"He can testify against us as well," Stockton said, "He spent a week out in LA with Elise. Not to mention seeing Doc working on the agents."

"You should have shot him that day, John," Bronson groused.

"He passed the test," Stockton said, "The girl didn't identify him."

"She probably didn't know," Max said, "It's well known that the feds and locals aren't particularly friendly."

They continued bickering about what to do next. Nick was still in the room watching it. He was just thankful that they were too pissed about Ray to think about him. Nick knew that his luck could not last, though. He slipped out of the room unnoticed and went outside to try to decide what to do next.

"Bad in there?" Fat Tony asked him.

"What do you think?" Nick sighed, "They just got the word that there are warrants out on them. Even Freddie."

"Shit!" Tony said, "You're kidding?"

"Looks like Ray has turned," Nick sighed, "They think he might have been a plant all along."

"Damn," Tony said, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Nick said honestly, "I'm probably going to get the hell out of sight. I don't want to be pulled into the hunt."

"Get out of here now," Tony agreed, "Lay low for a while. Your job is pretty well finished, even if Max and Charlie survive it."

"I know it," Nick said, "I just don't want a hit put out on me."

"My brother is running a joint across town," Tony said, "Why don't you go with him for a bit. If Max asks I'll tell him that Matt needed another hand and figured you'd do more good there."

"All right," Nick agreed, "Thanks, Tony."

"No problem," he said, "I guess I'd better go look in on the meeting."

"Good luck," Nick said, "You'll need it."

Nick went off and left Tony standing there wondering. Tony shook his head and walked back into the mansion. He heard shouting coming from the office and hurried over to the door to take a closer look. Charlie, Max and Fred Pena were all on their feet and their faces were all red with rage.

"You are fucking crazy!" Charlie shouted.

"Do you want to start a goddamned war?" Max asked Pena/Bronson, "You do what you're talking about and they'll be all over us even more than they already are."

"If we don't do something," Bronson said, "Then that goddamned cop is going to take apart everything we worked for."

"So kill him!" Charlie said, "I'm all for that! Kill him and make it hurt. But, if you antagonize the entire police department they are going to come down on us like a ton of bricks."

"Fine," Bronson said, "Handle it your way."

"We'd best get out of here," Stockton told his boss, "The police are probably going to descend on this place any minute."

Fat Tony looked on as Bronson and his lackey left the room. Max and Charlie were left looking at each other and trying to figure out just how to deal with this new threat. Bronson and Stockton had ideas of their own.

"What do we do, Boss?" Stockton asked him as opened the door.

"Put the plan in action," Bronson said, "Let those idiots take the heat."

"You got it," Stockton agreed, "Without Meke and Ronnie I'm going to have to use local talent. We don't have very many people left and it could be risky."

"Use Jason and Elvis," Bronson said, "This is too important for locals. We'll use the old building as a temporary holding area. It should be empty for the holidays."

Fat Tony did not hear anymore after they walked out the door. He walked into the room for instructions. He did not even think of telling his bosses what he heard. He did not even realize the significance of it until it was too late.

Chapter Fifty-Four – December 30, 2000 – Evening

"I never thought this crap would take so long," Miller said, "Any word on serving those warrants?"

"The mansion was all but deserted by the time we got there," Tom said, "Someone tipped them to it. Not surprising, I guess. Most likely will have to try again tomorrow."

"Great," Miller grumbled, "I'm starting to go stir crazy."

"It gets worse," Richter chuckled, "I spent nearly a year bottled up after I left the Gambinos."

"I'll feel better once we have Bronson in our hands," Miller said and kicked back on the couch.

"Look at it this way," Tracy said, "At least we get to stay together now."

"Do you want to stay here for the duration?" Tom asked her, "A bit of extra help for the protection?"

"Sure," Tracy said.

"Can the condemned get some things brought in?" Miller asked.

"I've got to go to my apartment anyway," Tracy said, "I can pick some stuff up for you if you like, Mike."

"Yes," Mike grinned, "I had to leave my shaving stuff and general toiletries in the room. Also, some good Chinese food would be nice. I haven't had any since before I went under."

"Yeah," Richter chuckled, "Crooks don't seem to go much for Chinese. There's only so much pasta and boiled beef you can eat before you go insane."

"I'll pick up a take out order from China Town," Tracy promised.

"Al," Mike asked, "Can you go with her? Make sure that she picks up the right man stuff?"

"No problem," Martinez agreed, "I'll even drive."

"Let's go," Tracy said.

Tracy and Al went down to the street and drove to her place. Al Martinez parked his car out in the street near her house. They got out and looked around. Tracy's mood was very upbeat; something he had not seen out of her since Miller went undercover.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get my stuff," Tracy said, "China Town is up on the corner. Can you go and get the food?"

"Sure," Al agreed, "I'll place the order and go get his stuff at the drug store."

"Ok," she agreed, "I'll see you in fifteen."

Al walked up the street, and Tracy walked into her little house. She went around the place gathering clothes and getting ready to spend some time away from home. The smile on her face was wide as she picked up some underwear that she had been saving for the day that Mike left the life.

Unfortunately, the timing was not particularly good on her part. Pena's men stormed into the apartment less than ten minutes after she went in. They had been lying in wait for her. She did not even have a chance to pull her weapon they moved into the apartment so fast. It was like a military operation. When the invasion was complete, she was standing in front of three men dressed in black aiming weapons from her.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked them as she tried to get her weapon.

"My name is Frederick Pena," Pena said in his slow, calm tone as he walked up behind his men, "Don't pull your weapon, it would be a shame for John to have to kill you already."

"Pena huh?" Tracy asked, "More like murderous ex-cop Howard Bronson."

"Whatever you prefer," he said, "It hardly matters now."

"Get out of here," she growled.

"Certainly," Pena agreed, "John, if you would do the honors?"

John Stockton pulled out a little box and pointed it at Tracy's chest. Before she could move or realize what he was doing a little wire popped out of the box and attached to her chest. She shook violently as a heavy charge went into her body. The taser sent 10,000 volts running through her body, knocking her unconscious.

"John," Pena said, "Take the girl. Let's get out of here. You two cover us as we get out."

They nodded and got their weapons ready. Stockton put the taser back into his pocket and picked Tracy up by the armpits. Pena stayed to the back and let his men go out first. They had parked their van right outside the door and left the rear doors open. Stockton tossed Tracy unceremoniously into the back of the van and went up to the driver's seat.

Al Martinez was walking back with his arms full of Chinese food and saw this ending display. He dropped everything, pulled his pistol, and ran towards the van. Pena saw him and instructed his men in the back.

"Get out and ice the spic," Pena said coldly, "Meet John and me at the tower after you get it done."

The men nodded silently and jumped out of the back, closing the doors as they went. They both fired a stream of automatic fire towards Martinez. Lucky for him he was already moving away from that location and was able to get behind a car. He was only able to watch as the van drove by him. He took notice of the driver, but was unable to get the license number.

"Come and get me!" Al yelled as he baited Pena's goons.

They said nothing and approached, planning to simply just ventilate him with their automatic rifles. Martinez, however, had other plans. After shouting at his attackers, he crawled under a truck and rolled over to the other side.

The two men were looking for Martinez in the wrong place. Martinez managed to get up and fired three well-aimed shots into the first one of the goons. The man in the black suit fell down backwards, prompting his partner to turn around and fire a stream in full automatic.

Martinez fired two more shots at the man and did a side roll to avoid the stream of bullets. He was not entirely successful, taking two in his right leg as he rolled. He screamed as he did this, but his opponent was not screaming at all. Al's second shot at him had hit him just under the nose, killing him instantly.

Martinez breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he had won the battle, but then realized that it was not a victory at all. Pena and company still had Tracy Howard in their hands. He also knew that he was not going to be happy to see what happened when Mike Miller found this out as well.

Martinez heard sirens approaching and put his gun down on the ground. He was bleeding and had two corpses to explain. He figured he could wait three minutes for the sirens to reach him. He only hoped that Tracy would be able to wait that long as well.

Chapter Fifty-Five – December 30, 2000 – Mid Evening

Mike Miller almost ran into the emergency room, but Tom held him back a little. Eric Craig walked slowly behind them, not really looking forward to seeing the inside of a hospital again. Tom Richter flashed his badge and asked where Martinez had been taken. A nurse pointed him to the back, but tried to stop them when she saw Miller and Craig going with him.

"Go back to your station," Miller growled.

The nurse jumped back and let them through. They walked quickly and were allowed in only at the protest of the doctor in charge. Martinez, however, was glad to see them and waved the doctor off. He knew that giving information to Richter and Miller took priority over his leg.

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"Where's Tracy?" Mike asked.

Al spent the next few minutes telling them exactly what had happened. Miller went pale at the descriptions. He knew then exactly what had happened. He just did not want to admit it.

"Son of a bitch," Miller said, "This driver... Was he a tall guy with brown hair and a cold expression?"

"That's him," Martinez nodded, "There was someone else in there, but I didn't get a look at him."

"Stockton," Miller said, "Pena has Tracy."

"This is not good," Eric said, "What do we do?"

"Nothing," Tom said, "We do nothing. We'll give the information to the detectives working the case."

"You're kidding me right?" Miller asked him, "You are not going to leave her with them?"

"No," Richter said, "But what do you want me to do?"

"Let me go after her!" Miller exclaimed.

"Don't you see, Mike?" Richter said, "That's exactly what they want you to do. That's probably why they took her."

"How could they have known his relationship to her?" Eric asked, "Unless we've been compromised somehow?"

"Not likely," Martinez said, "They didn't even try to take me."

"How many women do we have working?" Tom asked Eric.

"In the undercover operation?" Eric asked, "Three including Tracy."

"Tracy was in Pena's book," Miller said, "That's why they took her."

"They figured that taking a woman would push the right buttons," Richter agreed, "They want you to go after her. They're probably planning on taking you out."

"They're welcome to try," Miller said, "I'll take out more of them than they can of me."

"You're talking crazy, Mike," Richter said, "You can't do this."

"I have to do this," Mike said, "I can't let them kill her."

"You can't do it, Mike," Eric said, "You go and play cop with them you will get killed."

"I don't care about that right now, Eric," Miller admitted, "Besides, if I go in there I'm going in hard. If that means pulling a Bolan style raid, I will do it."

"I can't let you do that," Richter said, "You know that."

"Try and stop me," Miller growled and walked out of the room.

"What's a Bolan raid?" Eric, the youngest member of the group asked.

"Mack Bolan," Martinez said, "Better known as The Executioner. There's been a series of books about him running for about 30 years. He's a one man vigilante army."

"And Miller is crazy enough to think he can do it," Richter said as he ran after him.

"You know what, Al?" Eric asked as Richter left.

"What?" Martinez asked him, still ignoring the pain in his leg.

"After the stuff I've seen him pull off," Eric said, "I think that if anyone can get Tracy out of Pena's hands, it's Miller."

"Me too," Al agreed, "Go after him. You won't be any use to him in the field, but get back to your computer and let him know he can call for information."

"Good idea," Eric agreed and ran outside.

Eric caught up to Miller and Richter who were still in the parking lot arguing about what was going to happen next.

"You aren't going to fucking do this!" Richter exclaimed, "You'll be breaking more laws than I can cover for."

"Fuck the law!" Miller exclaimed, "The law hasn't done shit on this case. The law wasn't able to lock those criminals up. The law wasn't able to save Jade's life. It won't be able to save Tracy's either. I didn't have a choice with Jade. I do now."

"I can't save you," Richter said.

"But we can support him," Eric said, "I'll be at my computer if you need information."

"Eric!" Tom exclaimed.

"Tom," Eric said, "We gotta make a stand. I've seen this man accomplish stuff that I can still barely comprehend. I'm going to back him until the end, even if it costs me my job. Tracy is one of ours. It's up to us to get her back. I can't do it. You can't do it. But, Mike sure as hell has a chance. Let him take it."

"You're determined to get my ass fired?" Richter asked.

"If we can't get her back," Miller said, "What good is a job?"

"Go," Richter sighed, "Just try not to get yourself killed, ok?"

"I'll do my best," Miller nodded, "I need a car."

"Steal one," Richter said, "That way I can maintain that you're still undercover. I still haven't filed the papers saying you're blown yet."

"Eric," Mike said, "Find out who they've picked up on the batch of warrants."

"Anything else?" Eric asked.

"Yes," Miller nodded, "Have them begin raids on Charlie's businesses. I'm betting that Charlie wasn't involved with the snatch if Stockton was there. The more Bullock himself is bothered, the bigger the wedge that grows between him and Pena."

"Turn them against each other," Richter agreed, "I can help with that."

"Call your agents out of the field," Miller warned, "I don't want to kill a cop by accident. There's going to be gunplay. Count on it and prepare."

"I don't have many out, and most of them aren't productive right now," Richter said, "I'll send out a mass emergency code. Have them bring what documents and information they have and come in."

"Hopefully they'll listen better than I did," Miller chuckled.

"Good luck, Mike," Richter said.

"Thanks," Miller nodded and went down to the parking lot.

They watched for a moment as Miller walked across the street and went to the valet parking lot for the restaurant. Miller went to the box, punched it once to get it to pop open. He took a key and found one of the smaller Mercedes and drove it away.

"The guy is good," Eric said.

"Just pray that he's good enough," Tom said, "Let's get back. You have work to do and so do I."

"What do you have to do?" Eric asked, "I can send the signals."

"I'm going to wake up Whitmore," he said, "See if we can work out a way to cover Miller's ass after this is over."

"If he survives," Eric reminded him.

"Miller is too damn stubborn to die," Richter chuckled, "He will turn up."

"True," Eric agreed as they walked to the car.

Chapter Fifty-Six – December 31, 2000 – Just after Midnight

Mike Miller knew that Pena's people had to have acquired the van locally, so he spent the time after leaving the hospital checking with Bullock's hot car people. Pena had the authority to take whatever he wanted from any of Bullock's people, so he would have gone there first.

The first two did not have anything for him and did not know that he had turned. Bullock had not publicized the fact yet, for obvious reasons. This made Miller's job slightly easier, as he was still able to use the Nester identity to ask questions. He just hoped that he could get a lock on them sooner, rather than later.

Former Bullock bodyguard Matt D'Antoni ran the third place. Miller had always gotten along well with Matt and decided to try the soft approach on him as well. He did not have enough ammunition for a knock down drag out battle. He walked into the place like normal and went over to D'Antoni's desk.

"What's going on, Matt?" Miller asked him, surprising the half-asleep man.

"R-Ray?" D'Antoni stuttered, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Trying to find out some shit," Miller shrugged, "Trying to track down who did a snatch that we didn't sanction."

"I didn't have nothing to do with it," D'Antoni said, "They just said they needed vans, so I gave them to him."

"Who?" Miller asked.

"Who else?" D'Antoni asked, "Pena's boy. Stockton. He had two more of those scary blacksuit dudes with him. I didn't want to give the vans away, but they sort of made you feel like it wouldn't be a good idea to refuse; you know?"

"Where did they come from?" Miller asked, "And did they bring the vans back?"

"Shit no," D'Antoni said, "I don't even want to know what happened to them. I had my people wipe them down before I handed them over. One of Stockton's goons drove the van and Stockton followed them. Haven't seen them since and don't particularly want to either."

"What was Stockton driving?" Miller asked.

"Rented Mercedes," D'Antoni said, "It had the logo for Hertz on it. Why are you asking me this? I thought Stockton was one of us?"

"He is," a new voice said, "It's Nester that isn't."

Miller turned around and saw Fat Tony D'Antoni standing by the door, flanked by two of Bullock's bodyguards from the mansion. Fat Tony was looking exceptionally fat holding an undersized peashooter aimed at Miller. The others were not even holding guns at all.

"Jesus Christ!" Matt yelled.

"He wants nothing to do with it," Miller mumbled as he leaped over D'Antoni's desk and did a forward roll on the ground.

Pandemonium broke out in the room then. Fat Tony let off three shots, all going wild except for the one that hit his brother in the left arm. Miller tried to pull out his weapon, but before he could get it all the way out one of the toughs attacked him and knocked it out of his hand.

Miller was winded by the attack, but countered with a few body blows on his closest opponent. Matt d'Antoni was screaming in pain from being shot and Fat Tony was trying to move his fat ass to a position that he could get another shot around his men.

"Get the fuck outta the way!" Fat Tony yelled at his men.

They did not listen because Miller was busy trying to beat them both. He managed to kick the mostly healthy one in the balls and work on his first opponent some more. Fat Tony was still waving the gun around and trying to get his shot.

"Shoot him!" Matt yelled at his brother, "Not Me!"

Fat Tony pulled the trigger three more times, emptying the little pistol. His first shot hit the concrete just between Miller's legs. His second shot nicked Miller's left arm, causing hardly more than a scratch. The third shot, however, struck one of his own men in the back of the head, killing him almost instantly.

With one of his opponents out of the fight, he started working over the other one. Matt D'Antoni backed away from things, not really wanting to get shot again. Fat Tony picked up a wooden chair and went over to Miller.

"Fuck you!" Fat Tony shouted as he broke the chair over Miller's head.

Miller crumpled to the ground as he lost consciousness. The living bodyguard kicked him a few times and then backed off to regain his breath. Matt D'Antoni started shrieking at his brother.

"You fucking shot me!" Matt yelled.

"You'll live," Fat Tony shrugged.

"He won't," the bodyguard observed about his partner.

"Neither will Nester," Fat Tony grinned, "Tie him to the chair. I need to call in and find out what to do about him."

The bodyguard nodded and did so. Matt went to the bathroom and used paper towels to stop the bleeding. He knew he would have to go to Doc Noyes before long. He was not particularly thrilled with his brother for that.

Miller started to wake up and fight against the bonds. Fat Tony smiled and looked at his prize. He knew that Pena was going to reward him well when he brought this guy in.

"Freddie is going to have some fun with you," Fat Tony grinned as he dialed the phone.

"I bet," Miller growled.

Fat Tony did not have a direct way to connect to Pena, so he called the hideout number he had for Charlie Bullock. He waited as one of the other bodyguards answered the phone and passed him off over to Max.

"What's going on, Tony?" Max asked him.

"We caught Nester," Tony said, "Walked right into Matt's place looking for information."

"What information?" Max asked.

"About some vans Stockton got," Fat Tony shrugged, "I don't know why."

Nick Jones walked into the room with a bag full of groceries. He really was not prepared for what he saw. Nester, with a few nice bloody spots on him, was still struggling against the bonds on the chair.

"Nick just walked in," Fat Tony told Max, "What do you want me to do?"

"Don't toy with Nester," Max said, "Kill him outright. No need to screw this up like one of those villains in a James Bond movie."

"What about Nick?" Fat Tony asked.

"Let him do it," Max stated, his grin apparent even over the phone, "Good way to prove his loyalty."

"Ok," Tony said.

"What the hell?" Nick asked, "Ray?"

"Hello Nick," Miller said, "Welcome to the fucking party."

"What do we do?" the bodyguard asked.

"Max doesn't want us to wait for Pena," Fat Tony said, "We need to ice him here."

"No chit chat," Miller quipped, "No fun for Freddie?"

Fat Tony walked over and picked up the pistol that Miller had dropped. He walked over to Nick and held it out to him. Nick put the groceries down and checked the pistol, mainly out of habit. Habit that Miller himself had taught him. He looked up at Fat Tony with a questioning glance.

"Boss says you have to do it," Fat Tony told him, "You're too close to be trusted otherwise."

"Yeah," Nick said, not really thrilled by this, but expecting it.

"Perfect," Miller said, "So I even trained my own executioner. Beautiful."

Nick walked over and looked at Miller. Fat Tony and the bodyguard went over and took spots on either side of Miller to make sure that he did not try to knock the chair over and throw off Nick's aim.

"Is it true?" Nick asked and looked at his friend.

"Yes," Mike said, "It's true. I'm a cop."

"Goddamned," Nick said and extended the weapon.

"Do what you have to do," Miller said and continued to stare into Nick's eyes defiantly. He was determined to go out with his eyes open.

Nick looked into Miller's eyes directly. He knew that he was in deep now. He quickly looked at Fat Tony and the other bodyguard. He was visibly shaking, and it was clear that he was hesitating. His gun arm even dropped a little. It was a tense moment until Miller spoke again.

"Do it," he said, still staring at Nick.

"Ok," Nick said, the decision strengthening his resolve.

Nick raised his arm and steadied his aim. Fat Tony thought that Nick was about to do the right thing. Unfortunately for him, he did not know how right that thought was. Nicholas Jones decided it was time to do what was right. Without any more hesitation, he straightened his arm up and raised it. He was no longer shaking at all.

Nick pulled the trigger twice and two silenced shots dissolved Fat Tony D'Antoni's face. The bodyguard tried to move, but Nick was faster. Two more silenced shots ended his life. Nick turned quickly to Matt D'Antoni who was cringing on the floor pleading for Nick not to kill him.

"Good choice," Miller sighed with relief.

"You've told me more truth than anyone in my life," Nick said, "You're not the bad guy, are you?"

"No more than you are, Nick," Miller nodded, "Can you get me out of here?"

"Sure," Nick said and pulled out his knife, "I can't believe I just did that."

"I'm glad you did," Miller chuckled, "Otherwise I'd be a grease spot like Fat Tony there."

"Yeah," Nick nodded.

"You killed them!" Matt D'Antoni yelped.

"Yes," Nick agreed, "Shut up or I'll kill you too."

Nick undid Miller's bonds and helped him up. Mike stepped over the bodies and rubbed his temples. He had a splitting headache. Nick handed him the gun and looked at him to try to figure out what to do next. It was beginning to dawn on him that he had just about burned every bridge to his old life.

"What do I do now, Ray?" Nick asked Miller.

"Mike," he told the younger man, "My real name is Mike Miller. Ray Nester died that afternoon at the mansion."

"Ok Mike," he said, "The question still stands."

"I can't promise you much," Miller said, "I'm a little bit of an outlaw right now too."

"Why did you come back?" Nick asked him.

"Why did you?" D'Antoni asked as well, "Why did you do this to us?"

"Someone had to," Miller said, "I'm not going to kill you, Matt. I want you to deliver a message."

"Anything!" D'Antoni exclaimed.

"Tell Pena that Miller remembers," Mike said, "And that if anything happens to the girl I won't leave any survivors."

Matt D'Antoni took the hint and ran like hell. He was still bleeding from the arm wound and did not know what to do next except get the hell away from the men with the guns. Miller smiled and looked at Nick.

"What now?" Nick asked.

"Let's get out of here," Miller said, "We need to talk about what's really going on."

"All right," Nick said, "I'm following you. I've already burnt my bridges here."

"I know," Miller said, "Let's go."

Chapter Fifty-Seven – December 31, 2000 – Before Dawn

Miller pulled Nick's car off the road in a wooded area just outside the main part of the city. Mike stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette. Nick sat there for a moment and just looked around. He did not know what to think or how to feel. He was scared by what he had just done and scared about the future. Finally, he stepped out of the car to talk to Miller.

"Why did you do it, Ray?" Nick asked him.

"Why did I join the syndicate?" Miller asked.

"Yeah," Nick asked.

"It was an assignment, Nick," Mike said, "My job was to get in and get as much information as possible. The goal originally was just to bring down Harry."

"I guess that got twisted a little," Nick frowned, "Seeing as you killed Harry and all. How did you get away with that?"

"What makes you think he's dead?" Mike chuckled.

"What?" Nick asked, "He isn't..."

"Not even close," Miller told him, "He's currently doing time in an isolation cell in ADX Florence. He folded quite quickly when I played the tape of Charlie ordering the hit."

"You recorded that?" Nick asked, dumbfounded at the idea, "You really are a crazy mofo."

"I'm a crazy SOB for sticking around after Jade was grabbed," Miller said, "That one almost brought me down."

"Was she working with you?" Nick asked.

"Not really," Mike grinned, "She was a fed all right. I found out when she showed up at Northrup's hiding place just before I did. I had to go in and save her ass from them. That's why they all died."

"And how you got the girl back peacefully," Nick said and sat down, "Goddamn. I'm betting you're the one who tipped the cops on Elise?"

"You got it," Mike nodded, "I wanted her off the streets. I agreed with you on that one."

"And that suspected cop in LA?" Nick asked.

"He was one of ours," Miller nodded, "That army buddy was really one of my support team. I turned Kane over to him."

"Ok, ok..." Nick said, "I just have one more question. I can guess why you left the other day so quick. You knew Pena before right?"

"Yes," Mike said, "He killed my partner eight years ago."

"My question is this," Nick said, "Why the hell did you come back?"

"Were you at D'Antoni's when Pena's people took the vans?" Miller asked.

"Yeah," Nick nodded, "Tony sent me there to get me out of the Mansion and out of Max's sight."

"He used those vans to take a member of my support team," Mike informed Nick, "A girl I happen to care very much about."

"Is that where you were coming from on Tuesday?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Miller confirmed, "That's why I was surprised as hell to see you."

"Sorry," Nick chuckled.

"Don't sweat it. The only thing we need to know now is where the hell did Stockton go?" Miller asked him, "Do you know?"

"No," Nick said, "No idea."

"Great," Miller sighed, "Well, I have one lead. Stockton is driving a rented car."

"So where do we go now?" Nick asked.

"This isn't your fight Nick," Miller said, "You don't have to fight them."

"I want to," Nick said, "I have nothing left to go back to."

"I can't offer you anything," Mike warned him, "Hell, I may end up in prison myself over this mess."

"You gave me back my self-respect," Nick said, "You also taught me that I was worth more than this life. If they took that girl, she's in danger. I'll help you as best I can."

"I will make this pact with you," Mike told him, "I won't testify against you. I don't care what happens. You are safe from me."

"That's all I ask," Nick said, "I'll follow you into hell if I have to, Ray... er... Mike."

"You already did," Miller grinned, "And it's going to get hotter before this is done."

"What do we do now?" Nick asked him.

"Go back to town," Mike said, "I'm going to see if I can get Eric to run down Stockton's rental car."

"Eric?" Nick asked, "You think Roth is going to help you?"

"Eric Craig," Mike said, "He's the computer guy, the one who built my Nester identity. He may be able to give us a location on Stockton."

"Let's go," Nick said, "Though I really wish we both had guns."

"Still know that supplier?" Mike asked.

"Sure," Nick said, "He will be around in the morning, probably around ten or so. He'll probably work his corner at least until it's time to go to the parties tonight. Holidays make for great gun sales. Although, you know, he may be gunning for us by now."

"So we gun for him first," Miller grinned, "No need to avoid stepping on toes now. Besides, who isn't gunning for us now?"

"Works for me," Nick agreed, a smile forming, "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Sleep for a bit," Mike said, "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in a few days and I want to be fresh. We're not going to find anyone at this time of night anyway."

"Shifts?" Nick asked.

"Sure," Miller nodded, "I'll get three, you'll get three. Better than nothing."

"You take the first one," Nick said, "You need it worse than I do."

Miller nodded and curled up in the driver's seat of the car and fell promptly to sleep, praying that things held up until he could actually get in to save her.

Chapter Fifty-Eight – December 31, 2000 – Noon

After a successful foray in taking out the stock of the local arms dealer, Mike and Nick pulled up behind the storefront that had been used for the office. They went upstairs carrying a whole crate of weapons and ammunition. Eric Craig jumped when he saw what they were lugging.

"What the hell?" Eric asked, "Who is he, Mike?"

"Eric Craig," Miller said, "Meet Nick Jones."

"Pleasure," Nick said.

"Likewise," Eric said, looking at the other man carefully, "What the hell is going on?"

"Nick has decided to join our side," Mike chuckled, "He saved my ass last night. I nearly blew it."

"Ok," Eric said, surprised by this, "Why?"

"Let's just say that Ray," Nick said, then stopped to rectify his mistake, "Mike, I mean, has been a better friend to me than anyone in my life. When they gave me a gun and asked me to kill him, I couldn't do it. Even knowing that he had been lying to me the whole time."

"Not the whole time," Mike said, "Just about my identity. I never lied to you unless I had to."

"I know that too," Nick nodded, "Anyway, with his defection my place in the outfit was dodgy to say the least. I figured I'd join the other team."

"Works for me," Eric said, "I take it you two were responsible for the carnage at d'Antoni's last night?"

"Partially," Miller nodded, "Fat Tony accidentally killed one of his own men in the first fight. Nick took out Fat Tony and the other guard after being ordered to kill me."

"Ok..." Eric said, not believing this, "I don't want to know. Why did you come back?"

"I need you to put a trace on a car," Miller said.

"Easy enough," Eric agreed, "What's the license number?"

"I don't know," Mike grinned, "It's a black Mercedes."

"That doesn't help much," Eric said.

"It was rented from Hertz," Nick said, "Probably sometime in the last two days."

"That narrows it down some," Eric agreed, "But there are still a number of them in the Hertz fleet."

"Stockton would have rented it himself," Mike said, "He wouldn't trust getting a car to an underling."

"He came into town the morning after Mike disappeared," Nick said, "Probably rented it at the airport as he came in. He has no wants or warrants in this state, he feels safe here."

"Ok," Eric said, "That should narrow it down enough. It's going to take some time though. How do I get in touch with you?"

"You don't," Miller said, "We'll call in when we can. Have an informational APB put out on it. Observe, do not apprehend. I want to know where he is and get to him myself. We'll be here for a bit anyway, need to make plans and clean weapons."

"I hope you have a backup plan," Nick said, "That could take hours and not come up with anything."

"I'd say it's time to pay a visit to some old friends," Mike grinned, "Let's see if Jerry Bradley knows anything about this?"

"Jerry always did know the score," Nick agreed, "He's not going to be particularly friendly now though."

"That's why we raided the gun dealer," Mike reminded the younger man.

Mike and Nick proceeded to sort through the items that they had taken. Miller, who was the expert on weapons, checked over each piece and made sure that they were mechanically sound and would not blow up in their faces. When they had finished, nearly two hours later they were left with a few cleaned machine pistols and two AK-47 rifles, complete with multiple clips of ammunition.

"Do you know how to fire an AK-47, Nick?" Miller asked him.

"Pull the trigger and go?" Nick asked.

"Watch," Miller said and demonstrated how the machine gun worked.

"Easy enough," Nick agreed, "Anything else I need to know?"

"Yeah," Mike chuckled, "The barrel will ride up when you fire it. Also, don't expect it to be particularly accurate. They were designed for idiot soldiers to fire at the enemy, not to accurately hit them."

"Typical Russian approach," Eric said from his computer terminal, "Brute force with little finesse."

"It saved their ass in the second world war," Miller reminded him, "Anyway, don't fire that weapon unless you have to. Those bullets will tear through walls and could easily kill an innocent. We really don't want that, you know?"

"Yeah," Nick agreed, "Is this the safety?"

"Yep," Mike nodded, "Leave it on unless we have to use it. Oftentimes the appearance of force is much better than the force itself."

"I'll let you lead," Nick grinned, "You're better at it than I am."

"What the hell is going on in here?" Tom Richter asked as he walked into the room, "When did this become a gun store?"

"We hit a gun dealer," Mike shrugged, "Got some useful implements."

"I don't even want to know," Tom sighed, "Nicholas Jones? What the hell are you doing here?"

Miller spent the next few minutes relating the story of what had happened the night before. Richter was slightly skeptical, but he welcomed Nick into the fold.

"I talked to Whitmore," Tom said, "He'll back you as much as possible, he owes you that, but he can't do it publicly."

"I know," Miller nodded as the phone rang, "I don't really expect to get through this unscathed."

Eric picked up the phone and talked for a few minutes, writing some information down. He then went over to his computer and pulled up an image on the screen. Mike, Nick and Tom went over to the screen to look at the picture.

"That's Stockton," Miller said, "Good work, Eric."

"Thanks Joe," Eric said into the phone, "Looks like that's the right one. Email me the information on the car, will you?"

Eric put the phone down and looked at Miller.

"Maybe now we can find the bastard," Miller said.

"You have a lead on Stockton?" Tom asked.

"His black Mercedes," Eric said, "Rented under the name James Stockwell. That's the security camera image taken of Stockwell."

"Put out the APB," Miller said, "We'll call back after we have our chat with Bradley."

"Try not to leave too many bodies," Richter said, "The more bodies you leave the harder it will be for me to cover you."

"The body count will be up to them," Miller said, "I'm just trying to find Tracy."

"We're hitting every known business enterprise they have," Tom informed them, "Unfortunately, Bullock's lawyers have managed to get an injunction on the arrest warrants for now. They'll be lifted on the second, but we can't touch them or even search the mansion until then."

"You may not be able to," Mike grinned, "Nothing stopping me from paying them a visit. Their security will be disjointed with Fat Tony dead."

"I think we should talk to Jerry first," Nick said, "Might save us the trouble if he's heard where Pena is holed up with the girl."

"Ok," Miller nodded, "We'll try that first."

"Be careful," Tom said, "I've had to pull everyone else out. My program is in a shambles now, and everyone has said that there is now a large bounty on both of your heads. The Bullocks are seriously pissed that Nick killed Fat Tony."

"Good," Mike smiled, "Anger makes your opponent act rashly. Might give us an opportunity."

"Or it could get Tracy killed," Tom reminded them.

"If they've killed her," Mike said, "You no longer have to worry about a trial. I will kill them all myself."

"Now who's angry?" Tom asked him.

"That isn't anger," Mike rationalized, "That's a promise."

He picked up his stuff and went downstairs to Nick's car. Nick shrugged and followed Miller out. Tom sat down and looked at the picture of Stockton on the monitor. Eric was still sitting in his computer chair.

"Think they have a chance?" Eric asked him.

"I think they are our only chance," Tom sighed, "Pena is holed up good. We know he isn't at the mansion. We've had units watching them since Miller came out of the cold. Max showed up after the injunctions went into effect, but Bronson and Charlie Bullock are still at large."

"Do you think he really means what he's saying?" Eric asked him.

"About pulling a Bolan?" Tom asked, "Yeah, I do. That's why I'm hoping that he succeeds."

"Or gets killed in the process," Eric sighed.

"There's that too," Tom nodded, "Although I'd much prefer that they both live through the day. Kind of hard to get a corpse to testify."

Chapter Fifty-Nine – December 31, 2000 – Mid-Afternoon

Mike and Nick drove aggressively, but tried to avoid going too far over the speed limit. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over by an overexcited patrol cop.

Miller noticed a car following behind them and wondered which side was following them. He was hoping that it was some of Tom Richter's people, just to watch over them, but he highly doubted it.

"Nick," Mike said, "Blue four door sedan, three cars back. It's been following us for a while."

"I see it," he nodded, "Yours?"

"I don't think so," Mike said with a shake of his head, "Tom doesn't have anyone that good that close."

"How did they find us?" Nick asked, "We haven't been out much."

"My guess is the car," Mike said, "Your car is known. We should have ditched it before."

"No time like the present," Nick suggested, "Let's ditch them and get rid of this thing."

"Somehow I don't think we're going to get out of it that easily," Mike said as he started weaving through traffic a little faster.

"You're right," Nick said, "They're getting closer."

"Hold on," Mike said as he cut off a passing car to get a clear route onto the highway.

Nick held onto the handles and fastened his safety belts. He had faith in Miller's driving, but this was a lot different from running from cops on deserted nighttime streets. It was the middle of the day on New Year's Eve. He was trying to ditch a car intent on following him through a horde of holiday travelers.

"They're gaining on us, Mike," Nick said as he watched nervously, "And the car is full of mean looking guys."

"Of course it is," Miller shrugged as he paid attention to his driving, "When have they ever sent a bunch of nice guys after us?"

"Good point," Nick said and slid down in his seat.

Despite Miller's driving skills, the car managed to catch up to them. Nick recognized one of Eric Cook's enforcement crews immediately. Miller was not surprised; he was sure that Bullock had put a sizeable contract on his head. After his performance last night, Nick was most likely wanted just as bad.

The drug crew was aggressively trying to force Miller off the road, but Mike was having none of it. He dodged in and out of traffic where he could and tried to avoid them. He did not want to crack up in the middle of the highway.

"Gun!" Nick yelled as the two passengers pulled out shotguns.

"Duck!" Miller yelled.

The two passengers in the car let loose multiple shotgun blasts. Unfortunately for them buckshot is a lousy choice for car combat, especially if the target happens to be a better driver than you are. Miller looked for an exit from the highway. He did not want some poor family to get a face full of buckshot from these lunatics. He was trying to spot a way off when he saw Nick pulling out one of the AK-47's.

"Put that thing down," Miller ordered.

"You don't want me to shoot back?" Nick asked, surprised.

"Hell no!" Miller exclaimed, "Shoot that thing out into the highway you'll kill someone sure as hell. Probably the wrong person too. Put it down and hold on, I'm going to try to get this heap off the highway!"

This stretch of highway was notorious for having too few exits. Luckily it also was not very high off the ground and the guardrails were often little more than wooden barriers. That was what Miller was counting on this afternoon.

"Hold on, Nick!" Miller yelled and pulled into the breakdown lane.

"You aren't!" Nick yelled as he saw what Miller was considering.

"I am!" Miller confirmed and pulled off the highway into the open space over the access road.

Miller managed to hit the spot just right and not fly into one of the buildings lining the highway. Nick screamed like a banshee as his little car went airborne. Miller lost control of it going off the highway, so all he could do was hold onto the steering wheel for dear life.

Meanwhile, his pursuers weren't about to let a quarter of a million dollars go unclaimed, without so much as a second thought they veered over, sideswiped a Toyota in the process, and went through the same opening that Mike and Nick had.

"Brace yourself!" Mike yelled as he saw the ground approaching quickly.

Luckily for them Nick's little car was well balanced and landed right side up, though most of the pressure went onto the front right tire, breaking that axle and blowing it out. This triggered the car's airbags as well, saving both Mike and Nick's necks. The pressure was too much for the other tires as well, blowing the other three out almost simultaneously as the car landed.

Miller pulled onto the steering wheel, but the steering mechanism had been destroyed in the crash as well. You could hear metal scraping pavement as Nick's car came to a stop. They tried to get out of the overactive airbags, with Miller finally using his pocketknife to pop them both.

"We survived!" Nick grinned, "You crazy son of a bitch!"

"They weren't so lucky," Miller said and pointed to the other car.

Nick looked behind them and saw the blue sedan lying on the ground. It had not had the balance or the good trajectory that Nick's car had . It had landed hard on its roof, flattening it on top of the drug dealing scum.

"How far are we from Jack's?" Mike asked Nick who knew this section of town better.

"Five blocks," Nick said, "Its north of here."

"I think they're out of the game," Miller chuckled, "Even if they survived they're going to need medical attention."

"Let's go then," Nick nodded, "We can steal a car from Jerry if we need one. Those idiots can rot."

Mike agreed and pulled out the duffle bag from the back, loading the weapons back into it. He took one final look at the wrecks and shook his head. He could still not believe he had been crazy enough to try that.

"Can you carry the bag Nick?" Mike asked finally.

"Sure," he asked, "Why?"

"I threw out my back on that landing," Mike groaned.

"Your own damned fault," Nick chuckled.

"I know it," Miller agreed, "Let's go."

It took them nearly forty-five minutes to make it to Jack's bar, it being a little further north from the highway than Nick had remembered. Being a holiday there were more cars than normal parked outside. Jerry himself was preparing for the millennial bash that he had been advertising for months.

"Good afternoon, Jerry," Miller said as they walked through the door.

"Hey," Jerry said, "How's it..."

Then, he realized whom he was speaking with. He made a motion to one of his bouncers and started to run up the stairs. Mike and Nick looked at each other and started to follow, when the bulky bouncer stepped between them and the stairwell.

"I suggest you leave," the bouncer said, "The boss doesn't want you here."

"I suggest you move," Miller shrugged, "It would be a shame to get blood all over your new shirt."

"That's ok," the bouncer shrugged and reeled up for a punch, "Club soda will take the blood right out."

The bouncer was big, but not particularly agile. Nick was about to draw a weapon when he saw Miller dodge the punch and pull on the guy's arm, using his own momentum against him. Mike then used his elbow and cracked the guy on the back of the neck as he fell, knocking him out cold.

The other two bouncers started to come over to them, but Nick pulled out his pistol, which made them back off quickly.

"We have business with your boss," Miller said, "We'll try to leave him unharmed. Fuck with us, I'll do more than just knock you out."

With that Mike pulled the phone jack out of the wall and went upstairs to have a little talk with their bartender friend. Jerry was standing by a phone jabbering wildly when Miller walked over and pushed him out of the way. Nick stood guard with his still drawn pistol while Miller picked up the phone.

"Hello Max," Miller said, "I'm assuming you're the one he'd call in this situation."

"Nester," Max gasped, "You're going to die for this, you know. You can't cross the outfit like this."

"Eric Cook's boys are pancakes over on the access road," Miller told him, "We're starting here. If we don't find what we're looking for, we're coming after you."

"What is it you want?" Max asked, "Why are your cops tearing us apart?"

"Ask Pena," Miller said, "He knows."

Miller put the phone back on the cradle and looked at Jerry Bradley. He was not anywhere near in the same mood he had been the last time they had a conversation like this. He also was not near as willing to talk as he had been the last time either.

"You trying to get me killed, Nester?" Jerry asked, "Talking to you is a death sentence!"

"You've got enough trouble with the here and now," Miller reminded him, "You have to survive me before you worry about anyone else."

"Why did you do it, Nick?" Jerry asked him, "Him I can understand; he wasn't one of us. Why did you betray the people who took care of you all your life?"

"The people who have kept me a criminal all my life," Nick reminded him, "I could have been many things, Jerry. I'm just deciding on a career change."

"Death," Jerry scoffed, "Some fucking career change."

"Where is Pena, Jerry?" Miller asked him.

"How the hell should I know?" Jerry asked, "I've never even met the guy."

"Yes you have," Nick said, "Pena used to be really thick with Big Jack Kirby."

"I've never met the man," Jerry insisted.

"Howard Bronson, Jerry," Mike informed him, "That's who Pena is. Remember him now?"

"You're kidding me!" Jerry said, "I didn't know!"

"You know now," Miller said, "You knew him. Where would he go when he needed to bolt?"

"I still have no idea," Jerry said, "I haven't seen Howard in years. Thought he was dead."

"He should have been," Miller growled.

"Mike!" Nick exclaimed, "Watch out!"

Miller turned around and saw the bouncers and several others charge up the stairs. This time the leader was armed. Mike drew his weapon and dived for cover. Nick did the same, dropping down behind the couch and firing twice at the guy with the gun.

Both of Nick's shots missed, so the bouncer with the gun fired twice at Nick. Miller waited for both shots to go into the couch before popping up and planting two shots into the bouncer's chest.

Nick didn't even care if the others were armed, as the edge of the shotgun blast had caught him in the left shoulder. He fired four shots into the group charging up the stairs, taking down one and winging the other two.

"Shit!" one of them yelled, "You didn't say they were armed!"

"You didn't ask!" the other one said.

Miller who was thinking clear enough to not want to kill them, put two more shots into the floor in front of them, prompting them all to depart. He picked himself up off the floor and smiled at Jerry.

"You need new bouncers," he suggested.

Jerry simply uttered a few expletives at both Mike and Nick. Miller looked at him and aimed the gun right at his forehead and cocked the hammer on it.

"Last chance, Jerry," Miller said, "Where is Pena?"

"You're just going to have to shoot me," he said, "I don't know. At this point, I'd fucking tell you. Whatever Pena did, he's got the cops crawling all over us just like they did when Barry kidnapped the DA's kid. If you find him, please, shoot him in the nuts for those of us on the street."

"I'll keep it in mind," Miller said dryly, "If you should get a chance to get word to him, let him know that what's happened so far is just foreplay. If he harms one hair on the girl's head, there won't be enough of a syndicate left living to make up a poker game."

"So that's what has the cops up in arms," Jerry said, "Another kidnapping."

"You got it," Miller said as he put his pistol away.

Mike and Nick walked down the stairs, and Miller pulled out the large .45 pistol that they had gotten in the robbery this morning. The remains of the group were waiting downstairs for them, as he had expected.

"Go home," Miller suggested and fired a few shots into the floor at their feet, "The party is over here today."

There wasn't a soul left in the bar by the time they made it across the room to the door. They appropriated Jerry's car, figuring that he would not need it again that day. It was time for them to go pay a visit to the old homestead and see what they could find.

Chapter Sixty – December 31, 2000 – Dusk

Mike pulled the car off the road a quarter mile up from the Bullock estate. He knew well that the whole place would be crawling with guards. He was not even going to try a frontal assault, as he knew that it would be suicidal. Dusk was falling over the area, something that would make it easier for them to gain entrance past the guard contingent.

"How hard are we going in?" Nick asked.

"I'd prefer not to leave a pile of bodies," Mike said, "But we may not get that choice. This is the only route we have. Eric said on the phone that Max was there for sure. Hopefully he'll know where his father and Bronson are. I'm getting sick of this damned cat and mouse game."

"I'm ready when you are," Nick nodded, "What's the plan?"

"Stay behind me," Mike said, "I'm better trained with weapons than you are. Watch our backs. If you see something that looks threatening, shoot at it."

"Gotcha," Nick nodded, "Let's go."

Miller opted for the heavier weaponry this time and was holding onto the AK-47. He felt confident that he could pull this off, despite the fact that it had been nearly four years since his lessons on how to shoot an AK47 rifle. He knew that as poorly trained he was, the guards that were left would be even worse. If Eric were right about Charlie not being around, the good guards would have gone with him.

Mike left the rifle hanging around his neck in an easy to get to position and pulled out his silenced pistol for a quiet approach. The new darkness worked to his advantage as he went to the gate, as they had not turned on the lights yet. The guard at the gate lit a cigarette, which effectively destroyed his night vision.

Miller aimed his silenced weapon at the gun arm of the guard. He fired two quick, quiet shots that ended his ability to aim a weapon, permanently. Miller ran up and used the butt of the assault rifle to knock the wounded guard out. Unfortunately, the screams of the wounded guard brought out other people to check.

"Still got those grenades?" Mike asked Nick.

"I kept them," Nick nodded, "Still don't know how to use them."

"Easy," Mike said as he took them, "Pull the pin and throw. Try not to hit anyone. I just want to send things into an uproar."

They both tossed grenades around as they entered the compound from the rear. The blasts managed to shake the guards awake, and left them in a state of confusion. As Miller approached the power shack where the lights were controlled from, he let off a quick burst from the rifle and cut power to the entire compound.

"Where to now?" Nick asked him.

"Let's slip inside while the guards are busy," Mike said, "How many grenades left?"

"How's your throwing arm?" Nick asked as he held up the last grenade, "Mine is still sore from the shotgun at Jack's."

"Give it here," Mike said.

Nick did so and they made their way to the back door of the mansion. Nick opened the lock on the door with his key as Mike threw the last grenade as far as he could, watching it explode next to the garage where Charlie kept his prize cars.

"Cute," Nick said, "Charlie's gonna be pissed if you scratched his babies."

"Good," Miller grumbled, "let's go find Max before the guards figure out where we are."

Max Bullock was having a fit. He had been planning on going to the millennial parties to forget about the problems that he was having. Unlike his father, he had never had to face the physical danger involved with being in the syndicate. He didn't know whether the police were attacking or if a rival syndicate was trying to show prominence.

Eric Roth was in the office with Max and he was having a fit. He had never been any more than a numbers man, despite his meddling with syndicate politics. It was a case of the blind leading the blind and neither one having a clue how to handle it.

"You're to blame for this!" Eric Roth fumed at Max, "You are the one who brought Nester into this house! You're the one who started it all!"

"This wouldn't have happened if you had left well enough alone!" Max shouted at the older man, "You meddling old fool, it was your support of Barry that gave Nester the opportunity."

"It was your own arrogance that let me get as far as I did," Miller said as he walked into the room holding his assault rifle on the two mob bosses.

"Nester," Max said, "You? You're doing this?"

"Guilty as charged," Miller said.

"You son of a bitch!" Eric Roth said as he went towards his desk.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Eric," Nick said as he slid out of the shadows behind the desk.

"Nick," Max said, as if the name were a curse, "Him, he's a cop. I understand him. You were one of us!"

"I wish people would stop saying that," Nick said, "It pains me to think that I considered you my friends for so long. I have real friends now, Max. Ones that won't sell me out for a price."

"That's what this guy did to us," Roth said, "He did it to you too."

"He's told me more truth than any man I've ever met," Nick chuckled, "Especially you, you old lying sack of shit."

"Why did you come back?" Max asked, "You must have had a reason for doing this."

"Freddie Pena," Mike said, "He took something that didn't belong to him. We intend to get it back."

"That son of a bitch!" Max hissed, "He actually did go through with the kidnapping?"

"What kidnapping?" Eric asked him.

"When we found out that Nester had defected," Max explained, "Freddie came up with a way of..."

Everyone ducked as an exchange of gunfire happened outside as groups of mansion guards shot at each other. When they got up Nick saw one of the guards come in to give Max a status update.

"Max!" the guard said, "They're killing..."

"Shut up you idiot!" Max said.

"Amen to that," Nick said and fired his weapon at the gun toting guard, killing him instantly.

"What did Freddie do?" Roth demanded of Max.

"He wanted to take a cop," Max said, "Young, pretty girl from the undercover division. He figured that would be the sure way to get Nester to come out."

"He was right," Miller nodded, "Now where the hell is he?"

"How the hell would I know?" Max exclaimed, "Dad went to find him hours ago. I haven't heard from him since."

"I'm losing patience with you," Miller growled and held the weapon at him, "Where the hell did he go?"

"I don't know!" Max yelled, "Christ, I'd tell you now just in the hopes that you'd kill him for this. We needed him once, but I tell you he's more trouble than he's worth now."

"He may be downtown somewhere," Eric said, "He used to own some stuff down there. I don't remember what."

"Tell him that his only hope to get out of this alive is to let the girl go," Miller said, "If she dies, so does every syndicate man I find after seeing her body."

"Fuck you," Max said, "You're all talk."

"You think so?" Miller said and raised the rifle.

"Mike!" Nick said to him, "He's not worth it. Remember, Richter wants us to keep the bodies to a minimum."

"Be glad he's here," Mike said, "And if she dies, you'd best find a new life somewhere, cause I'll be coming for you."

"Let's go, Mike!" Nick said as he looked out the window, "I see blue lights. The cops are here."

"Heh," Miller chuckled, "Guess the shooting overrode your injunction. Have a good night in jail, Max."

Mike and Nick ran back out the same door that they came in from. Miller fired a few bursts into the air to confuse the issue as they ran. They saw several new bodies; all victims of the palace guard turning on itself in the confusion. Miller could not bring himself to feel sorry for them.

They skipped out of the back gate and made their way through the woods in the dark to where they had parked their car. Miller took the driver's seat and maneuvered the vehicle back onto highway ten. It was time for them to go back to the storefront and see whether Eric had managed to pull up anything else for them.

Chapter Sixty-One – December 31, 2000 – Evening

Mike and Nick pulled up next to the storefront and walked up to the protected rear entrance. Miller pounded on the door until he was let in. Tom Richter himself greeted them and led them inside. They both looked dead tired, mainly because of the only three hours of sleep they had gotten the night before.

"You've been busy," Tom growled, "I thought I told you to take it easy."

"We have," Miller said, "So far we haven't done any more than self defense. I even refrained from putting a bullet into Max's ugly face."

"Hand grenades are not what I'd call subtle!" Tom fumed, "Fifteen goddamned people died out at the Bullock place!"

"Investigations will show that fourteen of them died to their own bullets," Miller told him, "They were fighting each other when I left."

Eric couldn't help but laugh at that one. Miller smiled and Tom calmed down a little bit. He was still pissed at Miller's tactics, but he couldn't really fault them too much. He was getting closer than anyone else was.

"Pena has closed ranks," Miller said as he lit a cigarette, "Even Max doesn't know where he is. Charlie probably does, but nobody knows where Charlie is either."

"It's like the ground swallowed them up," Nick agreed.

"Anything from the APB?" Tom asked.

"Nothing," Eric sighed, "The damned millennial parties are taking up most of the manpower the city has. They don't have time to mess with an informational APB. There's over half a million people gathering in the downtown area from all over the state."

"It's a mess out there already," Mike nodded, "Too bad that we didn't think to catch Stockton on the way in and bug him or something."

"Wait a minute," Eric said, "Wait one minute."

Mike, Nick and Tom looked at the computer man for a minute. Eric jumped onto the computer and pulled up some information, looking at it for a few minutes and smiling. He logged into a remote computer system and typed in a lot of codes before he stepped back and looked at the screen.

"Son of a bitch," Eric said, "I got him. I got him!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked him, "Got who?"

"Stockton," Eric said, looking up and smiling, "Give me 30 minutes and I'll have a real time locator on his car."

"How?" Mike asked.

"The car he's driving is equipped with Hertz's new GPS system," Nick said, "The rental ticket has the GPS device info, helps them find the car if it's stolen. I just put a trace request in for real time data from its GPS."

"And you can track him with this?" Nick asked.

"I just have to write a data conversion program," Nick said, "Give me thirty minutes and I can give you a minute by minute location on his car."

"Do it, Eric," Mike said, "Stockton is the best lead we could have right now."

"I'm working on it," Eric said and hopped onto the computer, typing quickly.

Eric's estimate was off a little bit, but not by much. Within an hour Eric Craig had completed a rudimentary interface that had Stockton's location pinpointed down by the minute. It was probably about two minutes behind, but that accuracy was ample for their purposes.

"Where is he?" Mike asked, "We'll go get him."

"Best to wait until he stops somewhere," Tom suggested, "He may lead us right to her."

"He's heading downtown," Eric said, "He's not going to get far that way."

"The blip is stopping," Nick said, "Think that's where the girl is?"

"Either that or he's caught in traffic," Tom said, spoiling the hope.

"No traffic there," Nick said, "The roadblocks are just down the street. He's right near the party area."

"Great," Mike growls, "He's got a hostage and is still going out to party."

"That doesn't sound like Stockton," Nick said, "You know him as well as I do. He's not a partier."

"What buildings are down in that area?" Mike asked Eric.

"Four of them real close to his parking spot," Eric informed him, "Two of them are public buildings, closed up for the holiday."

"Lazenby's department store is in the one directly in front of him," Tom said, "Unlikely they'd hide in there."

"The last one is a possibility," Eric said as he pulled up a grid of the area, "It's the old Pinestone building."

"That derelict?" Nick asked, "Why would he go there?"

"Wait a minute," Mike said, "Eric may be on to something. Can you track who owns that monstrosity now?"

Eric logged into the records system and started a query. The Pinestone building had been a legend in that town for nearly a decade. Construction on it had been stopped and started on it more times than anyone could remember. It was one of the tallest buildings in town, but the top eight floors were never finished, they were still nothing but metal rebar and steel beams.

"That building is right in the middle of the party zone," Mike said, "Would be a perfect place to hide her. Who owns it now?"

"Anep Construction Limited," Eric said, "Bought the place in September of 1998."

"Anep," Tom said, "Backwards spelling of Pena. That's the place, it has to be."

"Good luck in getting there now," Eric said, "The half million estimate is probably a conservative one now. This is the biggest party this city has ever seen."

"We'll get there," Mike promised, "That's barely a mile from here."

"You might have to walk it," Tom suggested, "You won't get a car anywhere near there now."

"Goddamn it," Mike cursed.

"Always the hard way, eh?" Nick said.

"Leave the assault rifles," Tom suggested, "You'll get pulled for them."

"Have you got my ID by chance?" Mike asked him, "I could use it right now."

"Take this," Eric said, "Put your Nester ID in it. In this mess nobody will think to question it."

"Go for it," Tom said, "Go get her. I'll try to send someone in to back you up."

"Not until I send word," Mike said, "You send an assault team in there; she's dead for sure. If I can slip in unnoticed I may be able to get her out without further incident."

"Get moving then!" Tom agreed, "The longer the wait, the longer it will take you to fight through the crowd."

Miller did not need any more encouragement. He and Nick went outside and started jogging towards the crowds. They could see the ominous steel tower from there and felt a sense of urgency as they ran.

Chapter Sixty-Two – December 31, 2000 – Nearly Midnight

The crowds were worse than either Mike or Nick had expected. It was a wall of people that made running or even normal walking impossible. They had walked all of a quarter mile from the storefront before running into the people. It took them until after 10:30 to reach the building's front, which was right next to the City building that the ball was dropped from every year.

Two cops had stopped them during the process, both of which let them go after looking at Miller's faked ID. The building itself was actually protected by a barricade, that Miller's ID let them pass through easily. Nick followed closely and they both walked up to the front door to the building.

"Hold up," the guard said, "The building is closed to pedestrians tonight."

"Why's that?" Miller asked innocently.

"Too many people," the guard shrugged, "Last year the bathrooms were a wreck."

"Very sporting of you all," Mike said, "But I have an urgent appointment."

"Sorry sir," the guard said, "But I can't let you in. It's the owner's orders."

"Get out of my way kid," Miller said and held out his badge, "Police business."

"Not without a warrant officer," the kid said, "That's also the boss's orders."

"You want a warrant?" Mike asked and approached the kid.

"I have no choice sir," the kid said, backing up a little.

"Here's your warrant," Mike said and belted the kid in the stomach, doubling him over.

The kid looked up as Miller kicked in the glass door, walking through it nonchalantly. Nick grinned and darted in before the police standing over at the barricades noticed the commotion.

"Come on," Miller said, "We've got a building to search."

They didn't bother with the elevator, figuring that the stairs would be more conducive to a quiet entrance. They just didn't think about how nasty a twenty-story climb could be.

"You are a fucking sadist, Mike," Nick panted when they reached the twentieth floor.

"They weren't on the others," Mike panted, "They have to be here."

They were not far off the mark either. They heard voices shouting at each other from an office down the hall. Miller remembered the heavy voice of Charlie Bullock, but the other one was a mystery to him.

"You brought this down on us!" Charlie shouted, "Now they're storming the place!"

"It will do no good," The other voice said, Pena's calm careful tone returning, "We'll be gone when they get here."

"What if it's Miller?" Charlie asked, "What do you do then?"

"John," Bronson said, "Take the girl and get out of here before they make it to this floor. We haven't lost yet."

"You've destroyed us!" Bullock complained loudly.

"I have?" Bronson asked, "Then I guess I don't need you anymore."

Miller ran down the hall and saw the second shot hit Charlie Bullock in the stomach. He launched a tackle at Howard Bronson, really wanting to kill the man then. Nick raced up behind them as fast as he could to see Stockton going for an office down the hall.

"Nice try," Bronson said as he fired a shot, hitting Miller in the left arm.

Before he could fire another one Miller fired two at his head, only missing by a scant inch as Pena ducked out the door.

"Stockton went down the hall!" Nick yelled.

"He's going for Tracy!" Mike exclaimed, "Bronson can wait. Let's go."

Stockton moved quickly and went into the office. Nick and Mike were right behind him, having to stop quickly to avoid the bullets that flew out of Stockton's pistol. He was nearly to Tracy when Miller kicked the legs out from under him.

Mike Miller was not rational when he saw Stockton lying in a pool of blood that did not belong to him. He looked up on the table and saw Tracy. He ignored Stockton's fallen form and went over to her.

She was a mess. Miller wasn't sure if she was alive or dead until he found a pulse on her. Bronson's people had worked her over pretty well, purely for the fun of it. Miller picked up his weapon and aimed it at Stockton's head. His finger was white on the trigger when he finally heard Nick's voice.

"Don't do it, Mike," Nick shouted at him, "The troops are coming up the hall!"

"Where did Bronson go?" Mike asked Stockton.

"Why should I tell you?" Stockton asked him.

"If you want to live," Miller said coldly, "I'd suggest you stop dicking around."

"The roof," Stockton said, "There's a skylift elevator he can ride to the bottom from up there. An express elevator going to an unfinished floor."

"You just bought a few minutes," Miller said, "Nick, if he moves wrong, shoot him. I'm going after Bronson. The troops will be able to call an ambulance for Tracy faster than I can."

Nick merely nodded and kept his weapon pointed at Pena's former head of security. Stockton knew that his game was up, had been up from the moment he had agreed to participate in Bronson's mad plan. Now not only did the police want him, but the Bullock clan had put a price on his head. He just hoped that he could come out of it alive.

Mike Miller pushed into the hall and saw an army of cops spreading out into the hall. He ran to the roof stairs that he had seen and closed the door. He took the fire axe off the wall and used it to bar the door shut, hopefully giving him a few minutes to catch up with Bronson.

Despite his fatigue and the pain coming from the gunshot wound to his left arm, he used all the energy he could muster in going to those stairs. As soon as he poked his head up into the unfinished floor area he was rewarded with a bullet smacking into a steel beam over his head.

"It's over Bronson!" Miller yelled, readying his own weapon, "You've got nowhere to go!"

"I won't go without a fight, you know that don't you?" Bronson yelled from his perch near the elevator.

"I'd be disappointed if you did," Miller yelled as he slipped upstairs, avoiding another ill placed shot by the shadow boss, "You were a good adversary until you decided to make it personal."

"So the girl did bring you here!" Bronson laughed, "Figures. You cops always were a sentimental bunch."

"You're going to die, Howie," Mike promised, "I will see to that."

They played cat and mouse for a few minutes as the troops downstairs continued to bang on the door that Miller had blocked with the fire axe. Shots were fired and missed as the two men weaved in and out of the steel maze. Finally, Bronson managed to get behind Miller and get a bead on his head.

"Goodbye asshole," He said to Miller as he pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately for Howard Bronson, his pistol was empty. Miller turned around and grinned at the former cop turned high power syndicate boss. Miller aimed his own weapon at the man and pulled the trigger three times. He was rewarded with three dry clicks of the pistol. His Beretta was empty as well.

"Looks like we get to settle this the old fashioned way," Bronson grinned as he tossed the gun down on the floor.

The crowd cheering was getting louder as the moment of the millennial change was fast approaching. They could hear the announcer on the platform get people riled up and ready for the Millennium countdown. Both Miller and Bronson were oblivious to the announcements as the downstairs door finally crashed in under the axe used on it.

Tom Richter led his people, having been airlifted from the storefront to the city building next door on news that Miller had entered the building. Once the door to the roof was open, he took front spot with weapon drawn as they charged up to stop the fight between Miller and Bronson.

They came up to the area where Miller and Pena were fighting. Bronson, due mainly to his age and being out of shape was losing the battle. The police officers lined up and aimed their weapons at both Miller and Bronson, ordering the two men to stop fighting.

Meanwhile, down on the street, the countdown to the millennium was beginning. The men followed the orders and stood up, with Bronson raising his hands and smiling at the officers.

"10!" the crowd shouted.

"I declare police brutality!" Bronson yelled, "This man attacked me for no reason!"

"9!" The crowd shouted enthusiastically.

"Blow it out your ear, Bronson," Miller growled.

"8!" The crowd chanted in unison.

"It's over, Miller," Tom said to him, "It's time to give up the fight."

"7!" The crowd screamed.

"I'd say you'd better listen to the man," Bronson smiled, knowing that his lawyers would have him out in hours.

"6!" The crowd continued.

Miller couldn't look at his boss. All he could do was look at the man who had caused so much pain in his life. He saw the faces of all the people who had died, His partner Eddie, Jade, all the others whose lives had ended because of this one man.

"5!" The crowd cried.

"Back off, Miller," Tom ordered him.

"4!" The crowd yelled.

"I can't..." Miller mumbled, looking at Bronson's precarious position on the edge.

"3!" The excited crowd screamed even louder.

"You have to," Tom said, "Its over. We've got him. We've won."

"2!" The crowd shouted, getting ready for the big moment.

"Listen to him, Miller," Bronson said in his cool, toneless voice, "You lose."

"1!" The crowd screamed at the top of its lungs.

"Not yet," Miller said calmly, and pushed Bronson over the side.

"Happy New Year!!!" The crowd cried as both Bronson and the ball started to drop in unison.

Mike Miller looked over the side and watched as the screaming former syndicate shadow lord fell to his death, crushing an old Honda Civic's roof when he landed on it. Howard Bronson, better known to the world as Frederick Pena, had failed to make the cut into the new millennium.

Chapter Sixty-Three – January 1, 2001 – Midnight

Tom Richter motioned for the men to put their guns away and walked over to his undercover agent. Miller was still standing by the edge and looking down at the spot where Howard Bronson had officially become the first death of the 21st century, or the last death of the 20th, depending on how you looked at it.

"Good shot," Richter commented as he saw the direct hit on the Honda, "I bet that's going to be one pissed off car owner in the morning."

"Probably will have too much of a hangover to notice," Miller said.

"Maybe so," Richter agreed.

"What happens now?" Miller asked, "Do I get arrested?"

"I don't know guys," Richter said, "Did anyone here see Miller push Bronson? I could have sworn I saw him jump to avoid capture."

A general murmur of agreement came out of the police officers. Nobody particularly wanted to see Miller get in trouble for killing a scum like Howard Bronson. They all had seen Tracy Howard in the office. Anyone who could be a party to something like that deserved what they got.

"Let's get off this roof," Tom suggested, "Its over. You're safe now."

"How is Tracy?" Mike asked.

"I don't know," Richter said honestly, "I didn't have time to look. I was more worried about what was happening to you. I left Eric down there to take care of that. The ambulances should be here by now. From the looks of your arm, you could use one of them."

"Just a scratch," Miller shrugged, still in shock a little, "Some peroxide and a couple stitches. No more than that."

The line of officers parted as Richter helped Miller down the stairs. The physical tension and strain had taken their toll on Miller physically. He looked drained, both physically and emotionally. He limped his way through the room and went to the office where Tracy had been.

She also looked more like a corpse than a living human being. The ambulance personnel were taking care of her quickly and Miller got out of the way. He saw that Stockton was sitting on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. Nick was sitting in a chair in the same state.

"Mike!" he exclaimed, "You made it! Did you get Bronson?"

"Yep," Miller nodded, "He's currently a hood ornament for a Honda Civic."

"Thank God," Nick sighed, "What happens now?"

"Jackson," Richter said, "Take this young man out of handcuffs now."

"He was holding a gun..." the officer started to say before being cut off by Richter.

"He's one of mine," Richter said, "Been working with Miller for months. Get him out of the cuffs, now."

"Right away sir," officer Jackson said and unlocked Nick.

"Let's get out of here," Richter suggested, "We're just in the way."

Mike, Nick, Tom and Eric Craig left the room and took the first available elevator to the ground floor. They made their way to one of the ambulances that was in the area to take care of partygoers. Miller's shirt was immediately cut off and they started to clean out the wound.

"I have to report this," the EMT said, "This is a gunshot wound."

"I'm a cop," Miller said, "Consider it reported."

Richter nodded and showed his official ID to the EMT. The EMT nodded and continued his work on Miller's arm, cleaning up and bandaging the superficial wound.

"Here's a temporary sling," the EMT said, "Keep it as immobile as possible and go into the doctor when you can. You'll need antibiotics and may need to have the wound re-cleaned."

"How are they going to get Tracy out?" Miller asked Tom.

"They'll airlift her off the top of the City Building," Tom told him, "She'll be ok, Mike."

"At any rate," Nick said, "It wasn't anything we did. They started on her soon after they got her. They did it just to piss us off."

"Lean on Stockton," Miller suggested to Richter, "He knows where all of Bronson's dirty laundry is buried."

"Later Mike," Richter grinned, "We have more important things to do now."

"Yeah," Miller nodded, "Like get my depositions started. We need to get me on certified record before they decide to try again. Same for Nick."

"Are you willing to testify?" Tom asked Nick.

"Yes," Nick said without hesitation, "I'll testify."

"Let's get up into the City PD," Richter suggested, "I'll get a couple of the US Attorneys down here to take the depositions. They'll be pissing their pants when they find out we've brought down the Bullock and Pena organizations."

Miller stopped listening when the stretchers started exiting the building. Tracy was on the first one and was being rushed across the street. Charlie Bullock, miraculously still alive after being shot by Pena, was also rushed over to go the hospital by helicopter.

The remaining cops went into the building and went to the interrogation rooms to wait for the US Attorneys to show up. Nick was put into room two, to be interviewed separately in a session that was likely to last a week. Miller was put in the same room that Tracy had talked to him in during the Northrup fiasco. It brought back memories of her.

"Things are coming full circle," Miller chuckled.

"They surely are," Richter agreed.

"What's going to happen to Nick?" Mike asked.

"I'm still working on that," Richter said, "I don't even know what I'm going to be able to do for you."

"I don't matter anymore," Miller chuckled, "But see if you can manage to get Nick through clean. He'd make a good cop now."

"He might at that," Richter said, "Don't worry about it. Just get everything down on tape when the US Attorney gets here."

"Don't worry," Mike said, "I've been waiting for this day since May."

"It's over," Richter agreed, "Completely over."

"No," Mike said sadly, "It won't be over until Tracy walks out of that hospital."

Chapter Sixty-Four – January 1, 2001 – Evening

"That's about the size of it," Miller said, "The whole story in all its dilapidated glory."

"You're lucky to be alive, you know that?" Stone said to him.

"Also lucky you're not in jail," McCord noted.

"The verdict isn't in on that yet," Miller chuckled.

"You look like hell Miller," Entragian noted, "When's the last time you actually slept?"

"That three hours in the car, sometime early morning on the 31st," Miller said, "Haven't slept since."

"I think this will do for now," McCord said, "We can do the question and answer after we've all slept a while."

"Fine by me," Miller said, "I probably need to get to the hospital anyway."

Miller stood up and walked out of the room for the first time in hours. He felt as if a steamroller had flattened him. He stretched his good arm out and his legs as best he could. He wanted a cigarette, but decided that he did not need one. He looked at the pack and decided that now he was Miller again he did not need them at all. He tossed the pack into the garbage can next to him.

Miller could see through the one-way glass that Nick was still being questioned. Walking up and down the hallway he could see the results of his operation. John Stockton was being held in one interrogation room, while Max Bullock and Eric Roth were in others.

Miller took one more lap up and down the hallway when he saw Tom Richter and Jeremy Whitmore come into the interrogation area. They must have been looking for him, because when they saw him they came in faster.

"There you are," Richter said, "We've been looking for you."

"Why?" Mike asked, "I've been in there all day. I need to get some sleep somewhere."

"I worked out a deal for you and Nick," Whitmore said, "I had to pull a few strings, but it worked out well. Just to make sure that no ambitious prosecutor decides to screw with you a few years down the road, I have secured Presidential pardons for you both. The governor owed me a few favors and when I told him what you did for my little girl he put in a word with the President. You will be pardoned publicly on the 19th, just before he gets out of office. The governor's pardon will cover you quietly in the meantime."

"That's good to hear," Miller smiled, "Means Nick gets a true second chance now."

"What are you going to do?" Whitmore asked him, "I take it your usefulness as an undercover operative is shot."

"I'm going to go to sleep," Miller said, "As soon as I find out about Tracy."

Almost as if on cue, Eric Craig came into the hallway. He saw Miller and company and made a beeline for them. Miller looked at Eric and hoped that he had some news on Tracy.

"I have bad news and worse news," Eric sighed, "What do you want first?"

"The bad," Miller said.

"Tracy passed away from her injuries about an hour ago," Eric said, flinching a little as he did so, "The damage that Bronson and Stockton had inflicted on her was just too great. The doctors did what they could, but there wasn't enough left intact to save."

Miller sat down on the bench and rubbed his temples, which were throbbing. He clenched inside at his failure to save Tracy's life. He knew deep down that it was not his fault that they had tortured her to death, but he could not help blaming himself for her being there in the first place.

"Wait a minute," Richter said, "If that's the bad news, what's the worse news?"

"Charlie Bullock is going to live," Eric said, "I'd hoped that he would die a horrible death."

"He'll get the needle," Miller said, "You should be able to put a good federal death case together for him."

"We're working on a state one now," Whitmore said, "Your testimony should clinch it."

"Good," Miller said, though he really did not care at this point.

Whitmore detected that he best leave Miller alone to deal with this. Miller slid over onto the bench and curled up. Minutes later he was asleep; the strain and the sadness being overcome temporarily by his complete and total exhaustion. He did not even notice as Mason Stone and Jim Entragian moved him to a more comfortable couch in the break room where Miller slept for the better part of the next day.

Chapter Sixty-Five – July 8, 2002 – Noon

The state murder and racketeering trial for Charles Roland Bullock, Charles Maxwell Bullock, Eric Roth and eight other defendants began on June 24th, 2002. After numerous motions brought by the various defendants it was clear that this was going to be a long and contentious trial.

The release of the witness list made it even more so, due to the defendants' complete and utter shock at the inclusion of Harrison Luponi, long thought to be dead. Last minute deals between John Stockton and both state and federal prosecutors were another blow to the defense. He provided federal authorities with the location of Alvin "Doc" Harper, the man who had dispatched more than thirty of Pena's enemies. The bodies of Lisa Collins and six other federal agents, including traitor Scott Adler, were found in a mass grave some three miles from the warehouse where they had died.

The prosecutions had made their case carefully and were starting with the least useful and least credible witnesses first. Nick Jones testified for a relatively brief period, mainly to build up credibility for their next witness, former underboss Harrison Luponi, better known as Harry Lupo.

Lupo himself was only marginally successful as a witness due to his past and his drug use. Prison life did not agree with Harry Lupo and he was showing his dissatisfaction on the stand. Despite this, his testimony was clear and concise. Even with his credibility gaps he made a clear impact on the jury. The fact that he had not gotten much of a deal gave the defense little to hit the prosecution on.

Miller was scheduled to testify directly after Lupo, whose testimony was expected to conclude sometime around one in the afternoon. He was dressed in a suit, the only one he actually owned. He was pacing nervously out in the hallway outside the courtroom.

"I've been dreading this since day one," Miller chuckled, "This is going to be nasty isn't it?"

"The worst part will be dredging up the old memories," Jeremy Whitmore told him, "Just stick to the facts. They've got a losing case and they know it."

A bailiff stuck his head out the door, "It's time, Mr. Miller."

"Let's go," Whitmore said, "They're waiting for you."

"Great," Miller frowned.

He stood up and walked into the courtroom. All the eyes in the room were on him. Some were admiring; some were accusing. Some were friendly, and some were filled with hatred.

Miller looked at the crowd as he walked into the courtroom. Nick Jones was smiling at him, sitting down in the front row with his new girlfriend while wearing his patrolman's uniform. He had passed the academy months earlier (with heavy Tutoring from Miller) and was a rookie officer in Miller's own precinct.

Harry Lupo was sitting in the glass holding cage, waiting for the transport back to ADX Florence. He looked at Miller with a blank stare, not sure how to feel about the man. If he had been free, he would probably have tried to attack Miller. The only thing keeping him from this was fear of the needle and the thick wall of plexiglass.

The looks he got from Charlie, Max and Eric Roth were purely undying hatred. To them, he would forever be a traitor on the level of Benedict Arnold. Miller did not particularly care as he went up to the witness stand and was asked to raise his right hand.

"Michael James Miller," the bailiff said, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," Miller said and sat down on the witness stand, ready to bear witness to how bad the world could really be.

***The End***

Author's note:

Max Bullock worked a last minute deal and avoided a death sentence by pleading guilty to six of the 27 counts against him, all racketeering. He was sentenced to 20 years for each count, to be served consecutively at a state penitentiary.

Eric Roth committed suicide in his holding cell shortly before being sentenced for his conviction on all 27 counts of the indictment.

Charlie Bullock was convicted of all counts, including two capital murder counts. He became the first syndicate boss in the nation to receive a death sentence. His sentence is currently under appeal as he tries to die of natural causes before his lethal injection can be carried out.

Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

The Accidental Immortal

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Durell's Insurrection

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

