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“Curanto?” Brenda asked, holding her Glock at the ready.
“He says to back off, or else,” Vincent told Brenda in a soulless voice. “This is your only warning, so be smart. It ain't nice to upset the boss. Get it?”
The guy’s eyes clearly told Brenda that he was high on something. Vincent was known to favor white powders.
“It ain't nice to threaten an FBI Agent, either. Get it?” Brenda fired back, keeping her trigger finger firmly at the ready. “Feels good to be released after I arrested you a few days ago, huh? You can tell your boss that we will uphold the law.”
“You bunch of suits can't uphold anything except the few measly dollars the boss gives you to shut your mouths, lady!” Vincent yelled at Brenda. “Get me out of here, Paulie.”
Brenda watched Vincent stick his head back into the BMW as the driver kicked the gas and sped away into the falling snow.
Wonder who has been talking? Henry? No… just told Henry about Joey tonight. Haven't told anyone else except… Director Summers. I shouldn't be surprised.
Brenda put her pistol away and got her legs moving, moving toward Mack's location as the heavy snow piled onto her.
Brenda walked through the snow, keeping her eyes sharp and alert. By the time she reached Mack’s unmarked police car, she felt frozen to the core but still prepared to tackle a long and dangerous night. Mack spotted Brenda approaching from the rear, leaned over, and popped the passenger side door open with a hard hand. Brenda quickly slid in without being seen.
“Had a visit from Vincent,” Brenda uttered.
Mack glanced into Brenda's frozen face and nodded his head. “You're alive, so that means you were given a warning.”
“I don't like being threatened, Mack.” Brenda reached her hands forward to warm them against the car vent. Mack wasn't a gentleman by any means, but he did care about Brenda. They enjoyed being friends that could depend on each other when the bullets began to fly.
“Joey Curanto is a killer. 'Dazed' is nothing more than a drug room, Brenda. We're going to be fighting a losing battle.” Mack cautioned and then nodded through the snow-covered windshield toward the diner. Mack had the car running and the heat going, keeping the windshield warm enough to back the snow off.
“We're a dying breed, right?” Brenda asked, ripping a gray snow cap off her head.
“Cops are paid political enforcers, nothing else. That's why Joey Curanto can't be touched.” Mack replied in a low tone, keeping his eyes peeled on the diner.
“Then why are you sitting here?”
“Because the street dealer I'm after killed the son of a city council member. Her son was nothing but a street dealer himself, but money talks,” Mack explained in a hard voice. “To the outside world we're supposed to look clean and caring, honest and protective, right? It's all a sick game”
Brenda sat in silence for a few minutes as she watched street rats buzz in and out of the filthy diner, buying drugs and then drifting off into the frozen night to get high. “We can go in there and make a real bust—”
“I'd lose my shield,” Mack cut Brenda off. “All the drugs going in and out of that diner are connected to the higher ups in one way or another. My job is to arrest one person.”
Brenda heard disgust in Mack's voice.
“Many wear a badge to protect the interests of criminals,” Mack sighed and then nearly spit into his coffee. “I'd rather be on the inside of the fence than the outside. At least if I'm on the inside I can see what's going on. And speaking of being on the inside...there's him. See you in a few minutes.”
Brenda watched Mack ease out into the heavy falling snow while smoothly removing a hidden pistol from his black trench coat. Seconds later, Mack was running across an icy road like a vicious soldier determined to kill a few of his enemies. In a matter of minutes Mack had a stringy kid that looked like a 1980's punk band singer slammed down onto a frozen sidewalk while a group of drug-addled teenagers scattered into the wind like scared flies.
“So you arrest a punk carrying some drugs and a gun, but Joey Curanto is the real deal. I swore an oath. I can’t back down. I have a job to do.”
Chapter 2
Mack slumped down behind a messy desk stacked with files, empty coffee cups, and scraps of old notes. Unlike Brenda, he was organizationally challenged. But so what? It wasn't like Mack had anyone to be organized for. He was single, had no children, and lived in a shabby one-bedroom apartment that cost him an arm and a leg to rent.
“Hey Mack!” A face wearing a lopsided smile popped through the half-opened wooden door lined with snow glass. “Heard you made a good bust last night. Way to go, buddy!”
Tim Cunningham was a rookie cop who carried a positive attitude wherever he went. The kid is twenty-four and thinks he can save the world. I remember those days… too bad life has beaten the truth into me.
“Just doing my job, Tim,” Mack grunted without looking at Tim. He pulled a brown file and opened it on his desk. “Take one off the street and two more will appear.”
Tim invited himself into Mack's office.
“Yeah, but we make a dent, right?” he asked, proud to be wearing an ironed uniform that made him look handsome and intelligent.
