₦airaland Forum

Pheezie:
Apollux.
No Update Tonight?

Lol
Let me see... Maybe if the power comes on later.

Nostradamus:
I have a feeling penance was one of D. R. I. V. E enhanced soldiers who managed to escape their custody before they wipe his memory,he decided to seek revenge but he knows he can't take the organisation head-on so he decided to attack those that depends on them to cripple the organisation's business.




Apollux nice one man.


Please when is the next update?

Well that's the general gist of the story... But there are twists within that are less obvious. His revenge motivation is far from escape

Pheezie:
This Penance nah baddo oo.
But who is he?

Lol, you will have to wait to find out. And what makes you think that Penance is the hero of this story?

“Well sir, since I feel a revenge motivation in this, it can possibly be anyone of them, having an officer who is dissatisfied or just want to do a solo mission and take it upon himself to either do this or hire someone. “
“That’s quite possible Hank but like you had earlier pointed out, the skill level of the attacker rules that out. “
“Yes, unless he hired a Merc. “
“Which is quite possible but unlikely. Mercs are very expensive to hire and no government worker, no matter how highly placed can seek for the services of a Merc on minimum wage. “


“There is something else I noticed about the attacker. Apart from his skills, which were considerable, he seemed somewhat enhanced. “
“Enhanced? “ the Director looked fully surprised now for the fiest time since the beginning of the conversation. “Are you suggesting… “
“There is a possibility to that sir. His use of stealth, blending with shadows, concealment, his agility and strength are things that exceed the limits of natural abilities. “
This silence that followed that sentence seem very thick. This time the Director’s brooding went so deep that his body seemed frozen like a statue.
“Sir, is there any way that another organization or maybe a country has discovered the secret bio enhancement program D.R.I.V.E has perfected? “


“None. “ Director Bloothworth answered automatically. “There are very few countries and organizations with the technology and resources to do that, and we have eyes on all of them. The closest countries are the US and Japan. The UK and Canada are still fifteen years away of even discovering it. China and Russia are further behind . So none yet besides D.R.I.V.E holds the key to that technology and that is why we guard it vehemently. None but the highest cleared top echelons in D.R.I.V.E’s organization structure knows about it. You had privilege to it because of your field involvement, the testing and training of some of the tests subjects. The bio enhancement was a sudden break through from our R & D department. That is the area that has given us the edge we have over others. None of our customers know we have that level of technology, not even the US. When we send our trained and enhanced operatives to do their wet works, they always assumed those are just highly skilled and specifically trained operatives we have. “

“Evidences? “ the Director raised a silver colored eyebrow.
“Yes sir, it’s one of the reasons I came in late for this appointment. I was waiting for one of our mole in the Brooklyn’s NYPD to send me the results from ballistics and forensics reports on the crime scene investigation. Reports suggest that the dead bodies were killed with bullets from two different types of guns only, apart from the ones that died by knife wounds, those I partially witnessed . The guns are a submachine gun and a . 44 caliber hand gun. “
Director Bloodworth allowed his back to rest more on the leather chair, allowing it to creak loudly as his weight was borne by the back rest. His eyes glowed as his mind works in deep thought.


“Again what level of combat abilities does the attacker have? “
Hank tried as best as possible to pull out accurate details from his information loaded mind and made sure he didn’t leave out any relevant detail. “ His skill level is above that of a special force soldier, a Navy SEAL. A black ops operative is possible but he skills still goes higher than that. He might be a Merc or assassin as far as skill levels go but that won’t make any sense.”
“Please indulge me Hank and explain. “


“Sir, special forces will suggest that government law enforcement officers were involved , which will include arrests. But that didn’t happen last night. If it’s an assassin, he will have a target which the mission will be over once the target is neutralized. The attacker didn’t act that way. Well as a Merc, is more like it. He was probably hired to stop the deal from last night. The evidence seems to suggest this. But there might be another angle to this that may be difficult to decipher. “
“And what is that? “
“Revenge sir. What if the attacker was after revenge? The extent he went will seem to fit in the role very well. “


“This raises more questions than answers Hank. “
“I’m aware of that sir. “
“Who could have a personal vendetta against Nestore to hire a highly skilled Merc to take down his business? Could the DEA, ATF or NYPD’s organized crime had gotten frustrated with little results in their war to bring down the mafia families and resort to this? “ Shaking his head quickly in the negative, the Director answered his own question. “No, I would have been aware of that. “

Sitting down as Hank did same, the Director was quite for a while, his eyes closed as if in deep thought. But Hank knows nothing is more further from the truth than that. This is just another way the Director exert his psychological control and dominance over all around him. Playing on fears and uncertainty, wielding them skillfully to gain access to other people’s mind.
“What happened? “ the Director asked at last.
The question should have taken Hank by surprise if he hadn’t known how the Director operates. Still the question may look direct but in responding to it will shows how ambiguous it is.


Which of the events was he referring to? Was it why he came late? Or what happened at the dock or it could be a host of other things. Knowing who he is dealing with, Hank immediately know what the question was about.
“Honestly sir, I can’t tell. “
“I know there was an attack at the venue. People were killed, products destroyed and the deal got quashed. “ Pausing for a while to gauge his audience attention, he continued. “I want to know what happened, my friend. I need details. “


Hank knew there was no way he was a friend of the Director, that was used to get his attention to know there was no room for him to wiggle through. The Director expect to be given a full account of everything he noticed whether he felt it was relevant or not.
“What is your personal assessment of the attacker’s skills? “ The Director asked after Hank finished his narrative. “Special forces? Navy SEAL? A black ops operative? An assassin or a Merc?”


“It will be impossible for me to give any accurate conclusions about what I witnessed. “ Hank took his time to reply carefully. “I was at a far distance and despite my night sight enabled binoculars it was still difficult for me to see everything clearly. I saw most of his action outside the warehouse of the dock and none of what he did when he got inside. The later explosions and police sirens warned me that it was time I was out of there before I got entangled. “
“And you were sure you saw just a man and no possibility of others being involved in anyway? “
“That will appear to be the case sir, as far as what I saw and the evidences available presently seem to suggest.”

He peeped quickly at the painting the Director has been observing, it was an old painting of the great London fire of 1666. He turned back to facing the Director again to notice that his boss had seen him take a quick peek at the painting. The Director is known by the name, Thomas Frederick Bloodworth, that seem to suggest he has an English ancestry, probably a descendant of a noble family but no one is sure as every record of him is securely hidden. Not even Hank has the security clearance to know that. He is the operational director of D.R.I.V.E and a member of its board.


Hank only suspected that there is a board of directors that runs D.R.I.V.E but he is not sure as there is no concrete record he can see. The Director radiates power but in a subdued and subtle way which can easily make enemies to underestimate him. That’s a mistake. He is not one to be underestimated. The Director is one of the most powerful man in the country, both in politics, business and the underworld of crime. His greatest strength is him being an anonymous influencer working in the background. He has eyes in lots of places with far reaching influences. He is all about power and control but with a certain level of finesse, charm and intelligence. Despite the years he had worked for him, Hank is still afraid of the Director every time.


“That will be all Celine, will send for you later. “ he addressed the secretary. She took the cue, turned back to the door and closed it quietly behind her as she left the office.
The Director walked to a wall side facing a rectangular metal shape that looks like a safe. It has a touch screen surface by the side. Placing his open palm on the screen, a green light ran over the palm taking his print, reading it and with a tiny click, the safe opened only to show that it is a surface with numeric keys. He punched in some long codes then closed back the safe.
“We can safely talk now. “ the Director said indicating a chair before the table for Hank to sit. The code he had imputed on the key pad activates a high level disruption of any electronic surveillance bug. Anyone attempting to eavesdrop into the room will only end up getting just white noise. Then apart from those in this office, anyone outside can't hear anything because the place is completely sound proof.

“Welcome Mr. Jerrold, we were thinking you should have gotten here much earlier. “ the secretary said as she touched a button on an intercom device on her table, speaking into it. “He just got in here sir. “
“Yes same with me. Better late than never, eh Celine. “ Hank replied giving a smile of his own imagining the secretary with two horns, long sharp teeth, pointed ears and an arrow head tail. Yeah better the devil you know.
“He will see you now. Please come with me. “ Celine stood from her chair led him to another corridor joined to this one at a right angle, got to a wooden door with a plaque having “Director” written on it. She knocked shortly and opened the door.


The Director was standing before a wall overlaid with wooden surface, staring at a particular painting. He was a man close to Hank in height, slim and less muscular. His face squares off in a severe look that got accentuated by a squared off jaw which is clean shaven without a beard or mustache. His hair, though all silky white, doesn’t give him the look of a man beyond mid 40s. He was putting on just a simple white plain shirt sleeve tucked into a dark blue plain trousers. The Director turned to observe them as they came into his private office. His eyes were the color of a very light blue that might be mistaken to be white.


They bore on their subject with high intensity. The office is a wide one with room to accommodate the big oaken table, a comfortable swiveling leather chair. Further from that is a long settee, with an ivory colored table before which is about eight banks of monitors before a wall. On the other side is a floor to ceiling shelve holding huge volumes of thick back books, all neatly arranged. On one wall are hung different styles of abstract paintings. Just to the right of the door is an abstract smooth carving of what looks like a woman, made from polished black wood without any real distinguishing features.
“Hello Hank, good to see you. “ the Director said pleasantly backing away from the painting.
“Thank you sir. “ Hank replied quickly.

Though D.R.I.V.E had a long time view of extending their influences beyond the borders of the US, the middle east and South America became two of their major targets. Then later on a deal in West Africa began to bud. Those were the reasons the Director had instructed Hank to introduce Don Nestore Nazzareno to the Syrian and Nigerian using the mob to create the link for middle East and West Africa penetration. Though in the business angle, D.R.I.V.E already has affiliated companies on ground in these places as oil companies. These had gone well so far but the enterprise still want to have control of part of the underworld in those places as they had in New York.


Hence the deal brokered between Nestore and the Arabian and African. Hank had introduced Umar Malik, Ola Badmus and Chukwuma Ukwachi to the mafia boss. It took some strong convincing to bring the mafia boss to accepting the deal. Well Nestore still remembers the D.R.I.V.E’s support to pushing him to his place of prominence. Well everything had worked well until last night. He had gone to spy out how the deal will go down not because he expects any thing bad to happen but just to have something to report to the Director whose orders he was under.


He had chosen a good vantage point around the dock where he could have observed everything from. In his days in the military, he was a spotter for snipers and has been good at it. While watching, the proceedings had gone as prearranged, the merchandise had come in, same as the customers, everything going according to plan until he had stepped in from nowhere. That Hank hasn’t been able to see the adversary until he chose to reveal himself shows how good he is. Hank has been surprised but still stayed back to watch and his surprised had continued watching the man clad on black in action. His skill was something he hasn’t seen any other place except…


Just then the lift’s door slid apart as it got to the top floor. Hank stepped out into a short waiting area with a wooden table and another woman sitting behind it. She is the Director’s personal secretary. She was putting on a silk dress. Her dark brown hair forms in ringlets around her oval face. Her thin lips always in a quick move to smile which creates deep dimples on her cheeks. Hank and the Director both knows that she is a CIA undercover agent sent by the company to spy on D.R.I.V.E. Well the Director had decided to let her stay and pretend that they haven’t discovered her secret cover.


Anyway that had made them careful and tighten security around the building. They had to always seek for bugs and continued to disable them . Though the Director had opted to just be feeding her plausible false Intel she can send back to her employers so the CIA don’t get too suspicious of him and come against him. The CIA had become interested in D.R.I.V.E, when they had stumbled on the organization’s foreign legitimate business interests. Well like they say, better the devil you know.

When the supremacy tussle or as it became popularly known, the supremacy war was going on in New York a few years back, D.R.I.V.E had been involved, however in a clandestine form. While that mobs turf war had continued for a long time without an apparent winner, the streets had turned to war zones and lots of innocent lives caught in the cross fire with the authorities unable to put a permanent stop to it. Not even after the national guards were called in and martial law was instituted. The fights only stopped then and resumed immediately the national guards were called off. At that time it was every criminal organization against themselves.


The Chinese, Mexicans, Russians, Columbians, Blacks and of course the mafias. D.R.I.V.E had seen a blooming opportunity within the crisis and had taken advantage of it. Though already a military private contractor to the US department of defense at that time, D.R.I.V.E wanted to expand its influences beyond the circle of politics and the military, they want to have a big say in what goes on in the underworld too. They had a long time plan in view that depending solely on the income and power that come from dealing alone with the US government will not allow to be fulfilled. So the enterprise had began to grow its tentacles in the underworld.


It settled down to supporting the five mafia families that later won the war, giving them weapon supplies and training their soldiers. D.R.I.V.E was also behind the plan that the five boroughs of New York be split equally among the five mafia families that survived the war. Everything had worked out fine. The war had ended. All the smaller crime cartels had either been kicked out or conscripted to any of the ruling families. With that, though unknown to most people, even the intelligence operatives of the US government are blind to it, that the true ruler of the criminal underworld of New York is D.R.I.V.E.


Hank had been working for the NSA and CIA then, doing their dirty and wet works for them on a loan basis from D.R.I.V.E. Still he had been the front man from D.R.I.V.E to the mob families. He is the one that had successfully arranged the negotiations, supplied the weapons and then handled the training and logistics that helped the mafia families win the war right under the noses of the CIA and NSA without them knowing. It’s ironic that the same organization that supports the government also backs up, in secret, the criminal organization the government is fighting against. To D.R.I.V.E it was just all business and profit. With that, D.R.I.V.E now sells its services to all.

At the glass entrance to the building, another two uniformed security, armed with side arms stood by the reinforced double glass door which was locked. Another two were patrolling the perimeter of the entrance. He placed the plastic card with him into a slot by the door having a numeric keypad . He punched in a set of code numbers, a green light blinked on the keypads and with a slight click the door opened . As he was about to step in after retrieving his card is when he noticed that the hands of the security men at the door were on the butts of their guns while he was punching the keypad buttons. He also noted their hands relaxed when he got cleared and the door opened.


It led to a wide waiting room with floor, pillars and ceiling made of white marble. At the left are some set of chairs with clients that appears like business personnel, sitting and waiting. By the right is the receptionist booth made up of a long thick glass table with the logo of D.R.I.V.E fully displayed at the front. Behind the glass table, on a comfortable looking leather chair is the receptionist. She was putting on a smooth milk colored businesses suit. Her blonde hair was pulled back and tied in a ponytail. She has a long triangular face with eyes that turned wide as soon as she saw Hank come in and her lips broke up into a warm smile.


“Good afternoon Mr. Jerrold, it’s so nice to see you. “ She said in a professional manner.
“Thanks, Ruth. “ Hank said stopping before her table which has a wide monitor attached to a system which is linked to the security network in the building. As he stood before the table, hidden CCTV cameras were watching him, linking his image to what they have on their database and comparing them to be sure he is not an imposter. His retina and voice patterns were being checked and verified.


“You are about an hour late for your appointment, the Director has been waiting. “
“Yeah Ruth, blame it on the New York traffic and also me taking my time to get here. “
A communication ear bud was on her ear and the receptionist seem to be listening to something from it. “You can go in sir, the Director will see you now. “
Nodding his thanks, Hank heads for the five lift doors ahead of him. He took the one at the extreme left as that is a direct one to the top floor which houses the Director’s office. As he stepped into the lift and punched the up button, his mind drifted again, unbidden into the events of last night.

Looking at the towering buildings on both sides of Broadway get pretty boring quickly and one who is used to open spaces fells really claustrophobic. Well all these are not what’s really bothering him at the moment though. Manhattan has its own beauty anyway but his present mood just tends to cloud all that in a negative light. He heads for Amsterdam avenue so he can access west 121st street from there. Taking the turn, he entered the street and just ahead was the building he was looking for. It was a building as high as any one in Manhattan, of gleaming glasses and concrete. It is the east coast headquarters of D.R.I.V.E -Directorate for Research Initiative and Virtual Enterprise.


This is the organization Hank works for and which clears his pay checks. It is a private military contractor for the U.S Department of Defense generally and other lesser departments under it like the National Security Agency (NSA), Pentagon Force Protection Agency (PFPA) and Defense Advanced Research Project Agency (DARPA), their most paying customer.
As a private military contractor, they have power and influences far beyond the borders of this country. Political influences in the Whitehouse and military. They provide logistical support, train personnel on advance conventional weapons warfare and tactics. They even provide research and development areas that the DoD can fund.


The arrangement had been mutually beneficial and D.R.I.V.E has ended up been among the top private military contractors employed by the United States. At the drive way into the parking lot, Hank was stopped by unformed security men who demanded for his clearance. While that was going on an armed security guard was checking the under part of his car for possible hidden bomb and two others where leading a K-9 dog on a leash to sniff his car. He produced a security plastic card which was passed through an electronic reader. The screen of the reader showed all the security details of Hank. Clearing him.


The uniformed security had to take his time to cross check the image on the screen with that of Hank in the car. He was told to go ahead. Easing his Lexus into the big parking lot of the office building, along the exclusive space for the top ranking executives of the organization, he stepped out into the bright summer afternoon. Hank was relatively tall at 6 feet 2 inches, with the athletic build of a sports man, his early forty years doesn’t really show. He was putting on a gray colored tailored suit with a white shirt. He had on a horned rim glasses which gives his short squared face the appearance of a desk jockey which is the image he intends to portray at the moment but was way far from with he really is.


To a close observer who might have reached the conclusion that this is a boardroom experienced executive will be forced to reconsider after Hank took his first few steps away from the car. He walked with a slight jerk to his legs as if his feet was ready to jump off the floor at any second. His movement showed great economy as one whose every move had been anticipated long in advance yet quick enough to cover up such.

2.17pm EST

The heavy traffic on Broadway in Manhattan gave him a pounding headache added to the one he already had when he escaped from the dock side during the early hours just before the cops had shown up and sealed all possible exits. Driving the Lexus ES executive sedan car through the dense lines of slowly moving cars in a populated city like this may not be the hardest task he had undertaken but it’s definitely shaping to be. With a wild curse, Hank Jerrold stepped quickly on the break to prevent bashing a car that just switched lanes to his side suddenly.


Bashing the offending car won’t be a problem for him, because his insurance premium payments are up to date but the time and delay is what he can’t afford. The meeting he was going for now has been put off more than it should. There it goes again. That car switching lanes suddenly. It looks like a Toyota SUV. Well most New Yorkers in Manhattan drive as if they were just discharged from an unsuccessful brain surgery. Besides cars, the human traffic too is horrendous. What are all these people doing on the roads and streets by this time of the day? Don’t they work or have offices or home to stay in on an afternoon like this.


Hank had to slow down and stop at a red light sign and watch as a large group of people crossed the road. Soon he was on his way, driving carefully in other to avoid other likely crazy drivers. The Lexus sedan was a comfortable car and had cushion the effects this mad driving would have had on him. He hadn’t been able to sleep well since returning from the dock to the hotel room because he had to prepare a comprehensive report about what happened and make sure there is no angle he had over looked.


He hates coming to New York but he has to as his duties requires him to. What is all the rave about New York anyway? Wonder why it ended up been called the big Apple. Nothing is apple like about New York, well except to infer that this is a city where everyone tries to eat everyone else. Forget the glamor of Wallstreet or Madison Square, this is a jungle made of steel, concrete and glass. It swallows up decent folks and spew out desperados with little or no morals, that is if you didn’t die in the meantime. Washington DC is much to his liking. That is a city he understands. There are rules that guide the games in Wonderland. You learn to play by the rules and win. Even when you break the rules, there are rules guiding the breaking of rules.


He loves the politicking and lobbying that goes on there. A man with vision, passion, commitment and a load of cash can gain real power. Here in Manhattan, you don’t know what the rules are. You gain only money here when you act as the predator but you don’t get real political power. Though Hank is a predator in his own right but this is not the kind of jungle he likes to prowl in, Washington is more his style.

“Nice you are up to speed on the situation in New York city, but it takes much more than that to get a crack at what you are after. “ Wilton hid his disappointment with a shrug of his shoulder and returned back to his chair. He should have known that the fed’s girl will have access to such low level classified Intel. “The Organized crime already are way ahead at this, so let them have their way. “
“They haven’t gotten much headway except speculations that may just be nothing. “ Pushing her laptop apart, she tapped the table to emphasize her points. “With all the Organized crime has done, there’s nothing for the DEA to use. No arrest or major drug seizure. The one of last night were charred by fire and explosions. “


The Lieutenant sat down for a long time taking a while to think of the best reply and coming up with nothing only his anger threatening to blow everything up causing him to risk his job and jeopardizing the department’s already strained relationship between the DEA and the NYPD .
“ Sorry Miss Thillier, I can’t in all good conscience agree with what you are asking. “
“Then Lieutenant I will be taking this to your superior .” Elaine closed her laptop after shutting it down. Took it and the file she had dropped previously on the table and placed them carefully in her briefcase. She stood up and headed for the door.


Wilton sat down after she left, spending several minutes brooding, hating himself, his job, the city and just about everything he can think of when the phone on the table rang. He picked up the receiver and placed it on his ear.
“Fritz Wilton, in my office right now. “ the angry voice of the captain sounded at him from the phone.

Silensa:
Me too.

Welcome back Apollux. Penance has really given everyone work to do

Lol
Most of us have had day dreams like that especially on days our bosses decided to be obnoxious.

Wilton was breathing hard and fuming, had gotten on his feet while he was talking. The agent had a shocked look on her face, mouth and eyes open wide in surprise. The Lieutenant walked to his coat on the door, pulled out his cigarette pack carefully removing a stick, as his hands were shaking, he placed it on his lips and lit it, blowing smoke from his nose to calm his agitating self.
Snapping himself back to reality, he noticed he was still sitting on his leather chair and all his outburst and bravado were all just in his mind and imagination . There’s no way he could say all that to a federal agent, that’s if he still loves his job and freedom. The federal agent has been calmly staring at him all the while he was quiet and daydreaming.


“Now Lieutenant will you give me what I want or do I go over your head? “ she asked as he shapely legs crossed over at the knees and her hands cupped together on her laps.
“You do just that. “ Wilton stood from the chair as he pushed it backwards with the legs scraping loudly on the floor. He came around behind her to the door pulling out the trench coat and checking the pocket for the cigarette pack. The pocket was empty which reminded him that he threw away the pack before getting to the precinct this morning. Damn, he needed the smoke to calm his stretched nerves. “I will only make recommendations to my superior but who will handle the case is off my hands. But if you want to pursue this case by going the drug angle, you may end up getting no headway especially as you may not have full idea of how the Organized crime families work here in New York. “


“Oh don’t worry about that, I have done my research. “ Elaine dug her hand into her bag and pulled out a laptop. Powering it up, after going through several files, she settled on one opening it. “I know that the five boroughs that makes up the New York city all have a mafia criminal family heading it. Don Nestore Nazzareno heads the mafia syndicate here in Brooklyn. Bronx is under the firm grips of Don Enzo Freddie Buccaccio. Manhattan is controlled by Don Baggio “Biggie” Gioacchino. Don Bonazzi Carrallero rules Queens and Staten Island is Don Marte “Murder” Lambertenghi’s stumping grounds . “

Wilton’s face turned red. “You know what mess you, and f.uck your DEA office. F.uck all the stupid fools in Wonderland who thinks dropping you on our ass is a pretty good idea. “
The Lieutenant didn’t mind the change on the young lady’s face on his sudden outburst. He was damn tired of kissing asses. He had kissed asses enough today and he wasn’t putting his mouth on any other shit hole again. The fire service had called him, that was completely routine. Then the ATF had called him too with their own brand of federal bullshit. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the insurance company for Landlink Logistics had called too for full disclosure of all reports on the outcome of the investigations, failure to do so will make them sue the precinct. Damn and now a girl who is just a kid, who wasn’t probably born yet when he had put on the uniform is her making her own brand of threats.


“You don’t like my decision, kiss my stinking ass. I won’t change it for you nor the captain not even for the commissioner. I have had enough of your jurisdictional crap. You feds think you’re the greatest thing on God’s green earth. You come all flying down to us from your cloud floating Olympus of Washington DC and the rest of us lowly mortals will have to bow to every of your whims and worship you.
“Here’s the heads-up girl, I won’t do that. I’m tired of you federales treating hard working police officers as if they are nothing but cannon fodder to be sacrifice for the greater good of your career advancement. You want your narcotics to lead the investigations? Be my guest but it will be without the support of this precinct if I have any say in it. And if the captain forces me to do otherwise, I promise to sabotage the mission every single time. That is a promise you can take to the bank. “

“Well I believe this is part of a product trail we have been pursuing right across the border from Mexico through Miami only for it to get to the east coast and vanish totally. This is what brought me here. “
“I do sympathize, Miss Elaine, but we don’t have enough to work with. “
“Well you do now, “ the DEA agent threw a file on the table to him. “That is a report from a coast guard's arrest of a barge which is believed to be fleeing away from your crime scene. Test samples from the barge shows traces of narcotics aboard. “


“So any lead from there? “
“None yet, Lieutenant. Those arrested on board are still being interrogated. That’s why I came here. “
“Like I said earlier, we don’t have enough to tie a drug angle on this. “
“And whom are you pushing it to? “
“The Organized crime unit. There is more on this which links it to organized crime than to homicide or narcotics. “
“I beg to differ, Lieutenant. I think with my new report, we now have more to give this to my narcotic unit. “ Elaine said with a steeled voice.


Anger flared all of a sudden through Wilton but he did his best to calm his emotions. The captain expects him to cuddle this Federal agent that has been dropped into the 88th precinct’s lap. “Too late. I already recommended the Organized crime to handle the investigations. They already have an early lead.”
“Well I’m countering your recommendations. I suggest you let the narcotics take over this. The Organized crime will be duly briefed and carried along and will be given every bit of Intel they need but narcotics will head the investigation. “


“Sorry Miss, I can’t agree to that. “
After a cold smile, she looked up at the Lieutenant. “Don’t embarrass yourself, I can always go over you and have your superior give me what I want. “

A young blonde lady stepped in through the door as it opened and she closed it back quietly. The lady wore a dark colored business suit, with a short tight fitting skirt. A high necked satin shirt was worn underneath the suit. Her blonde hair was pulled back and packed in a bum behind her head. She has a long slim face, round almond eyes with a look that screams mid twenties. She came in with a brief case, taking one of the chair before Lieutenant Wilton’s table without being invited to . Her name is agent Elaine Thillier, a DEA liaison officer to the NYPD. She had come from DC with official backing investigating a narcotics pipeline from Mexico through Florida into New York and New Jersey then from there outside the country.


She had worked with the officers down south, that is where she had met sergeant Jim and they both had come this way tracing the pipeline. She had been instrumental to the native American’s redeployment from Florida to New York. She has shown herself to be a pain in the ass that Wilton can do without. Federal agents everywhere in the country treat real hard working police officers with little respect, condescendingly as if they are better. Well Elaine isn’t any different.
“Hello Lieutenant Wilton. “ she said as her eyes bore unto the police officer’s tired face.


“Can you please drop the last name bit and just call me Fritz. We have known each other long enough to get beyond the last name habits. “ Wilton searched and saw his half empty coffee cup already too cold due to neglect. “Besides I prefer an unofficial atmosphere, it helps remove unnecessary clogs and aids efficiency. “
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather keep up with last name basis Lieutenant. “ she said adjusting a sitting position to give more room for her as she sort for a place to put her briefcase on the table. Finding none, she dropped it on the linoleum floor beside the chair she was sitting on. “That helps to keep things in perspectives and defines the boundaries of our relationships. “


“You wound me Miss Elaine. I have a daughter that is a few years shy of your age. I am a divorced man, getting entangled with a woman right now is the least of things I will be thinking of doing. “ Wilton’s eyes searched for his cigarette pack, not for any desire for a smoke, but he knows his audience hates smoking and that might just keep her away from his hair. He swore silently when he remembered that his last pack might still be in the pocket of his trench coat hung on a hook by the door.


“That’s not my reason for coming here. “ She sat up straightly her hands clasped and placed on the littered table. “From the incidents reports I got about the crime scene you were some hours ago, there seem to be a drug burst. “
“No drug burst, ma’am, “ it grilled the Lieutenant that he had been ordered from above to handle her with kid gloves. From what the captain had told him “Kiss her ass and if possible lick her crap “, so he had to act in politeness that he doesn’t feel. “We could only get destroyed residue the lab guys believe is cocaine. But we didn’t get enough of that to make a case from. “

In criminal investigations, it is believed that all crimes have motives. What does the available evidence points to about the motive of the attack? Nothing. It definitely wasn’t a deal gone bad, it wasn’t to steal or cart away the money, drugs and weapons. If it was a cartel war, then the place wasn’t completely burnt down. And besides it was just one target. Could someone be trying to make a statement? A supremacy tussle? He wouldn’t want a repeat of the supremacy wars years ago that ended up splitting the five boroughs of New York city among the five mafia family heads with each borough, the turf of a family and the other smaller cartels falling in line or getting kicked out.


At the end of that war, relative peace had settled on New York with just the normal day to day crime they are used to handling. So is a new crime boss trying to muscle his way in and announcing his arrival in a big way? Too many questions and no answers. This will be a job for organized crime division as they already have an ongoing investigation into the mafia family heads. Anyway he will recommend that in his report to the captain. Deon is a hard working officer and can carry on the investigations into this. He already has his contacts already in place. Well Wilton is sure the captain will hand this all over to him. Good to always have a handy hardworking officer around.


A quiet knock sounded at the door to his office. The leather backed chair didn’t give him the relaxation he expected, his body felt stiff. The knock jolted him and he took a quick look at his disorganized office, hoping that isn’t the captain standing at his door. His office is just a small cubicle, with a metal file cabinet by the right, a wooden table and of course his leather chair. Two other chairs were before him across the table. On top the table are files scattered which contains all the reports he had been going through. A waste bin was by the door, already overflowing with torn papers. A desk top system occupied the other half of his table and a telephone covered a smaller part. Unlike other police precinct arrangement, his office has total privacy so he couldn’t tell who is standing at the door. The knock came again and he called for the person to come in.

12.48pm EST

Lieutenant Fritz Wilton had sat with the several pages of reports before his table for over thirty minutes now and still hasn’t come to a clearer understanding of what happened at the Landlink Logistics’ dock than before the reports came in. Deon had done a thorough job and had gathered everything from the coroner, ballistics and forensics then put them in an orderly file which is all in disarray at the moment. His eyes sting from lack of sleep. He hasn’t been able to sleep when he got back home. His mind was occupied about what he witnessed.


Considering that the captain had ordered him to investigate what happened there and give him reliable recommendations today has kept his mind busy. The ever faithful alarm had shrieked in his ears, cutting short his long introspections before he got out of bed. His office floor at the 88th precinct was as busy as usual. Officers , uniformed and plain clothes going about their allotted daily duties. The whole floor was filled with tables, chairs and monitors blinking with hands typing on keyboards and Xerox machines churning copies of documents. Suspects were brought in and processed, most on handcuffs, bail applications were dealt with and lawyers attended to, all marks of a regular working day at the precinct.


Talking about lawyers, he was disappointed but wasn’t surprised that before he arrived at the precinct, a mob lawyer had come in and asked for the Don’s man to be released and that happened. Well there was really nothing serious they could tie him with anyway.
What he was going to tell the captain was what was his greatest concern now. Reports from ballistics had come in and apart from those who died of knife wounds the rest were killed by gun shots with bullets that came from just two guns. The 4.6x30mm cartridge is exclusive to one type of weapon, a Heckler & Koch MP7. A close quarter fight weapon which says a lot about how the victims were killed.


The killer or killers must have been in close proximity of the fight. The other results showed that fewer of the dead died from a .44magnum bullet wounds which could have come from any number of hand guns. Evidence available will want to convince the hardlined officer that one man did all that damage. That may look all well and good on a Hollywood action movie flick, but real life events doesn’t work that way. As a pragmatic officer with years of experience behind him in the police force, his practical view is going against the evidence. That is not just the only problem he has to clear up with the captain.

Lorenzo’s eyes seems to loose focus for a while as if lost in thought, which got the Don worried that he might be passing out. “It was just one man. “
“One man? That’s not possible considering the amount of damage done. “ The Don almost screamed.
“Believe me boss, I’m sure, it was just a man. I saw him clearly. “ Lorenzo tried raising his head for emphasis but it was an impossible task. “I saw him when the light came on after it went off. I saw him standing there as if he was a ghost, but he was not though he might have moved like one. I saw him with guns, he shoots and with each of his shot one of us went down. “


“I’m not doubting you saw a man. There are others who were with him, maybe hidden in the darkness. Like you said the light went off and came on again. They may have supported him then. “ Nestore hates second guessing the consigliere like this but what he is saying makes no sense. “There are others there you didn’t see, trust me on that. “
“It was just a man. “ Lorenzo insisted weakly as if he didn’t hear what was said. “He came to me with a message for you. “


“Who is he and what message did he bring? “ the Don was almost skeptical and would have chuckled too if not for the gravity of the situation.
“He called himself Penance. He said he is coming for you, he will make you pay. “
“Penance? What kind of name is that? “ The head of the Nazzareno family scoffed despite himself. “Did you see his face? Can you describe him? “
“No boss, his face was covered. All his body was covered. Even his eyes were covered with a kind of white goggles. Boss he is a dangerous one. “


Nestore sat there for a long time, his hands clasped together under his chin as he considered what everything he has heard portents. He has known Lorenzo for years, he is not a one to exaggerates nor lie about an issue to save his skin . So if things really happened the way he just described, the Don might not be preparing for an offensive but to defend and stay alive. But what the consigliere just said is preposterous. Unless…no that is not possible. The chances are too remote for that to happen to him. But what if… The heavy implications of that thought hit him hard and the Don who doesn’t scare easily found a thin line of perspiration breaking upon his brow.


That is not even remotely possible, he thought finally but still personal investigation shouldn’t be put off. Actions need to be taken. He had lost big on this, both his southern connection and some oversea markets all gone within a night. Even if Lorenzo couldn’t give him much to work with, he has other means of ferreting things out.
When he looked up from his brooding, he saw the consigliere fallen into a deep sleep. Possibly the nurse earlier had given him a sedative which had started to take effect. The Don’s steps were no longer as confident and self assured as they were when he came in. He heads out of the room flanked by his men. Those who looked closely at him might had concluded that the change in his demeanor is as a result of the state he found his consigliere. It was impossible to imagine that the Don can be afraid.

He was saddened seeing his consigliere this weak and vulnerable on a hospital bed. Lorenzo has always been strong. They had been together right from the days they had started as street thugs. Lorenzo has always been his staunchest supporter. They had joined the mob together and grew through the ranks. When he had left to set up his own family, Lorenzo had joined him naturally. And the consigliere has sown himself always loyal without too much ambitions. It’s the closest thing the Don has to a friend or trusted ally. But in this business you can’t keep long standing friend or trust someone too much, it interfere with business and gets in the way of you doing what needs to be done. Lorenzo has been the only exception he knows . He saw the eyes of the bed ridden man flutter. That means he is conscious and time to get some answers.


“Glad to see you made it out of there alive, consigliere. “ Nestore had decided to use his official name to create the impression that this is not a social call but a business visit.
“Boss we were attacked. “ Lorenzo seem to catch on to that and replied by giving the information as soon as he can despite the difficulty he had of speaking well. His chest felt like it’s burning and his throat parched. “I’m sorry boss but there was nothing we could do. It happened too quickly. And Bill got whacked right before my eyes. I’m really sorry about this boss. “


It would have sounded really lame had it come from any other person but Lorenzo. He knows the consigliere is a dedicated man so whatever he said happened, happened that way. The death of Bill is a serious blow to him. Bill has been the man he had used to open up a new territory down south and it had worked. Products were been shipped up here from there which had expanded his market share immensely. Bill also had deep connections for his weapons deal. With Bill on his team, there was no shortage of hardware both for use and sale.


His lose will be felt greatly and a fool who thought to weaken him decided to take out Bill. That shows one thing, that who ever ordered this hit knows about his family business structure enough to know that taking out Bill will hurt his business.
“Don’t worry about that Lorenzo, I know you did your best. Just happy you are alive to supply me with information about who did this. “ The Don took his time, pulled an empty chair close by to him and bending his face close to the slowly breathing man. “Any idea who are those who did this? “

To call what the Don was feeling at the moment anger is an understatement. His heart boiled in turmoil and rage. Someone has foolishly insulted him by disrupting his business, destroying his merchandise, killing his men and good customers, then adding to the insult by injuring his consigliere. This is a personal attack on his person. It didn’t take the Don long to conclude that the attack was aimed at him directly. He was supposed to be at the dock last night if not for the last minute changes that made Lorenzo switch places with him. Who could be responsible for this? It doesn’t matter, who ever it is has just declared war on his family generally and him directly.


Once he finds out who was behind this cowardly act, he won’t need the approval of the New York council of Dons to go to war. And if it’s one of the other Dons on New York, trying to muscle his way in to his turf, feeling the Nazzareno’s family is getting weak, well Nestore will teach them a lesson. All he just needs is a name or description and the rest is history. He has never been stronger than now, his hold on the Brooklyn underworld is secured. The other smaller cartels have learnt their places, painfully and learn to keep to it.


The Mexicans and Russians have learnt the ropes the hard way and are indirectly working for him now. The Chinese cartel had all but disappeared from this city after he had gone after them heavily when they had failed to learn that Brooklyn belongs to the Nazzareno. Now maybe a cartel needs to be taught a lesson or could it be another mafioso family. It doesn’t matter, nothing will stop their payback as soon as Lorenzo is able to give him some details. That’s one mistake the attackers made, they allowed his consigliere to stay alive. That’s fortunate for him, it will make tracking these enemies easier with the information Lorenzo will give to him. And if it’s a fellow New York Don involved, the council of Dons better not stand in his way of revenge.


Looking through the open door, he saw the consigliere lying on a bed, his chest heavily bandaged, one of his hand was placed in a POP cast and hooked up to life support machines with blinking lights. When the report of the attack had gotten to the Don and he was told that his consigliere was in police custody, he didn’t waste anytime but sent his well paid lawyer to go get him out of there. Before it was 7 am, his lawyer was already at the precinct effecting the consigliere’s bail. Since there was nothing they could hold him on, they couldn’t keep him more than that time.


So Lorenzo was released to him from the police hospital he was being attended to and allowed to be taken to a private hospital. St. Annie is one of his hospitals, though not directly linked to the Nazzareno’s family business but it’s still a well known secret that this hospital belongs to him. It is a state of the art hospital that provided for the immediate treatment of his foot soldiers who get injured while on the job. He was confident the consigliere will get the best medical attention and care here.

Sorry for the late update. Been busy with other stuff and power outage has really crippled me. Anyway back to business...


9.45am EST
The gleaming white Rolls-Royce phantom VIII came to a stop before the entrance of St. Annie hospital along the wide road of Mc Donald Avenue in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, accompanied by four other cars, two before and two behind, all black in color, making the exotic vehicle stand out clearly. The four vehicles, two of them, Range Rover SUVs and the other two were Buick sedans, had their doors open one after the other and men on dark colored business suits stepped out of them.


The heavy bulge on their chests were evidences that they are armed. About a dozen of them stood, watching all sides of the street keenly, at the people and vehicles passing on both ways. When they were satisfied with the result, one of them went to the Rolls-Royce to tap briefly at the glass. Both back doors and the shotgun door of the car opened at once. Three men in suits too stepped out one of them standing by the door as another man came out. He was on a white suit, worn over a white shirt with white shoes. A white fedora hat covered his head. He appeared as a man in his early sixties, the lines of age already marking their territories on his face.


Full gray with brown short hairs pokes below the line of the fedora. He was of average height, with medium build that the rounded waist has yet to spoil. The early morning sunlight glints on a wire rim glasses that covered his round blue eyes. Don Nestore Nazzareno is making an unscheduled visit of the hospital. He wasted no time lagging at the car but walked rather briskly for one his age, to the double glass doors of the hospital entrance passed through the unformed security men at the door, who didn’t make any move to stop him as he heads to the foyer.


Two of the dark suited men walked ahead of the Don as he took quick steps, while four followed behind, eyes looking around at the well dressed nurses on their uniforms and patients who scrambled to get out of the way. The other six stayed back outside to watch the entrance of the hospital. The noisy din in the wide foyer died down as the group passed and got into a lift which whisked closed with most of the patients in the hospital looking surprised but the hospital staff went back to their duties without raising as much as an eyebrow.


When the lift door slide back at the twelfth floor of the block building of St. Annie’s hospital which happens to be the top floor, the Don stepped out followed by his half a dozen body guards. They came into a wide corridor with few doors on both sides. One of the door further away had two men on suits standing guard. The door opened and a female nurse, on her white gown, stepped out carrying a stainless try with empty containers on them. She passed the coming group without lifting her head or even offering a greeting. The two men at the door nodded slowly in greeting to the arriving group of the Don. Nestore Nazzareno stood quietly for a while before the closed door then with a curt nod, one of them opened the door for him to step in.

“Sergeant Jim, glad you could join us. “ Deon grinned, squeezing his nose a bit trying to dislodge the lingering smell of smoke and burnt flesh he had inhaled due to the long time spent around the partly burnt warehouse.
“Sorry to come in late sir, “ Jim said to the Lieutenant instead. “I was on my way to drop a buddy at home who was too drunk to drive when the call came over the radio. “


“Oh, didn’t know Longarrow still indulge in the fire water. Thought you knew better. “ Deon quickly chipped in before the Lieutenant.
“Yes, like I may just have to take your scalp with me when I’m through here. “ Jim smiled with a gleam in his eyes as he joined the index and middle fingers of his right hand mimicking a knife going through his forehead.
Deon laughed over that but stopped when he saw the Lieutenant impassive face despite their short banter. Sergeant James “Jim” Longarrow, was a new addition to their precinct sent from Florida to come as a support staff for their narcotics team. He has been valuable at tracking and halting drug pipelines from the south side to the eastern coast.


Whistling after taking a casual look over the scene he stood close to Deon. “The call over the radio didn’t really state how bad it is. This is a disaster right here. “
“We are not sure of what happened and initial reports are not pointing us on any specific direction. “ Wilton squeezed the now empty cup of coffee and threw it over his shoulder then dropped the glowing stub of the cigarette. “Things may clear up later after autopsies and full reports from forensics and ballistics. “
“Heard over there while passing, “ Jim said pointing at three uniformed officers speaking together. “That some drugs were discovered? Made me think this might have a narcotics angle in it. “



“Yes but not enough left to make a positive case for you boys in narcotics. “ Nodding his head Deon’s way, Wilton added. “I think this is more in the organized crime alley. “
Silence descended as the three of them looked on with the coroners lifting the dead bodies in bags in to their wagons for transport to the morgue. The Lieutenant hissed unconsciously thinking about the mountain height of paper reports he has to prepare and present to the captain later today. His body craves sleeping like a drowning man craves air but he knows that will be denied him today and several days after. What just happened is unprecedented. Everybody will want answers and he will be seen as the source. When they come down on the police department, the commissioner will come down hard on the chief, the chief will come down on the captain and the captain will select him, as the most decorated officer in the precinct and dump all on him. And who does he have to pour it all on? Oh now that’s just a good idea which might just work.


“Sergeant Deon you are a lucky man. “ Lieutenant Wilton said suddenly.
“Really? Why do you think so? “ Alfonzo Deon didn’t like the sound of the Lieutenant’s voice one bit. This isn’t going to be good.
“As seeing that we are not doing anything here any more except get in the way of these people doing their jobs, it’s a good idea we should be going. So you have been selected. “ Turning away from the two sergeants, Wilton dug both hands in his coat pockets and heads for the perimeter of the crime scene demarcation.


“Selected for what sir? “
Stopping for a while, the Lieutenant turned with both ends of his lips lifting up in a wicked smile. “To prepare the paper work for all the reports on ground at this scene. Send it to my office before noon and I will be giving it to the captain soon after. “
“Oh crap! “ Deon wailed hitting the palm of his hand on his forehead.
“Yea lots of crap hitting the ventilation shafts today. “ Lieutenant Fritz Wilton resumed his walk, crossed the crime scene tape line heading for his parked car.

Signing after drawning the whole cup in a single gulp, Wilton grumbled. “I know Deon. The whole thing is just absurd. If this is the start of a mob war like we suspected, the whole place would have been burnt down not just part of it. The guys in here were heavily armed. Even at a surprise attack, at least there would have been casualties from the other side, which appears not to be the case. So if this was a deal gone bad or a double cross, why destroy the merchandise after killing the opponents? I can’t help but feel there are things we are over looking, what they are, I have no idea. “


The sergeant was about to say something when a sudden shriek of tires forced to stop at once by immediate application of break sounded behind them. They turned together to watch a 1992 blue colored Cadillac Deville come to a sudden stop just before hitting the police cars barricade that formed part of the perimeter of the crime scene. A tall native American wearing a brown colored skin coat stepped off the car. He showed his badge to the unformed policemen standing by the barricade before he was allowed in.


His tight fitting chinos trousers was worn over a brown colored moccasins soft soled shoes. His dark hair was combed backwards in a shinny shin. His eyes were small round holes over a thin long eyebrows with squared jaws. A shoulder holster was under his coat which held a Glock 19 pistol which was more popular with the NYPD officers.

Nostradamus:
Apollux cum kontunu na.i gat one question,is penance a scientifically modified assassin or a supernatural being?how does he acquire those strange abilities?

Sorry o. Power outage has been giving me serious challenge. As to ur question, you will have to be patient to find out.

A younger man wearing a windbreaker was coming from the other end where a NYPD special utility vehicle was packed. He was holding two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee heading for the Lieutenant as if he read his mind. Sergeant Alfonso Deon of the Organized crime handed one of the steaming cup of coffee to the Lieutenant as he stood before him. The sergeant was just a few centimeters taller than the Lieutenant, his well built body evidenced even through the heavy clothing. He was wearing a black colored plain cotton trousers. A black leather shoe covered his feet.


A rumpled starched blue stripped white shirt, that looked like he slept in it was worn under the windbreaker. A waist holster was holding a SIG Sauer P226 pistol, one of the standard issued hand gun for the NYPD officers. Wilton accepted the cup with a silent thanks sip slowly at the hot liquid. The coffee was strong just as he likes it, he drank from the cup carefully knowing this is the first of several cups he will drawn today.


“This looks like a mess in what ever form you try to see it. “ Deon said as he noticed the look on his superior’s face. “We won’t really be able to tell much of what happened here until we get the full report from autopsy and then ballistics gives us their expert views on the bullets removed from the bodies. “
The Lieutenant grunted as all these had played over his mind all the while he had been standing alone brooding.


“ The little forensic guys could gather from pieces of exploded weapons and ammunition, a major arms deal was going on. “ the Sergeant sip again cautiously from the Styrofoam cup, then made a face. The coffee was bitter, he had asked them at the dispenser to make it same with the one the Lieutenant will be drinking. “They have been able to identify pieces of machine guns and RPG tubes. Assault rifles and undetonated explosives. “
Deon dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a halfway burnt dollar bill. “And lots of this were left lying around. “


“Dammit Deon, you can’t take that, that’s crime scene evidence. “ the Lieutenant snapped.
“Yea I know. Already cleared it with the forensic guys, who had gone over it and gotten all they can get from it. “ He brought the blackened burnt bill closer. “I brought it so you can take a look and say something about it. “
“I already saw enough of them earlier when I was in the warehouse. “
“Ok maybe a closer look then? “ the sergeant looked thoughtful for a while, straining his eyes at the bill in the light as he sips from the hot cup. “The forensic guy from residual remains of plastic explosives on the notes. This shows that the money weren’t actually destroyed by the fire, at least not initially but were blown up in the explosion. This adds to the list of things that are not lined up in this. Who ever attacked this place wasn’t interested in the money, goods or drugs. “

A tiny bit of light had shown in this huge confusion as a patrol team had caught someone fleeing the scene of the crime on foot, he had been bruised and injured. A tiny hand gun was recovered from him. At the moment he is under going treatment and in custody. What sweeten this news is the identity of the runner. Diogini Lorenzo, Don Nazzareno’s right hand man. This will really make all these clear if he will be willing to talk but it may be hard to tie him into all these since he wasn’t really caught on the scene. Besides it made sense in a way because it was a known fact on the Organized Crime Unit Intel that Landlink Logistics is one of a subsidiary companies owned and run by one of the New York mafia, though they haven’t been able to pinpoint which of the mob family.


The company is a legit one, without any violation and always up on their payment of taxes and dues. In the books, Landlink Logistics is as clean as a whistle but underneath, it’s a whole ball game. Suspicions that this dock, like few others, have been used to move drugs and other contraband across the state and beyond has been on but no amount of investigations have been able to prove them. None of the snitches the NYPD relied on were of any help. Well lots of dirty cops whose pockets have been well lined by the Mafioso had added its own level of difficulty to the investigations. But the presence of Lorenzo tonight might just throw a whole new light into everything or might not.


Considering that the mafia members always take an oath of silence punishable by instant death when broken. He wasn’t really hopeful Lorenzo will say anything. Besides he won’t stay long enough in custody for thorough interrogation. Soon the well paid lawyers of the mob will be at the precinct to demand for his bail. Since they have nothing concrete on him, they can’t hold him for long. Sighing again, Wilton wished he can just discard with doing things by the book for just one day with these bloody mafias, it will clean up the streets more than the police efforts for years. But damnit he can’t have his way.


More than twenty bodies killed in a condition that looked like a war zone isn’t something the Lieutenant feels like dealing with right now. He was tired. Almost twenty five years in the force and seeing all kinds of things can do that to you. He was sleeping alone when the call for this had come. Having been divorced years ago and his daughter away in college, he had no one to share his house with, not even a pet. With grays shooting through his black hairs, his strength wasn’t what they used to be. Time was when he would have looked for an assignment like this and pursue it vigorously but he guessed experience has a way of removing the edge from things.


Something caught his eyes as the coroner’s people brought out a body and placed in the body bag. He walked silently to the place watching as the coroner zipped up the bag. This was the man with the foreign passport. What is a Nigerian doing at a mob deal? Well he doesn’t know much about that African country, he might have to go and find out more but he is damn sure his been here is way odd. What dealings has the mob got to do with West Africans? Arabs is not hard to figure out but west Africans? Damn he needs a coffee.

The Lieutenant shook his head sadly as what his eyes saw depressed him the more he looks at it. The guys from the city morgue were pulling out bodies from the burnt ruins and placing them in body bags which were being transferred to their wagons for transport. Wilton stopped counting as the dead bodies got to fifteen. Preliminary findings had indicated that there might be more than twenty corpses in all. Two had been found on different areas outside the compound. Within the floor of the dock were about ten of them with gun shot and knife wounds. He believed the ones inside the burnt warehouse will probably be more and in a way he was proven right.


Despite the horror of the place, everyone here were doing their job efficiently as if it’s just another busy day not minding that normally they all should be on their beds at this time catching on some shut eyes. Minutes earlier , the boys from forensic accompanied by two of the fire fighter investigators had come to him with some reports. The fire was actually caused by explosions with the use of plastic explosives. They also said that their initial findings showed that the explosions were worsened by the blowing up of ammunition stored within the warehouse due to the intense heat on them. Wilton only grunted after their reports and they returned back to work.


Explosions caused by plastic explosives, blowing up ammunition and people killed by gun shot wounds, this is nothing but war. But who is fighting who? Here the mystery continues to deepen. He had seen some of the bodies salvaged with just superficial burns on them. He had seen those that looks like Arabs. Among the black males brought out, while searching, one of them had a foreign passport on him. The others looked like natives though some of them don’t look like New Yorkers at all. What happened here? It’s clear there was a fight, but what caused it? The burnt residue of a white power has been checked and confirmed to be cocaine, though it will still be taken to the lab for full analysis but preliminary findings points unerringly that is what the substance is.


So there’s guns and ammunition then narcotics with people that are obviously foreigners. This is a text book style of a criminal deal going on. So what now led to the killings? Could the deal have gone wrong and they started shooting at each other? The Lieutenant wished it was as simple as that. The two dead bodies recovered outside this dock’s compound were obviously snipers watching the compound. How could their deaths be accounted for or the ones watching the gate who were killed at their posts? Each time he tries to wrap his head around this, his eyes seem to spin. From the local dead boys, there are some he could recognize who had been under the NYPD’s watch.


Carlos, Bruno and Antonio are all either singing with the angels now or dancing with the devil. They belonged to the Nazzareno syndicate. Besides the recognition, everyone who was killed here tonight was armed with varying types of firearms. That in itself might not be a crime, of course people still have licenses to bear firearms. But no license in this state allows a civilian to carry assault rifles like an AK 47. These boys were mobsters on a deal so why kill themselves?

CHAPTER TWO


4.11am EST


The burning sting from a forgotten cigarette stick burnt the fingers of NYPD Lieutenant Fritz Wilton which caused him to drop the offending item and squash the dim glow under his shoes. His other hand dropped quickly into the side pocket of his brown trench coat to bring out a new pack of cigarette as he sucked on the diminishing burning sensation on his right fingers.


Pulling out a new cigarette, he recalled his father’s words years ago. The senior Wilton forming a serious face at his son when he knew he had picked up the smoking habit again, said, “These things will fry your brains “. The two fingers he pointed at his policeman son was holding a smoking stick of cigarette. When both their eyes fell on the smoking stick, they had broken into an uncontrollable laugh. That was seven years before the lung cancer took him which had led Fritz Wilton to give up smoking almost totally. Seeing the s.hits that goes on in this city, one can’t stay far from those cancer sticks for too long.


Hitting his late fifties, the Lieutenant had seen enough human promoted evil to last several life times. His usual assumption that he had seen it all and nothing else will surprise him has been proven wrong, brutally today. In his early days as a young police officer, he had witnessed several gangs and mob wars, seen the results of drive by shootings, alley mobbing, arson and assassinations. All of that pale into insignificance when paired with what he is just witnessing.


“What that hell. “ he hissed, sticking the fresh cigarette into his mouth and lighting it up. The passage of the smoke through his nose and mouth seem to calm him a little as he looked once more around him.
The compound around the dock area was a beehive of activities. Bright halogen lamps on mobile stands have been set up within the perimeter created by the yellow colored crime scene marker. The white lights from the halogen bulbs mixed with the flashing blue and red ones from the severally parked squad vehicles combined to give the place a ghost like hue. Blaring sirens of ambulances arriving add cacophony of sounds to the confusing sights.


Fire trucks had arrived shortly after the first police cars got to the scene and radioed back to the precinct that there are explosions and fire burning. The fire fighters had dosed the flame and less than half of the burning warehouse and the contents in them were rescued. The fire trucks were leaving now in their own blasts of sirens having done their major duties though a few of their personnel are on ground to work with the forensic guys and determining the cause of the fire. Police officers in uniforms patrol the perimeter set, keeping back unauthorized individuals from getting beyond and interrupt the delicate investigations going on at the crime scene. The unauthorized individuals includes the press who are already here at this odd hour. Well hand it to New York anyway, the city that never sleeps.