Lowball

Galahad in Blue
Part Nine

Franny had flashed A badge at a cabbie, and shoved the handcuffed Berman into the back of the cab. He hadn’t been gentle. They had wasted weeks, even shut down the investigation when all the while this man had held the key. And had kept silent while people died. Thinking about Father Squid and all the others trapped in a nightmare had Franny’s hands clenching in impotent rage.

Wingman goggled at him as he blew in the door of the precinct, shoving the producer ahead of him. “Book this asshole.”

“Okay. For what?”

“Attempted murder, assaulting a police officer, kidnapping, conspiracy … hell, being an asshole for that matter. Captain?”

“He’s in,” Homer said, still looking poleaxed.

Franny nodded. Homer called down to Sergeant Squinch and took control of Berman. Franny pushed through into the bullpen. Michael Stevens, seated at his desk, looked at him. Strain had etched lines around his eyes. He looked like a man who had lost everything. Franny ignored him, strode across the room to the office door, gave one pre-emptory knock and walked in. Maseryk looked up, a Jovian frown creasing his forehead. Surprisingly Mendelberg was also there, seated in a chair across the desk from the older man.

“Black, what the fuck?” the joker woman asked.

“I know where they’re holding our missing jokers,” Franny said. The two captains exchanged glances.

“Yeah, we do too,” Mendelberg said.

Maseryk shot her a glance. “That might be a bit of an overstatement. We know they’re someplace that ends in stan.”

“How did you? Never mind … I’ve got more than that. They’re in Kazakhstan, in a town called Talas,” Franny said.

“Kazakhstan,” Mendelberg repeated as if she were tasting the word.

Looking down into those bloodred eyes Frank remembered how Mendelberg had shut down the investigation, browbeaten him for arguing. He couldn’t control it, he snapped, “Do you want me to spell it for you?”

That brought Maseryk out of his chair. “You better fucking climb down, Detective.”

Mendelberg surprised him. She waved it off. “It’s okay, Thomas.” She turned back to Franny. “Where did you come by this?”

“Berman. He’s being processed right now.”

“You arrested him,” Mendelberg said slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Franny laid out what had occurred at the condo. For a moment the two captains just blinked at him, then Mendelberg reverted to form.

“Why is a SCARE agent involved in an NYPD investigation?”

“He had resources I … why are we talking about Norwood? Why aren’t we-”

“Tell me everything,” Maseryk ordered.

“That could take a while.”

“Give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

So Franny walked them through it all. How the dead joker on a rural highway in New Jersey linked up with a SCARE investigation of smuggling. How the body led to the dog-training facility. How Jamal had run the names of the dead Russians that linked them to the KGB, how the DVDs had led to an American Hero cameraman, which had led to Berman, and how Berman had provided to the mysterious and very scary Baba Yaga the names of jokers who had auditioned for American Hero. “It sounds like there’s a lot of former KGB goons so we better have SWAT-”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Maseryk interrupted. “This is Fort Freak. NYPD Fifth Precinct. We don’t have jurisdiction in Brooklyn, much less fucking Kazakhstan.”

“And even if we could act how the hell would we get there? Flying carpet?” Mendelberg chimed in.

“We’ve got that handled.”

Maseryk came out of his chair again. “You are not going to cause a diplomatic incident. And neither am I.”

“So what? We’re going to do nothing? These people are being killed.” Franny clenched his teeth before even more intemperate words could emerge.

“Black, my first partner here, thirty years ago, taught me one hard lesson: when in doubt do nothing. Otherwise you’re sure as fuck going to make things worse.” The captain continued, forestalling the objections he saw rising to Franny’s lips. “Now, nothing doesn’t mean nothing. The first thing we’re going to do is contact the State Department. Then I’ll get on the horn to the UN, see if I can reach Lohengrin and the Committee. Your buddy can tell his people at SCARE. We rattle enough cages this Baba Yaga may shut down the operation.”

“And bury the evidence. Literally.” Franny spun and headed for the door.

“Black! Where are you going?” Mendelberg yelled after him.

“To do something.”

“You walk out of here … it’s your career,” Maseryk warned.

“It’s my soul if I don’t.”

Conversations in the bullpen were subdued. Franny realized the reality of a fight if not the details had penetrated to the assembled cops. Michael intercepted him before he reached the door. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

“How did you…?”

Michael shrugged. “There’s a place in the hall where every word from the captain’s office comes through the vent. My dad showed me. I’m your partner, Franny. I haven’t been a very good one up till now. Let me see if I can do something about that.”

Franny read the shame and the sincerity in Michael’s eyes. Jamal was sick, barely on his feet. Having another person … Franny shook his head. “You’ve got a kid. And I’ve heard you’re getting married.”

“Maybe not,” Michael muttered.

Franny didn’t have time to inquire. “Look, I appreciate it, but no. Now I’ve gotta go before the brass finds some way to arrest me.”