Lethal Rage (24 page)

“I still don't understand why he dropped the charges. So what if he's got an alibi? Dude, it's the Crown's job to prove it's a lie.”

Jack shrugged. Manny wasn't saying anything Jack hadn't said or thought a thousand times already. “Welcome to the Canadian legal system. The best system in the world. If you're a criminal, that is.”

“It's not right, man. It's not fucking right. What about him killing your snitch in the street? They didn't drop those charges, too, did they?”

“As quick as loose shit. The fucking wimp of a Crown said my ID on that one was even worse than when he killed Sy. So Charles walks free.”

They were heading to the Second Cup for the evening's first hit of caffeine. They hadn't cleared with the dispatcher yet and as far as Jack cared they could stay off her screen all night. Manny was usually gung-ho enough for both of them, but this afternoon even he seemed unmotivated to do police work.

“Why bother? Why fucking bother?” Jack swept his hand to encompass both sides of the street. “Why do we risk our lives to arrest these assholes when the courts, the politicians, the media never support us? Hell, our own command officers don't support us. They'd rather stand by and do nothing while the SIU fucks us over every way they can, destroying our lives, our marriages, our jobs by laying bullshit criminal charges even if there's evidence proving we're innocent. They'd rather wait until the trial's over and say, ‘See? We knew our officers were innocent.' Never mind that for the last two or three years the coppers' lives have been put on hold and they've been fucked over by a bunch of civilians who've probably never been in a police car. Fuck!”

Jack fell silent, brooding out the open window. “I don't know why we do it, Manny. I really don't.”

“Because somebody has to,” Manny replied softly.

Jack gave him a quizzical look. “What are you babbling about?”

“We do it because someone has to. We're not the type to sit back and complain about a problem. We do something about it. It's what we do.” He looked at Jack, his face grave. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.'”

Jack burst out laughing. Not at Manny but in release. It was either laugh or cry and he'd done enough crying these last few weeks. He patted Manny on the shoulder. “At least your references I understand. God, you remind me of Sy.”

“I do? Gee, thanks, man. That means a lot to me.” Manny beamed like a kid who had earned his first A on a test.

“But just for that, you're buying.”

“Dude, no problem.”

The visit to the Second Cup was subdued. Chris offered his congratulations to Jack for catching his partner's killer, then his condolences for the guy's release when he heard the update. “We were robbed here, once,” he said, all flamboyance aside. “You guys caught him, but every time we went to court it was put over, put over, put over. Either his lawyer couldn't make it, or he couldn't make it. Then, the one day I couldn't make it, his lawyer wanted the trial and the charges got thrown out.” He shook his head in frustration. “I don't know how you guys do it. I really don't.”

Jack smiled a small, sad smile. “Somebody has to. Right, Manny?”

“You got it, dude. Thanks for the coffee, Chris.”

“Hang on a quick sec, guys.” Chris bagged a couple of the shop's extra-large, extra-chewy oatmeal cookies. “On the house. It isn't much, but it's something.” He shrugged apologetically.

“Thank you,” Jack said, accepting the gift. “It's more than we usually get.”

They were cruising down Church — Manny seemed to be instinctively staying away from the 51 streets for the time being — when Jenny called out for Jack.

“Is PC Warren on the air? Warren on the air in 51?”

“Things are looking up, man. First a free cookie, now a call from your girlfriend.”

Jack grimaced at him, then spoke into the mike. “Go ahead for Warren.”

“Jack, can we see you at Moss Park Armouries? Shuter entrance.”

“10-4, Jenny.” He glared at Manny. “My girlfriend?”

“Sure, dude. I heard about you and her getting all cuddly at the beach party.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack sat back and dunked his cookie into his tea.

Moss Park Armouries was a brooding thug of a building on the west side of Moss Park, squaring off against the community centre to the east. A playground, baseball diamonds and a soccer field held the no man's land between them. Jenny and Al were waiting in the parking lot behind the Armouries off Shuter Street, their bikes on their stands. They were still in bike shorts but had donned their yellow jackets in acknowledgement of the cooling weather.

Jack and Manny got out to join them. Jack offered Jenny half his cookie. She gladly took it, but her face remained grim. When he asked what was up, she pointed to a group of males loitering on the soccer field.

“Sy would probably make some quip about the Six Million Dollar Man, but my eyes aren't bionic. Who is that?” Jack asked.

“Charles,” she said quietly.

A wave of cold, icy anger swept through him. “What does he want?”

Jenny sighed. She looked at Jack with those beautiful eyes and they were filled with pain. “You,” she whispered. “He wants you.”

“Dude, he's challenging you. I say we go over there and kick his fucking teeth down his throat.” That was Manny:
Attack my partner, attack both of us.

“What do you mean, he wants me?”

“We were riding through the park when one of his little ass lickers came over to us,” Al explained. Jenny seemed too distraught to speak. “Little fuck said Charles knew you were working and wanted to talk to you. Alone. Says he'll meet you in the baseball diamond.”

“Dude, you're not going, are you? Not alone?”

“I'll see what he has to say.” Jack stuffed the last of his cookie into his mouth and softened it up with tea. Around the wad in his cheek, he said, “Can't hurt, can it?”

Crossing the parking lot, he headed for the far diamond. Al, Manny and Jenny fell in behind him. As he walked, he saw Charles and his entourage begin to drift toward the diamond as well. When Jack reached the infield, the three officers behind him stopped, keeping a watchful eye on the approaching group. Charles left them at the field's edge. Jack and Charles moved on alone, two kings of opposing armies meeting for a parley before the battle.

Jack stood at home plate, sipping his tea unconcernedly as Charles swaggered up to him. He wore another Raptors jacket, leather this time and new by the look of it. And the gloves. Always the gloves.

Charles stopped about an arm's length from Jack and looked him up and down. “Not so big when you aren't hiding behind your Glock, Officer Warren.”

Jack sipped his tea, eyed Charles back. “Any time you want to meet, let me know and I'll leave the gun behind.”

Charles laughed, a light chuckle. “You cops are all the same: big talk but no balls.”

“This coming from the man who kills people from behind, then runs and hides whenever the police come near.”

Charles sucked his teeth at Jack. “I told you, I didn't kill your partner. Not that I'm afraid to dust a cop, but I don't like taking credit for someone else's work.”

Jack took a drink. Concentrating on calmly drinking his tea was the only way he could stop himself from killing the little fuck right now. “Seems to me you've been taking a lot of credit for it, though.”

Charles laughed again. “If word gets around that I offed your partner, then who am I to contradict that story? I figure I'm owed some payback, anyway. I just found out you're the one who broke my brother's nose.”

“Your brother's lucky I didn't kill him. Rather irresponsible of you to let him play with toy guns.” Jack looked over Charles's shoulder. Sean was there, wandering slightly apart from the rest of the group and no longer sporting a splint on his nose. He was wearing a Raptors jacket similar to his brother's. Sean saw Jack looking and waved at him. “How nice of you to give him your hand-me-downs. Does he know he's wearing the jacket you had on when you shit your pants in fear?”

Charles smiled; he was not about to be baited. “You break my brother's nose, try to frame me for three murders, then shove your gun in my face.” He stepped close, getting right up into Jack's face. “You owe me and I mean to collect.”

Concentrate on the tea. Up slowly, sip, down slowly.
“I didn't kill you in that lane because I was trying to save my partner. I didn't kill you last week because I thought it wasn't the right thing to do. Give me another opportunity and I won't make that mistake again.”

“We ain't finished, you and me.” Charles's words were soft, meant for Jack's ears only. Smiling, he eased back, adjusted his collar. He paused to admire his gloves, even held them out for Jack's inspection. “Like 'em? I got them to match my new jacket, in celebration of my release from prison. Wanna know how much I paid for them?”

Sip.
Jack crumpled his cup and flicked it at Charles. It bounced off his shiny new jacket, leaving a slight spray of drops on the leather. “Next time you want to talk to me, have something useful to say.” Jack turned his back on his partner's murderer. He had taken only a couple of steps when Charles's words stopped him dead.

“They was pretty expensive. Three pair cost me probably as much as you pay each month on that shitty little house out in Pickering.”

Jack slowly turned. The ice that had held him in control was melting beneath a fury burning up from his gut.

“Oh, yeah. I know all about you, Officer Jack Warren.”

Jack advanced on him, fists clenched at his side, but Charles held his ground, coolly adjusting his gloves. Jack grabbed him by the lapels of his new leather jacket and slammed him against the chain-link barrier behind home plate. “If I catch even your smell near my house, there'll be no place on Earth for you to hide.”

Charles stared impassively into Jack's eyes. “Like I said,
Jack
: I've got some payback owed to me, but I'm willing to forget it if you fess up to framing me. I'm even willing to make it easy on you, Jack, 'cause I'm betting my old friend Mason's behind the whole thing. Since his little game backfired and I got this new bad rep out of it, I'm willing to call things even. All you or Mason gotta do is tell those Homicide dicks that been hounding my ass you were wrong about me, now that you seen me face to face. You do that and I won't have to visit that sweet little blonde wife of yours.”

Jack shoved Charles harder into the fence. “You go near her and I'll kill you the next time I see you. I won't care who's watching.” Jack gave him a final heave against the chain link, then let him go. “I swear to you, I see you near her, I'll kill you.” He stalked away.

Charles called after him, his voice friendly and light. “You remember my offer, Jack, and we'll get along fine.”

“What was that all about?” Manny asked as soon as Jack reached them. “What did he want?”

“I need to go to the station. Now.”

On the short ride, Jack kept muttering, “I should have killed him when I had the chance. I should have killed him.”

“Dude, what's going on?”

“He knows where I live!” Jack snapped. “He knows where I live, he knows I'm married. He knows what Karen looks like!”

“Then we kill him, dude. Simple as that.”

Manny's open trust and loyalty stunned Jack. “I don't think it can be that simple, Manny. I wish it was.”

At the station, Jack took the stairs two at a time to the MCU. The office door was closed. He didn't bother knocking. Mason was there with his usual team: Taft, Tank and Kris. Didn't anyone else work in this office?

Mason looked up from his desk. “Jack, good to see you, but until you're part of this office you may want to knock in the future.”

Jack looked around the office. The four of them were at their desks, doing paperwork or typing on computers. What difference would knocking make? He planted himself in front of Mason's desk. “He knows where I live. He knows I'm married.”

“Who knows — not Charles? Fuck!” Mason leaned back in his chair and blew into cupped hands over his mouth and nose. “Sit down, Jack.”

“Boss.” Taft jerked his head toward the door. Manny was standing in the doorway.

“Armsman, maybe you should —”

“Manny's my partner,” Jack cut in, earning a withering look from Mason. He ignored it. “He can hear whatever you have to say. Fuck, he's already offered to kill Charles for me.”

Mason looked at Manny with a new eye, as if he was judging him by a new set of principles. “All right, he can stay. There isn't much we can do right now anyway.”

Manny sat on a desk near the door. Later, Jack would realize Manny was able to watch all the other officers from that position.

“Who else have you told?”

“No one else. What the fuck do I do, Rick?”

“First, you tell us exactly what he said. All of it, word for word. Don't leave anything out.”

Jack related the conversation — how could such an experience be labelled as a simple conversation? — as best he could. When he was finished, he sagged back in his chair, drained.

Mason sat back, too, thinking. “Sounds like he's not planning on doing anything right away. So we have time to figure this out.”

“What did he mean by ‘my old friend Mason?'” The Major Crime officers all looked at Manny.

Mason was glaring at him. “It means I've been trying to put his ass in jail ever since he started dumping the Black shit on the streets.”

“I thought you only found out he was behind the Black recently,” Jack said.

“That's right, not until after Sy was killed. But we've been trying to put that whole organization out of business since it started. ID'ing Charles just gave us a specific target.”