The fires in Washington Park were still burning as Lieutenant "Big Jim" Wynne rolled onto the scene in a tricked-out 2008 Dodge Charger SXT modified for police work. He took another puff of his Garcia y Vega cigar as he surveyed the carnage before him. Over the last ten years as the commander of the CCPD's Major Crimes Unit, Lieutenant Wynne thought he had seen it all. He had forgotten just how dangerous the Black Mask Killer really was. Big Jim parked his light sandstone metallic painted sports coupe at the corner of Dearborn Street and Delaware Place. Before he left his vehicle, he placed onto the dashboard a placard that had "Official POLICE Business" printed on it with the CCPD logo.
Big Jim stretched his six-foot, eight-inch frame outside his Charger. At fifty, he still had the build of an Olympic power lifter but his midsection was going soft. Too many doughnuts in the morning and too many filet mignons at Ditka's were going to send him to an early grave if a skell's bullet didn't kill him first. Lieutenant Wynne enjoyed the finer things in life from tailor-made suits to Victoria's Secret supermodels on his arm at formal events. Thanks to a trust fund and some shrewd moves on Wall Street, the lead detective of the Major Crimes Unit enjoyed a comfortable life. Every penny of his money was earned; he didn't take bribes from the dealers, the Outfit, or even the crooked politicians that infested the city and the county like rats on a carcass. He had a formidable reputation on the street as a gunslinger; there were a thousand and one stories of how he sparked a bad guy with his SIG GSR .45 Automatic. But he lived by the rule that if a skell decided to give himself up, he wasn't going to shoot the poor sonuvabitch in the head. Big Jim Wynne was one tough cop but he was a fair one. He placed his fedora on his head and walked over to where Captain Mike Allston of the now-decimated CCPD SWAT stood over the bodies of his fallen officers.
The CCPD SWAT commander was livid with rage. Mike Allston and Jim Wynne started out as patrolmen at Area 5 Headquarters in the Austin-Cragin region where they made their bones by nabbing a young 'Bong' Marley before he became the leader of the Grand Austin Posse. They both made SWAT and served together for many years until Big Jim received his gold star as a detective.
Mike never forgave his former partner for leaving SWAT and moving into the detective ranks. This was the first time seeing each other since the mid-90s.
Big Jim strode towards his ex-partner and extended his hand towards the SWAT commander. Captain Allston gave the detective a glare that could melt polar ice. Lieutenant Wynne lowered his arm to his side and took another puff of his cigar. The detective waited until the SWAT commander acknowledged his presence at the crime scene.
"What the hell are you doing here, Lieutenant Wynne?"
Big Jim blew a smoke ring into Captain Allston's face. It irritated the SWAT commander so much that his fists started to clench at his sides. Big Jim just smiled at him and waved his cigar.
"Commissioner Summerdale called me in to investigate just how you managed to fly into a well-planned ambush. You should be glad MCU was called into this mess and not Internal Affairs. It's not like you to charge into a situation without knowing your opposition first. You're getting sloppy Mighty Mouse. You need to tighten up your game, partner."
Captain Allston screamed in rage and charged his ex-partner with raised fists. Big Jim expected this reaction, sidestepped the enraged SWAT commander, and tripped him with one of his Bally loafers. The SWAT commander stumbled onto the concrete hard. Lieutenant Wynne took out a lead-filled sap and smacked his cursing ex-partner behind the ear. Then the detective smacked him a second time. Satisfied that Captain Allston was out cold, Big Jim waved over a uniformed patrolman.
"Jeff, call the paramedics over and have them transport Captain Allston to Northwestern Medical Center. Before you hand him over for transport, secure his sidearm and any other weapons he may have on his person. Take two other officers and sequester sleeping beauty here until I can question him. Consider yourselves detailed to MCU until I tell you differently. No other SWAT officers or any other detectives see Captain Allston without my say-so. You savvy, Jeff?"
The blue-uniformed patrolman nodded once and radioed for assistance with the unconscious SWAT commander. Lieutenant Wynne walked around Washington Park, occasionally picking up brass casings as he made his way around all the wreckage of the Blackhawk helicopters. The Central City Fire Department put out all the major fires and their Hazardous Materials crew was busy making sure that the area was free from any chemical or biological threats. The CCPD had their hands full keeping back the crowds, photographing and collecting evidence, and assisting the seriously wounded into waiting ambulances. He grimaced once as he heard the screech of tires and the smell of burning rubber as a 1968 Ford Mustang 390 Fastback in racing Highland Green stopped alongside him. His current partner, Sergeant Ronnie Mendoza, made another dramatic entrance.
Detective Mendoza stood tall at five feet exactly, even wearing high heels. She was attired today in a black leather jacket, a silk Vera Wang blouse, and a revealing black leather miniskirt. He noted also the Bianchi shoulder holster, the H&K USP chambered for .40 Smith & Wesson, and the extra magazines. Big Jim knew Ronnie also carried a .44 Charter Arms Bulldog Pug revolver in a pancake holster at the small of her back. Ronnie looked like Tila Tequila and was often mistaken for her in the local bars and nightclubs. She often took advantage of the dumbasses who thought they really had a shot at love with a celebrity. On the streets, she was known as 'The Mauler'; more than one scumbag was beaten to within an inch of their miserable lives by her. Ronnie loved to break balls whether it was the bad guys or her co-workers. His partner knew how to beat men down.
"So, LT, what's the 411?" Ronnie had mischievous look in her eyes.
Lieutenant Wynne finished the last of his Garcia y Vega. He flicked the stub of the cigar into the street as the last of the ambulances left Washing ton Park. Then he smiled at his partner.
"The Black Mask Killer is back in town. This time, we're gonna take care of business."