A/N - It was almost the weekend! And next weekend should be the last one. Phew! :D

Chapter 19

Takedown

The interview room was just as Ironside expected, typical of the lock up in the Department. It was small and sparely decorated, with plain concrete walls, a wooden table in the centre and couple of chairs. Behind him, the heavy metal door swung shut with a clang.

The man sitting at the opposite side of the table was around fifty, medium build, medium height, just like Carl had described, and had a round, bland face. He looked like a bank teller or a waiter, someone you see but don't really notice, someone who blended into the background. Everything about him was calm and unassuming, down the fawn-coloured suit and dark tie. It was difficult to reconcile this man in front of him with the image Ironside had formed at the hotel, of someone squirming in rage and spitting out bile and vengeance. The disconnect was a reminder to the Chief that there were so many secrets and lies running through this case. He had to be careful.

As Ironside pulled out the other chair and sat down, the man lounged back in his seat and watched with a disdainful expression, as if all of this was beneath him. Ironside gave him an appraising look in return, thinking back to his conversation with Ed.

On the drive from the hotel, he'd thought through Brown's statement and observations. Three main points stood out: That the man underestimated Ed; the man took what he was shown at face value; and the man was convinced that Brown had killed Carelli.

He'd use those as leverage to get as much information as he could. Finding out about the corrupt cops in this department was his only goal. But he was very aware that he'd need all his skill, as well as the edge he'd gained from Brown, to do it right and get what he wanted. This was a game with high-stakes. He'd have to read his mark perfectly as there was no room for any errors. It was one thing getting his own way with the Commissioner and running verbal rings around Dennis. It was quite different to try and persuade this suspect to willingly "tell" him what he knew. Especially when he had no aces except the threat of a murder charge, and even that was tenuous.

He let the silence stretch out for a little bit too long, then gave a brusque nod of greeting.

'The files say your name's Jon Quill,' Ironside said. The man barely reacted to his own name beyond a dismissive shrug. Again, the Chief waited, keeping his steady gaze on his adversary, convinced the man would break first. He did.

'And what about you?' Quill asked at last.

'Ironside.' The man opposite gave another bored shrug, still leaning back in his chair. 'And you've been read your rights?'

Quill momentarily looked surprised and amused at the question. Then he gave a single nod.

'Yes,' he said.

'And you understand them?'

'Yes.' The amusement on his face grew more pronounced.

'Good,' the Chief said. He waited. After a few seconds Quill gave a little laugh.

'Look,' he said, in a quiet tone, as if he was speaking down to a child. 'I know what this is. You're just another small-minded cop here to badger me with questions. But I'm not answering anything without my lawyer.' He gave the Chief an ugly look. 'And certainly not to some dull desk sergeant who's looking for a short-cut to a promotion.'

The words and way they were said was deliberately designed to antagonise hims. But the Chief didn't react, remembering again his conversation with Brown. Even in exchanging a few words with their suspect, he could see that Ed was right. This was a very confident man who liked to think he was always in charge and knew what was happening. And he wanted everyone to know it.

'So you don't recognise me?' Ironside asked, letting himself sound mildly surprised. There was no response. 'You tried to shoot me earlier this morning.'

At that, Quill leaned forward in his chair, as if to take a closer look, but stared at the Chief with that air of smug indifference.

'You were one of the ones from the hotel? Really? Small world.'

He leaned back again. The bored, supercilious tone made Ironside want to grind his teeth. He was obviously being baited to see how he'd react, so instead of rising to it, the Chief copied the man's open posture, leaning back in his own chair.

'I'm not a desk-sergeant,' he said.

'Rea-lly?' the man drawled, feigning surprise.

'But I wanted to ask you some questions,' the Chief continued.

The man shook his head.

'I told you, no lawyer, no questions. No nothing!'

There was an unpleasant silence. Ironside waited, sitting quietly, letting the tension between them rise. Outwardly, the man still looked calm and composed, as well as bored, giving the impression that he thought all this was a minor inconvenience, and he was just killing time until his lawyer posted bail. But once or twice the Chief saw Quill give a tiny lick of his lips and he could hear the sound of his shoe rubbing against the edge of the chair. He didn't let himself smile, wanting to keep his own poker-face in place.

'There's been a lot of talk about you around here,' he said eventually. 'Your arrival has caused quite a stir.'

Keeping one step ahead was always easier when you told the truth, and Ironside wasn't lying about the gossip. It had taken time to get clear of the Rum Runner, the hotel had been in turmoil after the arrest, with nervous guests, anxious staff and tired policemen all mixed together and all wanting to know what was going on. When he'd finally arrived back at the Department, he could feel the tense build-up of unanswered questions already forming in the corridors. There were hushed voices, and furtive conversations that stopped abruptly whenever he got too close. It had to be one of the most efficient methods of communication ever invented, even if it was highly unreliable.

'Am I supposed to be impressed by that, Ironside?' Quill asked.

'Don't you want to know why?'

Quill stretched back further in his chair, looking away.

'Why don't you enlighten me?' he said. 'Since you are the one who's so keen to talk.'

The Chief wanted answers, and he needed to give the man enough rope to hang himself. So he didn't hesitate to play his first card.

'They are all saying you killed Officer Carelli.'

There was a momentary flash of fear on Quill's face, almost too fast for the Chief to register. Then the cold disinterest was back. He didn't speak for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the Chief.

'You're going to have a hard time proving that,' he said calmly.

'Oh?' Ironside replied. 'I think we can make a pretty good case.' He gave a thin smile. 'If we needed to, that is.'

Ironside had hoped that the words would rattle his adversary, but he was unprepared for the sudden change, getting a stronger reaction than he'd anticipated. At the words, Quill caught his breath, and his expression contorted with disgust as well as fury and fear, as if he interpreted the statement as a direct threat. He leaned right forward across the table.

'Oh, I get it,' Quill hissed. 'I get it loud and clear. You bastards!'

'Get what?' Ironside asked politely. Quill shook his head, pushing himself back in his seat. He glared at the Chief.

'I should have guessed,' he said with disgust. 'Of course that young cop is too stupid to have been working on his own. And now the boss man is out to protect one of his errand boys.' He shook his head once more. 'I should have known. There's no lawyer here. No witnesses.' He gave a snort. 'And I'm sure you are a pillar of the local cop community, as well. How convenient!'

Quill was more paranoid and worried than the Chief had hoped, and had a much lower opinion of police officers as well. That was both good and bad. Good as that was what Ironside wanted him to think, but bad because if he got too scared he wouldn't talk at all. The man needed to believe there was hope and a way out, or he'd never tell him anything.

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Ironside said, still keeping his tone polite, and still sticking as closely as he could to the truth. 'The circumstantial evidence against you is quite compelling.'

'Circumstantial won't seal it for a jury,' Quill snapped. 'But you've got something extra, I bet!'

Ironside kept looking politely at the man, as calm as the Bay on a windless day.

'We have enough circumstantial evidence to hold you for questioning,' he said. 'And if you didn't do it, then you've got nothing to worry about.'

Quill looked incredulous, and snorted a brittle laugh.

'Sure I don't!' he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 'I have nothing to worry about at all, because you're a pillar of the local cop community and you would never do anything illegal!'

There was a long, unpleasant, uncomfortable silence. It would be easy to spoil the effect with an ill-timed word or gesture. At last, Quill spoke.

'Okay then, Ironside. I don't have much choice but to play along. What is it that you want?'

'Want?' repeated the Chief. 'I want justice for a dead policeman.'

At that, Quill barked a harsh, cold, mirthless laugh, that made Ironside's stomach turn in disgust. Not for the first time he was overwhelmingly grateful that this man was safely in a cell and not still loose in his City.

'So that is what this all about,' Quill said after he'd stopped laughing. 'Your dead policeman, and his killer, and how everyone ended up in that situation in the first place.' The man chuckled. 'Why didn't you just say?'

Ironside didn't react to the sarcasm, wanting the man to think that he had gained the advantage again. He was looking very pleased with himself now, so the Chief waited. As Quill leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, he gave a cruel smirk.

'Your dead policeman was as dirty as a weekend in Vegas with a hooker. All the more so as he tried to double-deal and cut you out!'

Ironside didn't react beyond raising his eyebrows.

'And why would you think that?' he asked.

The man laughed again, but with less malice.

'You play a good game, Ironside,' he said. 'So what is it that you want?'

'I told you, I want justice.'

'Justice?' Quill leaned forward. 'Or is that information?'

'What do you mean? What sort of information would I want?'

'I think you would like to know about what happened,' Quill said smugly. 'Everything I could tell you. After all, I spoke to your man before he got himself gunned down. And I'm sure what he said will be of interest.'

In the pause that followed that sentence, the smug smile grew wider, clearly relishing the moment.

'But that's just the start,' he said. 'I've figured out a lot about what you've got going on. More than you think.'

Ironside let himself look surprised at the statement. He was surprised that Quill had said he knew "a lot", but figured it was likely a bluff. If he had known much more, he should know that this was one big fishing trip.

But the suspect had offered what he wanted. He now had to get it without letting the man know he was getting a bill of goods in return.

'And?'

'And maybe it's interesting enough for an exchange?'

'Exchange? Such as?'

'Murder-one is tough to get to stick, when you only have circumstantial evidence.'

Ironside nodded thoughtfully, then decided to push again.

'But what about the little matter of your calling card?' he asked, and was pleased to see the fleeting look of horror that crossed Quill's face at the mention of the card. 'You are still looking for it?'

There was a frosty pause and Quill shook his head, the look was slowly replaced by confusion.

'But that card's not going to do you any good, not now they know I've been brought in. They won't like shutting it down, but they're pros. They know how it is. They don't take any risks.'

Ironside remained impassive but his heart suddenly sank, realising that one of his best angles was shut down. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he sensed the man was telling the truth. From what little he'd gleaned from Ed, it appeared that the man and his associates had a way of generating business through these cards. If, at any point, one of their number was brought in, it was logical that the whole operation would fold.

And thanks to the dramatic way the man had been arrested, everyone in the underworld probably knew about it by now. Of course, the small fact that they didn'thave the card, and the information it contained, was completely beside the point.

Mentally, Ironside shook his head, smothering his fury, regret and sorrow. Everything that had happened; the meaningless death of a young rookie, the brutal attacks on Ed, the trap at the Rum Runner. All this trouble and pain had been for something that was now utterly useless. To all of them.

The thought made him feel ill, and was beyond infuriating. But that was how the cards fell sometimes and he had to keep going. He still had other ways to leverage something useful out of this suspect.

Quill was looking at him, the beginning of a smirk back on his face.

'Your dead cop tried to cut you out of the deal. Don't you want to know why?'

Ironside did. He wanted to know everything he could about it. That was what this was all leading up to. He wasn't going to look too eager. The trick was making Quill think he was getting the better deal.

'Why should I believe what you say?'

'He's dead, so something went wrong!' Quill said with irony in his tone.

'I trust my men,' Ironside snapped.

'All of them?'

That was an unexpected thing to say, piquing Ironside's interest. Quill gave another cold laugh, and when he spoke his voice had a low, conspiratorial tone to it.

'I wouldn't be so sure of your young rookie scapegoat, if I were you,' he said, crossing his arms and sitting back. A slow, sly smile spread over his face.

Your young rookie scapegoat. Quill was meaning Ed, that was obvious. This was an angle he'd not expected.

Very deliberately, Ironside copied the man's pose, leaning back and crossing his arms, thinking of the implications of that statement.

As he and Ed had discussed, the man thought Ed responsible for the shooting. But the word "scapegoat" implied something more. He'd already called Ed an errand boy, and the Chief wondered how far Quill's assumptions went. It was a hint that he knew something more about Ed, and he'd used that knowledge to sweeten any deal. As the thought crossed his mind, Ironside saw how that could be used to his own advantage, Quill obviously had no idea that Ed was someone he trusted implicitly. Anything he thought he knew would be worthless.

Ironside kept staring back at the suspect, working through the details. This was a delicate situation, and he was aware how precarious his position was. One slip, one wrong word at the wrong time, and the man would see through the bluff and any chance at understanding would be gone. He needed this, and he knew Brown needed this too. Ed had gone through the darkest days, he needed some light and a hope they could eventually catch the killer, whoever it might be.

'Why do you say that about my officer?' Ironside asked eventually, sounding confused.

The sly smile hadn't faded while they had been silent, now it grew wide and dangerous. There was a hint of malice in his eyes.

'The man was desperate,' he replied. 'And believe me when I say I know what desperation looks like. He was willing to risk a bullet through the heart to get a few hundred dollars. And that, well, that tells me a lot about what's going down here.'

Again, Ironside stayed quiet, not reacting. But inside he was going through what Ed had told him, grateful again for the extra knowledge. Although Brown had felt he'd lost his advantage at the end, perhaps in doing so he'd left the Chief in a stronger position now. It would be good to tell him that later, and perhaps that would help him be less hard on himself.

'Okay,' Ironside said at last, 'I'll admit that's made me curious.'

'But are you curious enough?'

'Probably.'

'Probably isn't definitely.'

'Very probably,' Ironside said, adding as much irony as he could. The man gave a light laugh. 'So you should take that chance.'

'Your boy was wanting just a few hundred dollars for that card, so he could start running,' he said. 'And do you know what that tells me?'

'What?'

'You have much more of a problem than you think you have.'

'And what sort of problem is that?' Ironside hissed.

'I think you've put the screws too tight,' Quill said, eyes bright with malicious intent. 'I think you or your partners told the rookie he'd be alright after the shooting, but now your boy thinks he's going to be the scapegoat instead and he's going to go to the gas chamber rather than get safely away. He doesn't trust you.'

The way Quill had volunteered that information felt out of place at this point in the conversation. He didn't seem like the kind of man to make such an error. Ironside guessed he was leading up to something big. His hope rose slightly, if Quill thought he had something big, some good information, it might be easier to persuade him to talk about Carelli.

'And if you're right? How does telling me this help you?' he asked.

'Because I told you, I'm not your problem,' Quill said, still sounding smug. 'You've got me here, everyone knows it, but you have no real leverage, do you? Not with what I've figured out, thanks to your rookie. You can't leave me sitting here forever. My lawyer will be downstairs before long. And he's a good lawyer, you know what I mean? He knows the right people. So if you want your little operation to keep on ticking, then you are going to need my silence.'

Ironside made no reply. Instead, turned to look away towards the door, as if thinking, but instead his confidence lifted another few notches. It was something big, or at least their suspect thought it was. But, just as Ed had suggested he would, Quill had believed what he was shown and taken it all at face value, assuming he was too clever to get caught out. That they were putting one over on him hadn't even crossed his mind. For the first time in the conversation Ironside knew he had a real chance to win as long as he kept this up. So he let his shoulders sag slightly, seeing out of the corner of his eye that the other man noticed.

'Remember, I'm not your problem,' Quill repeated smoothly. 'The dead cop and the terrified scapegoat are your problems at the moment.'

'That's small compared your problem,' Ironside replied with a snap. 'I'm not the one sitting in a cell on a charge of murder!'

'We both know that won't stick,' Quill said, sounding calm and persuasive. Even in this situation the Chief was impressed by the man's nerve and skill. 'And I think we both realise your scapegoat is ready to crack. He's ready to run.'

'He won't run out on me,' Ironside said firmly. That was also the truth, over the previous few days Ed had proved that beyond all doubt. But the suspect was shaking his head.

'But I think he would,' Quill said. 'And so do you, because you're no one's fool.' He paused. 'I could tell you everything he said. All the details. If I had a good incentive.'

That was his offer, his real offer, the thing that he assumed the Chief wanted to know more than anything else, in exchange for getting let off. He would trade Ed's life for his own. A ripple of revulsion went through Ironside. He remembered how upset Ed had looked when he'd tried to plead his innocence over the shooting. The Chief had no doubt that whatever Quill said, it would be damning.

The suspect was waiting, looking pleased with the conversation so far. Ironside didn't disillusion him.

'You will tell me what he said?' Ironside asked carefully.

'Well, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves,' Quill replied. 'Because I know how much that's worth to you.'

Precisely nothing, thought the Chief grimly. But letting him know that would be disastrous.

'The charge of murder-' he began.

Quill wafted a hand at him impatiently.

'My lawyer will deal with you and your circumstantial evidence,' he said. 'You have a lot more to lose than I do.'

Ironside drew a slow breath. The man thought he only had the charge of murder hanging over him and sounded very sure that would be easy to get out of. There had to be something more he could use to push. In the silence, the Chief was aware that Quill was watching him with a smirk. He hated that smirk, the man certainly knew how to annoy people.

Yes, the man was good at making people angry. The thought led the Chief to something else Ed had mentioned. The calling card itself might be useless, but that didn't mean he couldn't use what little he knew: Quill had assumed that he'd been set up for a fall.

He waited for a moment longer, gathering his thoughts before speaking. The man had been read his rights, and the Chief wasn't going to lie. So if he was to use this, he'd have to choose his next phrases very carefully.

'I have more to lose do I? If you say so!' Ironside said. He looked the man directly in the eyes. It was like looking into the ocean at night, dark and cold. A small shiver raced down his spine.

'I do say so,' Quill replied, still smirking.

'Maybe you're right,' Ironside admitted. 'If the calling card is useless.' He sighed. 'But still, we have a number of different ways of finding information.'

Quill snorted, shaking his head in amusement. Ironside waited a moment longer, timing his response for maximum impact.

'After all, we found you, didn't we?'

At that, Quill laughed. Ironside kept on looking at him, not changing his expression, just waiting. The laughter died away and suddenly Quill frowned.

'You found me,' he said. 'You found me.' The look on his face turned bitter and a twisted sneer crossed his face. 'Our card. Someone gave you our card, didn't they?' His voice became low and harsh. 'Who sold me out?'

The Chief didn't respond.

'Who sold me out?' the man snarled, thumping both hands down on the table in front of him. 'TELL ME!'

Unmoved by the violence and rage in Quill's face, Ironside waited. Slowly, the other man brought himself under better control. After a minute, he was gazing back at the Chief with the same aloof, cold air as before.

'I see. Seems we both have something the other one wants.'

'I just want some answers,' Ironside said.

This time, when Quill smiled, Ironside felt another chill of fear race down his spine, knowing that he was playing a very dangerous game. But, like Ed, he had to go all in if he wanted to win. He waited for the suspect to speak.

'So what do you suggest?' Quill said eventually. 'Because I'm not playing my ace on the first pass. I don't trust you.'

Ironside pursed his lips. This was what he'd wanted, and now he was just one question away. The outburst had shown how desperate he was to know who'd set him up. So if he asked about the shooting, Quill should tell him, and keep his so-called ace for later.

It was a calculated risk, he didn't rate his chances much better than fifty-fifty, but if he didn't push now, Quill would likely want answers that the Chief just didn't have, and any chance for information would vanish.

'So what did Carelli tell you about this?' he gestured vaguely with his hand. 'I want to know how much he talked.'

Quill looked mildly surprised, as well as smug, and gave a thoughtful nod.

'That's a good question to start with,' he said. 'Smart, too.'

Ironside couldn't be sure, but it felt like Quill was mocking him.

'So?'

Quill gave a theatrical look to the ceiling, as if trying to gather his thoughts. The Chief kept quiet, letting the man get to this in his own time. He'd come so far, he didn't want to make a false step when he was so close to some answers.

'I watched the two officers argue outside the back entrance,' Quill started to say, his tone showing his disdain for the men in question.

'Do you know what they talked about?'

'No,' he replied. 'But the tall one looked very upset by the end.' He smiled again. 'I don't think he heard what he wanted to hear.'

The Chief noted the unintended accuracy in that statement with a gruff nod, using that to hide his real feelings. That conversation had struck right at Ed's heart and soul, and the way it was dismissed with such casual disregard was infuriating. Quill continued.

'I went out right after he left. The officer there was the one your note had told me to expect.'

'Note?'

'You can relax, I did as it said and destroyed it.'

Ironside said nothing, though he was burning with impotent curiosity. So the first contact had been done by letter, and that was a dead end. He wanted more details but sensed that if he pushed too hard, it would all come crashing down. Better to move on.

'What did he say when you met him?' the Chief asked.

'That he was a friend of a friend.'

'No names?'

'He managed to be discrete about that.'

'And?'

'And safe passage had been agreed.' Quill shook his head and frowned as he spoke, as if that turn of phrase had annoyed him.

'I see,' Ironside said. But he saw Quill smile again, and it looked like he was enjoying this immensely.

'He didn't like that agreement,' the other man added. 'He sounded angry with the whole deal. And upset about how it had worked out.'

Ironside was aware that Quill was watching his reactions too, so he frowned.

'Did he say why?'

Quill gave a sharp tut.

'He didn't need to!' he said impatiently. 'He wanted a bigger payday. Even I could see he was getting short-changed for a job like that.'

'Do you-'

'Not paying your men their worth always ends up backfiring,' Quill snapped. 'Do you need a basic lesson in economics as well?'

The Chief clamped his mouth tightly shut, letting his fury bubble just below the surface. That man was good! He was smart about people, quick to read their emotions and turn them to his advantage. The Chief gave a silent thanks once more to Ed, as going into this without Brown's own observations would have made this conversation all the more treacherous. But Ed had been right on the money; this man was very sure of his own insights, he was quick to underestimate people he thought less intelligent than himself, and he was easily fooled into seeing what he wanted to see.

'So what did Carelli want from you?' Ironside asked.

'Ten thousand. Said it was twice what he would get as a reward.'

Ironside nodded slowly. Carelli knew about the reward, Ed had told him on the very first day. But the way Quill spoke made the Chief think that they weren't talking about the same kind of "reward". It sounded as if Quill though the reward was from whoever had tipped him off, for doing good work; not a reward on his own head, for being brought in. He wondered what the best way to find out was, without giving himself away.

Another question came to mind. If Quill didn't know, then how was the fact that Carelli knew of the reward connected to corruption? Was there any connection at all?

'Did you agree?' the Chief asked.

Quill nodded.

'Obviously I don't tend to carry that amount on me. We agreed to meet later.'

'Just like that? With nothing else but to trust in your word?'

Quill laughed, but Ironside felt it was more forced this time.

'I told him I had to have our card back. He tried to deny having it. But in the end he said he'd bring it with him to the meet.'

Again, Ironside nodded, thinking that Carelli had likely bluffed it out, just as Ed had done, as Quill appeared to be convinced someone on the force had it. What Carelli's plan would have been at the meeting, Ironside couldn't have guessed. It was difficult to know, after the event.

'Then?'

Quill shrugged.

'Then, nothing. We didn't talk for long.'

'So that's all?' asked Ironside, sounding disappointed.

'That's all he said.'

'And Brown?' Ironside added, taking a chance to see if he could catch the man off-guard. 'What did he-?'

Quill scowled, wagging his finger.

'Uh-uh,' he said. 'That wasn't the deal.'

Ironside snorted in anger. He knew what had happened, but it would have been instructive to find out what Quill had thought of the exchange. Instructive, but not complimentary to Ed, he was sure.

'Okay, fine!' he snapped. 'You've told me what Carelli said.'

'I hope it's been helpful,' Quill said, giving him a forced smile that was anything but nice. 'Though I'm not sure it's not all that you want.'

'It's something,' Ironside admitted.

'And?'

Quill looked at him expectantly, unable to hide his own confidence. The look sent a heavy wave of fury through the Chief. Suddenly, he was sick and tired of the charade. It was time to bring this to an end. Ironside stood, pushing his chair back with a low screech.

'You won't be charged with murder,' he said firmly. 'Not by us.' The man gave a relieved smile.

'But I should correct you on a few points,' the Chief added, watching as the smile faltered. 'There was a five thousand dollar reward for the one who brought you in. From New York .'

The shock was genuine, Ironside was sure, but Quill covered it quickly.

'So?'

'So, the reward Carelli spoke of had nothing to do with your arrangement for that morning.'

Quill frowned, expecting more from Ironside. But, just like he had with Ed and Carl, the Chief stayed silent, letting the other man work it out for himself.

At first he glared angrily at the Chief, then he frowned down at the table for nearly a minute, starting to look uncertain. When he looked back at Ironside there was a blank, numb look on his face, his eyes wide with fear.

'Now, look,' he said shakily. 'Our deal…?'

'I said nothing about doing a deal,' Ironside said. He should have smiled, he almost wanted to gloat, but instead he wanted this over as soon as he could.

'But you said you were going to fit me up!' Quill growled.

'No, I didn't.'

There was a short pause.

'But you offered me a deal!' He sounded much more worried.

'No, I didn't.'

There was another short pause.

'You agreed to an incentive.'

'No. I didn't.'

'But-'

'You were the one who talked about incentives,' Ironside replied angrily. 'I told you exactly what I wanted! Right at the very start!' He scowled down furiously at the man. 'I want justice for a dead policeman.'

Quill looked horrifed, and the Chief could see he finally understood. Neither spoke, the tension was stifling, all the Chief could hear was Quill's nervous gasps for breath.

'B-But you said I wasn't going to be charged with murder,' Quill said, his voice growing more frantic with each word. 'You can't tie it to me! Your errand boy is the one your protecting! He did it! You can't keep me quiet, if you charge me I can tell them all!'

Ironside shook his head.

'We can't charge you for the Officer Carelli's murder. There isn't the evidence to do that.'

Quill gave a sigh. Then suddenly the sneer was back on his face.

'They why am I still being kept in here?' he demanded. 'You can't keep-'

'I can!' snapped Ironside, cutting him off mid-sentence. 'We can't charge you with murder. But I think the four detectives who are on the way here from New York can. In fact, I'm sure they will.'

The man gave a choked gasp, frozen in shock as he finally understood how he'd been played. But Ironside didn't wait for more reactions. He'd gotten what he came here for, and there was no need to stay any longer. So he turned on his heel and stomped out, with a grim, satisfied smile on his face.