Blackmail

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Orlinsky hated to come to the mansion. It was a blatant reminder of just how powerful the man he was coming to see really was. If he had been visiting Irons at Vorshlag, he could always pretend that he was just another suit. Regular corporate greed and power mongering he understood and could deal with.

The detective stared at the ornate door for a moment before it opened. The butler looked him up and down with contempt, taking in the casual clothes and craggy, care-worn face. Orlinsky ignored the disdain. He knew what he was, and he was comfortable with it. No overstuffed toady could bother him.

His employer Mr. Irons, however, was on a whole other level. As Orlinsky followed the butler down ornate hallways that whispered of wealth and power, he was uncomfortably aware of just how easy it would be for something… permanent to happen to him. As the trusted lieutenant of a secret society, he knew how the rules were bent, the wheels were greased, and how problems were taken care of. He was afraid that Dante, and himself by association, had just become one of the latter.

Still, Orlinsky had to try. He owed Bruno that much. Without the White Bulls, he would have lost his purpose. The people he had sworn to protect had proved to be, by and large, worthless scum. Once he'd figured that out, he had started fucking everything off. He drank, even at work. His reports went to Hell, right along with his attitude.

Until Dante had come along and shown him the error of his ways, Orlinsky was heading for a messy ending, the kind of mess that involved a handgun at close range. The White Bulls were small back then, a core group of officers that came together for support, and grew to be something more. They were going to change the world, and they succeeded. The Bulls were his family, his brothers, and he wouldn't let them down.

"Ah Detective, good evening. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Kenneth Irons sounded expansive, but the hand swirling the red wine in his glass was just a shade tense, and his eyes were cold.

Never an idiot, not even back when he'd been drinking, Orlinsky recognised the subtle signs of displeasure and knew to go carefully. "I needed to speak to you, and since the subject matter is somewhat sensitive, I didn't think you would like it if I was seen visiting you at work."

"Really?" Irons arched a brow, inviting the detective to continue.

"We've been keeping Siri under surveillance, ever since his retirement. He never really committed himself, if you know what I mean. We were worried his conscience might start bothering him, or he'd get stupid, and talk to some reporter or something." Orlinsky paused, uncertain how to continue. Anything he said from this point on was almost guaranteed to anger the man in front of him.

"Just how foolish was our dear, dear retired captain?" Kenneth asked negligently.

"Very, apparently. There was a moving van in front of his house when one of our guys came to relieve Dorfman. Fortunately, it was one of our more experienced men. He drove on by, came back on foot with somebody's dog." Orlinsky gave a half-smile.

"Clever." Nottingham spoke for the first time, making Orlinsky start.

He hadn't seen the dark man, standing off in the shadows by the door. Was the assassin there to cut off his escape route? Surely they didn't think he would try anything stupid? Orlinsky wouldn't last the night if he was crazy enough to try and neutralize Irons, and he knew it.

"Yeah. He walked by Dorfman's car first, and it looked like he'd jumped out of it in a hurry. The listening device was sitting in plain sight on the seat, and there was a half-eaten donut on the dash. He walked on down the block and pretended to be a passing acquaintance of the Siri's. He asked a few casual questions; just enough to figure out that the movers were Feds." The detective reached the beginning of the sensitive portion of his narrative and tried not to flinch.

"That could be embarrassing for your Captain Dante, but I fail to see what it has to do with me." Irons relaxed slightly, a smile gracing his face. Orlinsky was confused by his reaction. He had expected Irons to be furious.

"It's already been a problem for Bruno. I tried calling him; he wasn't picking up his cell. On a hunch I called an old friend of mine. Turns out, Dante's already been picked up."

"Again, I fail to see where this concerns me, detective." Irons lifted his wine glass and took a sip, cool and unconcerned.

Orlinsky felt like he was poking a bomb that had unexpectedly failed to explode, but he continued anyway. "You know the Captain. He thinks ahead. He's made contingency plans for this sort of thing. If you don't get him out, he'll sing like a canary. He's got enough evidence of your personal involvement to get him a commuted sentence."

Irons waved a hand, dismissing the threat. "Please do not insult my intelligence Detective Orlinsky. I am aware of this supposed evidence. I took steps to sanitize myself from his files long ago. Captain Dante may say whatever he wishes to the F.B.I., he will find proving his allegations quite impossible."

"Nice bluff you're running there Mr. Irons, but I get lied to on a daily basis. You start to get a feel for bullshit after a while. You may have gotten to his electronic files, but the Bulls are a little old fashioned. We keep multiple hard copies spread out across the city. Since I only know of two caches that were 'sanitized', I'd say we've still got you." Orlinsky rocked back on his heels, poker face cracking just enough for one lip to curl up in triumph.

"I dislike threats detective. What is to stop me from silencing you now and your beloved captain after?" Irons abandoned his casual pose, straightening to his full, and intimidating, height.

"Not much," Orlinsky paused, knowing he had Mr. Irons attention at last, "If you don't value this cushy little lifestyle you've got going here. Bruno ain't the only one who thinks ahead. Anything happens to me tonight, the information goes public. The Feds will be so busy seizing your assets that the Bulls will slip through the cracks. Oh, they'll have to lie low for a while, but in a few years it'll be business as usual."

"You would still be dead." Nottingham steps forward and purrs in Orlinsky's ear.

Swallowing against the atavistic fear of having that violent madman at his back, Orlinsky manages to keep his voice from cracking on his reply. "I'm willing to make that trade."

Kenneth pauses, eyes narrow and assessing. "I do believe you would detective, but you are correct. I am fond of the position I now enjoy, and so I will let you live."

Behind Orlinsky's back, Ian raised a brow at his master, but moved to his original position by the door. The reprieve was only a temporary one; he could see it in Irons' eyes, just as he could see the anger. Kenneth hated to be controlled, preferring at all times to be the one pulling the strings. The detective was a dead man; it was only a matter of time.

"I thought you might see it our way. Pleasure doing business with you." Orlinsky let his small smirk blossom into a triumphant baring of teeth and prepared to leave, having gotten what he wanted.

Irons raised a hand and Orlinsky paused, "Detective, it would be best if you paid a similar visit to the mayor. He is in a better position than I to open negotiations, and he is certainly in just as deep. I did read those files before I had them purged. He stands to lose much more than I."

"Maybe so, but he doesn't have as much pull as you do." Orlinsky wasn't about to let Mr. Irons off the hook.

"True, but once he begins to question why one of New York's finest is being detained without going through proper channels, I can intervene more cleanly, and without having to sacrifice any of that power that you find so useful." Kenneth explained calmly.

"In that case, I'll be talking to Mayor Fellini next." Orlinsky nodded. He could understand that. Why would a businessman start making inquiries about a police captain?

"Unlike myself, I believe Marcus is still at work. Ever since his personal secretary ran off, he's been making do with less-than-competent substitutes from the departmental pool. He should still be in his office, working on the backlog. I can call him, if you wish." Irons played the cooperative dupe, knowing Orlinsky would never think that the call was for anything but his own convenience. Kenneth just wanted to know where to send Ian after this conversation was finished.

"I'd appreciate that. It'd save me a trip."

Kenneth pulled his titanium satellite phone from his pocket. This was not a call he wanted to make on a traceable line, not when he was about to set up both men in question. It would ruin the symmetry of his plan if his phone records were ever subpoenaed.

"Marcus, how are you?" Irons paused, listening to a reply that the other two men in the room could not hear.

"Still? My good man, you must simply find a replacement for the absent Ms. Vannoy. Surely in a city of this size you can find a competent secretary."

"Hmmm, as bad as that? Well, I will have a word with Donald."

"No, I did not call about your secretarial troubles. I was calling to bow out of our golf game on Wednesday. Something has come up, I am afraid."

Irons chuckled at whatever had been said and replied with a touch of condescension, "Really Marcus, I could spot you a decent handicap and still defeat you quite soundly."

"Well enough. Next Wednesday at 10 a.m. Goodnight Marcus." Kenneth closed the call and looked up at Orlinsky, "He is still in his office, and likely to be for several hours yet."

"Thanks. I can see myself out." Orlinsky turned to go, not wanting to waste any time. The longer Dante was with the Feds with nothing to distract them, the more likely it was that they would learn something that the Bulls and their allies did not want revealed. Besides, having Nottingham behind him was seriously creeping him out.