Chapter Ten

What's It Worth?

Woody nervously adjusted the wire that ran between his t-shirt and Kevlar, praying this time that if any bullets were fired, they sure as hell weren't the armor-piercing kind. When he was satisfied the wire would stay in place and the sound technician was satisfied that it would transmit any conversations successfully, Woody buttoned his dress shirt up back and tied his tie while looking at himself in the mirror.

Damn, he was looking older than his 32 years. Of course the last two weeks had given him enough to worry about that he should look older. Jordan. Their baby. Getting out of this undercover assignment safely so that their baby would have a father…it all had pressed on his mind to the point where sleep had eluded him…and concern for the child's mother had stayed on his mind.

Jordan had been so sick that last night when he was at her apartment. Like most men, Woody only had a basic understanding of the intricacies of pregnancy, and seeing Jordan so violently ill had scared him. He had seen her sick before…. Colds, yes. Once even pneumonia. But never this ill. Woody would have given anything to tell Walcott and Freeman they could stick this assignment up their asses…he was staying with Jordan and taking care of her.

But he couldn't. Countless man hours had been put in. Countless dollars followed closely behind. He couldn't negate that. So he had done what he had to. He called Renee' on his way back to the his apartment and told her to hurry the hell up and do whatever she had to in order to bring this case to a close…or he was walking out.

Woody had expected resistance…instead the DA readily complied as long as Woody would agree to two things. First, he had to get Little Johnny to confess as to what his role in the McMartin Warehouse fire was. Secondly, Woody had to wear a wire.

The first would take some finagling, but Woody was pretty sure it could be done. However the second….the second….the wire, could get him killed if Johnny found out and backup couldn't cover the detective's ass in time. Woody nervously straightened out the front of his shirt again. Neither the Kevlar nor the wire could be detected. He should be fine.

Jordan dragged her weary body out of bed. This morning had been a battle. She had hit the snooze button on her alarm clock three times. It was only after much effort that she forced her reluctant eyes open and seriously considered calling in sick. But she had just as quickly pushed that thought aside, thinking that in the days ahead, she may really need her sick days. She nearly crawled out of the bed and into the shower, praying the hot water would revive her and make her at least feel like attempting to face the rest of the day.

Days that seemed to drearily bleed one into the other since her last exchange with Woody. She wasn't sure if she had been subconsciously been expecting a miracle to happen and Woody to stay with her…and had been so keenly disappointed when it didn't happen, or if it was just the sheer worry she had over him being at the Rose with the Irish mob that kept dragging her down…but either or both, she had to go on with her life…plan for the baby and try to take care of herself.

Putting the last touch of the little makeup she now wore on her face, she got dressed and headed into the morgue, hoping today would be quiet…low-key…just a little…boring. That would be nice…she thought as she got off the elevator and headed for the office.

"Morning love," Nigel greeted her. "How are you and ….junior?" he asked, with a toothy grin.

"I've told you, Nige, I don't know what I'm having. It could be a girl or a boy…"

"Or one of both?"

"Hell, no. There's only one heartbeat…."

Nigel continued to grin. "Had breakfast?"

"No. Not yet."

"Bagels are in the break room when you need one."

"Thanks…" Jordan nodded again to her friend and proceeded to her office. A quick glance at the assignment board showed her that her wishes were coming true. It was going to be a quiet morning not only for her, but for what appeared to be the rest of the morgue…unless there was a mass fatality somewhere, she should be just fine holing up in her office getting her paperwork caught up.

Jordan had spent a quiet hour or two at her desk, signing off on death certificates and reports, when suddenly there was a knock at her door. "Come in," she said, not looking up form the file on her desk.

"Jordan…" the soft voice belonged to Lu.

"Lu…nice to see you again," Jordan managed to get out. The truth was, Jordan still wasn't sure as to the state of affairs between Lu and Woody…and it made her a bit nervous, even though Jordan was pregnant with Woody's baby. "Sit…" She motioned to a chair in front of her desk.

"I can't stay but a minute…" Lu sank down in the chair and pulled it a little closer to Jordan's desk, so she could continue their conversation in a low voice. "Look….I don't know what this means….but I think you need to know…" Lu looked guiltily around for a minute, as if she had been caught perpetuating office gossip.

"What?"

"This…I just got word that Walcott is sending a bunch of uniforms, plainclothes, and snipers over to the Rose in three hours. I don't know what's going down…and I just overheard that…but with Woody at the Rose…"

Jordan felt what little energy she had drain out of the bottom of her feet. As well as the color in her face. "Woody…" she whispered. "I've got to go to him…"

"Jordan…not in your condition…let me go and I'll keep you clued in…"

But Jordan was out the door before Lu could even think about stopping her.

"Morning, Hoyt," Little Johnny greeted Woody as he came in the back entrance of the Rose.

"Hi, Johnny," Woody replied, busy behind the bar, restocking the alcohol supply and trying to remain cool…although the wire felt like it was burning a brand on his chest. "How's it going?"

"Good….good….read the P&L on last month's sales…we're now showing a steady profit here…in part thanks to you."

Woody nodded in response, although his mind was racing for a way to ease into the matter of the McMartin Warehouse. "So how does everything else look?"

"Everything else?"

"Well, I was just wondering," Woody began, turning around and pointing to the burnt out remains of the warehouse, "if the McMartins had contacted you about selling now…now that the building is burned out…I was wondering…"

Johnny chuckled and walked over to the bar where Woody was at. "They want to, I'm sure…but since the police discovered Joey's body in there…well, I don't think it will happen right now…but I'm sure they will call me as soon as the yellow PD tape goes down…In fact, I'd bet on it."

"You would?" Woody did his best to look puzzled.

Evidently he looked it. Little Johnny continued. "Nothing like a burned out warehouse and the remains of a known Irish mob arsonist to let folks know I mean business…"

"I'm sure …" Woody's thoughts raced as he tried to keep the conversation on track. "I guess Joey didn't get out in time. Poor guy."

Johnny chuckled and ran his hand down the smooth surface of the bar. "Something like that…but I think you need to know, Hoyt…if you stay with me…I make things happen. When I really want something…I get it. It may take me a while, but I do…I'm like the tortoise in that kids' story that runs a race with the rabbit. I may be slow…I may be deliberate…It make take me a while…but I cross the finish line. I get what I want."

Woody casually glanced at his watch. If Renee and Freeman held true…the snipers and everyone should be in place. There were two plain clothes detectives outside the bar, casually talking. Now was the time to go for broke. "Did you want Joey dead?" Woody asked coldly.

"Me? Wish Joey dead? No…you read me wrong, Hoyt. That man did a lot of work for me in the past. I only wished him health and happiness. It's ashamed that the flames or smoke got to him. A real shame."

"Joey didn't die from either and you know that." Woody came out from behind the bar to face the mobster. "He died from a gunshot wound to the head. The back of the head."

If Johnny was surprised, he didn't act it. "Where did you hear that? Oh, that's right…you and Dr. Cavanaugh…the dead people's doctor. Bet she warned you…and told you to get the hell out of here, didn't she?" The last statement was said with a sneer.

"You said part of the reason you hired me was because of my continued contacts with the Boston PD. Leave Jordan out of this."

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "You've got a lot of balls, Hoyt. You are confronting me with the fact that Joey was shot…and probably asking me if I shot him?"

"You might say that." Woody sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for whoever it was that invented Kevlar.

"What's it worth to you?"

That wasn't what Woody was expecting. He anticipated working the answer out of Johnny, but not bartering with him. "Excuse me?"

"What's it worth? If I tell you I did it, what would you do for me?"

"But what if you didn't do it?"

Johnny chuckled. "Then you would want me to tell you who did. You're still that much of a cop. No…not yet. I'm not telling you anything yet, Hoyt. But I will tell you something I know about you." Johnny fished around in his pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test Jordan had left months before. "Dr. Cavanaugh is having your baby. And keeping her and the baby safe should be worth your undying loyalty…closed mouth…and blind eye."

Woody nodded. "It will…but did you do it, Johnny? I need to know…what kind of man are you really?"

The mobster threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah. I did it. I shot Joey McPherson…too many loose ends just trip you up. And now that you know…you've got to die, too…"

It happened in a flash, but not the way Woody expected. At Johnny's confession, Woody had braced himself for the possible impact of metal hitting his Kevlar, even as his own hand reached for his gun. He fully expected the bus load of cops…plain clothed and uniforms to come through the door…what he didn't expect was Jordan coming in from nowhere it seemed, pushing him out of the way as Johnny's gun discharged.

And he didn't expect to see her fall to the ground, her blood covering the right side of her body.