Chapter 08
Marty's voice squawked over the com link. "Meeting's over and the place is empting out; looks like there were about eighty people there. Would that be a big meeting or a small one?"
"I have no idea," Jim answered, "I went to John Jay College; it's a whole different animal."
"Well," Baldwin Jones cut in, "we're just waiting to see the happy couple leave… and there they are! They seem to be heading to the Starbuck's across the street with a few of the other attendees. Andy, is Starbuck's coffee allowed in the expense account?"
"Charge it to the 8th Precinct; Russo stole enough of our coffee in the last three days."
"Hey, I resent that remark," Marty's voice broke in, "besides, it wasn't very good coffee."
"Once they're inside," Sipowicz said, "call John on his cell phone and tell him to activate his and Junior's wire. That way you can listen to them and we won't have to listen to you're complaining."
"Did you get the GPS activated in time?" Jim asked Jones.
"It's in the cane, and Junior is afraid to let it go for fear of having to buy Pete a new one."
John sat at the table sipping his Caramel Macchiato and gently touching Junior in friendly ways.
"You just love this, don't you," Clark squirmed as he tilted his head toward John.
"Anything for justice, hold on while I answer the phone."
Clark listened to this side of the conversation and knew it was time to check his wire and GPS system. He heard the door open and glanced up over the sunglasses that hid his perfectly working eyes. In walked Matthew and Mark Pederson. Then he leaned close to John and whispered in his ear, "They're here."
John flipped his phone shut and touched Junior's cheek and whispered, "Russo says he's coming in and don't make a move until he's in place."
"Just the type of sweet nothings I love to hear." Clark smiled.
"I bet you say that to all your dates." John laughed.
"Can't you two faggots take that outside?" Russo voice stopped the laughter dead. "Ya can't go anywhere in this damn town without being treated to this kinda crap. I'm glad I don't have my kids with me, they might think this kinda sick shit is okay."
The manager was right there trying to calm Russo. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Oh, I'm going," Russo continued his rant. "I have to get out of here before I get sick to my stomach." Marty turned to the door and swung his foot wide to tip Clark's chair… and Clark… down on the floor. "Oops, sorry Petunia," he sneered as he headed to the door.
Immediately the Pederson boys were at John and Junior's side.
"Can we help you? That man was an animal, we can call the cops if you want, swear out a warrant." Mark tried to help Junior up, but John managed to brush him aside and assist Clark to his feet. Clark did his best to keep his face away from the man he had interviewed only yesterday.
"No, no," John said as he put the white cane in Clark's hand. "Its nothing we haven't faced before. We can handle this."
"Well, let us at least give you a ride home?" Matthew offered sincerely, "my van is parked just across the street."
"We're going all the way to Ocean Parkway and Avenue J." Clark said, "It's probably out of your way."
"No, we live in Brooklyn, near Coney Island Avenue and Avenue J. It won't be any trouble at all."
Clark rolled his shoulders in pain and John said, "thank you. We really appreciate this."
"It's the least we can do, so let's get you outta here," Mark Pederson helped guide Junior and all four men headed to the door. Russo was standing right outside; waiting for them.
"I see you girls got an escort," he sneered. "We coulda had some fun." He trailed the men to a van parked on across 17th Street from the Starbucks, snarling crude and hateful words at them until the van drove away.
"Baldwin, do you read me," Marty spoke quietly into his mike.
"Loud and clear."
"They left in a late model blue, Chevy panel van, ABC Automotive, Far Rockaway painted on the side; New York plates Zebra Alpha 2729. They seem to be heading to the Manhattan Bridge. Irvin and Clark are inside as passengers."
"We copy; a prowl car is already on their tail. Hey Marty, do you kiss your wife with that mouth. Whoa, that was some nasty shit you were spouting."
"Don't worry; I'll wash it out with soap before I go home tonight."
Jim called to the squad car, "Nash, do you still have the van is sight?"
"Affirmative," the patrol man's voice crackled over the speakers, "these guys are not heading to Ocean Parkway. I'd say they were heading to the Brooklyn Queen's Expressway and maybe the Verrazano Bridge."
"Did you get that, Baldwin?" Sipowicz relayed to the observation van.
"Yeah, we're about six car lengths behind and pulling up fast."
"Don't get any closer than three car lengths," Dunbar cut in. "We can't be have them id-ing your ride."
"Traffic's getting hinky," Russo said, "I don't want to lose them completely."
"We really want to thank you for the ride," John said, tipping his head toward the front of the van.
"Our pleasure," Mark smiled, "do you mind if I put in some music?" Not waiting for a reply he slipped a CD of Gospelrock into the stereo and raised the volume up high."
"John, I don't know where we're heading, but I want you out of this truck."
"Out? Here?" John tried to hide his surprise.
"Yeah, I don't want you in the line of fire if I have to draw my gun. Understand."
"Yes," Irvin answered nervously.
The van moved east on the Belt Parkway thenturned south at Flatbush Avenue. As it stopped for a red light Junior pushed John towards the door.
"Now, John. Now! Now! Now!"
John wrenched the door open and almost fell beneath the wheels of the van, but managed to right himself and run without looking back.
Matthew jumped into the back and grabbed Junior. "Looks like your sweetheart's as yellow as piss, too bad for you, he left you behind for us to play with."
"Irvin's out of the truck," Marty shouted.
"Leave him," Andy relayed to the men. "We'll get a car to pick him up. Don't lose that van."
"You know what you are," Matthew grabbed Clark by the shoulders. "You are an unnatural thing." He pushed Junior into the back of the van, pounded his head into the floorboards. Clark curled into himself, trying to protect his face and his façade and wondering how long either would escape detection.
"Get rid of the patrol cars," Jim ordered, "we can't afford to spook them now."
"Nash, pull back," Andy directed, "Is there an unmarked following."
"Duquesne here," came out of the intercom. "I can pick them up at the toll booth at Marine Parkway."
"Do it!"
"You can change," Matthew let go of Clark. "You can renounce the evils of the flesh. Accept Jesus as your personal Saviour and He will cure you of your homosexuality. Believe enough and he may also drop the scales from your eyes and you will see."
"It's too late," Mark's voice came from the front of the van. "If God was gonna work miracles for that faggot, he'd never have gotten into the truck."
"It's never too late," Matthew argued, almost in tears, "God can work miracles for you, Mark and for this wretch. Pray God remove the thorn from your flesh."
Clark shivered, thinking, 'I believe I'm gonna die.'
"Those guys are imploding. I don't know how much longer we can wait and keep Clark safe?" Sipowicz turned to Dunbar, "Here's your chance, make a command decision."
"They can't do anything until they get off the bridge," Jim chewed his lip and then thought out loud "If they turn to Beach Channel Drive we can be pretty sure they are heading out to the ocean. The business on the truck, ABC Automotive is in Far Rockaway. I bet that's where they're heading. We'll wait and listen to what's happening. Baldwin, Marty, if they stop anywhere other than ABC, stop them immediately otherwise monitor a bit longer."
"You got it, Boss."