Flu
Chapter 7
The assortment of pastries in the middle of the conference table doesn't do much to raise the spirits of the N.Y.P.D. precinct captains gathered around the conference table – the ones in a condition to attend the meeting. Their faces are weary, partly due to age but made even more so by the situation at hand.
"I called you here to brainstorm," Deputy Chief Valerie Van Buren announces. "I don't have to tell you that things are getting out of hand. While we have reduced police presence on the streets, organized crime and even the gangs seem determined to squeeze everything out of this emergency that they can. Now, given the demographics of the gangs, they're as depleted as we are. The families are another matter. They still have a number of members of the old guard, and they're using every resource they have.
"Now I know that you've extended shifts and put every available cop on the street, but it's not enough. Ideas?"
"This thing isn't hitting much of anyone over 60, is it?" Montgomery queries, already aware of the answer.
"According to Health Services, that's correct," Van Buren confirms.
"Then how about bringing in retirees?" Montgomery suggests. "We hesitated in other flu outbreaks because they were the most vulnerable to illness, but this flu is all flipped around. We could pair them with younger cops who could do most of the running around and heavy lifting."
Van Buren nods, "I had the same thought. I want all of you to give me figures on how many your precincts need and in what areas. What else?"
"The paperwork is piling up," Captain "Jeff" Jefferson of the 54th puts in. I have civilian volunteers working on some of it, but there aren't enough of them who understand how to handle it. How about the cadets? Their coursework covers most of that as well as other techniques. If we keep them away from as much contact with the public and each other as possible, they're less likely to get sick."
"Good point," Van Buren agrees. "I'll contact the commandant and see what we can work out."
As several other captains make suggestions, Montgomery is itching to get back to his office. He has a few experienced hands in mind to call, and one in particular.
As she opens her eyes, Kate deeply resents her body for falling asleep again. She focuses on Rick as he hunches over his laptop. "Got anything, Babe?"
"Oh, Kate, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
"Frustrated that I'm still tied to a bed."
"Well, at least you're out of the I.C.U. Not as many restrictions on visitors and a lot less beeping all the time. You're making progress, Kate. And so am I," Rick proclaims. "I managed to eliminate most of the buildings on the block where the boys saw their suspect – oh, they called while you were asleep. Facial recognition has him as Christopher Carlucci. The Organized Crime Unit believes he's Dino Scarpella's right hand man."
"That's strange," Kate considers. "Why would a higher up in the family handle something any of the soldiers could do?"
Rick drums his fingers on the edge of his computer. "Good question. Maybe that's all tied up with going to our mystery building instead of just delivering the feloniously-filched-funds back to the family coffers. Could Carlucci be the liaison with the fellow who makes things go boom?"
"Are the boys going to bring Carlucci in and ask him?" Kate queries.
"Ryan said, no. Montgomery thinks Carlucci would just keep his mouth shut until the consigliere can spring him."
Kate twiddles with the edge of her sheet. "He's probably right. So what are the boys going to do?"
"Montgomery's got them on the street for now, but the captain said he's bringing in some help – besides us. He didn't tell the boys who."
"Then that leaves us with what you found. After eliminating most of the buildings, what's left?"
"There's a real estate outfit that bought up three buildings, at an inflated rate, as far as I can tell. The purchase was facilitated by a bank suspected of having ties with Russian oligarchs."
"Money laundering," Kate assumes.
"That's what I thought, but unless the families are doing hands across the sea in a very big way, those buildings are part of a business operation by the wrong mob. Maboko owns the building I've zeroed in on. That's a privately held corporation, so it doesn't have to file much in the way of official disclosures. It's headquartered in Delaware in the same building as 2,000 other corporations."
"A mail drop," Kate realizes.
"Right," Rick agrees. "Many corporations do that for tax purposes. Delaware is corporate-friendly. But I got my business manager to run a credit check on Maboko. It doesn't have credit with anyone. Apparently, it does business strictly by cash. And Kate, Maboko is an anagram for kaboom. I think the building belongs to our bomber."
A grin stretches across Kate's face. "And Chris Carlucci used the marked cash he extorted from Manny Feldstein to pay him. Babe, flu or no flu, Montgomery's got to put someone on that building to get that bomber. I need to talk to him."
Rick reaches into his pocket. pulls out Kate's cellphone, and passes it to her. "This was in your hand when you fell asleep. It almost hit the floor. Go get him, Detective."
As he shakes Montgomery's outstretched hand, Jerry Macy moves with a grace that belies his age. Other than a startling white streak in his hair and deepened lines in his forehead, he could pass for 40, but he's older than Montgomery. After 30 years as a detective, he worked as an investigator for the D.A.'s office, before taking a job teaching a course at the police academy. He's mentored several fine young officers. Unfortunately, like so many other cops his age, Macy's protégé at the 12th, has the flu. "So, what can I do for you, Captain?"
"1PP is trying to downplay it in the press, but we're stretched thin, here, Macy."
Jerry gestures toward the almost empty bullpen. "I can see that. Hey, I can't read without my damn glasses, but pretty much everything else works all right. How can I help?"
"I'll get right to the point. The families are making a push, and we think the Scarpellas are dealing with a bomber to help them force businesses into knuckling under to their protection racket. Two of our people have a line on the bomber. Have you heard of Beckett and Castle?"
"My granddaughter, Tracy, loves Nikki Heat. But what does the bomber have to do with a writer who trails after a detective? Tracy mentioned something about Richard Castle marrying Beckett. She says she knows because she's a 'shipper,' whatever that is.
"Damned if I know. One of my daughters talks about shipping too. But right now I'm more worried about business. Beckett's in the hospital with this damn flu and Castle is there looking out for her. But they've still been working. Castle's the one who dug up what we have on the bomber. We think we know where his headquarters is, but I need someone on him. We need to tie him to the Scarpellas so we can close in on their extortion operation and get a handle on other family business. Unfortunately, with everything else that's going down right now, I just don't have anyone to spare. I've arranged it so you can use a few cadets. You probably already know them. If you can take care of the surveillance, I can bring my people in for the takedown."
Macy winks. "Nothing like a little on-the-job training. Sounds like fun."