CHAPTER FOUR

How do I begin to describe Mac Taylor? He's about twenty years older than me, and I ain't exactly the cream of the crop anymore, if that's any indication. Keeps his hair cut short; supposedly, he went over in World War I to fight in the trenches. He's no-nonsense, completely by the book. And he don't take hell from anyone-and that especially means me. We've butted heads in the past. I tend to be not-so-much 'by the book.' I do what it takes to get a job done. Taylor doesn't always approve of my methods. Plus, if I can 'toot my own horn' as it were, when I solve a case that stumps his boys, the look on his face is priceless.

It's four-thirty when I stroll into the bullpen of Precinct 6. I nod to a few fellow officers. There's one kid, he's a rookie, but for some reason I'm his hero. I see him comin' up to me now as I look around for Taylor.

"What say ya, Flack?" he asks me with this big kid grin.

I smile. "I say you're still too young to be a beat cop, Ross."

Officer Adam Ross grins at me. "Nice to see ya, too. Chief's in his office." His tone gets quiet as he leans in close to me, like he's got a secret the world ain't ready for. "Been in a real sorta sour mood lately."

"Got anything to do with Sassone?" I whisper back.

Ross nods knowingly. "Got everything to do with Sassone."

"Well, maybe I can improve his mood," I say. "Take care of yourself, kid. These are some mean streets these days."

He nods. "Always do." With that, he puts on his hat and heads out the door, presumably to get back on his beat. I thread my way through the boys in blue 'til I get to the door marked "Mac Taylor." I don't even knock. I push open the door like I own the place.

Taylor looks up at me from his desk. "Flack. What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Nice to see you too, Taylor," I reply. "Heard Sassone's been givin' you a hard time."

Taylor points to the map on his wall that's got all the trouble spots in the city marked with red pins. Bodies are in black. There's a lot of those. He raises his eyebrows as if to say, You think?

"What if I told you I have the nail in Sassone's coffin?" I ask him, grinnin' ear to ear.

He looks at me. "Really. And just what do you have that all the men in my employ can't seem to find?"

I'm still grinnin' as I hand him the photo of Danny Messer. "That boy right there has decided to turn snitch." I toss Messer's notebook on his desk, then stand back and cross my arms, watching his expression as he weeds through it.

He finally looks up at me. "And where is this snitch?"

I point out the window. "Somewhere out there."

"Excuse me?" Taylor sounds pissed. That's the Mac Taylor I know.

I shrug. "Currently, Mr. Messer is on the run. I've been hired to find him by his girlfriend."

"You let my boys handle this, Flack. He needs to be brought in-"

"In the most discreet manner possible, sir," I say. I knew this was comin,' so I tossed in the sir to stay in his good graces, and Taylor's got his heart in the right place, it's his execution I worry about. "You send in a bunch of uniforms, sirens blarin', lights blazin' and this kid is likely to stay hidden. Even your plainclothes boys would get made the second they stepped out of this building. I can bring him in and Sassone'll never know. Your boys bring him in, it'll be on the front covers of the Times and the Post by tomorrow's early edition. Which Sassone will get his hands on. And I ain't exactly sure that your boys all keep their noses clean on duty."

Taylor's furious. There's this nice little vein that pops on his forehead when he's upset. "Are you accusin' my officers-"

"No, sir. Not accusin'. Just sayin' is all." With that, I take my photo back from him and snatch up the notebook. "Give me 48 hours, sir. I can bring him in. I'll let you have the credit for bustin' Sassone when it comes that time."

Taylor looks at me in disbelief. "You'd give me the credit for bustin' Sassone? I know you'd love nothin' more than to put two holes in his temples and drink a beer over his glassy eyes." His eyes bore holes into mine. "I know your beef with Sassone."

I get down eye level with him, right in his face, the same I did with Sassone. "That sonofabitch got away with murderin' my father. You're right, I'd love nothin' more than to chop him into tiny pieces and bury him myself. But I'd much rather see that smug smile of his fade away when a jury convicts him. I'd rather see him rot and waste away in a prison cell. No, Taylor. Killin' him wouldn't be enough." I straighten again. "48 hours." With that, I leave his office and go in search of Miss Lindsay Monroe. She needs to be updated on the day's events. And I need to blow off some steam. Talkin' about my father gets me riled like that.

I stop outside for just a second and take a seat on the steps of the precinct. I need to calm down a little bit before I go to see Monroe. I'm pissed, but hell if I'll take it out on a lady.

You see, my father, Donald Flack Senior was a beat cop. Two of Sassone's idiot gofers were in a bar one night braggin' up all their exploits. They didn't know Pop was in the bar, too. Off duty. Sullivan's was a place he frequented a lot. My mother never condoned it. She doesn't need to worry anymore. They kept talkin' about some big job, some big transfer that was set to go down that night. Well, Pop followed them to the pier...and he never came back. I know it was Sassone. Half the city knows it was Sassone's boys responsible. But we can't pin anything on them. But I know that Sassone probably was there. I bet he probably cracked a cold one open and said somethin' highfalutin in Italian before toasting my Pop's dead body.

Maybe it's easier to see now why I want Sassone's family jewels on the chopping block.

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Author's Note: Have I mentioned thank you to the folks that are reviewing? You guys keep me motivated to keep on this story. Constructive criticism is usually warranted and ALWAYS appreciated!