Chapter 4: Undercover

"Okay gentlemen, we're live courtesy of Mr. Andrews." Kelvin leaned forward in his swivel chair and adjusted a few dials, carefully enhancing the resolution on the two video monitors.

Freddy peered at the fuzzy black-and-white images. In the corner of each screen was the time, blinking in digital numbers. "Where's he carrying the cameras?" he asked as he chewed his gum.

"This one's attached to his bag," said Kelvin gesturing at the left-hand monitor. "And this baby –" he waved at the right-hand monitor, "is built into his glasses."

Holdaway let out a low whistle. "Nice job, Kelvin."

The techie smiled complacently. "I try."

"Is the mike working?"

Kelvin flipped a switch, and immediately they heard the sound of Andrews' footsteps as he walked down the street. "You wanna talk to him?" He passed Holdaway a microphone.

The older cop held down a button. "Hey man, how ya doin'?"

Andrews' voice came back over the speakers, laced with static. "I'm all right. I'm almost there, I can see you guys." Freddy watched the right-hand monitor as Andrews turned his head and looked at the van parked across the road.

"Okay, Jeff. We're keepin' a sharp eye out. If anything goes wrong we'll send our boys in, all right?"

"Check."

"Good luck, man."

Freddy sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. "You sure this is gonna work?" he asked in a low voice.

Holdaway glanced over at him. "I'm never fuckin' sure, man. If Sid comes through like he said he would, we should be okay. And we've got that scumbag by the balls."

"It should be me going instead."

The older man sighed and clenched his fists. "We've been over this, Freddy. A million motherfuckin' times."

Before Freddy could reply, he was cut off by Andrews' voice: "Okay, I'm going in."

The three of them held their breath as Andrews walked through the door and over the marble floor of the lobby to the front desk. The sound of his shoes seemed unnaturally loud. A pretty receptionist looked up and smiled at him. "I have an appointment with Mr. Dover," said Andrews. His voice was impressively steady.

The left-hand monitor, the one hooked up to the camera in the bag, was positioned to get a full view of the lobby. Freddy tensed when he spotted two guys built like gorillas rise out of their chairs and start to make their way over.

"Of course," said the receptionist, looking down at her appointment book. "You must be from Mr. Phillips. These two gentlemen will show you up."

The glasses camera swung towards the two thugs, and got a good view of their barrel-shaped chests. "Wonderful," said Andrews, and Freddy was relieved to hear that the kid sounded perfectly calm. The cameras jolted as Andrews was escorted to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors had slid shut, one of the thugs looked through Andrews' bag while the other frisked him. Freddy nearly swallowed his gum, he was so nervous. His heart was pounding. "Will they find the cameras?" he asked in a low voice.

"Unlikely," said Kelvin, though he looked as nervous as Freddy felt. "The one in the bag is in a hidden compartment." Freddy gazed at the left-hand monitor, which was jiggling about like crazy, but soon it stopped and they all let out sighs of relief.

There was some more movement on the right-hand monitor as Andrews adjusted his glasses. "Thanks," he said wryly, reclaiming his bag while one of the thugs examined his firearm. "It's not loaded," said Andrews, but the thug pocketed the weapon with a grunt.

They got out of the elevator on the sixth floor and walked down a wood-panelled hall. A young guy in a suit stopped them. Andrews swung his head slowly from side to side, and they all got a good view of a foyer. Several men were lounging in chairs, drinking and smoking and talking, all looking with interest at Andrews.

"Who're you?" asked the guy in the suit, eyeing the bag.

"Paul Mullen. Sid sent me."

The guy in the suit glanced at one of the thugs questioningly.

"He's clean, Teddy. Carrying this – unloaded."

Teddy examined the gun, then jerked his head. "Follow me." He knocked on the door, and poked his head in. "Guy here from Sid. Name's Paul Mullen."

"Send him in."

Andrews walked through the door, and into the room that used to be Joe Cabot's office. It looked very luxurious, even in grainy black-and-white video feed. Two large elephant tusks rose up behind the chair, and there was a truly atrocious elephant foot serving as a table on the side, holding a stack of files. The man sitting behind the desk, however, was not Joe Cabot.

Freddy squinted at the black-and-white image of George "Dov" Dover, the new head of the Cabot crime syndicate. He was Joe's physical opposite, tall and thin, and immaculate in a tailored suit. The lines in his face gave him a thoughtful, cunning look. He was like a man on the outside of a situation, looking in and laughing at what he saw.

"Good afternoon, Paul," said Dov, regarding Andrews with faint interest. "Take a seat. Would you like a drink?"

"Uh, sure," said Andrews, playing the uncultured rookie, though Freddy knew his nervousness was real. Just like Freddy had taught him; take what you're really feeling and let just enough of it show through to fit your character. Much easier than having to fake everything. More naturalistic, as Holdaway would say.

Andrews placed the bag on the desk, giving them all a view of the office. It was difficult to believe that this meeting was taking place in the nondescript building across the road.

"I understand you have something for me from Mr. Phillips?" Dov leaned back in his chair with a glass and smiled. It was a smile that said this man knew exactly what you were thinking. Freddy could only hope that Andrews wouldn't freak the fuck out and blow his cover.

Andrews cleared his throat nervously and put his glass down. "Yeah, Sid got your message. He sent me with it." Freddy watched Andrews' hands enter the frame and open the bag. He emptied the contents onto the desk: stacks of bills. "You can count it if you want." Andrews put the bag down so that the camera pointed towards the top of Dov's desk. Kelvin immediately started typing keys like mad, trying to improve the resolution.

"In a while. Was it difficult getting the full amount?"

"Yeah, a bit. Sid thought he'd have more time, but he appreciated you lowering the interest."

"Joe gave him more time. But lately I've had to call in a lot of unpaid debts. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm sure you understand. Tell that to Sid."

"Sure thing." Andrews paused, and the glasses camera shifted as he fidgeted in his chair.

Dov's eyes seemed to sharpen. "There's something else."

"Well… yeah." Freddy held his breath. This was the moment of truth. He and Holdaway paid no attention to Kelvin's frantic typing as they waited. "Sid told me a little about your situation. He said you were tryin' to build up the business again, and that you were looking for some guys." Dov's face was expressionless, and Andrews carried on. "I've known Sid a while, see. He knew I was on the lookout for some steady work, and he said with you, starting out again an' all, there'd be room for advancement."

Dov was looking thoughtful. Freddy knew that in order for Dov to revive the Cabot business, he'd have to replace the soldiers who had left when the Cabots died. "Do you have any experience?"

"Some intimidation jobs, mostly crackheads and junkies short on cash. Robbed a couple liquor stores. Held a rifle during one of Sid's gun deals."

"You ever do time?"

"As a juv. Never been caught since."

After a moment of silence, Dov leaned forward and reached for the phone. "This won't take a minute," he promised as he dialed. He waited patiently for someone to pick up. "Hey Sid? It's Dov… I got your money, don't worry. My question is about the kid you sent… Yeah, Paul. He's looking for employment? … How was he on the gun deal? … Yeah? … Maybe. I might call you later. Thanks, Sid."

He hung up and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Sid seems to think you're a pretty good guy," said Dov thoughtfully. "Not a big imagination, but you do what you're told. Only thing is you don't look very intimidating with those glasses, but I guess that makes you less suspicious, and that'll be okay if you go with someone else." He regarded Andrews in an evaluating sort of way, and Freddy and Holdaway exchanged tense looks. Finally, Dov leaned back and clasped his hands on his stomach. "Tell you what, kid. You go home and wait for us to call you, and we'll talk more then."

"Okay." The right-hand camera shook as Andrews got to his feet. He shook hands with Dov and picked up the empty bag, to be shown out by Teddy. The two goons rode down in the elevator with him, and Freddy only allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief when Andrews walked out of the door. He was echoed by Holdaway and Kelvin.

"Shit," said Holdaway, sitting back and wiping his forehead. "The kid fuckin' did it."

"Didn't know he had it in him," Freddy admitted. "I might have to start calling him Jeff."

A/N: I know the "hidden in an unmarked van across the road" situation is so cliché, but I still like it! It's the sort of stereotypical cool mysterious cop stuff Freddy would jump at doing. And Sid? He's the guy Joe was on the phone with at the beginning of the "Mr. Blonde" scene. Joe was telling Sid not to worry, and he knew he'd pay him back eventually.