Note: Thank you again for the reviews . Strangely, I had naively thought I wouldn't crave them but I think perhaps I do after all!

I warn you, this chapter is long.

Disclaimer: I lay no claims whatsoever.

Summary: Danny Taylor is seconded into another unit for an undercover operation.

CHAPTER 5

Voices were his torment now. Snatches of voices not really there. From events he thought he should recognise but couldn't identify...

"He's in over his head. He's feeling the pressure of not knowing who to trust - one wrong move could get his throat slit and the world wouldn't even blink."

Words, conversations, actions he couldn't follow...Was that Al? Martin...?

He'd raised a soda to his lips with a broad grin and an inclination of his head.

Why that conversation? Who and where? God! A soda...a drink. He needed to drink. His world swirled in and out of darkness.

Was this the drugs. The drugs that had made him scream with the added clarity of the pain, sob with the spearing brightness of agony... there had been drugs hadn't there? A needle. Once...twice...more. God! Should help but...That's what Rafi had always looked for ...something to dull the constant breath-stealing throbbing ache...but it hadn't. It didn't... if he could just break through the mists ... The pain seemed different now. Now there was a numbness….And yet he could still hear the voices. Memories ...his own voice ...

"He's just like me! No wonder we get along."

Danny thought he was laughing but maybe he was just shaking.

EARLY OCTOBER (First month of operation)

CARLITO'S – DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN

Al Morgan shook his head in wonder at how smoothly this operation seemed to be going.

For him, Danny Taylor's introduction to Romano's crew had been a tense affair as he waited in a car down the block from the neon lit club that was the business base. For Danny however, it was a little like a combination of reunion and job interview.

He hadn't known what to expect, willing to play it as slowly as necessary. As it turned out the mention of Rafael Alvarez brought a nod of recognition from Felipe Romano.

"You are Rafi's brother?" Danny nodded, smiling...old friend...he's an old friend. "So, how is the old bastard? It's been a long time ..."

"He's doing OK...he's back in Rikers...couldn't stay clean." He shrugged ...what you gonna do! "Said to tell you he'd asked for your old room back but they'd already given it to some other Miami Vice wannabe!" Danny maintained the smile and let the words fall naturally....please God, Rafi told me right... "Not too sure what he meant!" He shrugged playfully, working hard to keep it relaxed.

Romano's crew watched and waited for their boss's lead. Danny recognised their type. Tough men. All Latinos. Snappily dressed, with the glitter of gold jewellery beneath their shirts and at their knuckles. Their style was polished but under the veneer these were gang bangers made good. They held themselves in readiness and Danny was in no doubt that they would do whatever Romano told them.

"Ha!" Romano's laugh was like a bark.

He eyed Danny for a moment. "When you're locked up with a guy 18 hours a day you talk about all kinds of stuff – I always loved that show but from where we grew up those boats and cars were a long way off, right?"

Danny recognised a test when he heard it. "Yeah! Hialeah wasn't exactly glamorous."

The Miami district of Hialeah was were he'd been born. Where he'd spent his early years. Years when he'd been a part of the scene his brother had already adopted. Even as a teenager Rafi was running with some dangerous people and from eight years old Danny was right on his shirt-tales, watching and learning. Eventually entering the world of gangs as go-getter, look-out, postman. Too young to be a player but old enough to earn scars from deals gone bad and street justice. It had won him a reputation as one to watch.

A silence fell as Romano looked into Danny's face. His appraisal was hard to endure. This was a man with a reputation of his own.

Hialeah had been his home turf too but unlike the Alvarez brothers, who drifted on the periphery, the Romano family were known to everyone. Born two weeks after his father was killed in a drive-by vendetta, the kid Felipe had a heritage of crime. His two uncles and cousins were running a violently successful crew and it was natural to follow. Always go with what you know.

Danny had read the wrap sheet – recognised it immediately for what he could himself have become, for what his brother had entered into. Drugs convictions, robbery, assault. Murder. Guns, knives and intimidation – a long list which indicated an escalating level of violence. A rival gang member found stabbed in the gut. A gang traitor knee-capped. A hooker girlfriend beaten to a bloody pulp because she went with another guy.

The time he'd spent in jail, sharing a cell with Rafi, was for violent assault – a customer late with a payment, sliced across the neck but still able to name his attacker. However, as Rafi had warned, that was the only thing he was caught on. The body count attributed to Romano's people stood at over twenty. Reading between the lines, the District Attorney just wanted to get him off the streets.

Five years later he was back in business and more ambitious than ever. Moving up.

The FBI's newly formed Department of Pre-emptive Crime were alerted to Romano's activities by the NYPD's Gang Unit. Traditionally, there was little love between cops and Feds but with budgets stretched, they had to rely upon each other.

Pre-emptive crime was the brain child of a government quango who believed it should be possible to slow future crime if it was 'nipped in the bud'. That was the exact cute phrase bandied about by politicians when money was sought for the new department. Its remit was to highlight, monitor and address individuals, gangs, even businesses that were just starting to expand their criminal empires. In its first eighteen months there had been some successful prosecutions but by its nature the department was generally looking for long-term results. Romano's formally Florida based crew certainly seemed a perfect target. Here intending to make their mark, gain some ground, but without evidence of their plan, their finance or their strength nobody could go in.

Danny would need to get close.

Romano tilted his head to a man standing at Danny's shoulders – with an apologetic look he lifted his own arms a little and Danny mirrored the movement... Take it easy Danny, you knew this would happen... He'd expected it but it was hard not to tense even more when the guy patted him down like a professional. The gun he had tucked in the small of his back was drawn out and laid on the table in front of them. It raised little reaction – in this company, to go without a gun was to be undressed.

They were looking for wires but there were none ….Told ya Morrison! No way!

As Romano leaned back into his chair, something in the air surrounding them changed. A lightening of the charged atmosphere. His men took it as their cue to disperse and the gang boss gestured to a chair, for Danny to sit.

"So Rafi thinks you could do something for me?" Romano's tone seemed genuinely interested. Maybe a little teasing

Huh! Direct...

"He just said I should look you up. Maybe you'd have ….opportunities..."Danny let that hang.

"Opportunities? And you're a guy to make the most of ...opportunities?"

Danny recognised this as the kind of dance he knew. "Well, I do my best." He leaned in a little, keeping eye contact. "Look, I know you don't know me. And maybe you got nothing but I've been away myself and I'm looking this city. Do business, you know? So I figured I should pay my respects." An open handed gesture – take it, don't take it.

Danny's casual manner had opened many doors for him over the years and after another moment's consideration Romano nodded. A ghost of a smile crossed his face.

"Well, my friend, I will think about it. I haven't been ...recruiting. " Again the smile. "But for men with experience...maybe. You do have experience?"

Danny nodded. "A little too much my old parole officer would say....I say, you go with what you know."

Romano liked that and let loose another bark.

"We might have something...Give me couple of days to, you know, make enquiries...Come by Friday and we'll see..."

The interview was at an end. Danny rose, scooped up his weapon and held out his hand. Romano's grip was firm and quick.

The eyes he'd felt before followed him again as he headed for the exit, turned onto the street and strode off without any acknowledgement of the dark sedan and the agent he knew was watching.

MID OCTOBER (Three weeks into operation)

BATTERY PARK – DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN – 10.00 AM

Danny brought his previously fast pace down to a slow jog, sidestepping a group of tourists who'd stopped in the middle of the path to study a Manhatten map. Spotting a familiar figure he headed towards a park bench and stopped next to it, lifting his foot up onto the slats and bending down to his laces.

Al looked around – taking in the people near them and then those beyond.

"So, how did it go last night?" He kept his voice low, looking back down to his newspaper.

"Coke deal. Four kilos delivered to one Tony Mudella at a bar called The Pinto on 43rd." Danny delivered the information without raising his head from his fiddling. "It was a test." He gave Al a quick grin. "Think I passed. The guy was an idiot. Tried to change the price. Had to get a little heavy with him."

Al glanced up – a question in his eyes.

"Relax, man. Eduardo was there to see the play – I had to make it convincing." Danny had felt a little sorry for the guy actually but it was time to step things up, to show Romano he could be trusted and that poor sap was the unlucky one...amazing what a few well placed slaps can do when you carry the right threat in your voice.

"So, the big guy was happy?" Al recognised this as progress.

"Yeah! Not so sure about Eduardo though. Seems he's the jealous type. Think he might see me as competition." Danny huffed a laugh.

"Nice to know you're making friends at least. So what's next – you heard anything about shipments?"

"Well something about business getting busy in the next month or two. Nothing specific." Having tightened his laces, Danny sat down on the bench, leaving a distance between himself and Al ...look, I'm just taking in the view.

"Something you should know though – some guy called Tati is coming in. It's a big deal. Romano is already working himself up for it. Bawled out Vincent for being out of his head at the club last night, said we had important people coming and we have to give the right impression. Don't know when it's happening but it could be one of the connections – supplier or buyer?"

"We'll look him up."Al shifted to look around them again, taking the opportunity to glance once more at Danny too.

He hadn't shaved yet this morning and his eyes looked tired. He wore dark sweat pants and a faded Mets sweatshirt, His short hair hidden under a knitted beanie. His handsome face had a glow of perspiration. Romano did his business from the club in club hours. Not a lot got done before 11.00am but plenty went on in the grey times just before dawn. Danny was getting involved in drugs deliveries and money pick-ups ...just like old times...Romano was introducing him around, getting him to know the faces and the business. He wasn't generally making it back to his crappy apartment until three or four. A morning run was one of their contact meets – an early start couldn't be helped.

"So back to the top?" Al asked.

Danny nodded quickly as he rose, acknowledging the reference to their list of coded meeting points. Not all were face to face but it was daily. Sometimes they spoke on the phone, non traceable of course. Otherwise it could be a coffee shop, on the subway, at a newspaper kiosk, on a run or en route through a park. It was a pre-arranged and numbered order but could be changed immediately if there was any suspicion. One text message of a single number and each of them would know where to go. At this stage of the operation, one missed contact wasn't serious. Two would be a worry and so far hadn't happened.

Danny left without another word. Al waited a further five minutes. His route back to the office would be round-about, never direct, to give him a chance to check for tails. So far that hadn't happened either.

NOVEMBER (six weeks into operation)

CARLITO'S

Danny was an alcoholic. He knew it and accepted it. Not a former alcoholic. Not a recovering alcoholic. An alcoholic. That's what his sponsor and the regular meetings were about. To remind him that he would always have that dark place inside him where he could never go again. Disaster lay that way.

He knew what addiction was and recognised it in others. Problem was, in this particular job, being clean was more dangerous than being a user. In this sort of company there were major trust issues about the new guy who didn't drink, inject, inhale, or even smoke.

He'd gone with the 'been-there-nearly-died' angle while also pushing the ambitious 'I'm-clean-enough-to-understand-your-business' presentation. It seemed to work on Romano but for some of the men in his crew it was a growing source of festering resentment.

Danny had quickly realised that Romano himself was a user...no great surprise, right. Rafi predicted he wouldn't stay clean... Seemed in control of it – the guy couldn't have built his business if he wasn't. Cocaine was barely even hidden in the club. Lines dropped and offered openly. His own first refusal had been met with surprise then suspicion.

"I've seen where it leads, man. In my case, straight into a Mexican jail...try checking on that – our guys know their stuff...There's no support down there when you're suddenly cut off. It was brutal. I'm not going back to that." Smiling broadly at Romano he'd made a risky play. "Can't be across a business if your head's not straight."

Romano had paused before finally giving a nod of approval.

Others however found it harder to accept and Danny was forced to prove himself over and over again. In addition to the daily tension of being someone he thought he'd forgotten how to be, he had to match the mood of the rest of the crew without the stimulus they used to make it. Keeping up the facade was exhausting. Already wringing him out. He had to be up when they were up, aggressive when challenged, smart enough to outwit those who could see themselves being usurped.

Hector Eduardo was Romano's right hand man. An attack dog held on his master's leash. He'd been with Romano's crew for years. His value as enforcer lay in his brutality. Danny had read about it in the folder of information that he'd absorbed in preparation for this job, but it wasn't until he met him that he fully realised the danger he represented. Sadistic, possibly psychotic and certainly an addict, Eduardo headed up his own little hierarchy within the gang. And from the outset he hated Danny.

His threat was a constant pressure – like the oppressive heaviness of the air before a hurricane, it held a vibration of unreleased violence and damage.

Danny recognised the feelings and watched for the flying debris that would inevitably be coming his way. He was still surprised however when it came in the form of a teenage wannabe out to make a name for himself.

Orlando Drego, known to all as Twist for the way he knotted his hair into little lumps all over his head, was desperate to run with the big guns. So desperate that he leapt a few basic steps in this ladder of acceptance. Used by the crew as a runner and gopher he was never far from the action in the club, constantly watching and waiting for his opening. Like a kicked mongrel looking for scraps, he'd become sly in his bids for glory amongst the street gang of hangers-on that he mixed with outside.

Unfortunately for him it was a night when Eduardo was flying high on a cocktail of drink and drugs. And it was Eduardo who caught him doing a little recycling of the dustings. Danny had seen him at it before – sweeping off the coke remains left by careless clients too addled to suck up the entire lines laid out. He would bag it quietly and later no doubt sell it to the neighbourhood teenage tweakers. Danny thought it was actually rather enterprising. Eduardo called it stealing.

As a wild eyed Eduardo launched himself at the kid, Danny reacted instinctively. ..Street hold! Street hold!... Danny had an instant to adjust his grip on his gun from the two handed stance ingrained by his years with the FBI to the sideways one handed gangster pose. Eduardo held his gun that way too.

The room instantly fell silent except for the sobs of fear from Twist as the two men mirrored each other with less than four feet of separation.

"You kill this kid now, here – you're gonna bring us trouble." Danny made it a statement. "The Boss has business building here that doesn't need that kind of trouble."

Eduardo was rigid. His eyes glassy, pupils dilated to tiny dark dead holes. His voice came out as a hiss. "You come in here...think you can walk over us? I think it's you who is the trouble for us. And I think I'm gonna have to fix it."

Danny smirked then and stepped in closer. His weapon as steady as his gaze. Their eyes stayed fixed on each other. In that moment there was no other focus. He kept his voice soft but nobody missed the steel there too. "He's a kid taking his chances just like the rest of us. You think something needs fixing? … why don't you take your chance." ...do it you bastard and let's make something happen...Danny was surprised at the hatred he felt burn, felt he might break with the tension.

Romano broke it for them.

"Enough!" He barked. Moving slowly through the watching men, he halted at Danny's shoulder and laid a hand there. Eduardo flinched as though he's been struck. A preference had been shown. A slight to him. Approval for Danny...Man! Guess who's top of Eduardo's most wanted now! Ha!...Danny felt weak as he lowered his weapon. He felt the tickle of sweat down his back and his mouth was dry but he recognised a victory and forcing himself not to show his relief, allowed himself to be steered to Romano's table by the man himself.

Yeah! You need someone to trust and, Romano my friend, I'm your man.

EARLY DECEMBER (Third months of operation)

COVER APARTMENT – MANHATTAN

Danny was rapidly losing patience. He didn't have time for this. Didn't have time to explain to someone who should be understanding but clearly was not. He felt strung out and itchy with antagonism.

"Look! You put me in with these guys to get you the information you need to judge this right and I'm telling you, this is snowballing and we need to keep well ahead of it if we don't want to get rundown." He was pacing about the living area of the dark one bedroom apartment that he was forced to call home. It didn't take long – approximately twelve paces to cross it, that's all. Then back again.

Morrison watched him, then stood abruptly from the frayed couch to block his path.

"Agent Taylor!" It brought him up short. "Danny...." Placating now. "I hear what you're saying...My God! What a stupid phrase... But I don't want to bring in any other agencies at this point. The stuff we know, the names you've given us, we still don't know if they're genuine players..."

"Well, they looked genuine to me." Danny interrupted.... This guy is unbelievable! "They looked pretty damn genuine when their guys were facing us down the other night...intimidation seems a lot more dangerous when you can't pull out a badge.. .Two king pins, in two weeks – each of them with their own entourage. Posturing. Tooled up. These guys are definitely serious and if they're the ones in the running for this deal Romano has in mind, it's all a lot bigger than you seem geared up for."

"He's using more. He's worried and if he's worried we should be too. We need more back-up on this. This is DEA territory and they need to be fully aware. The gangs unit can give us better intel on what the power play is likely to be." Danny turned to Al Morgan for support. He had to make Clive Morrison understand.

But Morrison was bristling, sensing some personal slur. He was a man who took his senior role seriously. He saw it as his right after the work he'd already put into achieving his ambitions. He carried an air of self belief that didn't encourage dissent in his team.

"My department can handle this." Confidence or arrogance? Danny was beginning to really dislike this guy. His role should be supportive but he was getting the distinct impression he was not being listened to at all.

It had taken Morrison three days to even bother to respond to Danny's request, made through Al, to discuss the apparent escalation in events. Even then, he'd opted for the least secure way to meet.

Al had tried to dissuade his boss from going to Danny's squalid cover apartment, with its damp peeling walls, its dubious stains and its addict littered hallways....this could blow everything... but Morrison had insisted his schedule was too busy to follow the usual clandestine pattern of meets and had ordered him to drive to the rundown neighbourhood. He'd simply turned up at Danny's door this morning....Christ, he might as well have been holding a placard that said "I am an FBI agent" for all the effort he made to blend in. A windbreaker jacket instead of regulation overcoat didn't cut it!

Al watched Danny's reaction as the senior agent addressed him again. This had been going on for thirty minutes. "We still have the same pressures on Bureau resources – I'm not willing to beg agents off vital terrorism investigations, involve other departments, until we are more certain." He squared his shoulders and Al could swear he even jutted his chin a little – going for an impression of leadership, it was coming off as petty defiance.

Danny didn't like it. He'd worked with Jack Malone – he knew strong leadership and respected it but this guy....what an asshole.

He shook his head and grabbed the leather jacket that hung on the back of the door before turning towards Morrison again.

Al had noted before that, in the eight weeks he'd known him, Danny's manner had changed somewhat. It was normal in undercover agents. Natural and necessary to adapt and blend. His body language was a little different. Even when relaxed he was alert. When he walked, his usual ease was drifting a little more towards a swagger. There was a certain abruptness to his language which now came littered with colourful profanities. The hardness lay over and around him like a brittle shell. He'd gone back to the streets.

Danny stared for a moment at Morrison, debating with himself just how far he could take this....Man, what I wouldn't give to be with my team on this...trust, loyalty, friendship...you don't know it 'til it's gone. Martin, I'll never tease you again!

"Look, we don't know each other real well. It would be nice if we could have learned a little more about the way we work before this thing started but you gotta see that I KNOW this life. I left it behind, but I know it. And when you know something you get a feel for it." He stepped forward. "And I got a feeling about this. You need to trust me."

As Danny looked straight into Morrison's face, Al could see a dangerous glint in his eyes. It was feral, the kind of light he saw in the eyes of many of the perps he'd brought in over the years of his career. Morrison registered it too and didn't like it.

"Don't come to this apartment again. That's the kind of thing that'll get me killed."

He left then, quietly. Too much of a professional to allow an act of defiance risk alerting attention with a slammed door. Al noted it but didn't mention it to his boss...what an asshole.

TBC

See, told you it was long! But I wanted to establish the undercover stuff. Hope you enjoyed it - let me know.

Back with the team next time but it's going to be a fortnight or so...going away...