Due to family and work commitments this may be the last chapter I'll be able to post for a couple of days.
Miami. Present day:
"How much longer did you keep him undercover?" Calleigh asked.
"Another six months or so, we needed to make sure we had enough to bring the organisation down for good. The information that your colleague had given us would only go so far, nothing short of a verbal declaration of the brothers involvement would give us the ammunition we needed to make all the charges stick."
Flashback. New York 1996:
He felt as thought he'd been undercover so long that he was having a hard time remembering his life before it had started. He still missed his loved ones dearly but knew that they had all moved on with their lives without him. The one thing that kept him going these days was the thought of the Malucci brothers and their henchmen behind bars. Each time his strength wavered he forced himself to remember the sobbing and broken girl he had carried from the nightclub and he found all the incentive he needed to carry on.
As the months passed he became more adept at making sure Frankie and Benny incriminated themselves on tape, Collins made encouraging noises but kept telling him he needed more. It would only be a matter of time before the brothers arrogance would lead to their inevitable downfall.
He was woken by the shrill ringing of his phone; he wiped a tired hand of his bleary eyes and made a grab for the receiver. "Hello?" he answered sleepily.
"Kelly, I have a job for you." Frankie's voice was terse and to the point.
He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes again, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. "It's a bit early isn't it? What's so important?"
"Never mind what time it is. One of our distributors has been mouthing off to one of our competitors; word is he's giving them the skinny on our operations. The asswipe thinks he can sell us out to the highest bidder"
"What's that got to do with me?"
"I want you to find the little punk and bring him to me, I'm gonna show him a little Malucci justice."
He groaned inwardly, he knew exactly what that meant. "Fine, any idea where I can find him?"
"You used to be a cop, you figure it out. I want him by the end of the day, Kelly."
He replaced the receiver back in the cradle and blew out a long breath at the thought of spending another day pounding the streets looking for his quarry. "Kind of reminds me of the old days," he thought sadly, longing for the time when he was still a cop.
Although no longer part of the NYPD the detective in him was still as sharp as ever, greasing a few palms and knocking some heads together had resulted in him locating his target. He found Nicky Truro hanging on a street corner with a bunch of hangers-on hovering around him. Exiting his car he crossed the street to greet the younger man, "Nicky, long time, no see," he began as he walked closer.
The group of youths adopted aggressive stances and prepared to protect their leader, "What do you want, Red?" the young dealer replied cockily.
He gestured his head to the crowd, "Tell your lady friends to take a hike." He placed his hands on his hips making sure his 9mm was in full view.
The group bristled at the comment and prepared to fight until Nicky signalled for them to leave. "What's this about?" he asked as they dispersed.
"Frankie wants a word with you."
"You his lapdog now, Red?" The young dealer tried to goad him.
"Nope, just the messenger. We can do this the hard way if you like."
Nicky considered his options before nodding his head and walking forwards with his hands up. Suddenly the younger man bolted and pushed past him, John growled as he gave chase. Three blocks later and Nicky was cornered as he tried desperately to climb over an 8 foot wire fence. Grabbing the drug dealer by the coat he dragged him back down to the ground, in one final effort to escape Nicky threw a punch that John easily blocked before he countered with one of his own.
Nicky's mouth and arrogance were obviously much better than his fighting skills as he was quickly subdued. He dragged him back to his car after securing his hands behind his back with a plastic cable tie before forcing him in to the back seat.
He said nothing as he drove to the warehouse in Brooklyn, glancing occasionally in the rear view mirror to keep an eye on his captive passenger. Arriving at his destination he opened the rear car door and dragged Nicky out into the blazing sunshine of a warm New York summer's day. The drug dealer began to plead for his life, "You can't take me in there, man, they'll kill me."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you started flapping that jaw of yours." He pushed Nicky through the doorway and into the warehouse before taking him to the office. He knocked once and then entered, pushing Nicky into the room in front of him. "He's all yours," he said as he took a seat at the rear of the room, placing a hand lightly on the recording equipment he was carrying under his shirt.
Benny gave him an impressed look, "Good work, Kelly. That didn't take you long."
He gave the mobster a smug smile but didn't respond. Soon the attention in the room had returned to Nicky who was squirming as he was forced to sit on a stiff wooden chair.
Frankie rose and walked towards the drug dealer, "You've been running that mouth of yours off, Nicky. Do you know what we do with people who do that?"
Nicky gulped nervously and tried in vain to loosen his bindings, "I haven't told anybody anything. I swear!"
"Don't lie to me, boy!" Frankie shouted as he backhanded Nicky across the face. "I know exactly what you've been up to; did you think you could get away with it?"
The young man crumbled as he began snivelling, "I just wanted more power and respect, and they said I'd get it if I gave them the info on you. I'm sorry, Frankie. Please don't hurt me!"
The mobster grabbed Nicky by the shirt and snarled in his face, "When will punks like you learn, we own this city!" He pulled the knife from his pocket and flicked it open before commanding one of his men to hold Nicky's head still. Forcing the young man's mouth open he grabbed his tongue and cut it off with his knife. Frankie ignored Nicky's screams of pain as he shouted, "This is what happens to people who can't keep their mouth shut!" He held up the severed tongue to emphasise his point before throwing it carelessly on the floor.
Bloodlust seemed to overcome the mobster as he began stabbing his hapless victim with the knife repeatedly until Nicky stopped moving. John closed his eyes and tried to block out the wet sounds on knife plunging into flesh and the gargled screams that accompanied each blow.
He was thankful when the task of disposal was handed to someone else, eager to be dismissed by the brothers so that he could contact Collins again. After months of waiting they had finally secured the information they needed to bring the crime organisation down. There was no way the brothers would wriggle their way out of this one, all he had to do was pass the recordings on to the agent and he would be free from the nightmare his life had become.