"We was supposed to go get the brick, is all, I swear! Me and Jay! All I know is Jamal wasn't paying the boss for the brick. He didn't pay the boss, so the boss sent us over to get the brick back!"
Vicki couldn't believe her ears. The kid was telling her why Morty had been killed, but it wasn't why she thought. It wasn't a battle between mid-level suppliers at all. It was a dispute with a creditor, and taking back the drugs was a gangsta version of a repo. "Teeg, you have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-"
"I know all that, you gotta believe me! You give me protection, I'll give you everything. The boss sent me there, it wasn't my fault! Preston Courtney sent me there!" The kid was growing hysterical, spilling his guts. "He does business with Jamal, with all of them, all over the city! He's the big boss! He supplies everybody! He's the connect!"
Vicki's eyes widened. The connect. "Teeg, in a court of law, we'll use these statements against you, and you have the right to have an attorney present at any questioning-"
"The boss is at Getson right now, with all them! That white guy in the van that they're lookin' for? He's there, too! They sent me out for cigarettes! I don't come back, I'm dead. You gotta protect me now!"
Vicki held up a hand. "If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights? Teeg, do you hear me?"
"Yes, I understand! You gotta protect me! Courtney's the one who sent Jay and me! It's his fault the cop got shot, not me! I didn't do it! I didn't do nothin'!" Suddenly the teenager fell to his knees in the snow, beginning to sob. "I didn't do it! They did! I never killed nobody! Now they're gonna kill me!"
Vicki found herself taking a step back, trying to process it all. The teenager had dissolved into tears, doubled over in fear, like the child he was inside. Preston Courtney and Steptoe were responsible for Morty's death. And they were both at a meeting on Getson Street, right now.
"Vicki?" Reheema asked.
Vicki turned to the unaccustomed sound. She had never heard Reheema say her name and heard it now as if from far away. Courtney and Steptoe had killed Morty. They were only a few blocks away, within her grasp. They wouldn't be there forever. Vicki's head pounded, her heart hurt.
She put a hand into her pocket.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Within fifteen minutes of Vicki's phone call, an astounded Chief Bale swept into the alley with unmarked cars bearing armed ATF agents in navy windbreakers, and the remaining hours of the night pulsed with police activity. Teeg Brumley was arrested and taken in handcuffs to the FDC, where Strauss and Bale themselves videotaped his statement, and Vicki, Reheema, and later Dan watched from behind a two-way mirror to the interrogation room. Vicki prayed that Brumley would repeat everything he'd told her, and the teenager had a court-appointed lawyer present while he gave his statement again, elaborating on what he'd said in the alley and even admitting that Vicki had informed him of his Miranda rights. Dan gave her a hug for that, though it was otherwise strictly business. As much as Vicki needed the comfort, there was no time for romance.
Strauss and Bale brokered a deal by which Brumley pleaded guilty to a lesser offense in return for cooperation and testimony in court against the others. Reheema gave her statement and went home, while Vicki, Dan, and a cadre of AUSAs and staff worked all night to prepare complaints and warrants against one Preston Courtney and Jay Steptoe for conspiracy to murder Special Agent Robert Morton, in addition to complaints and warrants against ten other individuals for numerous counts of crack cocaine sales and distribution, as well as various weapons offenses. It turned out that ATF had been surveilling the Getson Street house from an apartment on the street, waiting for the right moment to make a drug and firearms bust. The right moment had finally arrived.
Dan worked alone on the complaints and warrants for William Toner for the conspiracy to murder the seven men, women, and children who had been killed at the Toys "R" Us, then gave them to Vicki at five in the morning. She took the complete stack into Bale's office, set them down in front of him, and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk.
"Time to make the doughnuts, boss," Vicki said. As hard as she'd worked, she felt only energized.
"Ready, kid?" Bale turned from his computer keyboard, swiveling in his black Aeron chair, and for a moment they looked at each other over the papers. A new morning broke behind him, the sky turning a lovely pink-gray from the bottom up, gleaming off all the mirrored skyscrapers, setting them aglow. Either that, or Vicki was tired to the point of delirium.
"Good to go."
Bale smiled wearily, his skin tight from the night's effort and his eyes reddish but alert, with something like amusement. He had taken off his trademark gold cuff links and rolled up his sleeves, but with care, so that the folded cuff made a perfectly flat panel against his strong forearm. A tiny tattoo of an American flag peeked from its underside.
"You have ink?" Vicki asked, surprised, and Bale smiled.
"That's why I never wear short sleeves. Don't tell."
"I won't."
He pointed a stiff finger at her. "And don't spread any more BOTOX rumors about me, you brat."
Busted. "How'd you find out?" "Debbie Hodill." Vicki leaned forward. "So, is it true?" "Of course," Bale answered, and they both laughed. "Now, to business. We have a judge to wake up, and then some bad guys." He took the stack of papers and pulled them toward him, his fingers a dark contrast against the pristine white.
"This would be the happy ending, right?" "Not yet." "You mean after we arrest them?" "Shhh." Bale raised a slim finger to his mustache. "Can you be quiet, just for once? We're not finished. These are just paper, right now. They need the proper signatures, then they assume the force of law."
The force of law. Vicki liked the sound of the phrase, more powerful than a mere gun. Reheema had been right about that, but she hadn't realized it before.
"Let's see." Bale slid the first paper off the stack, with the caption that read UNITED STATES V. PRESTON COURTNEY AND JAY STEPTOE.
Vicki felt a deep satisfaction. She had written it herself. "That's the complaint and indictment for Morty's murder."
"I know, that's why they call me Chief. Now, hush." Bale took the warrant, read it completely, and finished at the signature page. The usual procedure was merely to initial the papers, but given the high-profile nature of the case, the office had decided to have them signed in full.
"Here's your pen, Chief." Vicki slid a black Montblanc from its immaculate crystal pen holder and handed it to him, but Bale swiveled around in the chair and slid a new piece of paper out of the computer printer behind. Vicki set the pen down, puzzled. "What's that?"
"A new page. I corrected a mistake you made. I noticed it when I read it earlier."
"A mistake on Morty's papers?" Vicki's mouth went dry as Bale signed. "I proofread them a zillion times. What was wrong?"
"This." Bale handed her the page across the desk, and Vicki looked at it. He had added a new signature line, left blank, and underneath the line, it read:
"For the United States: VICTORIA ALLEGRETTI."
"Sign, please." Bale handed the Montblanc across the desk.
Vicki felt herself tear up, then blinked it away.
"Better hurry and sign. We got some killers to catch." Bale waved the pen, and Vicki took it.
"Does this mean it's my case?"
"Absolutely." Bale nodded, with a smile. "My sign-off is pro forma. I can't think of anybody more deserving."
"Thanks, Chief," Vicki managed to say, and signed the complaint and warrant without crying all over it, which was a feat.
"I would let you handle it through indictment and trial, but we'll need you as fact witness, describing what happened and making the ID of the shooter. You know you can't do both, under the rules."