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Undercover
Undercover
Undercover
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Undercover

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One Man. One Syndicate. The Syndicate never stood a chance.

Mike Miller had little to live for. A veteran cop, he has taken a job that could very well be his last. His mission, to infiltrate and gather information on the preeminent crime syndicate that had plagued their city for decades. It is a deep cover mission, meaning that Miller will be undercover 24 hours a day until he comes in from the cold.

There are no vacations. There is no rest. Everyone is the enemy.

One break in his cover could be fatal. It is a high pressure job, but one with stakes that are high enough for the risk. The fate of Organized crime in this city rests on the shoulders of one man.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 28, 2011
ISBN9781458167262
Undercover
Author

Rodney Mountain

Born in 1977, Rodney Mountain has been writing books for 14 years. Starting with 1998's "The Healy Murders" he has continued writing various novels since then. He is married with two children that have so far failed to drive him completely insane.

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    Undercover - Rodney Mountain

    Chapter One – April 28, 2000

    Mike Miller was still on his forced vacation when Thomas Richter stopped by his apartment. Miller was unsure how Richter had found him, as he still had not even notified the records department of his address change. He had been in the middle of a game of Counterstrike and grumbled at having to leave his multi player game to answer the door.

    Miller looked out of the peephole and saw an older man. The man looked sort of like Adrian's no good brother in Rocky. Miller had never seen him before and asked who he was. He held an official ID up to the door, which looked real enough to Miller. Miller invited the man inside, especially after since he held a high rank in the department.

    So you're Mike Miller, he said, You look different from I expected.

    Which section do you work for? Miller asked curiously, I've never seen you down at the precinct before.

    We'll get to that later Miller, he said with an authoritative voice that really didn't go with the unkempt appearance, It seems that this hasn't been a particularly good year for you.

    Shit happens, he shrugged, at least I quit smoking.

    Admirable, Richter said with a crooked smile, but seriously, Mr. Miller, do you have any family left? Records said that your only relatives are your wife and son, which from what I hear is no longer accurate.

    My parents have been dead for four years now, Miller said as he sat back in his easy chair, my brother overdosed on heroin back in '83. And this year I find out that my wife is a slut and that the kid isn't even mine. Seems that family just plain isn't my thing.

    Precisely why I'm here, Detective Miller, Richter said as he sat up, I work for the special operations division. Do you know what that is?

    Not exactly, Miller lied, but rumor has it that you're the people responsible for that screw-up on Franklin Drive that got six officers killed last year.

    An unfortunate mess, but one that couldn't be avoided, Richter said with a pained look on his face, what you probably haven't heard is the fact that our division has destroyed three crime families, several drug rings and caught twenty-seven syndicate murderers since our creation fifteen years ago.

    Bully for you, Miller said dryly, what does that have to do with me?

    We need people to go undercover, Richter said, I prefer men with no family ties to complicate matters. Makes it easier to stay undercover longer.

    Also lets them form personal ties to the criminals, Miller said, almost disapprovingly, How many have you lost to the other side?

    One or two, Richter admitted slowly, but that is very rare. Our job is to take down the worst of the worst. You know the type. The type that the regular officer can't touch, the ones that think they are beyond the law.

    Keep talking, Miller said with interest as Richter had hit upon one of his pet peeves.

    Any cop can catch a dumb criminal, Richter continued as he stood up, it's the smart ones that take effort. Well, the truly smart ones organize and make it even more difficult, Miller. They are the sons of bitches that we are trying to stop.

    You can't stop them, Richter, Miller said with a chuckle, not in the system as it is today. The system protects their rights, and they use those rights against us.

    You have to play by their rules sometimes, Mike, Richter said, that's why this unit was created. I've talked to your supervisor and a few people who have worked with you in the past. I don't think your views on this are much different from mine.

    He sat down in triumph, working on Miller like a master. He knew he'd made his point and Miller knew at that point that his life would not be the same again. He knew he would agree to join this unit. It sounded as if it could be a little bit of fun, and it was something different. Miller knew it could be dangerous, but he felt that he had nothing to lose. Thomas Richter knew this as well, which was why he'd chosen Miller to make this offer to.

    I'm in, Miller said and then thought better of it, what exactly do you want me to do?

    You'll be informed of it later, Richter said, How much longer are you on administrative leave?

    Another two weeks, Miller said with a chuckle, they told me to take some time to get my personal life straight. I hadn't taken a vacation in six years, and they thought that I needed one. Biggest mistake they've made yet. I'm going crazy without something to do.

    I can understand that, Richter said with a grin, Come on in next Thursday

    Wait a second. It usually takes weeks to set that in motion, Miller said slowly as he realized that Richter had known he would take the offer, you must have submitted the requisitions days ago, even if you do get preferential treatment.

    Like I said earlier, Richter said as he continued to grin, sometimes you have to play by their rules, and sometimes you have to turn their rules against them. Report to Jack Lewis down at Central Headquarters on the fourth, sometime between eight and eleven in the morning if possible. He'll send you my way, and we'll get the operation off the ground.

    Wait… Miller said, not knowing what else to say.

    Don't worry, he said, trying to assure Miller that he made the right choice, You'll like the results.

    He then shook Miller's hand and left him sitting in his easy chair. He thought long and hard about what had just happened. Miller knew he had just made a major life decision, but what bugged him most about it was that he did not care. In some ways, he was even looking forward to it. He eventually settled back into his chair and pulled his computer keyboard into his lap. It was time for him to do a little research on the Internet.

    Chapter Two – May 4, 2000

    Miller enjoyed the last of his forced vacation and tidied up his life a little. He had never had very many friends, and most of the people he had known off the job had decided that they would rather associate with his ex-wife. Truthfully, he had no problem with it. It just showed him who real friends were and pointed out the sorry truth that there were not very many of them.

    «Incorrect Perfect Participle. » When the fourth of May rolled around Mike Miller woke up and started getting dressed. Knowing that he was probably doing undercover work Miller dressed in casual civilian clothing and skipped his usual date with the razor blade. He also did not feel like impressing his new boss too much, as he still was not sure he was ready for this. Miller locked up his little one room apartment and went down to the old beat-up dodge that he had purchased for $400 after having to give the family Taurus to his ex-wife Julie.

    He slowly drove down to the central headquarters building, the Mecca of the local police departments. It was the first time he had been back there in about three years. He did not think he had actually been there more than two or three times in the decade since he took his oath, mainly because his old precinct had been across town. Miller parked the beat up dodge in the visitor's section and walked into the building.

    Miller actually knew Jack Lewis from way back, as Lewis was the head of human services for the city's police divisions. Lewis set up Miller's previous two insurance revisions personally. Mike knew that he should have come by earlier to pull Julie and Eddie off his insurance and wondered if Lewis would take him to task on that.

    He walked in and went to the elevator. The central building was a very nice one, having been built only twelve years previous, and it was modern in all respects except one. An old black man ran the elevators. The same guy was there every day and had been since Miller had joined the force. Miller told him which floor he needed to go to and was dutifully brought there in silence.

    Mike Miller walked through the offices which, unlike the precinct houses he was used to spending his time in, were neat and clean and did not look and smell of misuse. Miller went to Jack Lewis' secretary and asked to see him.

    Do you have an appointment? she asked him as she looked down at her appointment book.

    Thomas Richter sent me, Mike informed her, beginning to wonder if Richter had screwed him over.

    Let me tell Jack you're here Detective Miller, She said with a nod and walked into the office.

    Miller shrugged and sat down. He looked around the office for a minute and then reflected on where he was. It did not surprise him that he had to start in human resources. Everything in the bureaucratic nightmare that passed for a modern police department went through human resources at one point or another.

    The secretary came out and smiled at him while waving him into the office. He stood up slowly and smiled back. He had been divorced only a few months and was still new to this being single thing. He had not even dusted off all the rusty moves that single men normally give to a pretty girl who smiles at you. With a, further nod he walked into Jack Lewis' office.

    Mike! The human resources man said as if he were happy to see Miller, I see that you've signed on for Tom Richter's program.

    Yep, he agreed solemnly, He told me to report here first.

    New recruits for his program always do, he said with a nod, Undercover work is dangerous and there is a whole pile of papers you need to sign before you can begin work with Richter's division.

    Great, Miller said dryly, I have to sign my life away, huh?

    Not to worry, Lewis said with a smile he could not possibly feel, We do our best to keep you alive.

    Small comfort, Miller grumbled, not liking the sound of it, Ok, let's do it.

    Jack certainly was not kidding about the amount of paperwork required to start the process. He dragged out a binder that had at least 100 pages in it, more than half of which required Miller's signature. There were waivers, insurance forms, new tax structures and new ways of holding pay until the undercover assignment ended. Jack led Mike to an empty conference room to give him time and space to wade through it all with instructions to just come on into his office when finished.

    In that binder along with the financial stuff were at least two-dozen secrecy agreements. Miller knew then that he was in for a strange ride just for that reason. In the past other participants in the program had burned them by either defecting to the enemy or going to the press. The crazy thing about it was that he was still looking forward to the challenge of undercover work, despite the warnings. It almost sounded like fun.

    Miller finished with the mound of paperwork and put it back in the binder. Looking at the clock on the wall, he winced a little when he realized that he had spent nearly three hours with that pile of paper. He then walked into Jack's office and interrupted a meeting with a young female officer. Jack asked the patrolwoman to wait outside for a few minutes so he could finish with Miller. She nodded and went out to the waiting room.

    Brain turned into tapioca yet, Mike? Jack asked with a grin.

    Just about, Miller said with a shrug as he dropped the binder on his desk with a loud bang, What's next?

    The last bit of paperwork, he said and then saw the look on Miller's face, Don't sweat it, I'll fill it out. I just need information and a signature from you.

    Ok, Miller said, his face showing a look of relief, What is it?

    The touchiest piece, Jack said with a slight grimace, It's the death benefits. I stopped putting it in the binder because I had too many people decide against joining Tom's unit when they read it.

    I wonder why, Miller chuckled, Lay it out then.

    I won't kid you, Mike, he said seriously, Undercover work is dangerous, especially the type of it that you're going to be doing. As a result, the top brass have put together a very generous death benefit package. I have already filled out the particulars of the paperwork, but I need to know who your beneficiary will be.

    How much are we talking here? Miller asked him out of sheer curiosity.

    You really want to know? Lewis asked.

    Sure, Miller said with a mischievous grin materializing on his face, It's always nice to know what your corpse is worth.

    $250,000, Jack said while showing disapproval of Miller's tone, Initial payment within three weeks of death. Your survivors get 75% of your salary paid as a death benefit for six years after death.

    What is my new salary? Miller asked him, though money wasn't the prime factor in him taking this job.

    $77,500, Jack Lewis replied, Probably about double what you make now. And when you are undercover, you live off your various enterprises and us completely. Your salary will go into a special holding account until you are out of the life, just as you should have read in the paperwork.

    I take it this is a deep cover assignment? Miller asked, still not knowing exactly what he was doing there.

    That's up to Tom Richter, he said, This unit does both. Anyway, the risks are there on both types. Who would you like the benefit to go to? Your wife?

    Hell no, Mike shuddered, I don't want that bitch to get a cent.

    Divorced? Lewis asked, noting the quick tone.

    Yes, Miller nodded, Is there any way I can have it go to Bobby without his mother being able to touch any of it?

    Your son? Jack asked.

    Sort of, Mike nodded, Not legally anymore. Not biologically either, but I would still rather it to go to him. Nobody else left that I really care about.

    We can set it up as a trust for him, Jack said after a moment of thought, With the proviso that Julie can't touch a penny of it ever.

    Do that, Miller said with a smile, As long as she gets none of it I don't care what happens to it after that.

    If Bobby either can't or won't take it I'll set it up to revert to the Patrolman's Benevolent Association, Jack said with a grin, That way she can't touch a dime in any event.

    That's fine, Mike said with approval, Where do I sign?

    I need to set up the paperwork, Jack said, Go up and talk to Tom about what you'll be doing next. You can stop by to sign it on the way out.

    Sounds good, he nodded, Now where do I go?

    Floor 13, Jack said, Go talk to George and tell him you're one of Tom Richter's boys. He'll see that you get to the right place.

    Miller nodded and stood up to walk out. He was just about to go out the door when a thought struck him. This building had no floor 13. It was a well-publicized fact. Miller stopped, did a quick double take and looked back at Jack who could not help smiling.

    It wouldn't do to let the public know where our undercover operations center is would it? Jack chuckled, George will get you there, don't worry.

    Mike Miller was puzzled by the need for secrecy, but he shrugged and walked back out to the elevator. He made an effort not to think about what he was getting into. When the elevator had made it to the floor, he was on he got on and stood next to George the Elevator Man. There were two other people in the elevator were going down to the main floor.

    George made eye contact with Miller and put his finger to his lips to keep him silent. Miller did so and stood there while he brought the remaining passengers to the ground floor. Luckily for Miller there was nobody waiting on the ground floor and George quickly closed the doors and started them up.

    Mike Miller, right? he said and held out his hand, I hear you're joining Tom Richter's team.

    Elevator Man, huh? Mike said as he looked the man over, I was wondering about that.

    Nobody ever looks twice at me, he said with a chuckle as he opened a panel and pressed the hidden button that signaled up to the thirteenth floor, I've headed off more incidents from here than any of the guards in this building.

    Ex-special forces, right? Miller noted when he saw the professional look in George's eyes, It shows when you talk normally instead of like the slow elevator man.

    Two tours in 'Nam, he admitted, smiling and showing a perfect set of white teeth, You're sharp Miller. I think Tommy recruited well again.

    Nothing else was said until the elevator stopped, and the doors opened on the thirteenth floor. George smiled as Miller looked into his new professional home. Disappointingly it looked just like the other sterile office spaces in the building. What he did not realize at the time was that he wouldn't see this place again for another seven months.

    Not what you expect is it? George said with a chuckle, Nothing ever is in this business. You'll do well to remember that, Miller. You'll remain alive longer.

    Thanks, I think he replied.

    Good luck, George told him, Tom Richter's office is on the other side of the room. He'll be expecting you.

    Miller nodded and walked towards the office apprehensively. He knew that this was a fairly insane and rather suicidal thing to do. But, overall, he was still looking forward to it. Mike Miller had no other life to go back to as he had lost it all to his ex-wife and the ineptitude of his PBA attorney.

    Thomas Richter was sitting in his office talking on the phone looking just as rumpled as he had been the last time Miller seen him. He saw Miller approaching the office and waved him inside to a chair. Mike saw little that he could do but sat down and wait for Richter to get off the phone.

    So Jack's mountain of paperwork didn't scare you off, huh? Richter said, as he looked Miller up and down, Good. I knew you wouldn't lose your nerve. You even dressed for success, I see.

    Sounds like you have a job in mind for me, Mike replied, not feeling like making small talk, Probably had one when you recruited me.

    That I did, my boy, Richter said with a big grin, A job you were born for, Miller.

    Richter tossed a folder onto the desk so that it slid into Miller's lap. Mike cocked his head in wonder and picked it up. Miller knew within seconds why he had been chosen for this assignment. The name on the folder said it all. Howard Bronson was the subject of the folder. Miller flinched as he opened the folder and looked at the photo of a man he knew all too well.

    You son of a bitch, Miller said softly as the memories flooded back.

    Howard Bronson used to be a police officer before he was tossed off the force during a corruption scandal in 1985. He had been a senior detective at the time he was tossed and no fewer than twenty convictions were reversed after he had left the force. He had also made a memorable entrance into Mike Miller's life before he disappeared off the public radar.

    After his public disgrace Bronson had started working for the family that had been paying him off. By 1992 Bronson was working directly for crime boss Charlie Bullock. One day late that year Mike Miller and his partner Eddie were patrolling when they answered a disturbance call. It turned out that Bronson and company were beating down someone who had crossed one of Bullock's business associates; namely, Big Jack Kirby.

    Miller's partner in those days was Eddie Carmichael, a good kid who had grown up in the same neighborhood as he, though was a couple years younger. He saw that the man leading the beating was good old Howard, someone whose head the police brass had wanted on a stick for years. Miller himself was about to call for backup when Eddie did his usual stupid thing and ran right in to break it up. The unfortunate rookie had delusions of grandeur and thoughts of the glory that arresting Howard Bronson would bring.

    Miller was not the most experienced cop on the beat, only being in the business for about two years at that point, but he did what he was supposed to do and called in for backup, doing it quickly so that he could follow his partner and save his sorry rear. As soon as he could he drew his revolver and followed into the alley.

    It really did not make a difference. Just before he got there he heard three quick shots. Miller sped up and rounded the corner just in time to see Howard's outstretched gun arm. Bronson saw Miller move in the dark and fired twice more, though he was not sure whom he was firing at. The shots were good enough; however, as Miller took one in the right leg. Miller was lucky as Bronson decided that he'd rather take off instead of shoot another cop that night.

    Instead of chasing him, Miller went over to his partner who was dying on the ground. His curly black hair had taken a reddish tint from the blood pooling up under his head. Carmichael looked at his partner and tried to talk, but the bullets from Bronson's gun had destroyed his lungs. Miller called in a 10-33 code, followed by a request for an ambulance. It was too late, all Miller could do was sit there in the dark alley holding his dying partner's head until the ambulance arrived and pronounced Eddie Carmichael dead.

    Warrants went out for Bronson immediately, but it turned out to be a moot point. Supposedly Howard ran to the people he worked for, and they decided that he was not worth keeping around after killing a cop. His charred remains were supposedly found two days after Eddie's funeral and were identified through dental records. At least, that was what the official story was, back in 1992

    I thought Howard Bronson died years ago, Miller said, after he finished remembering the mess, They found what was left of him in a warehouse fire.

    Someone switched his dental records, Richter said as he tossed a new stack of photographs on the table, One of our people took these photos last year. The man on the left is Charlie Bullock, and the woman is Elise Steele, sometimes referred to as the shadow girl.

    Why the shadow girl? Miller asked after he looked at the photograph, Other than the dark hair. I'd think that with a height and physique like that she'd be hard to miss.

    You'd think so, Richter grunted, But that's one of three photos we have of her. We call her the shadow girl because nobody knows exactly what she does. We think she works for Freddie Pena, but we're not quite sure.

    Miller nodded and looked at the photographs that he had put down. It was Howard Bronson without a doubt. He could remember the look in Bronson's eyes when he finished shooting Carmichael. He had aged a few years, and he did not have nearly as much hair, but it was the same person. Miller tried to hold back his rage as he looked at Richter.

    You knew he was alive and didn't bother to pass the information on? Miller asked incredulously, That son of a bitch killed a cop.

    And several others as well, Richter said, The thing is, we need information. We don't know whether he works for Bullock directly or not. We know he used to work for the organized crime elements in the area, but damned if we know what he's doing. Hell, we don't even know what identity he's using now. We also thought he was dead until we saw that picture.

    Are you watching him? Miller asked, hoping to get another shot at Bronson after all these years.

    He's a slippery one, Richter said with a growl, We lost track of him after that fiasco on Franklin Drive. We think he was one of the shooters, but damned if we know what connection he had, except it was one of Charlie Bullock's operations we were trying to get into.

    Miller nodded. It was starting to make sense. They had not just recruited him for his abilities and for the fact that he was newly without family. They wanted him because they knew he had a real animus towards Howard Bronson and would do anything to get him, or at least the people who controlled him.

    Mike Miller was a little annoyed at the way that Richter was playing this situation. He thought that Richter should have brought Bronson in but knew that they were playing for bigger game. As far as they had known, Bronson was nothing but high-powered muscle, Charlie Bullock was the one that was calling the shots.

    So what do you want me to do? Miller asked, Go under and try to find Bronson?

    Would Bronson be able to identify you? Richter asked him, Did he see you that night?

    If he had, I'd probably be dead now, Miller admitted, I was a horrid shot at the time.

    You were? Richter said and then went groping for his file, It says here that you're an expert with most types of handguns.

    That came as a direct result of Eddie's death, Miller said with obvious regret, I missed Bronson so badly that I decided that I needed to work on my weapons skills. It became a hobby for me, and I've gotten a lot better since then.

    Haven't missed since, huh? Richter said with a wry grin.

    Not when it counts, Miller agreed coldly, Why do you want to know if he can identify me?

    It's the organization he works for that we want you to get into, he said calmly, This will be a long term operation. Take as long as you need and get as much information as you can until your safety is jeopardized.

    Basically run with it until it's about to fall apart, Miller, ever direct in his appraisal, summarized, Are we going for total takedown?

    Absolutely, Richter said with a smile, Take as many of those bastards down as we can.

    How far am I supposed to go into character? Miller asked him, I can't stay lily-white and still be accepted by them.

    You do what you have to do, Richter said, Part of the job is full immunity for crimes committed. Just try not to kill anyone if you can help it. The small stuff is just part of your cover, but if you kill anyone they'll tear you apart on the stand unless it's self defense.

    How many people have you lost to the life? Miller asked, I'd be willing to bet that this life can be seductive.

    A few, Richter admitted, But they screwed themselves in the bargain. All we had to do was leak their duplicity, and the syndicate took care of it themselves.

    Ouch, Miller chuckled, So when do I begin?

    Tomorrow night, Richter told him, We will be running a sting on some of Charlie Bullock's boys. They seem to make friends in the lockup. We'll let you choose which one to latch on to and how you want to make your approach.

    Sounds good to me, Miller agreed with an appreciative shrug, What do I do in the meantime? Is there any special training for this?

    You have to go through a psych evaluation, Richter told him, Its policy. We want to make sure you're up to the strain of living a lie. We gave up on training you about it though. We've found the more training we give the quicker the cover gets blown.

    Miller nodded and shrugged his shoulders. He had a special hatred in his heart for psychological tests, but he had realized over the years that they were unavoidable. He had seen the results of what happens to officers who go over the edge with nobody noticing. People usually had a nasty habit of ending up dead when police officers lost control.

    Cindy Jones will handle the psych evaluation, Richter said, She's on staff here full time. If you need to talk to her and can get away without blowing your cover she is here for you. Don't be afraid to use her.

    Miller merely shrugged in reply as Richter gave him directions to her office. He completed the evaluation, though it really didn't make a difference to him. Going undercover in this form is, by any reasonable definition, a completely insane thing to do.

    Chapter Three – May, 5, 2000 – Afternoon

    They let Miller go for the day to catch up on his sleep before he went under. He knew what organization he would be infiltrating, but he still had not been informed on exactly how they planned to get him in. Miller returned to the office the next afternoon and was promptly directed to a conference room.

    Thomas Richter and three other people he had yet to meet were sitting in there talking randomly. Mike scratched the itchy beard growth on his chin and pulled up a chair. The talking stopped and everyone took a good look at the man that they would be putting into hell.

    Aah, a young blond man said, Looks like you made it through Cindy's mental meat grinder. You ready for action Miller?

    Ready as I'll ever be, he shrugged, How are we going to get me in?

    First, Thomas Richter said, Let me introduce the support team to you.

    Miller nodded and looked around at the people sitting around the conference table. Not an impressive crew from outward appearances, but if they were working for Richter they probably were among the best. He had a good reputation for supporting his people, despite the fiasco on Franklin Drive last year. Two men and a woman were sitting there returning the looks. Miller knew damn well that his life was probably going to depend on these three doing their jobs correctly.

    The blond guy is Eric Craig, Richter said indicating the one who spoke first, He is an expert in communications. If you need to be bugged for any reason or if you are going to plant bugs he's the person you'll be dealing with. He will also monitor and disseminate any information coming in electronically.

    Pleased to meet you, Miller said with a nod, unsure of how to deal with a police officer so young.

    Likewise, he said with a nod of his head.

    Albert Martinez will be your backup, Richter said about the mid-sized Hispanic man leaning back on two legs of his chair, You wouldn't know it to look at him here, but he's one of the best shadows we have. He's very good at disappearing in a crowd.

    I took a short turn doing what you're about to, Martinez put in with a voice that contained very little accent at all, It didn't go so well. The cavalry had to come in and keep them from killing my sorry ass. Rest assured though, there ain't no one better at doing a discreet tail than I am.

    Am I going to be tailed all the time? Miller asked worriedly; the last thing he needed was a 24-hour watchdog to trip him up.

    Hell no, the woman put in for the first time, We don't want you to be shot. You'll be operating pretty much independently. We'll keep track of you from farther back.

    And the last member of this team is Tracy here, Richter managed to get out before she took over.

    I'm the one who runs interference for you, Tracy said, interrupting Richter and speaking quickly, If you need something to enhance your street credibility, such as a false arrest record or information on something or other, I'm the person you call.

    Miller looked her over for a bit. Tracy was probably still in her late twenties, but she had the pushy personality of someone a decade older. Her reddish blonde hair hung back in a hasty ponytail, and her gray eyes looked him up and down just as intently as he did her. Miller's first impression was that she was as professional as could be and most likely cold as ice. He did manage to notice that she could also be rather pretty if she put time in it.

    They may not look like much, Richter said, But these people will keep you alive. Trust them because they are all that's coming between you and the street.

    Let's hope it's enough, Mike said dryly.

    Has the sting rolled yet? Richter asked.

    They booked the first batch an hour ago, Eric Craig said, Perfect timing. They'll be in the hooch until Monday morning at the earliest. Plenty of time for us to plant Miller here with them.

    Do you have an identity worked up for me? Mike asked Eric Or do we have to create one before I go in?

    I've been working on this for about four months, though I only began filling the holes in the files in the week since Tom fed me your jacket, Craig said and pulled a folder out of his case and handed it to Miller, Raymond Nester is your name. To cover the institutional training that exudes out of you we put in a military background.

    Not too bad, Miller said as he began flipping through the folder, I spent about a year in the army before I was injured anyway.

    I know, Eric said with a grin and passed him the folder, Anyway, you haven't turned out so well after the military. You were given a dishonorable discharge for actions during the Kosovo conflict last year. You just now got out of the stockade and were released from military service.

    Giving me ex-con status without having to list me as having been in a prison that I'd be known from, Mike said approvingly as he glanced through the packet, I like it already. No family to speak of, no real past, no real future. Sounds like a winner.

    Ray Nester is pure scum, Tracy said, a twinge of distaste dripping off her lips, He should be a big hit in the circuit, especially if you make nice-nice with someone in lockup.

    Who are you putting me with? Miller asked them, I want to know as much about them as possible beforehand.

    That part is up to you, Mike, Richter told him, You're the one who has to become Raymond Nester. You choose which one of the people picked up will best suit your character.

    Got the jackets on them? he asked as he was eager to get to work.

    Craig slid four more folders onto the table. They were prepared beyond belief. Miller had not guessed why they had done it all beforehand There was always a chance that the operation could fall apart. Richter did not want Miller to be able to reveal anything damaging if he were found out and tortured for the information. It was a sad thing to prepare for, but they had lost two undercover operatives to a similar situation about ten years before.

    The meeting broke up quickly and Miller started going through the jackets. The four they had chosen as candidates were very different individuals. Two were pimps, one was a drug dealer and the last one was the underboss they worked for. It was not a hard choice for Miller, as he had a lifelong loathing for drug dealers since his brother's overdose. He removed the dealer out of the pile out of hand because if he had seen someone deal drugs to a child he figured that the dealer would die outright.

    The two pimps would probably have been doable, but for the fact that they were really too damn low on the totem pole to be any use. It would have taken too long to work through the ranks and get near the top. That left their boss, of sorts, a gregarious ape of a man by the name of Harrison Luponi, better known on the street as Crazy Harry Lupo.

    Miller himself had heard of Lupo in the past, but never had the opportunity to meet him. Lupo had a reputation of being a little crazy and very ruthless. He was also known as an up and comer in the outfit. He had managed to skirt into the position of being Big John Kirby's successor by sheer luck and guile.

    What Miller did not know and could only guess at was that the pile was rigged. Richter had intended for him to choose Harry Lupo all along, he just wanted to make sure that Miller was as smart as he had hoped. There was no choice, and every one of them knew it. Miller figured it out as well, as he was going to go for Harry Lupo. He just had to come up with the right method of doing so.

    Miller walked out of the conference room and looked for the others. Strangely, there were no names on any of the office doors, which made locating people a real pain in the rear. He growled for a minute and then caught sight of an open door with Al Martinez sitting inside talking on the phone.

    He went over to the door and knocked quickly, still a little nervous around new people. Martinez looked up and waved him inside. Miller sat down in the spare chair and waited for him to finish before saying anything else. Martinez finished up quickly and then turned back to the new undercover man.

    You ready to rumble? Martinez asked Miller Who are you choosing?

    Lupo, Miller said, The others are too far down on the totem pole.

    You shoot big, don't you, Al whistled, Looks like I'm going to lose my twenty. I thought you would go for the drug dealer myself. Tom called it right again.

    You bet on this stuff? Mike asked incredulously.

    Sure, Martinez said with a chuckle, Though I don't know why I bother. I've yet to beat Tom Richter on this. He's a better judge of people I guess. That's what makes him so good at this.

    How'd he get into this? Miller asked, curious about the man who had dragged him into this mess.

    He did four years of deep cover for the feds, Martinez replied, Became an underboss for the Gambino family of all things. Brought down a total of thirty of the scumbags. He was a big part of what caused the power vacuum that brought John Gotti to power.

    He decided that he hadn't had enough after that? Miller asked him, He must be dedicated.

    Dedicated is one word, Martinez shrugged, Fanatical is more like it. Tom lives and breathes this. When the feds retired him he came to the city and pitched a similar program. The mayor at the time was fed up with the near impunity the crime families were enjoying. He gave Tom the mandate to set this program up. That was fifteen years or so ago.

    I see, Miller said with a thoughtful nod, How many have you lost since this has been started?

    Don't think about that, Martinez suggested, Think of how many lives we've saved by putting these bastards away.

    Sometimes I think I'm crazy for doing this, Miller said, still unsure about how to take everything.

    You are, Martinez said with a wily grin, But look at it like this. You get to live the life of the men you are sworn to put away for a while. If you make it out and decide to go back to being a regular cop, you'll be a better one for it.

    They sat there for another minute or so as that thought slipped in. It was still a rather surreal experience for Miller at this point. Martinez sipped on his coffee while Mike looked around at his office. Martinez wasn't fooling anyone, though. He was almost as worried about what would happen as Miller himself was.

    Another thing, Martinez said, Has anyone ever taught you how to fake the ingestion of drugs?

    No, Mike said, surprised at the question, Is this something that I'll need to know?

    Possibly, he said, It's what blew my cover when I was in your shoes.

    How hard is it? Mike asked him, I've never worked for narcotics, so I never had occasion to learn.

    Fairly easy actually, he said, Now that I know how.

    Miller spent the next hour or so learning the basics of how to fake a snort of cocaine and how to take in smoke from a crack pipe without actually letting it go to his lungs. Using cigarettes and baking soda Martinez drilled Miller and they practiced until he could do it correctly and look as if he'd done it before. It seems to be a simple thing, but Al Martinez was right; the small things could be the difference between life and death.

    How do you plan to approach Lupo? Martinez asked soon after.

    I don't, Miller said with a shrug, an inkling of a plan eking through his mind, I plan on creating a situation where he'll have to come to me.

    How's that? Martinez asked him, wondering what was going through his head.

    It depends on who else is in lockup, Miller said, the plan materializing as he said it, If possible I want a third person, the most aggressive criminal we can find, to be put in with Lupo and myself.

    And you think that if you give Lupo a hand he'll warm to you, Martinez said with a smile, Tom was right. You're going to be good at this. That's probably the only way to get in with Lupo without him becoming suspicious.

    You two plotting without me? Tracy asked as she poked her head into the room.

    Come on in, Tracy, Al said with a grin, Pull up a chair.

    Can you get me a list of who's in lockup for the night? Miller asked her, figuring that he'd see just how much she could do.

    Names, Jackets and their shoe sizes if you need, she said and then thought better of it, Why?

    More to the point, Miller asked cautiously, Can you move whoever I need?

    Do you want Lupo alone? she asked incredulously, That would tip him off most likely.

    Slowly remove the other prisoners from the cell over the next few hours, Miller told her, his confidence growing, Basically I want Lupo in there alone when you put me inside.

    I still think it will be suspicious, Tracy said, I hope you know what you're doing.

    Not really, Mike said with a grin, But it will work better this way. I want you to do it slowly and remove the last two or three while I'm being processed.

    You don't go through processing… Tracy said.

    Like hell, I don't, he said, horrified at the thought, I'm going to go down to a seedy joint and raise hell. I want to be brought in just like a drunk and disorderly and damn it I want there to be evidence. There is to be no sign of a put up job.

    You think they'll check on you? Al said and then answered his own question, That's probably true. It wouldn't be too hard to get someone to tell you whether a prisoner was totally processed.

    But we lose control if he does that, Tracy protested, It's too dangerous.

    And I could lose my life if I don't do that, Miller growled at her.

    Mike thought at the time that Tracy Howard would become a royal pain in the ass. Obviously, she was a control freak, though she did seem very concerned about his well-being, which gave him confidence in her. Talking to her at the time might have grated like sandpaper to him, but that personality type would ensure that anything he needed to stay alive would get done in time.

    Point taken, she said grudgingly, But if we leave you two alone all night he'll get suspicious.

    Not to worry, Tracy. After about two hours, Mike said with a grin, You'll move someone into the cell. It will be the biggest bull queer of a sexual predator that you can find. If I remember the file Harry is definitely smaller than I am, correct?

    Yes, he is, Tracy said and then put together what he was up to, Wait a minute, Miller. You plan on having Lupo assaulted? Are you mad?

    I plan on preventing his assault, Miller said with what could only be described as a sadistic grin, In a situation he wouldn't suspect us of planting on him.

    That could be dangerous, Tracy warned him, The guy could turn on you.

    This whole thing is dangerous, Mike chuckled, Besides, Al will be walking the beat just out of sight to put a stop to it if it gets out of hand.

    Ok, she said, conceding defeat, It's your funeral. I'll get a list together. You need to go talk to Eric to get Raymond Nester fully fleshed out.

    Where can I find him? Miller asked, This is still my first day. I don't know the place yet, and nothing here is marked.

    Turn right out of the door and it's the third door down on the right, Al said.

    We'll get the list compiled for you in the meantime, Tracy said and turned back to Martinez as Miller left the room.

    Mike walked down to Eric's office and stepped into a different world. It was nothing like the austere nothingness of Martinez's office. Eric Craig obviously spent a lot of time working on it and probably spent a large chunk of time in his office. It was decorated with a whole bunch of rock posters, mostly from late 80's hair bands like Guns and Roses, Cinderella and Motley Crue. There was even a Winger poster in the mess, a band that Miller himself had not heard in years.

    Eric was crashing on a small Government Issue couch on the side of his office. He had the earphones on and Miller heard the sounds of an 80's hair band wafting out. Miller had grown up during the 80's and tried to forget most of those bands existed, but Eric still worshipped the excess that most of those bands had stood for.

    Mike chuckled and pulled out a hardback chair and turned it backwards. He sat down and waited a second until Eric realized someone was in the room with him. When Eric looked up and saw Miller sitting there he jumped up as if someone had hit

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