Wrong Deal With An Angel Part 2

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Chapter 2

Here I am story of an undercover detective, caught too deep in his own investigation. No where to run, no friends, no strings and no rules. Here I am out numbered both numbers and brains. I had to find the mob before I looked to out of place. "The V-deal goes down at yer hotel. Jack's exacted words, quote: 'Mr. French, you're in charge of this one' unquote. Rico Muerte's coming to see it through. Anything goes wrong, an' everybody's goanna get dead. Goes double for you. Treat this guy real good. Anything he wants, ya give him. Don't screw this up or yer finito, Finitos." A V-deal meant added security, locked doors, and lots of nervous thugs with itchy trigger-fingers. I had seen nothing coming in, but that didn't mean it hadn't been there. Rico Muerte was a regular Keyster Soze, a spook story told to keep the apes in line. "313", the boys had scribbled Muerte's room number on the note's margin. Probably incase something went wrong it meant indefinite hit.

The meet was in a small room in the back, we had an army here. Thugs left n right. All our boys, it would take an idiot to not know each one was packing heat. I was the idiot to not have seen this was a blood bath waiting to happen. The room was empty, only thing was a Radio that sat in the edge of the corner on the floor. …Tonight, the City's fight against the nightmare drug, V, took a turn for the worst, as DEA Special Agent Adam Harbeck was found brutally slain at the Roscoe Street. A suspect was seen leaving the site only moments after the shots had been fired, and the Lone Star is currently in pursuit of Stryker Davis, a repeated felon, believed to be armed and extremely dangerous. And now the weather. The worst winter storm in recorded history continues to pound the city. [The voice fades away]

I had just gotten my 15 minutes of fame. Ladies and gentleman please position your seats to the there upright positions. The story is now confusing, and I am on the edge. The news radio was like cheap shot, nothing was left but a giant empty hole of questions. All screaming at me and pointing fingers. Adam was now dead; I didn’t catch it at first, the street name. I was slipping; all this mess had me finally thinking like the criminals I busted. Rico had his ways of dealing with others, a very charismatic kind of guy. The one that got on your nerves because everything came too easy for him "…The trouble you got into after the Chicago screw-up, the Innocenti family bailed you out. You have been waiting for a chance to pay us back. One of our trusted boys has a monkey the size of King Kong on his back. We need your special skills for backup on a major deal…" Rico was talking to me, but my mind was somewhere else. I couldn’t hear one word he spoke, everything was shellshock but ten times worse. There you go again old man slipping. The deal was about to go down and all he could do was bitch at me about a mix up on my third day undercover. Not that he new I was undercover, but the DEA needed someway to make me look legit. 3 months in jail would look good so I shot the dealer pretending I saw him reach for the gun. One dead family member was on my hands, but they saw it as a simple mix up that happens quite often.

Collecting evidence had gotten old a few hundred bullets back. I was already so far past the point-of-no-return I couldn't remember what it had looked like when I had passed it. None of us there in that room would have seen what was coming next. When was the point supposed to hit me that we were making a drug trade with the one family known to stab backs. They even when as far as setting up there own boys. Stand by, 10-10, investigate a reported disturbance at Roscoe Street, warehouse 21. 10-4 dispatcher, verify address… That's Roscoe Street, Warehouse 21, repeat, Warehouse 21. That was all it took, no sitting down and talking it over. Everybody shot everybody, just as quick as the name was said the shots were fired. Everybody was shooting left and right, they did not care who they hit, the guns flashes were so blinding one wouldn’t know if they wished too. The guy in front of me, his arm and shotgun moving slowly like slow motion in a movie. I knew what was up, a set up. But by who. Diving to the floor and dodging the shot, the room went quite for a complete second. Several other shots ring off through out the other rooms in the warehouse. Everything was foggy and hazy, the whole room covered in smoke like it was a civil war reenactment and the only noise left was the ceiling fan on the roof as it rotated. The whooshing and the shadow spinning with the room, the light flickered even more as he eventually went out. The walls were painted blood red; every guy was dead on sight. I had to leave, but I needed answers first. Rico only had a note on his body, it scared me what it said.

Our investigation had turned up nothing to link Aspanu Innocenti, the head of the Innocenti family, to V. All tracks had ended with Rico. The letter in Muerte's room was signed by the Don himself. It was the first hint that the kingpin knew what was brewing inside his syndicate. …”Harbeck is dead; now too find his leak inside the family. These are dangerous times Rico! Nobody is to be trusted; sometime I worry if I can trust you or even Aspanu now days. Money rips us families apart too quick. Join in with Mr. French, although he has been very reliable over the past 2 months, keep an eye on him and this deal.”… Not even the drugs were to be found, and I couldn’t look for them any longer. IF they police had to arrest me this case would be gone. I slipped out the back with the rest of the living boys. No drugs but twelve bodies in twenty four body bags was not going to turn the case against the Innocenti Family.
We make our way back to home base, and by the way the boys were acting I could tell it meant a home run to them. McGreevy’s bar was a nice Italian bar owned by the family just outside the Aurora Warrens. It was freakin' crazy. The cops were doin' a full-scale siege next door. More traffic than rush hour. I mean bleeding bastards running back and forth, Ronnie and Jimbo the throw… And in the middle of all this, here we were. I didn't give a damn. Just goin' with the flow. News Reporter: A winter storm warning is in effect in the whole tri-state area as both freezing rain and heavy snow continue. Many roadways are already closed, and people are advised to stay indoors. The severe blizzard has ravaged Denver for three days now with no end in sight.
2 Days ago Days undercover: 67

For the first time I was not on the news. All the secrets were boiling about in my skull. There was an old telephone switchboard in the back room of the reception area. The kind that made phone tapping child's play. It wasn't hard to picture a fat pimp sweating with headphones on, listening to his hookers talk dirty and fake orgasms over the web of party lines; the blood veins of Denver. Right now, there was a different set of moans and groans going on…I could hear the other voice on the phone, the thug was using low frequency or high, I couldn’t hear him but the other line could. Are ya freakin' kiddin' me?!! He's just one lousy cop! Ya better be freakin' kiddin' me! Whack 'em! What's the freakin' problem? Hello? Answer me! Hello?… The thug hung up the phone pretty fast the others knew something was up, I watched as the thug left and went into the back room, slamming the door behind him. I knew what was up, the word was out. A deadly virus released into the City's corrupt circulatory system. Something wicked this way comes. Mr. French at large. I had to get out of their and fast, I gather my things, don’t look scared or nervous don’t show any signs just yet. I tell the boy I had enough fun for the night and I slip out the door. Home free baby, but that was not happening. My luck had an infamous reputation of getting me out of tight corners and into tighter ones, if anything was ever forgiving it was not my luck. God was laughing at me now, poking me with his stick, I could not go home, my slummy room in at The Crank. Peace of shits, I had a leak not them! Signs were blazing in my eyes like a raging fire. I was too blind to see it then, and I was too scared to see it now.

The headlines were screaming bloody murder. The storm was a screaming duet with the approaching prowl car sirens. It was all a scream when you were down for the count and wanted for murder. I get back to my place, I had to go home. What if I was wrong, what if I was not busted. All just a mistake, for the first time I stopped trusting my gut feeling as a detective. A beaten up phone in the entrance hall was ringing. It could have been just a junkie in need of a fix, but it turned out to be something more sinister than that. Like the graffiti that covered every square inch, or the broken glass from countless syringes on the floor. Adam had kept me relatively sane for the past two months. Now I didn't know how I felt. Somehow he had stumbled upon something big… and ended up stepping on Innocenti’s toes.
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