Whitehall Station Chapter 1 Danny found a glass; perhaps a little less dirty than the others strewn from

sink to table, wiped it out with two fingers, and then wiped them on his pants. No need to worry bout it baby, he said to no one in particular, or perhaps to the glass, the booze will kill the germs and I dont give a fart in a whirlwind, as Pappy used to say, bout the rest. He poured four fingers of cheap scotch into the glass and made his way to the only piece of furniture in the room other than the TV tray; a recliner stuck permanently in the recline position, thrown out by the landlord when the tenants skipped on the rent. The covering was authentic Naugahide, though Danny still laughed when Shu wanted to know what the hell a Nauga was and howd they get the hide? Danny had always wanted a recliner to which Lori had answered why not just get a bed and lay in the living room? Danny often thought this would be a fair option, realizing she did not really mean it. Women, cant live with em and not allowed to shoot them. Somehow Danny maneuvered his six foot three, two hundred and sixty pound frame into the rag of a chair, put his drink on the trash bin salvaged tray table covered with contact paper and picked up Loris picture for the thousandth time. His massive hand gently caressed the wooden frame, scarred from dozens of slashing attacks from tugs jaws, drunks guts and other forms of street scum mapped his lifes travel from street punk to the hardnosed cop he was today. Well babe, Danny took a long slow drink, here we are again. So, ya want to know about my day. Huh? Well, lets seeI did some waste of time paperwork so the DA could let some scum back on the street to feel up little girls. Uh, and then I stuck my gun in some junkies mouth and squeezed his jewels till he told me who did the snatch at Jacks Pub on Thursday. Oh jeeze, I almost forgot the best part. Some homeless guy puked on my shoes while I was given him a couple of bucks to get a meal. Great bein a cop. Danny took another long pull and emptied the glass. Danny thought about going into the kitchen and getting another drink, but it was too far and too hard to get out of this chair. Hed just sit and look at Lori a little longer. It had been two years now. Two long, lonely, dark, mean hard drinking years since Danny was shot and Lori hit the wall like so many cops wives do; wondering if your old man would come home or if youd get the call to look at the remains some hyped up punk blew away for a dime bag. Yeah I know babe, Danny stroked the picture, glass broken and frame askew from some previous drunk, but look at me. Whose gonna want to marry some old over-the-hill fat ass cop? Huh? Hey thanks babe, but any freaking cop that is over 50 is freaking over the hill and sliding down the backside, ya know? He placed Loris picture back in its usual space, easily found because it was the only spot on the tray that was not covered with dust, trash or dried food. He rolled stiffly out of the chair and walked to the large picture window. Great view, he thought as his eyes scanned the roofs of burned out tenements, old warehouses, a vacant lot and the flashing

light of a check cashing business. He leaned his face against the window, dropped the empty glass to the carpet and drew his Glock from its holster, resting it against his temple. It was loaded, one in the chamberit was always loaded. Danny never understood those cops who wanted to keep their gun safe. What good is a gun if it aint ready to shoot when you need it, Danny would say, what are you gonna tell the purp hey wait while I chamber a round? Well Danny, have you got the cajones tonight? Well do ya, do ya? The reflection had no response as Danny squeezed the trigger. Mid squeeze, he stopped again the same as every other time before. Way to go candy ass, he said in disgust and placed his pistol on the table next to the daily tabloid whose leading story was about some damn monster that was half man and half bull running around China. Sounds like all bull to me, and Danny threw the paper into the trash. Chinks, what a bunk of feakn nuts. He thought about turning on the television but all that was on now was has-beens dancing, morons singing or some cop show with a bunch of jerks who knew nothing about real police work, or real life. There they were living in some fancy house with a maid and four cars, making a million or two a year and dressing like something out of GQ or one of them chick magazines. Danny wished just one of the cops at the precinct looked like those babes on the tube. Kicking his shoes off without undoing the laces, Danny grabbed his belt buckle and with one motion, his belt was in his hand like a whip and pants fell to the floor. Stepping out of the heap he picked up the pants, matched the bottoms in a neat fold and slipped them between the mattress and box springs; ironing by sleeping was what Danny called it. Lowering the mattress, he reached under the pillow to check for his .38; right where it belonged. Then he walked back into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and removed a small caliber Beretta from behind the orange juice. Dropped out the clip, checked the slide, and wiped off the cream cheese. Yep ready to go. The pistol had a large piece of Velcro glued to the grip, mating to one on the inside of the refrigerator. Still walking around the apartment in his suit coat and tie, less pants, Danny practiced moving through the debris with his eyes closed, the same as he had done every day since he became a cop. At first, Lori found it funny, but over the years, she became more and more fearful of the routine as it meant Danny was convinced that one day someone would enter their home, not to rob, but to kill. Even the furniture was purchased for its function, not for its decorative qualities. The lamp on the nightstand had a heavily weighted bottom and a thick neck, the chairs in the kitchen were made of cast iron, table was oak with a metal plate on the bottom and even the towel rods in the bathroom were chosen for their use as nightsticks. Eventually it was more than she could bear. Danny tossed his jacket onto the kitchen chair along with his shirt and tie eying the wooden box on the floor in front of the picture window. Youre my ace baby, he said pointing at the box with his index finger and thumb made to look like a gun. Now in his boxers and tee, Danny checked the dead bolt along with a quick look out the peephole at the stairwell across the hall. Fake wood contact paper on the inside and outside of the

door made it look just as crappy as the table. This was the perfect apartment building, no elevator and no fire escapes. Any piece of trash that wanted to come after him had one way in and one way out. Of course, that also limited Dannys escape, but he didnt care about escape, that was never the primary objective in his plan. If anyone was stupid enough to break into his place, it was the last two-bedroom walk up they would ever see. Generally, Danny looked like a fifty something old guy with lightly grey hair, a potbelly from too many pizzas and beer, stuffed into a cheap suit. However, standing in his underwear Danny appeared to be a formidable adversary. Potbelly aside, Dannys upper body looked like one of those wrestlers on the ECW. His bulging forearms and biceps were the obvious result of his nightly regiment of bench-pressing three hundred pounds fifty times followed by another hundred push-ups. When he first met Lori, in college she was over whelmed by his rugged good looks and his jet-black hair. Of course, a knock out set of pecks wasnt bad either. Danny often picked her up one-handed and held her over his head as she screamed in mock fear. That was a lifetime ago. Dropping the weights back onto the bench, he got up and headed for the shower picking up a towel from the basket in the kitchen where he left it. Twice a week he dropped off and picked up his laundry from the Korean place down the street. They did a wash and fold, but no ironing, and they did it for free. A couple of years ago, Danny busted the Lees kid, Benny for possession. He was a good kid running with a bad crowd and Danny knew it. He tossed the dope, told the DA it was lost before it could be placed into evidence and the case was dropped. Old man Lee was so grateful that he said hed do Dannys laundry for life and Danny accepted. Graft? Probably. Corruption? Nah, like Mr. Lee said, merely balancing ying and yang. Or maybe it was Cheech and Chong. Didnt really matter, clean underwear was a necessity of life. Walking to the bathroom, Danny glanced down at the trashcan and noticed the tabloid had fallen open to the center section. Across both pages was the headline, Devil lives in subway tunnels, murders continue. Danny shook his head and dropped his boxers as he turned on the shower. Freakin Devil in the subway. Hell, everyone knows the Devil lives in Trump Tower, drives and Audi and is freakin drinking buddies with Bloomberg. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

*****
The banging on the apartment door started at 3:46 AM since that was the time on the Westbend digital clock on the nightstand. It was set fifteen minutes fast so Danny would not be late, but since he knew it was fifteen minutes fast, he would shut it off, roll over for a few minutes more each morning and wind up ten minutes late. He grabbed his revolver from under the pillow and made his way to the door. Danny, wake up man, its Shu. Come on you turd, I cant stand out here all night, wake up.

Danny lifted the cover over the peephole only to see Detective Shu standing outside in his perfectly fitted three-piece suit, button-down collar and subdued blue tie. Jeez, he muttered, the clown looks like a Wall Street banker at freakin four in the morning. So Shu, your old lady throw you out again? Danny called through the closed door. Of course, Danny knew Shus wife was in San Francisco but this was the code phrase they had worked out to make sure some contract guy or strung out junkie didnt have a gun in his back trying to get to Danny. Two years ago, that was exactly what happened in Brooklyn and two good cops and one guys family all got wasted over some gang turf thing. Nah, mother in law is in town so I needed to get out for a while, Shu replied, which was the right answer. The wrong answer would have been, Yeah shes pissed because of my drinking, but since Shu didnt drink, it would have told Danny to pull out the big guns. Danny lowered the gun and undid the locks. Come on in, he called and stepped back from the door into the kitchen, just in case. Hey, cops go bad too, so dont take chances. My, my, said Shu, love what youve done with the place. Looks a lot like Picassos trash period. What happened, maid take the year off? Yeah, thats it, maids off. So what is so important that you need to interrupt my beauty sleep, chided Danny. Look dude, you could sleep till next Christmas and it wouldnt improve your looks any. Ok, so whats the deal? Grab your pants. Looks like some weird gang thing down in the subway. Maybe a cult thing, dont know for sure but there is blood and body parts all over the place. The uniform that found it puked his guts for twenty minutes, replied Shu. What da mean, like some Manson kind of crap? Which way did the footprints go? Which station? Danny was pulling his pants on the grapping his shirt. This is where it gets a little weird. The whole thing went down at Whitehall So whats weird about that? Gang bangers hang out there all the time. Thats not the weird part. The uniform says there are no footprints. Blood over every inch of the platform and streams in the stairwell, but not a single foot print or hand print, Shu shook his head.

Bull crap, grumbled Danny as he shoved his Glock in the shoulder holster. That uniform is as screwy as those morons that wrote this crap, Danny pulled the tabloid from the trash with the devil headline just below his clenched fist. Next thing these candy asses are going to say is the Devil did it. Crap, what a bunch of loonies. Danny reached back to close the door as he and Shu exited the apartment. As he pulled the door closed, he placed a toothpick between the door and the jam, and broke it off; then locked the knob and the deadbolt. What do you think someone is going to steal from you? Theyd have to leave you a twenty for you to have nothing, joked Shu, slapping Danny hard on the right shoulder and noticing that it was as though he was slapping a block wall. Hey, wouldnt want them to get my Mr. Coffee. That bad boy is an antique; nearly ten years old. I never heard of one lasting more than ten months, Danny laughed and put the remainder of the toothpick in his pocket. One last glance back at the door to be sure and the partners headed down the stairs.

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Whitehall station was only about six blocks away and if it had been four hours later, it would have been faster to walk than to drive. Shu had brought coffee. Dannys was black, no cream and no sugar. Danny always joked, I like my coffee like I like my women, plain and bitter. Shu didnt bring any donuts, although Danny liked them, Shu had type two diabetes and had to watch his carb intake. Hard to believe a guy that looked like Shu could have a fat mans disease. Danny should have been the one taking a pill twice a day and living on wood pulp. Instead, he ate all he wanted; no cholesterol, no heart disease and only a few small gunshot wounds. Uniforms and squad cars half a block away had blocked the entrance to the Whitehall station. Shu flashed his badge at some kid that looked like he had been out of the academy for about thirty seconds. I hear it looks bad down there, the kid commented as he waved Shu through. Murder is always bad officer, always bad. The coroner, two ambulances, a hazmat unit, someone from the city transportation department, two squads and an unmarked had parked at the entrance to the station. Shu pulled in next to the unmarked figuring the captain would be close by. Danny headed to the stairs where he ran into the coroner coming up. Whats the story Nick? Bunch of bangers fighting over turf? asked Danny as he reached out and took the arm of Nick Miller, the chief coroner. Maybe something funny going on in a dope buy?

No bangers here Danny. No dope either. This thing is like nothing I have seen in my twenty-five years on the job. Jeez, Danny, there are body parts everywhere, not one whole person to be found. My god, I cant even tell how many people were killed until I assemble the pieces. My guess is somewhere between eight and ten. Looks like three women and the rest men, Nick shook his head and snapped off his gloves. So, somebody shot them and then hacked them up? No. They were alive when they were dismembered. The blood patterns up the wall and on the ceiling clearly indicate they were alive at the time. Are you saying everyone just stood around while a bunch of whack jobs hacked them to pieces? Are you nuts? Danny quizzed in frustration. Look Danny, Nick spoke in a small voice and pulled close to Danny so no one else could hear. Heres the thing. These people were cut to pieces with something so sharp it sliced clean through the clothes, skin and bone in one swipe. More than that, whatever went around cutting them up never even touched the floor because there is not one footprint anywhere. Great, puffed Danny as Shu came down the stairs to meet him. Here we go Shu, I got it solved. An invisible ninja with twenty arms and twenty swords floats around the subway station and hacks everyone to pieces and then goes out for drinks with the Devil that haunts the subway. That about right Nick? Well, Nick looked at Shu and then back to Marks, youre the detectives and that is as good an explanation as I have right now. Oh, one more thing. I found this in one of the hands, probably a guy who tried to put up a fight. Nick handed the object to Danny. Danny held it out so he and Shu could both see it. It was a chain, silver or maybe platinum and on the end of it was some kind of a medallion. Whats that look like to you Shu? asked Danny. Some kind of animal or something? It looks Asian and it appears to beIm not sure, but it looks like the head of a wolf. Danny put the object in a clear bag and placed it in his inside pocket. Ill keep this doc, looks like the only real evidence we have. Go ahead. Im not sure if it came off the killer or a victim. That will be for you to find out, Nick turned and headed for the meat wagon. I can tell you this. Whats that? If it were me, Id be taking the bus for a while.

Danny and Shu walked back up the stairs toward the unmarked car of Captain Joleson. No use going down to the platform while the forensics guys and the hazmat guys cleaned up, theyd just be in the way. Joleson came from a long line of cops; grandfather was a Chief, father was a commander and now Joleson was on a fast track. Shu respected him but Danny thought he was a suck-up. Then again, other than Shu, everyone was a suck up in Dannys eyes if they didnt first walk a beat before getting a desk. Well look whos coming, called sergeant Cawalwski trying to get the captains ear, its the Abbot and Costello of the homicide division. Hey you guys still sleeping together? Yeah, Danny called back. I got tired of sleeping with your wife. The noise of that paper bag I had to put over her head each night kept me awake. So how about you? Still banging hookers in the alley? The sergeant lunged at Marks only to feel the burning pain of Shu grabbing his testicals and giving them a good squeeze. Now Bobby, whispered Shu into Cawalwskis ear, we dont want to hurt each other do we? Cawalwskis eyes started to tear. Ok, forget it. Shu let go his vice like grip and the two of them walked over to the captain while Bobby bent over holding his knees. Whats with Cawalwski? asked the Captain, pointing his thumb towards the kneeling Sergeant. Probably a cramp, replied Shu. I dont think he gets enough fiber. I heard he was taking Viagra so he could see the end of his dick past that gut, offered Danny. Cut the crap you two. I know hes a jerk, but what am I supposed to do? Hes my sisters brother for gods sake. Soorrry cap, the two replied in unison like schoolboys caught smoking in the bathroom. Look, this is a bad one. I dont need this kind of crap on my watch so you two clowns better get to the bottom of this and do it quick. I already have the mayors office on my ass because of that story in the paper, Joleson was starting to sweat. You mean the one about the devil in the subway? asked Shu. Thats just tabloid crap. My favorite is the bat boy or that stuff about alligators in the sewers.

You mean to tell me there are no alligators in the sewers? joked Danny. I was just telling my neighbor, Mary Poppins, that she needed to be careful to stick to the rooftops and stay away from the sewers because of them. Listen assholes, this is serious, snapped the captain. There are a bunch of psycho killers out there and you morons better get your collective asses in gear and get them behind bars before something else happens or youll be walking beat in Harlem in your birthday suit. You got that clear? Yes sir, Shu replied. I like Harlem, replied Danny. Get outta here. Im keeping the lid on this as long as I can. You find these guys and either put them behind bars or kill em and I dont care which. Just make sure none of this happens again. Joleson slammed the door on his cruiser, Cawalwski slid into the passenger side still holding his crotch. Say Bobby, asked the captain you getting enough fiber?

II Marks and Shu headed back to the precinct with a planned stop at Shirleys Dinner along the way for breakfast. Marks had eaten his breakfast there for the better part of seven years, making it a kind of his unofficial office for morning meetings, late night meetings and lunch dates. The plates were clean, the food decent and the coffee was always hot. Shirley opened the place back in the fiftys but it had been sold several times since then. Now it was owned by Tony Giordano and his wife Lucy. Tony was the cook and Lucy was the brains. Tony had some extra business interests on the side and Lucy made sure that she knew nothing of them. Danny suspected that Tony ran a little book and knew he ran an illegal card game every Saturday night in the back room. That was fine with Danny as he frequented the card game and enjoyed the company of the goombahs especially Fat Sam. Fat Sam could get you anything you needed from broads to guns and a place to keep them if you needed to hide them from your wife or boss. He was a guy, who knew a guy who had a friend. Always a good source of information and a loan if you needed one, Fat Sam and Danny had met a couple of years before they played cards together. Seemed Danny had been watching him as part of an investigation into a small time drug gang. The gang members were buying guns from Fat Sam, or so they said. When Danny caught up with Sam, he had thirty long in cash but no guns. Sam said hed trade Danny some good information if he could forget about the thirty grand. Danny made detective first class and Fat Sam became Dannys snitch and revolving credit account. So you boys having the usual or shall we get fancy this morning? asked Lucy. Just the usual for me, Lucy, replied Danny And you Alfonso, what will you have? Lucy smiled and pinched Shus cheek. Shu hated to be called Alfonso, though that was his given name. What a thing to do to a kid. He father was Chinese and his mother Italian. As a kid, he went by Al. Then, one day in class a substitute was taking attendance and asked if A. Shu was there today. The class burst out in laughter and from then on, they sneezed his name whenever they saw him. Thats probably what drove him to get a black belt in Aikido. Two egg whites, one slice of wheat toast dry and half a glass of orange juice, replied Shu never lifting his eyes from the menu. Hey Tony, Lucy called, I need a number seven heavy and a fairy princess. Got it, Tony called back though an opening in the wall, next to the pie rack. Tell the boys I need to talk to them before they leave. I hate when she calls me Alfonso and she knows it, moaned Shu

Grow up Al she loves you and your Italian heritage. Besides if you piss her off, I aint gonna get that special cannoli to go, Danny consoled, thinking of himself first, as always. They sat for a little over an hour discussing several different scenarios that might have happened resulting in the carnage at the subway station. Top of the list was a gang war thing. There had been plenty of street talk that there was something brewing between several gangs over the drug trade around Whitehall. Since the incident was so brutal, Shu figured it was the work of the Korean gangs and that they cut everyone up to show just how bad they were. Danny didnt buy it; this looked more like a cult thing. Maybe a bunch of hopped up Satan worshiping mental cases running around the subway tunnels with swords and some kind of knockout gas or something. Ok, so we got a couple of ideas to run with, Danny starts to write notes on a pad taken from his pocket. But, I think we need to add the twenty armed invisible sword slinging ninja, just to be sure. He could not help but laugh as he said it. Be real Danny. There are some really nasty characters out there and if they think they got away with this one, theyll do it again. Shu downed the last of his orange juice. Hey Lucy, could I get a large ice water? I didnt get much sleep last night and I think Im getting dehydrated. Lucy, dont worry about it, Ill take it myself, called Tony from the kitchen. I need to talk to Alfonso and Danny anyway. Tony Giordano appeared from the kitchen door in his usual white apron, white tee shirt and white pants, all stained with tomato sauce so it looked like he just finished the St. Valentines Day Massacre. Even though Tony was well into his sixtys he was as fit and trim as when he was at thirty and except for the white hair looked like he could have been Al Pacinos brother. Tony placed the water on the table, leaned over and gave Shu a kiss on the top of his head and mussed his hair. Alfonso, you stay away too long. You need to bring your mama out to the house on Sunday and Ill make a big dinner of my special pasta. Hey, how long since your papa been gone, nearly ten years? Actually, it will be twelve years next month, but thanks for remembering Tony So long. You know you and your mama are like the family we could not have. Your papa was like a saint, god bless him. Why not make an old man happy and come Sunday? Tony put his arm around Shu. Ill ask my mom, and Ill give you a call, I promise. Thats a good boy Alfonso. So Danny, this business in the subway at Whitehall was a very bad thing, asked Tony, more telling than asking.

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How do you know about Whitehall? This thing just went down a few hours ago, the precinct and the mayors office have such a tight lid on this one I figured if I farted, no one would smell it for a month, Danny leaned close into Tony. This needs to be kept quiet no matter what. If the press gets hold of this, it will ruin the tourist trade, not to mention putting every cop in town on double overtime. You could wind up feeling the heat too, if you know what I mean. Please, Danny, you dont have to tell me. I just wanted to know if you had any leads and if I could help. I got a call from Fat Sam around four this morning telling me that some of his contacts had been sent down to clean up the mess. Fat Sam has guys on the inside of the police department? Shu was stunned. Nah, on the hazmat crew. He got some good pictures of the scene, plus something he says the cops did not get a look at, offered Tony. Like what? Danny was all ears. Ok, Fat Sam says one of the guys working on the crew could see a reflection in the window of the subway train so he went to see what it was. He climbed down onto the track, and there on the wall, around the corner from the platform was this writing that looked Chinese or something. So he takes a picture of it and goes to get one of the other guys to get a look. When he gets back, the writing is gone, like it was never there. Did this guy get the pictures developed? asked Shu. Developed? What are you stuck in the 70s? Nobody develops film anymore, everything is digital now, Tony reached under his apron and pulled out the pictures. So what does it say? It is Chinese right? Hey, replied Shu just because I am half Chinese doesnt mean Im freakin Charlie Chan. I cant read Chinese. Danny studied the other photographs. The guy that took them was no crime scene photographer, but he managed to capture the gruesomeness of the platform from every angle. There were torsos and limbs scattered at odd angles over every square inch and half an inch of blood to boot. Danny stared at the pictures for several minutes while Shu called his cousin to see if he could translate the writing. The longer Danny looked at the scattered limbs the more it looked like they had some order. Like they were spelling something. He wasnt sure but he thought the letters spelled HULI, but had no idea what that could possibly mean. Maybe it was just a coincidence, maybe not.

*****
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Since Shu was going to go meet with his cousin Jack in Greenwich, Danny figured his best course would be to give Fat Sam a call and see if he could glean any more information. Before calling Sam, it seemed like a good idea to check in at the precinct to see if any of the reports came back from the crime scene squints or the uniforms. One thing about new cadets, what they lacked in experience they may up for by being as anal as possible. One time, Danny received a traffic report from one of the newbies on a fender bender that was twenty-one pages long and had six pages of pictures. It cost more to run the copies than it did to fix the cars. Danny walked up the tiled stairs of the precinct station grinning from ear to ear; how he loved this place and everything about it. Since he was a kid, being busted for stealing a ten-speed bike, he had fallen in love with the look and smell of the station. Granted, most people would find that more than a little nuts given the look of the building. Dull, grey granite, probably built in the thirtys, a few stones missing here and there, wire over the windows, and a giant round light, kind of like one in front of a pawn shop hanging over the entrance. The second floor had a black and white asphalt tile floor that was practically worn through down the center of the hall and under the paths the desk chairs had rolled for seventy or more years. Danny knew for sure that his desk had not been moved in thirty of those years. Mike OMalley had the desk before him and Bob Martin before him. The desk was steel and grey. There must have been ten coats of paint on the thing, but on one of the legs, where the paint had been scraped away by ten thousand shoe kicks, it was green; ugly army green. That only reinforced Dannys assumption that this desk was military surplus, probably from the war office. The only question was which war, civil or revolutionary. Danny rolled his chair up to his desk, clicked on the green shaded bankers light he purchased at Wal-Mart for ten bucks and started to look through the mound of paper on his desk. Coroners report said the victims, six men and four women died of severe blood loss from fatal wounds. Duh, thought Danny, ya think? Danny kept reading; it was more of the usual stuff, sliced skin, sheared bone, sharp object and so on. Why didnt he just write, These poor bastards were hacked to death by some nut-job with a freakin sharp knife? I can see the headlines now, SUBWAY MASSACRE BY GIANT VEG-OMATIC. RON POPEIL SOUGHT BY POLICE. With nothing new in the coroners report, Danny turned to the shift reports for the uniforms that were in the area. He had called Carol, the desk sergeant, to make sure he had them when he got there. She was a good egg who lost her husband, also a cop, to the big C about ten years ago. Tom had been a beat cop and no one earned more respect in Dannys eyes than a cop that actually had walked the street. Though Tom didnt look like much of a cop, small and kind of quiet, the people loved him, even the punks. He and Carol got matched up by their accountant, of all people. Turns out they were the only two people this guy had ever found who had every receipt. Not just for last years return, but forever. The accountant used to roll his eyes and move his arms out slowly 12

and the stretched out the word forever. Danny figured it was a genetic thing, like a favorable mutation in that evolutionary thing. Danny didnt believe in evolution since it seemed mankind was going the wrong direction. Here we go, Danny read aloud to himself. Man seen urinating outside Dans Eastside Tavern at 2:55 AM, that was news. Male and female engaged in sexual activity oh boy. Adult male seen levitating over central section of Brooklyn Bridge, 3:45 AM, orange aura around male, average height and weight, dressed in black with hoodie. Danny laid the stack back on his desk. Just the normal crap you see on any other night. Well, perhaps not. Where was the report about the space ship, or the giant monster in the pond at Central Park? Hmmmm, musta been a slow night for the boys, Danny mumbled. He needed to get hold of Sam. Fat Sam was nearly as paranoid as Danny, except Sams paranoia was based on fact and Dannys was based on hunch. Sam was well aware that his phone was tapped and he was being watched by Federal Agents trying to connect him to a Columbian moneylaundering scheme. Sam didnt do any business with the Columbians but the Feds had their own way of doing things. Sam did know, however, who was working with the Colombians and the Haitians too, but in his position knowledge was power and too much knowledge shared with the wrong people could get you twenty years under government care on one hand or dead on the other. Danny flipped open his cell phone and hit his number eight speed dial. Anyone looking at Dannys phone would see the name associated with the number was Aunt Ruth. A recorded message on an answering machine picked up on the third ring Hello? said an obviously older womans voice, This is Ruth, leave me a message but talk loud, ok? Then came the beep and Danny began. Hey Aunt Ruth, Danny here, Im going to see your friend the tall French woman at lunch today. Ill give her your love. With that, he closed the phone. Fat Sam had a couple of call drops that Danny could use to get in touch, each one the name of an old woman. Sam would have one of his boys check these phones every hour on the twelve-minute mark to see if there was a message. Danny called at 11:06 AM so he figured Sams person would be checking the drop at any minute. Sams code was smooth. Today Danny had told him the tall French lady for lunch. That meant they would meet at Battery Park, where they could see the Statue of Liberty. If he had said he was, going to look at a car it would have been the Chrysler building; or check out a long legged babe it would have been the Brooklyn Bridge. His favorite was going to the pet store, which meant the Empire State building. That was a King Kong kind of thing, or Im meeting some jerk, which meant he would be in front of the Trump Tower. The way it worked was Sams boys relayed the message, sometimes through two or more calls before it reached Sam. The, Sam would either send a text message about a sale on

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something like shoes, meaning the date was a no go, or he would send nothing which meant it was a go. Danny waited twenty minutes, received no text message, and headed off to Battery Park. He thought about taking the subway, but maybe a cab was best. The thought of arguing with a Pakistani cabbie about whether the Yankees were better than the Sox was better than meeting up with a twenty armed sword wielding invisible ninja. Not a lot better, but better.

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III
Shu pulled his wifes Honda Civic into the cobblestone circular drive of his Cousin Jacks house. Greenwich, Connecticut is one of the richest towns in America and Shus cousin was one of the richest in town. The house was modest my Greenwich standards, a Dutch colonial with a three car garage, guest house and pool to the rear, probably a crummy five thousand square feet. Jack was an engineer by trade and loved to tinker as a child, building Heath kit radios and model planes constantly. He still had everything he had ever built in his own Jack Chow museum. While Jack was going to school at MIT he figured out a way to increase the ability of solar cells to convert sunlight to electricity, then a means to make flexible cells that could be screen printed and finally a way that layers of cells could be stacked on one another to give a seventy-three percent yield. All this before he was twenty. The royalties from his inventions netted him somewhere around forty million a year, not to mention the money from the investments he had made, like buying Yahoo at five and Google at thirty. Still, money aside, Jack was the same old Jack, still working on new gadgets and always deeply embroiled in some study. A few years back, he was convinced that there was a giant gold reserve in northern China known only to the emperors. He had determined that the secret was hidden in ancient Chinese texts that were written in a picture graphic style predating even the oldest forms of Mandarin. He worked with a professor of Chinese history from Wuxi; Dr. Hun. Jack and Dr. Hun deciphered some 40% of the text, which was enough to find the gold reserves that stretch like a great river across the northern region of China. Jack made another small fortune, of course, but donated it to the University in Wuxi in Dr. Huns name. Shu walked to the door and prepared to knock when a womans voice spoke, May I help you? The door was still closed, so Shu assumed there was some kind of a proximity sensor around or maybe he set off a switch when he stepped on the porch. Im Detective Shu, he replied to the air, looking around for the speaker. Im here to see Jack Chow. There is no appointment for a Detective Shu, please state your full name Ok, my name is Al Shu, the frustration was obvious. I am sorry, there is no appointment for Al Shu; please state your full name. Crap. OK. My name is Alfonso Apollo Shu. 15

Thank you Mr. Shu that is a match. Mr. Chow is expecting you, please follow the attendant and do not stray. Your cooperation is appreciated. The voice clicked off while Shu considered where he had heard that voice before. He was sure that was the voice of the telephone company computer on its automatic get you pissed machine. The door opened to reveal one of those Honda robots only taller and slimmer. Plus, it had breasts and was wearing a French maids outfit. Sexy it was not, but for weird and original it scored at least and 8.5 from the judges. Hello Al, came from the bowling ball head made of some kind of smoked glass. Were awfully glad you could make it today. Ive prepared a light lunch; Jack says you like peanut butter and banana sandwiches on toast. The robot turned and walked down the hall with Shu following close behind trying to take in the art collection on walls as he went. There was a Dali, an Andrew Wyeth, and a bunch of others he didnt recognize but he knew they must be originals. The hallway opened into a huge glass room, like a modern version of the capital rotunda; glass from floor to ceiling and then the ceiling was all glass too. Shu let out a long whistle to denote just how big the room was. By his estimate, the ceiling was about thirty-five feet above a black granite floor. The overall room dimensions must have been thirty by fifty, maybe more. Hey Stinky, Jack called as he crossed the room to greet Shu. I see youve met Anne here. Shes a great cook and a super bridge partner, and even good at chess. Red lights came on inside the smoky glass bowling ball head. Please Jack, youll embarrass me, chuckled the robot in a girly cheerleader type voice. Ill go get lunch, you boys talk. I got to tell you Jack, Shu began, rubbing the back of his head, that is some kind of weird. Youre not, you know like havingwell, you know, like the blowup doll thing? What are you nuts? Shes a robot, highly advance and self learning, but just a robot, Jack rolled his eyes back in his head. Dude, you need to get out more. Ok, Ok, Shu was a little flustered. So your mom says you can see Martha Stewarts house from your kitchen. Is that true? Nah, you know how my mom is, she can never get a story right, Jack turned and pointed over his shoulder to a house just beyond a wall of flowers and a moderate greenhouse. Thats it, but Martha moved after that securities deal; sold the house to some rich asshole. Really, have you met the guy?

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Sure, its me. Hey, I couldnt have just anyone moving in next door. I hear that once youve had Martha for your neighbor, everyone else is a step down. Way down. Besides, think what a kick our mom will get when she gets to stay over there. Jack grinned like a teenager, which made Shu grin, remembering when Jack had lived with them during his high school years. Jack was three years younger but in the same grade because he had been promoted so many times. The schools where his folks lived were not that great, so Jack moved to Shus for the better schools and a chance at a scholarship. Shu protected Jack all through school, one because he was smaller and younger and two, because he was an all out geek. That was partly what led to the Stinky nick name for Al. It turns out that Jack, as smart as he was, could have been a poster child for someone with ADD. He jumped from one thing to another constantly; working on several ideas, books, and TV shows all at once. One day out of the blue, he decides to make a stink bomb and toss it into the guidance office. He makes a beauty, slips it into his backpack and with a timer to go off at ten in the morning when the teachers take their break. Jack slips the backpack off and slides it under the desk of Mrs. Cartwright while she is down the hall breaking up a dispute between two girls. Ten AM comes and BOOM just as planned the bomb goes off without a hitch. Well, except for one. Jack put it in the wrong backpack, so Alfonso is sitting in study hall covered in an orange stinky slime. So, the name Stinky literally stuck to Al all the rest of high school. So, Stinky, smiled Jack, whats the scoop? Wheres this hot photo you were so anxious for me to see? Shu reached into the black folder he was carrying under his left arm and withdrew the photo of the writing from the subway wall. Hmmm and kind of a smacking noise came out of Jack as he stared at the photo. Turning the photo several different ways as he walked around the room, Jack made his way to a desk that had a keypad, several slots and a large glass square inset into its surface. With his right hand, Jack pushed a key and with his left, he slipped the photo into a narrow slot in the upper left corner of the desk. Instantly the glass inset began to glow and the windows snapped from clear, to opaque. Whoa, how did you do that? Shu was taken back by the sudden change in the room. First, it went dark then little halogen spot lights came on all around the edge where the ceiling met the wall. What, the glass? No big deal, its made of a polarized crystalline structure. As long as it has a low voltage positive charge passing though it, it stays clear. Shut off the power,

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and it goes opaque. No magic here dude, all science. Jack smiled obviously pleased with his ability to impress Shu. As smart and rich as he was, Jack always had looked up to Shu as his big brother, and would never see it any other way. Ok Stinky, here we go, Jack sounded like a magician at a carnival, what have we got here? From behind a wall somewhere, a projector produced an enlarged image of the photo onto the opaque wall. Lets take that up one more notch and clear it up just a little, Jack was talking to himself more than Shu as he typed several commands into the keypad. Here we go. The image was now about eight feet tall by ten feet wide. It was amazing how clear the letters looked. The more Shu looked at them the more it looked like they had been written in sootno lighter than that almost like smoke floating in front of the wall instead of on it. Jack was up against the wall, waiving his hand up and down repeatedly mimicking the shape of the characters. This is awesome dude. I mean freaking right out of the X files kind of awesome. Wait a minuteyoure not jerking me off here are you? I mean, am I being punked here? I get it Bill sent you right? Listen Jack, this is the real thing and damn serious too. Besides, who is this Bill guy that you think sent me anyway? Shu hated to be questioned about his intentions, ever. You know man, big Bill. Bill Gates, Stinky, he is always trying to get me on something. Last year on my birthday, he filled the pool with Mountain Dew. We swam for seven days straight without sleeping. What a rush. No, this is the real thing, replied Shu, seriously seven days? Ok, man dont get your shorts all up your crack, I believe you. Jack turned back to the image. This right here is the ancient text alright. I cant read much of it but this first word, which is a little difficult to put into English. It means something like I got you first so you see if you can get me. You mean revenge? asked Shu Hey, good job man, that is a very accurate translation. Looks like it might be some kind of saying like a poem or a psalm or something, but maybe not. Jack continued to study the image. The thing here is, this is called spirit writing and I have never actually seen it before. Ive heard of it from Dr. Hun, but I kind of figured it was a legend type thing, like levitation and that stuff in the kung fu movies. I dont think I understand what you are trying to say, Shu moved next to Jack so he could see the image from the same vantage point as Jack.

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Heres the thing, the writing is done by waving the hand in the air like this, Jack moved his hand mimicking the image. But the guy doing the writing doesnt have a pen or brush or anything. He moves his hand and a kind of smoke comes out in the shape of the characters and hangs there in the air. It doesnt last long, only a minute or so. That means the guy who took this picture had to have just barely missed who or whatever was doing this, mused Shu. Beats me, like I said, I thought it was some kind of Chinese fairy tale. Jack stood silent for a few minutes. You know who might know is Dr. Hun. She is really into this stuff. I think the story she told me had to do with the Jade Emperor and dragons, but I may have them mixed up. Thanks Jack, Shu reached out to shake his hand and mid reach, he decided a hug was even better. Hey, Im sorry I havent been out to see you sooner, this place is amazing and so are you. Dont worry about it Stinky, I got all the free time, I should have come to see you, Jack gave Shu the kind of hug only two brothers could really appreciate. Not even chicks could understand this one. Tell you what, if you dont mind, Id like to get a first hand look at the spot where this writing appeared. You know do some checks, test my Chi, be the man. Ill take you up on that one but I can tell you my partner is not into all the ancient Chinese secret stuff. He is a straight from the shoulder kind of guy. He thinks a Taoist is someone who gives you a towel in the mens room. Jack burst out laughing, which caused Shu to laugh at his own joke. Im telling that one to mom, Stinky. She will love it. Jack walked Shu to the door, with Anne carrying a paper bag in hand, as they walked. I placed your lunch in the bag so you may eat it on the way home, Anne handed him the bag. Shu reached out and for no good reason gave the robot a kiss on the top of its bowling ball head and gave it a hug. Red lights went off all over the thing. Way to go dude, Jack threw his hands in the air. She was bad before, now there will no living with her. Shu threw a wave and started to open the car door. Hey, Stinky, Jack yelled, I just remembered someone else that can help. Dr. Hun said she knew a guy who was an expert in this stuff. I think his name is Huli. Anyway it means fox.

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IV
Danny made it to Battery Park a little after noon only to see Fat Sam sitting on a bench eating out of a bag of Swedish Fish. Sam had a real weakness for candy, not chocolate candy, but stuff that was jellied, like sugar coated orange or cherry slices and jelly beans, the big fat ones not the Ronald Regan ones. He was on the bench alone waiting for Danny just as planned. One thing about Sam, crook or not, he was dependable. Danny slid onto the bench next to Sam, So you come here often beautiful? Careful there sonny, Sam said in his unusually high voice for such a big man. There are half a dozen people watching us right now. Two of them are feds; two are from the local team and two of my guys. I suppose your guys are model citizens and not in possession of any kind of illegal item such as a semi-automatic weapon, Danny smiled. Danny, I am surprised at you, implying that anyone that worked for me would be so crass as to carry a semi-automatic firearm. Ill have you know we very progressive only using the finest automatic devices money can buy, now Sam smiled. So you gonna be at the game this week? Im looking forward to taking your money. Nah, tied up on this subway crap. Its why I asked you here. By the way, thanks for the pictures, Danny squeezed Sams arm. No sweat, anything for a friend, Sam gave Danny a wink suggesting that there would be some future trade for the favor. So heres the thing, Danny began, ten people get sliced and diced like they been tossed in a giant vegamatic and there are no finger prints, no foot prints, no witnesses and no survivors. So other than that disappearing graffiti I got nothing. What do your guys hear on the street? Truthfully, Danny, Sam began. He lowered his voice untill it was barely above a whisper. Theres a lot of bad on the street right now. I know some guys, who know some guys, who do a kind of disposal and cleanup for some well connected families around town, ya know what I mean? Danny knew what Sam was saying. Years ago, the local organized crime families had gone from the old cement overcoat to a more complete disposal method. Word was they had some kind of shredder that ripped bodies down to pieces less than a quarter of

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an inch big and then they packed it in dog food cans or used them as chum out past the twenty-five mile limit. Sam went on as Danny nodded. So these guys who do the cleaning work have a little place, maybe somewhere near the water. Anyway, they take their process waste, go out on the boat, do some fishing, and well, you know, kind of feed the fish. Well, lately my guys notice that quite a few of the street elite aint in their favorite box or under the bridge no more, so they sniff around. You know that kind of thing hurts business. Turns out somebodys been dropping them off in plastic bags down at the disposal guys place. Not pretty man, not pretty. So how many have wound up there? Danny was seeing a link. Somewhere between fifty and sixty, but its hard to tell if you dont match up all the pieces. It has been going on for about six months now. The cleaning guys are pissed cause the fuel prices are so high just to run the boat out. I hear they are going to add a fuel surcharge to each hit cause it is cutin into their margins. Sam started to laugh. Man you can be really sick sometimesand I dont mean that in a good way either, Danny shook his head. Anything else? Maybe, they found something on one of the stiffs, not sure what it was, but one of my guys will get it and Ill bring it to you, maybe tonight if I can make the connection. Fat Sam was standing now. Take care of yourself Danny; I got a real bad feeling about this. Thanks Sam, but you know there aint nobody more careful than me, Danny tossed an uneasy wave as he walked off. Danny needed a drink; it was too early and he was on duty. So he had no other choice than to head over to Harleys, an illegal blind pig run by cops for cops. Good place for information and clearing the air about a case with guys that understood what was really going on.

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