The
Streets Of New YorkThe
Streets Of New York© Sidney McCabe
DISCLAIMER: I was unable to verify if there really is such a division as the Area Major Incident Team within the London Metropolitan Police Force. There may be, although I believe this specific group is the creation of author Lynda LaPlante, who wrote the fantastic BBC series 'Prime Suspect'. However, I don't know for certain. I am only borrowing the AMIT for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement is intended. Only the basic premise of the AMIT's function has been used here; all other situations and characters (apart from those from The Young Riders) are my own creation.
Also, there is definitely no such group as the Special Task Force within the New York Police Department, and while I have done a great deal of research on the NYPD--and all attempts at accuracy have been made-creative license has been taken.
This story is for Lisa R, for helping me bring the New York!
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity?
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city...
Clouds were drifting lazily over the Manhattan skyline. The sun was high in the sky, shining down with all the brilliance of a hot summer's day. There was no breeze to cool the air; it was New York City at its stifling, sweltering best.
Lieutenant Louise McCloud paced up and down Fifth Avenue, her brown hair plastered to her neck and face. From time to time she would stop to peer down the street, muttering to herself, her eyes inscrutable behind her dark sunglasses.
She had abandoned her blazer long ago and stood in her silk tank top and slacks, her feet blissfully free in sandals. She raked her fingers through her damp hair and checked the watch slithering down her wrist. The sun glinted off the metal, causing her to wince at the sudden brilliance. God, it was hot.
Lou continued muttering to herself, but the people passing by paid her no attention. It was typical fare in Manhattan - businessmen often walked down the streets, dressed in tailored suits, yelling at themselves. Lou merely looked like a sophisticated, albeit sweaty, career woman. Which she was - at least on the surface.
Moments later footsteps fell behind her and she spun around to the approaching figure of Andrew Kidwell. He was grinning at her and carried a container filled with various iced drinks and a large bag of sandwiches. He seemed happy to see her despite the fact that he looked miserably hot.
"G'day, Louise," he called out as he neared her.
Despite herself, and the agonizing heat, Lou smiled back, delighted to see him. "Inspector Kidwell," she greeted him teasingly.
Kid reached out his arm to pull her into an embrace, leaning in for a kiss. Lou put her hand up over his lips, stopping him. "Oh, no you don't, Inspector. Hand over the iced tea."
"Why do you insist on calling me 'Inspector'?" Kid sighed, withdrawing her drink. "You know I have a new title now." His British accent was clipped and light, inflecting his words with softness. Lou was still as aware of it as she had been a year ago when he had first move to Manhattan with her.
"Oh, quit whining. 'Inspector' suits you much better than 'Lieutenant'," replied Lou as she slurped happily at her tea. "Do you have everything?"
"Everything."
"Perfect. Let's go."
"Yes, let's get the hell out of this heat."
Lou clucked in mock sympathy. "Aww. Is the poor Brit having trouble with a real summer?"
Kid cast her a withering glance as they clambered into the patrol car. "It's inhuman, Louise. I can't believe I haven't bloody well melted yet."
"You'd think you'd be used to it by now," she chuckled as she pulled out into midday Manhattan traffic.
"This is only my second summer here, Louise," he retorted. "A lifetime of English summers, with all the lovely, soft, sunny days and late afternoon rains did not exactly prepare me for this."
Louise smiled to herself and said nothing. She enjoyed Kid's rants about the New York heat.
"How do you people do it?" demanded Kid, gesturing vehemently with his iced coffee, its contents spilling over the rim of the cup. "I mean really? It's three hundred degrees outside - the sun is about two miles from the top of the Empire State Building - I swear the sidewalks are actually sizzling - and there are people out jogging and wearing suits and enjoying this!" He threw his hands in the air. More coffee spilled out. "It's madness. It's insanity! This isn't summer, it's hell on earth!"
Lou exploded into laughter.
"Well, I'm glad you find it amusing," he growled, punching ferociously at the air conditioner control panel. "Stupid bloody piece of garbage."
"I told you the a/c doesn't work, Kid. You're not going to make it work by sheer force of will."
"Fine, then. I'll just suffer in silence."
Lou snorted. "That'll be the day."
Kid sighed dramatically and leaned back against the seat, hanging one arm out of the window, watching the buildings roll by. Now and then he sneaked quick peeks at Louise's profile as she drove, periodically pushing her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose, humming along with the radio. She looked lovely. He smiled to himself. Despite the heat, life was very, very good.
It had been just over a year since he had said goodbye to his life with the London Metropolitan Police Force and his tenure on its elite Area Major Incident Team. He had left behind a flat he loved, a city as revitalizing as oxygen, and a team of co-workers that were like family. And he had done it all willingly. All for Louise McCloud. He had never once regretted the decision.
He worked alongside Lou on the Special Task Force, a division of the NYPD similar to AMIT, and he enjoyed every day of it. It was exciting, challenging work, and working under his chief, Teaspoon Hunter, was a reward all in itself. He loved Manhattan despite the cruel summers, ferocious winters, and confusing subway system. He was still madly in love with Louise. It was all very good; better than he knew he deserved. But lately Kid couldn't deny that a powerful wave of homesickness had left him feeling a bit empty inside.
He missed his old teammates and his superintendent. He missed London and its crazy, winding roads. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a British accent that wasn't his own. He would have committed a felony just to catch a glimpse of a Manchester United match.
Right now he would have settled for a curry.
A curry from his favorite Indian place down the road from his flat, where the smell of spices was so thick and heavy the air was almost tangible, where Habib would greet him by name, and would know just the right amount of peppers to put in, and -
"Kid?"
Louise's voice interrupted the reverie Kid had fallen into. His eyes flew open and he noticed with a start that she had pulled to a stop in front of the 14th precinct. She was gazing at him with a curious expression on her face.
"Kid, are you all right?"
He flushed guiltily. "Sure. I'm fine."
She pulled off her sunglasses and her brown eyes settled on him with unnerving precision. "You've been acting strange for the past few weeks."
"I wasn't acting strange."
Lou's lips curled into a hint of a smile. "You were sniffing the air."
"I can explain that..."
"How about later? We have someplace to be right now, in case you'd forgotten."
"Right."
As they climbed out of the car and made their way inside the station, Lou fought to keep her worries from bubbling to the surface. She glanced at Kid as he strode along, drinks in hand, and tried desperately to read his expression.
He had been distant lately. Often she found that he had suddenly retreated inward, into some quiet, faraway place where she couldn't reach him. He was as loving and attentive as ever, but there was something different about him now; a sadness, almost. It worried her terribly.
The station was cool and smelled of cleaning detergents and stale coffee. Kid and Lou hurried down the halls to the office. They found their team gathered under the watchful eye of their chief, Aloysius 'Teaspoon' Hunter, a gruff and weathered Texan with a slightly surly disposition and the respect of every officer he had ever worked with.
He stood now at the front of the room, every member of the STF silent and intent on him as he spoke. There was an undercurrent of something almost electric in the air, Kid and Lou felt it the moment they entered the room. Lou's worries were momentarily forgotten as her sharp instincts kicked into high gear. Something was up; it was all over Teaspoon's face.
"You're just in time," he greeted them with a hasty nod.
There was a brief flurry of hands as the officers collected their lunches and settled back into place. Soon the only sounds heard were those of potato chip bags rustling and ice jangling in plastic cups.
"I'll go ahead and start again," Teaspoon said, running a hand through his newly-cropped silver hair. He leaned back against the wall and regarded his officers with resignation. "I'm not going to beat around the bush." He paused to draw in a deep breath. "Folks, we're in for some changes. Big ones. And I can guarantee you ain't all going to be happy with 'em, 'cause I sure as hell am not."
There was a murmur of reaction among the small crowd. Lou glanced around at the faces of her teammates. Her mind began to whirl with the implications of Teaspoon's words. So many scenarios flew through her head in that brief span of time that she grew dizzy. Rarely had Teaspoon spoken so pessimistically about decisions made by the higher-ups. He was often quite vocal in his disapproval, but such fatalism was new to them all.
"Are you going to tell us what these changes are?" Georgia O'Neill asked when there was a moment of silence. "Or is this on a need-to-know basis?"
"Well, I think you all need
to know right now," replied Teaspoon. "Now, fortunately the powers-that-be
have decided to let me update you, but quite frankly I'd do it anyway. It just
wouldn't be fair otherwise."
If everyone had been focused on Teaspoon before, now they were positively all
ears. Lou saw Billy Cody gaping with a mouth full of potato chips.
The sight made her smile, lessening the tension somewhat.
Teaspoon was shifting his feet like a shy little boy. "Well, the first thing is that I'm...well, I'm...I'm leaving the STF."
The room nearly burst with sudden outrage, the noise level rising to the ceiling. Every mouth went slack with shock. Kid nearly fell out of his chair. Teaspoon leaving the STF?
"WHAT?!" asked at least six voices simultaneously.
"Are they forcing you to leave, Teaspoon?" demanded Buck Cross, glaring fiercely at his chief. "Because if they are -"
"Hold it, hold it, hold it," protested Teaspoon, raising his hands in a gesture for silence. He was smiling to himself, obviously pleased with the outrage his announcement had caused. "Don't everyone get all bent out of shape already; you haven't even gotten the facts yet." He was teasingly reprimanding. "Haven't I taught you anything in all our time together?"
Everyone relaxed into smiles. It couldn't be too bad if he was joking about it. Still, the thought that Teaspoon would be leaving them was as terrifying as it was heart-breaking. No Teaspoon dispensing his peculiar brand of wisdom? No Teaspoon with his familiar smell of onions at lunchtime? It was incomprehensible.
"I've been offered a new position," he was saying. His grin had faded and he was regarding them all cautiously, afraid to seem too excited.
"Superintendent over new trainees. I'll be working with the academy, showing students the ropes, helping them adjust to life with the NYPD. You all remember how it was for you those first few months at the academy, don't you? You didn't know what to say or do, which way was up or down, and most importantly, you were scared as hell. Well, that'd be where I come in. I'll make the journey smoother for them; show 'em the ropes, so to speak." Teaspoon looked around, gauging the reactions.
Everyone was silent as they contemplated this piece of information. They were still trying to come to terms with the knowledge that Teaspoon would no longer be their commanding officer. It wasn't easy.
Then Kid folded his arms over his chest and regarded Teaspoon with an air of sad acceptance. He smiled at his chief. "Well, Teaspoon," he said, "I sure as hell can't think of anyone better suited to the job."
Louise beamed at him. Sometimes Kid knew exactly the right thing to say. Teaspoon relaxed at his words and the nervous look left his face. "I am pretty thrilled," he admitted shyly.
"You should be. Congratulations, Teaspoon," replied Buck, obviously resigned to make the most of a bad situation. He approached Teaspoon with an extended hand and tried not to let his aching disappointment show.
Teaspoon was fighting back the urge to whoop and holler. He had just received notice of the promotion that morning and he was fit to bust with pride. Only the subdued faces of his officers stopped him from showing just how excited he really was. "No long faces, folks, come on! I'm still here for a few more months! This is a big opportunity for me. And it's something I've always really wanted to do. Be happy for me, okay?" He ended with a rakish wink and a lopsided grin that set everyone laughing again.
"That's better," he continued, his eyes skimming over the file in his hands. "Moving right along...I'm sure you've all heard the rumors regarding another exchange taking place with this department. A little over a year ago, McCloud, Cody, and Cross, as well as Hickok--whom not all of you were privileged to know--were sent over to work with the London Metropolitan Police Force on a team a lot like the STF. That's how we acquired our esteemed Lieutenant Kidwell," he said, with a wink in Kid's direction. "The exchange was a success. It was such a success, in fact, that the powers-that-be have wanted to do another one for quite some time. The only problem is that no one has the funds or the interest to participate - other than the LMPF."
"How is that a problem?" retorted Kid, still fiercely loyal to the team that had nurtured him.
Teaspoon just tossed another wink at him. "It's no problem, really, Kid. A bit disappointing to the big-wigs, since they wanted to send us some place new, but no real problem. Which is why we've accepted their offer a second time."
Kid drew his breath in sharply. "You mean--?"
"I mean that in just two short weeks we will be joined by none other than Inspector James Hickok, Inspector Anna Kenworthy, Inspector Noah Dixon, and Sergeant Ike McSwain." Teaspoon's smile lit up the room.
Kid, Lou, Buck, and Cody exploded into excitement. The other officers merely looked curious. They had heard stories of the four officers and of the original exchange, but the news wasn't quite as exciting to them.
"Who's going to London?" asked Dennis Spencer.
"You are, son. You, McArdle, Jefferson, and Clearwater. We'll have a meeting later with Waddell to discuss the details." Teaspoon cleared his throat, attempting to gain order once again, though four of his officers seemed determined not to cooperate. "Folks, if you wouldn't mind settling down for the moment, I have some more news that may interest you." One gray eyebrow was raised in warning.
"What could possibly top that?" asked Lou.
"Well, I do need to be replaced." Teaspoon's words had the desired effect, sobering the revelry for the moment. He paused. "And Russell and Majors have come up with an interesting way to go about it." There was a tight control to Teaspoon's voice, as if he were holding back anger. The realization startled Lou. "Starting next week, and continuing up to the date of my departure, we will be 'auditioning' officers to replace me."
"Auditioning? What the hell does that mean?" demanded Cody.
"It means that the STF is a highly specialized department, Cody. We are, for lack of a better term, the best of the best. We have all the responsibility and long hours of the FBI with none of the prestige. Our officers work round the clock. We know practically every precinct inside and out; we practically know this damn city inside and out. And without putting too fine a point on it, everyone wants my job, and not just anyone can do it.
"Each regional superintendent is going to have a candidate that they want to push for the position. Russell and Majors are going to give each candidate the opportunity to prove they can handle what the STF requires. Then they'll make a decision."
"What are you getting at, Teaspoon?" asked Shane Rowling. He could read the warning in Teaspoon's eyes clearly. There was something he didn't want to say.
"I'm trying to say that in just ten days' time we'll be joined by the first candidate. We will all be working alongside this candidate for the next six weeks. We will be expected to give this candidate our full cooperation, whatever our personal feelings toward the person may be."
Lou's heart began to thud against her chest. She could feel her adrenaline began to pulse alarmingly. She sensed what was coming; she knew what Teaspoon was about to say.
"Teaspoon." Her voice came out a cautious whisper. "Who is it?"
He fixed her with a helpless, meaningful gaze. And then he sighed heavily.
"Rosemary Burke."
* * *
Manhattan's underworld was a filthy, seedy law unto itself. It was a land apart from the city that held it, and in that land, Frankie James reigned supreme.
Frankie had a mythical reputation among New York City's most hardened criminals. The story went that he had started out robbing stores as a teenager and gradually progressed to banks while still in his twenties. Now that he was in his thirties, he was reported to be worth millions, with a network of accomplices that numbered in the hundreds, and his finger in all manner of unsavory pies. If the rumors were anything to believe, he was responsible for everything from drug trafficking to blackmailing the mayor.
Frankie James hated the police. He had murdered twenty lawmen, according to rumors, and though he had often been forced to take hostages, he had always been merciful with the innocent. He was clever and ruthless and loyal to no one, though he demanded absolute devotion from those he employed. If you worked for him you kept the information to yourself. If you crossed him once he gave you no opportunity to do so again.
No one had ever seen him.
At least, not that they could remember. Since his rise to the inner ranks of the criminal world, he had withdrawn into a sanctuary of his own creation. He employed nearly 200 men and women, but most of them had no proof they were even working for the infamous Frankie James. Their only link was Elizabeth.
Elizabeth France was as beautiful as she was cruel, as elegant as she was merciless. She was calculating, determined, and ambitious, and she was Frankie James's closest, most trusted employee. If you were brave enough to ask for anything, you had to go through Elizabeth to get to Frankie. She knew her power and used it to her best advantage. Frankie was somewhere in the background, a dark, foreboding presence, but Elizabeth was there in the flesh, her coldness a reality. As a result, people learned to fear her almost as much as they feared Frankie.
Elizabeth knew the inner workings of her boss's business as well as he reportedly did. She oversaw everything from connections with the ruling mafia to the takings of the lowliest pickpocket. She knew exactly how much money Frankie's underlings took in, the name of every single one of his enemies, and exactly how close the police were to catching him at any given moment. Nothing ever slipped by her.
Until the fires started.
