The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

I'm patient as stone.

Which pays off. Because only a half hour later I see something interesting.

And I realize I now have the final piece of the puzzle that will let me solve my Red problem.

All right, I think, finishing my beverage and putting the crumpled cup into my pocket (learned my lesson there!), it's time to go. We've got work to do.

CHAPTER 23

Ron Pulaski walked out the front door of Richie's bar. He felt good, almost light-headed.

He turned south and kept walking quickly, head down.

What sat in his front left pocket was minuscule but seemed like ten pounds of gold. He casually slipped his hand into his pocket and touched it for the comfort. Thank you, Lord.

And thank you, he thought too to the guy he'd been sharing a beer with a minute ago: Alpho (Pulaski didn't like to use the dog food nic, even skels deserved respect). He'd hooked Pulaski up with just what he needed. Oh, yeah.

He could...

"Excuse me, sir. If you could stop right there, please. Take your hand out of your pocket."

Face burning, heart thudding, Pulaski stopped in his tracks. Knew he wasn't being mugged. But he also knew what was going down. The tone of voice, the words. He turned to see two large men, dressed in jeans and jackets, street clothes, but he knew right away who they were--not their names, but their jobs: tactical cops, undercover. He glanced at their shields, gold shields dangling from silver chains.

Shit...

He slowly removed his hand and kept both palms open. Non-threatening. He knew the drill; he'd been on the other side hundreds of times.

Pulaski said, "I'm NYPD, assigned to Major Cases. I have a weapon in an ankle holster and my shield's inside my jacket." Trying to sound confident. But his voice was unsteady. His heart slammed.

They frowned. "Okay," the bigger one, bald, stepped forward. His partner kept his hand near his weapon. Baldie: "We just want to make sure everybody stays safe, you understand. I'm going to ask you to turn around and put your hands against the wall."

"Sure." It does no good to argue. Pulaski wondered if he'd throw up. Deep breath. Okay, control it. He did. More or less.

The officers--they smelled of a task force--got the gun and the shield. They didn't give them back. His wallet too. Pulaski was inclined to argue that one but didn't.

"Okay. Turn around." From the other officer--blond hair in a spiky cut. He was flipping through the wallet. He clustered it, the gun and the shield in his left hand.

Both officers looked around and directed Pulaski into a doorway, out of sight of the pavement. They'd been conducting surveillance at Richie's, probably on Alphonse, waiting for a contact to show up. And they didn't want to blow the main operation by getting spotted now.

Baldie spoke into his microphone. "Sarge, we got him. The thing is he's on the force. Major Cases... I know... I'll find out." He cocked his head. "Pulaski? You running an op here? Major Cases always coordinates with us, DSS. So we're confused."

"Not an op."

"What'd you buy?" Baldie seemed to like doing the talking. They were close. His breath smelled of pizza. Garlic and oregano. He glanced at Pulaski's pocket.

"Nothing."

"Look, man, we got it on video. Everything."

Shit. The plumbing van across the street. He had to give 'em credit. There were a dozen plumbing supply stores on the block. A lumberyard truck, a taco truck, an HVAC truck... that might be suspicious. But not plumbing.

"It's not what

you think."

"Yeah, it is what we think, Pulaski. There's nothing we can do. It's on tape that's gotta be logged in," the blond partner said. He seemed personally upset at the prospect of busting a fellow cop for scoring drugs. But being upset wasn't going to stop him. Either of them. It just seemed that Blondie would enjoy a collar a bit less than his partner.

"We're in this far, Pulaski. You gotta give us what you scored. If it's a misdemeanor amount it won't go so bad. You can work out something with the DA and Benevolent Association."