Cold As Ice Ch. 01

Daniel continued: "The Council is prepared to fire Sharples, regardless of what the Police Union says, even to the point of enduring any lawsuit he attempts to file, to the point of going to jail in defiance of any Court order to reinstate him to the Force. If you try to go on strike on his behalf, we'll hire scabs. I don't know why you're trying to protect him so strongly, but the Council's patience is growing thin... as is mine."

"We're ready to give you that fight, Sheriff." said the Union rep. "And we'll see you and your Council in prison, if need be."

"You're also bluffing, Sheriff Allgood." said the arbiter. "I'll take my chances that your Council is not unanimous about this matter. After all, it was one of your Council members that had this hearing expedited."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Thomas Cook." said the Union lawyer, which drew a sharp look of rebuke from the arbiter as I nodded. Thomas P. Cook, I thought. Sharples's benefactor, as we well knew from the Porno Set Mystery case.

Everyone but me got up to leave. As they were going into the hallway, the arbiter made a point to step in front of Paulina. He tried to speak quietly but I heard what he said.

"Let me tell you something, you fucking nigger." he snarled in a low voice. "If you ever call me biased again, I'll have your fucking law license pulled and you'll never work in this State again. You better learn your place, nigger."

"What did you just call her?" I said loudly. A red crowbar was coming out, itching to be used.

"Uh, let's get out of here." the Union lawyer said, trying to keep himself between the arbiter and me. The Union rep was trying to hurry the arbiter out, as well. Brownlee's hand went for his gun as he tried to confront me, but Daniel Allgood was right behind him, his own service weapon already drawn.

"Don't do it, Robert." Allgood said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am just looking for a reason to shoot you." Brownlee whirled, then glared at Daniel before following the Union group down the hall. Allgood re-directed me into the Chief's office as I was about to follow them...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So much for my telling you to keep cool." said Daniel as he, Paulina and I sat down in the Chief's office. "Now I'm the one escalating things with Brownlee. I really was about to shoot him if he'd drawn his gun on you. By the way, don't go after that arbiter. He can't hurt Ms. Patterson; his threats are meaningless. I think he was just trying to get you to react, Don, and it almost worked."

"No, Sheriff," I replied, very sure, "he was not thinking of me when he said that. There was no motive but pure racial hatred for Paulina in his words. I think he was surprised when I started going after him, didn't understand what was about to happen. He was wondering why the Union guys were trying to get him out of there so fast. I could see that on his face."

"The personal stuff about me aside, he was still obviously biased in this case." said Paulina. "Shall I try to use that to get another hearing?"

"Won't do any good." I said. "That whole thing was rigged from the get-go, and would be again. But it was instructive, don't you think?"

"How so?" asked Daniel.

"One State official just exposed himself as a racist." I said. "And we now know that one of our Servants of the People, Mr. Thomas Cook, is Sharples' benefactor." I did not tell them that I knew that already.

"Well, folks," I said, getting up, "if you'll excuse me, Sheriff, I have some work to do. I'll be talking with our friendly neighborhood FBI Agents this afternoon, so I won't be here at Headquarters."

"I'll be at the Courthouse, talking to Krasney." Paulina said. "That arbiter may can't do much, but Krasney needs to know if there's going to be incoming fire over me. He'll squash any shit like a bug, and he'll probably be proactive about things when I tell him what that bastard said."

And, for the record, the decision came down even before I made it out of the office to go to lunch: the arbiter ruled summarily in favor of the Union and Sharples, with a note that the SBI's Office of Ethics and Review should investigate the Town & County Police and it's senior leadership for arbitrary 'bird-dogging' (yes, he actually used that word) of Detective Leonard R. Sharples.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lunch was at the Cop Bar with Jack Muscone. To my surprise, FBI Special Agent In Charge Lester "Les" Craig was with him. Craig worked out of Southport, the major shipping and railroad transportation hub in the southern part of the State where the Rivers met. Jack was in heaven as he consumed a double cheeseburger. Craig was tall and thin, and his eating habits supported that: he was grazing on a large salad.

The owner had seen the look on my face when I came in, and brought me a plate of fried chicken with a double helping of macaroni and cheese. He said it'd make me feel better, and he was right. Macaroni and Cheese is a favorite comfort food of Your Iron Crowbar.

"Yeah, that's interesting about that guy." Muscone said when I told him about the arbiter's use of the 'n-word'. "I'll check him out for any connection to Superior Bloodlines. Sometimes big cases get cracked by small stuff like that. Now after lunch, we have something else to talk about in my office, but not here."

After lunch we went to Muscone's office and settled into chairs. "Les, fill us in on the diamond smuggling case."

Craig started in: "As you know, Don, Jack and his team have been working hard on finding something on Henry Wargrave. There has been an operation to interdict his arms shipping by the-- well, by another agency, and it's been very successful: Wargrave is having cash flow issues."

"That's what happens when he pisses off high-level CIA agents." I said. "Especially the one I sleep with every chance I get." Jack gave what was for him a laugh. Craig knew who Laura was from the faked deaths of Jack and his team operation, but it took him a moment to remember, and he looked bewildered.

"Oh, yeah... okay." said Craig. "Anyway, we developed a lead that Wargrave was trying to raise some funds by having some diamonds shipped in through Southport, which he'd distribute onwards at a good profit. He could then use that money to buy and smuggle in arms. His attempt to go through Harold Malone in Alabama ended in disaster for him when Malone was murdered. We still have no idea who did that."

"So Wargrave turned to diamonds, did he?" I asked, steering the conversation away from 'Alabama'. If Jack Muscone had not felt the need to discuss our adventures down there with Craig, I certainly had no desire to do so.

"Yes." said Craig. "Here's what's interesting. We were a bit late to the party, but we developed information that a shipment of 'ice', the diamonds, were coming into this Town on the morning of April 1st. Your people apparently developed that intel also, and actually made the correct raid on the correct location at the correct time. I still don't understand how you didn't find the diamonds. Your people got there just as the truck pulled in, and my people are sure the diamonds were on that truck."

"It wasn't for lack of trying, nor looking hard." I said. "We were wondering if it was a false flag, a distraction run while the diamonds came in somewhere else, or if it was a dry run."

"No," said Les Craig, "it was the real deal. And you guys were all over it like white on rice. That's why I can't believe they got the diamonds past you. I know your guys are good, but they didn't succeed: I got word this morning that Wargrave's agents in the City made the delivery of the diamonds, and Wargrave is already putting the money to use."

"Can you interdict that?" I asked.

"We did already." Jack Muscone said. "We were partly successful, but I fear we've alerted Wargrave to our overwatch of him in doing so."

"Good." I said.

"Good?" both agent said simultaneously.

"Yes." I said. "I think Wargrave will try to move more diamonds, and if we're lucky, he'll do it the same way again... and this time, we will not miss."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, Austin," said Henry R. Wargrave, "it seems that my wire transfer of money was cut off. Was this the Oldeeds Group or the FBI?"

"FBI, sir." said Murphy. "I had a friend check, and several of your dummy accounts have been discovered and are being monitored. The affected accounts are in that file folder I gave you."

Wargrave perused the file. "Wow, they're coming hard after me. Internationally, also. Any idea why I'm so suddenly on their radar?"

"No sir," said Murphy, "but with all due respect, I think they smell blood. I very discreetly contacted some of Conrad King's people. They think it's the CIA that's really gunning for you, and the FBI is just along for the ride."

"Hmmm." said Wargrave. "It's just not like them. They've always liked it when I arm both sides of a conflict; they can choose the side they want to support and make a big deal of things in the News Media."

"Sir, someone suggested another possibility to me." said Murphy. "The Oldeeds Group is gearing up to resume their smuggling operations. Underage girls and now boys, too. They may be feeding the FBI and DEA information to distract from their own operations."

"Could be," said Wargrave, "but I don't think that's it. This feels much more personal. Someone really wants to roast me on a spit... but enough of that now. Austin, we're going to need a new shipment of diamonds, at least double the size of the last one. I'll start setting up the dummy accounts, new ones, if you will contact the suppliers and arrange the transportation."

"The same ones as last time?" Murphy asked. "The cops almost interdicted us last time. I have no idea how they found out about the shipment."

"Sure, same ones." said Wargrave. "The last one went exceptionally well... and right under the Iron Crowbar's nose. Just keep it a lot more quiet this time, so that the cops don't find out. They thought they were hitting a drug operation. You might want to set up a false flag drug op, let the cops find out about that one and sting it while our guys bring the diamonds in."

"Yes sir." said Murphy, apprehensive for some reason. "And the buyers? That's a lot of merchandise to move."

"These are going to be blue-white diamonds of the highest quality. They're called 'blue ice'." said Wargrave. "They're used for research in making x-ray lasers and other weapons-grade things. Our Russian friends are most interested in acquiring some of these diamonds, as well as the Red Chinese, and I'll be making it easier for them to do so."

Murphy felt disquieted. X-ray lasers required a nuclear power source, and that meant Government power behind developing these devices. Also, arming mercenaries and radical Islamists to kill each other and themselves was one thing; selling to foreign powers to help them make weapons that could be used against the United States was another thing entirely. It was downright treason.

Murphy began realizing just how desperate Henry R. Wargrave was becoming, and also why the FBI was coming after him so hard. This was going to turn ugly.

"One last thing, Hank." Murphy said. "We have a University Regents meeting this weekend. Big one, too, so you'll have to go into the Iron Crowbar's territory. If you want that diamond shipment over the weekend..."

"Monday night." Wargrave said. "Bring it in Monday night, early Tuesday morning." He then moved to change the subject. "Austin, you've done very well for me, especially these last few weeks and months when the heat has been on. You deserve a reward. Would you like a sweet college girl while we're in Town?"

"If it's all the same to you, Hank," Austin said, "I'd like a night with that hot older blonde you've hired in the past. Cherie, I think her name is."

"I'll set it up for tonight." Henry Wargrave said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sun was setting over the town, and had already dipped over the ridge upon which my new Cabin would be sitting. I was watching the fishing line flick out into Reservoir Lake, hurled by an expert hand. I was sitting with Chief Griswold on the dock behind his house.

"Crowbar, you're damned good at a lot of things," said the Chief, "but fishing ain't one of 'em. You still can't throw a line for squat. Did your dad ever take you fishing when you were a boy?"

"No sir, I can't." I admitted. "And my dad never took me fishing. Pheasant and dove hunting a few times, but not fishing." I did not mention to Chief Griswold that I wasn't a big fan of fishing, though I liked hunting well enough and had gone deer hunting with Melina a number of times when we'd been married. Now it seemed that I hunted only criminals. No time to harvest food sources outside of the grocery store.

"When your son gets old enough, take him hunting and fishing." said Griswold. "Nothing bonds a father and son together like doing things like that together." He expertly flicked the fishing line back into the water. "So, Crowbar, what did you want to talk about?"

"I need your advice, Chief." I said. "There has got to be a way to get Sharples out of the Force... legally, that is, without killing him." The Chief smiled as I said "I admit I don't have a clue what to do about it."

"Is he popular with the other officers of the Force?" the Chief asked, seemingly lazily and with a disinterested voice. I was not fooled one iota.

"He's hated by his fellow Detectives, who refuse to work with him. Julie Newton is his official partner, mostly because she never goes into the field though she's qualified with a gun, and she and Sharples can ignore each other. Sharples does have some friends in the uniformed services, mostly Sergeant McCombs and that dirtbag Justin Hendricks, who may never get promoted if I can help it."

"Who hired Hendricks? And Sharples for that matter?"

"Robert Brownlee, on both." I said. "McCombs recommended Hendricks, which is one reason I smell dirt around Hendricks, so I don't really blame Brownlee on that; we hire batches of officers out of the Academy like everyone else does. But Sharples is all on Brownlee. They're not friends by any means, but Brownlee feels the need to protect his hires or he thinks he'll look bad."

The Chief grunted at that, a laugh for him. "He looks real bad in other ways, and that's what he thinks about? Okay, seriously, Brownlee hired Angela Harlan, too... not a good record for him on that batch of hires."

"Well, Martin Nash was a good hire." I said, "but I understand that was your doing, Chief."

"Not much gets by you, Crowbar. Nash was a great hire... but not my best one." Griswold said, meaning me.

"We've got a long way to go before you can say that." I said.

"Modesty is a human trait, Commander." Griswold replied, in the form of one of his favorite Klingon quotations. "I will excuse it."

"So speaking of 'excusing'," I said, "what can you recommend about Sharples?"

"Back in my day, when things were more 'old school'," said the Chief, "there would be an 'understanding' about an officer that didn't fit in. He wasn't spoken to, might find himself on the business end of practical jokes. If things got worse, he'd find the air was let out of his tires at the worst possible times, he wouldn't get backup on missions, stuff like that. And on the most rare of occasions, he'd get the police equivalent of a 'blanket party'."

Griswold continued: "As I understand it, the Union is supporting Sharples far more strongly than they should be. You've remarked on it already, and I agree that it's a lot more than just trying to protect a bad officer or just tweaking you. The Union does hate to have to expend so much energy on this one guy; it hurts them when they have to go to bat for other officers and they've already expended that political capital."

I nodded in understanding as the Chief flicked his line into the lake again.

"I could suggest two things." said Griswold. "First, there is a separate Union for Captains and higher, and you're aware of that. Captains and higher are political appointees in the New York Police Department, the City Police Department, and even our smaller Police Force. As you know, Captains are not subjected to many of the same regulations as lower ranking officers, even Lieutenants ." The Chief paused to let that sink in, and I realized like a punch between the eyes that I'd just been given a huge piece of information.

"Yes, Crowbar." said the Chief, seeing the understanding in my eyes. "Anyway, I would suggest you use the Police Captains' Union against the regular officers' Union, but Brownlee will fight you every step of the way."

"And he is clinging to them like Sharples clings to the regular Police Union." I replied. "So what's the other idea?"

"Use him against himself." said Griswold. "Give him assignments he'll hate, but he'll have to do or be subject to discipline. Seemingly lay off him, but give him plenty of rope to hang himself."

"Like Teresa is trying to do now." I said. And then I understood again.

"Yes, Crowbar." said the Chief. "It is indeed possible that Ms. Croyle sat in that chair you're sitting in some weeks ago, and asked the very same questions. Yes, she one-upped you, and I know you won't come down on her for going over your head."

I grinned. "No, not on this one. I have a feeling her best buddy, who carries a blue crowbar around, might have been an influence upon her in that matter."

"Not much gets by you, Crowbar." Griswold said affably. He retrieved the fishing line for the final time. "It's getting dark. Let's go inside, and I insist you have some supper with us."

"Thank you, sir, but I can't stay too late." I replied. "I've got a dog to feed now."

Part 6 - The Queen of Diamonds

Saturday, April 4th. The bedsprings squeaked in protest as the beautiful woman rode the man beneath her, slamming her sweet ass down onto his cock as he tried to match her by thrusting up into her. Her long black hair cascaded down her back and her very ample breasts bounced on her firm chest, her abs seeming to ripple as she fucked his six inch cock with everything she had.

"Fuck me, Thomas, fuck me!" yelled Karen Warner Harlan. "Give it to me, damn you!"

"I'm trying, babe!" Thomas P. Cook gasped. He gripped Karen's hips in his strong hands and thrust up into her, redoubling his fucking efforts, but it just seemed to never be enough to satisfy her. Even the viagra he'd taken was not enough; this was their third fuck and Karen had come around his thrusting, throbbing cock many times, but she still craved more.

As the couple rutted hotly on the hotel bed, the other woman watched from inside the closet. Elizabeth was a sensuous woman, not a crude nymphomaniac like Karen. As Elizabeth watched, she allowed the feelings of pleasure to course through her body. She could feel her dress on her body, feel the fabric caressing her breasts. She could feel the straps of her high heels straining against her elegant feet as she wiggled them. She felt her fingers sliding under her lace panties and rubbing her swollen labes, and almost groaned when her bird finger slid deep into her sopping wet pussy. She massaged the upper wall of her vagina, seeking that sweet G-spot that would shoot sparks of pleasure through her when it was stimulated.

"Oh God, I'm coming!" gasped Thomas P. Cook. It was his third climax, and the volume of semen he fired into the tip of the condom was not significantly large. Spent, he relaxed, no longer caring about the woman gyrating above him. She was simply too much for him to handle.

"Can't keep up?" Karen asked wearily.

"I don't think any man can untie that knot inside you." Cook replied.

"So," Karen said, still sitting on top of Cook, her weight pressing down on him, "you'll just have to satisfy me in another way." Virtually unnoticed was her hand reaching behind her, cupping Cook's balls.