Fic: Selfie In Blue, Part IV
Badge chose a grungy diner for her refuge as evening descended over the borough.
Ray’s Sunny Side Up had seen better days, if only in the dreams of its proprietor.
The blue-and-white checked linoleum tile floor was chipped but clean, the stuffing bursting from splits in the cushions of stools along the stainless steel counter. A crusted coffee percolator bubbled next to the rack holding menus and extra napkins near the kitchen door. Behind glass cabinet doors, an assortment of cakes, doughnuts, and pies was displayed on footed serving stands.
Happy that the place had only one entrance, Reese found a booth from which he could survey the restaurant’s plate glass window and the girl with equal ease. If an assailant was going to attack through the kitchen he assumed that the cook and waiters would sound an alarm.
The day’s fourth cup of coffee, this one the weakest of them all, sloshed around in his empty stomach. He wanted food, but he wanted sleep more. So he dared not eat for fear that he would drift off and lose his target again.
Badge sat at a rickety table for two near the front of the long room, her back to the wall, a laminated menu hoisted high before her face. When the waiter came for her order she waved him off. But then she seemed to change her mind, calling him back with a whispered request.
Five minutes later the waiter slouched to Reese’s booth with a plated slice of apple pie. A la mode.
“I didn’t order this.” Hunger made him snap and the man cowered under his glare.
Tilting his head toward Badge, the waiter explained:
“She said you looked like you needed pie, so I recommended the apple. It’s our special. Take it or leave it, Mister. The kid’s paying.”
Reese pushed the plate toward the edge of the table, but a quick shadow intervened.
“We’ll take it, thanks.”
Glossy with cheer, Joss slipped into the high-backed booth opposite him and grabbed the plate before the waiter could remove it. She skipped the greeting and went straight for the fork, unwrapping it from the paper napkin and brandishing it over the pie with intent.
“I’m hungry, if you’re not.”
She looked so good to him, rested and fresh, golden cheeks shiny from the cold, her brown eyes bright with mischief and love. Reese took a deep breath and lowered his lids briefly. For the first time since the dawn’s bloody debut, he could exhale.
He hadn’t realized just how keenly he had missed her until she was right in front of him again.
He was beat, so tired he felt the dry ache of exhaustion in his back, his shins, ankles, and feet.
But the effect of Joss on him was like stepping out into a fresh spring shower. He felt cooled, alert, stimulated in all his senses - seeing clearly, hearing crisply, even smells came to him with renewed vigor now.
The pie smelled good: tart and sweet with the spices of vanilla and cinnamon curling into the buttery scent of the crust.
Joss smelled good too, her jasmine a reminder of home.
“How did you know where to find me?”
She smiled at him, at this simple exchange which was like a catechism for them now.
“Harold. He gave me the girl’s coordinates and since I was just in the neighborhood, I decided to pop in.”
He doubted that was true. This diner was nowhere near Joss’s precinct house or her usual beat. But he was glad for the casual lie, for the confidence she had in his welcome.
He picked up a teaspoon and scraped it over the surface of the scoop of vanilla. He would leave the apple pie for Joss, but the ice cream was too inviting to pass up. Dividing the task like that, they quickly finished the dessert.
Putting her cell on the table next to the empty plate, Joss punched in a number.
“I told Harold I would call him when I found you. He said he had something he wanted to share with us.”
She put the phone on speaker and pushed it toward Reese who made a brief report on the afternoon’s uneventful surveillance.
He didn’t think Badge could hear him from her seat across the room, but he lowered his voice all the same. Either to trick him or because she really didn’t care, the girl let her eyes drift toward the quilted aluminum on the restaurant ceiling.
Then with a whistling noise that brought frowns to the faces of both partners, Finch took a deep breath.
“Detective, you may have to put your fingers in your ears for this next part.”
Joss leaned toward the phone.
“Whatcha got, Harold? I’m long past the point where I’m going to give you a hard time for your hacking, you know that.”
“Even if it’s into the files of the U.S. Attorney’s office in Brooklyn?”
Joss hissed through clenched teeth and widened her eyes at Reese. In reply, he turned up a corner of his mouth.
He knew Joss had crossed the line long ago to join their mission, but these reservations were an essential check on their work.
Reese valued her ethical concerns, more than he could ever say.
These minute hesitations, the constant re-calibration of her moral compass in every new situation, made him cherish her partnership all the more. Each time Joss re-affirmed her commitment to him and to their mission he knew he was on the right track.
With this job, with this life.
“She says go on, Finch. Spill it.”
He heard his boss gather his breath for a long sentence with a payload of heavy words.
“Federal prosecutors are putting together a case that uncovers a sophisticated and effective cybercrime attack against major international financial institutions. The operation involves laundering tens of millions of dollars stolen from banks across the nation in a matter of hours.”
“Sounds sexy, Finch, right up your alley. Sure your machine isn’t behind all this?”
Reese chuckled and leaned back on the bench.
“No, Mr. Reese, I do not believe so.”
This was Finch at his frostiest, but since he was on the other end of the line, Reese continued smiling.
Finch continued: “I know that human hands are responsible for laundering the stolen money through purchases of luxury items like Rolex watches and expensive cars.”
The pause after this declaration would have re-frozen the ice cream if there was any left on the plate.
“Almost three thousand ATM machines in New York City were hit in a ten hour span on four separate occasions since last August. Each time the haul from these withdrawals added up to at least two and a half million dollars.”
Finch said nothing further, as if the scope of the operation was so enormous as to leave even a billionaire in awe.
Joss lowered her mouth to the phone and whispered her question. The astonishment was evident on her face and in the tense tone of her words.
“Do you think this has something to do with our number, Harold? How does Badge come into something gigantic like this kind of operation?”
“I’m not exactly sure, Detective. So far the federal investigators only have a clear grasp of the middle layer of this operation. They have drafted indictments -- still sealed - against the people they believe are responsible for laundering the money.
“But the prosecutors still don’t know who the front line soldiers are. Nor do they have a clear idea of who is the mastermind atop the pyramid.”
“So you think Badge and her crew might be the ones carrying out the heists?”
Reese let scorn slink through his voice.
“These kids aren’t even out of high school, some of ‘em. How do you figure Badge and her friends pull off a complicated financial racket like that?”
“As I said, Mr. Reese, I don’t know and neither do the federal prosecutors. The powerful mind directing this operation has a synthesizing grasp of detail, paired with a malevolent and ironic artistry, comprehensive in reach and imagination.”
Finch paused, as if stricken by the specter he had raised with these images.
“If you manage to keep our number in your sights, you might have the opportunity to ask her yourself about the spider at the center of this web.”
A few words more and Finch signed off, promising to check back with them if he uncovered additional details in his search through the files of the U.S. Attorney.
As Joss returned the cell to her pocket, Reese glanced toward the restaurant door.
A lanky boy with a pelt of thick black curls and a cocky stride was advancing toward Badge’s table at a rapid pace. His wispy beard suggested he couldn’t have been more than twenty, his dry skin and wind-burned hands meant he spent lots of time outdoors. Tight black jeans and navy pea coat were set off by a blazing red scarf wrapped twice around his neck and a heavy backpack identical to the one Badge carried.
Reese hated the kid on sight.
The stranger stood over Badge without a smile, his intense stare matched by her own. When he bent over her, Reese reached for the gun tucked in his waistband.
Then Badge turned up her round face and opened her mouth to the kid, accepting his kiss with an eagerness that grated on Reese’s nerves.
“Calm down, Papa Bear, that doesn’t look like a murder attempt to me.”
Joss flattened her hands on the table, reaching toward him.
Her tone was light, teasing him out of his alarm. Reese leaned back, but he let annoyance invade his next words.
“If he tries to get into her pants. Or anywhere near her pants, I’ll murder him.”
“Too late. Looks like that’s already mission accomplished.”
Joss crinkled her eyes until they disappeared, adding:
“And I think she likes it.”
Reese could only huff in agreement.
“You’re supposed to protect her from assassins, John, not sexy boyfriends. So stand down, soldier.”
+++++++++
Badge and the boy spent only a few moments in animated conversation before placing their order with the waiter.
Smiles wreathed both their faces, brilliant and so open Reese felt alarmed by the optimism he saw there.
The boy’s teeth were stained and Reese thought he must be a smoker, whereas Badge’s were white but small, framed like a child’s in bright pink gums. These two didn’t look like tough city kids as they sucked on chocolate malted milk poured from a shared aluminum shaker.
Badge and the dark-eyed boy looked happy, oblivious, and in love.
That dangerous combination sent dread crackling across Reese’s nervous system. But he kept his thoughts to himself as he listened to Joss sketch out the resolution of Shaw’s case.
“She handed him over to Fusco with only a split lip and a GSW to the calf. I guess she’s off her feed, missing the kneecap like that.” Joss tilted her head to one side, waiting to draw a laugh from Reese.
He grunted but remained silent, still watching the young couple across the room.
When the kid sprang to his feet, Reese started out of his reverie. Grabbing a backpack, the boy gave Badge one more wet kiss and swept out the door.
Joss was faster than he was to notice the anomaly.
“Did you see that? Romeo’s backpack was heavy when he walked in here. But it was flat and empty when he left.”
Reese nodded. “They switched. It was a hand-off.”
At that, the girl edged out from behind her table, leaving two bills next to her empty shake glass.
She slung the backpack over her right shoulder as she left the restaurant, heading in the opposite direction to the one taken by her boyfriend.
Reese and Joss followed at a close distance.
They shrank into the shadowed entrance of a nail salon when Badge stopped at a corner after walking for two blocks. When the light turned green, she didn’t cross the intersection, but looked with round eyes in all four directions. She was waiting for someone.
“The car!”
Reese pointed at a black sedan with smoky windows, idling in a bus stop at the curb. “Get rid of the driver. I’ll take the girl.”
As Joss stepped around the car, Reese saw her flip back her overcoat to reveal the badge on her belt.
The driver responded to this show of official force by jumping out of the vehicle, leaving the key in the ignition in his haste.
By the time Reese glanced back to Badge, he saw a thick man grab her collar and then her elbow.
The man, whose shaved head was only as high as Badge’s, wrapped an arm across her chest and started pulling her backwards toward the getaway car.
With his back turned, the assailant couldn’t see Reese step into his path. So when he drew alongside the sedan, the man’s rotating head met Reese’s fist straight on. That first quick jab to the jaw resounded with a satisfying crunch and the follow-up blow to the temple put the thug on the ground in another instant.
Reese wanted to memorize the man’s features for future reference: African American, darker than Joss, five eight or nine, maybe forty years old, beefy and top-heavy like a wrestler. But thirty seconds was too long to waste studying the man; he might have pals nearby.
So Reese clamped a hand around Badge’s upper arm and swung her toward the car door in a single movement.
“We need to get somewhere safe. Now. Move.”
He pushed her into the back seat and fell in behind her. He was relieved to see that even without explicit planning, Joss had slipped behind the wheel and was already peeling out of the bus stop before he could slam the door shut.
Ray’s Sunny Side Up had seen better days, if only in the dreams of its proprietor.
The blue-and-white checked linoleum tile floor was chipped but clean, the stuffing bursting from splits in the cushions of stools along the stainless steel counter. A crusted coffee percolator bubbled next to the rack holding menus and extra napkins near the kitchen door. Behind glass cabinet doors, an assortment of cakes, doughnuts, and pies was displayed on footed serving stands.
Happy that the place had only one entrance, Reese found a booth from which he could survey the restaurant’s plate glass window and the girl with equal ease. If an assailant was going to attack through the kitchen he assumed that the cook and waiters would sound an alarm.
The day’s fourth cup of coffee, this one the weakest of them all, sloshed around in his empty stomach. He wanted food, but he wanted sleep more. So he dared not eat for fear that he would drift off and lose his target again.
Badge sat at a rickety table for two near the front of the long room, her back to the wall, a laminated menu hoisted high before her face. When the waiter came for her order she waved him off. But then she seemed to change her mind, calling him back with a whispered request.
Five minutes later the waiter slouched to Reese’s booth with a plated slice of apple pie. A la mode.
“I didn’t order this.” Hunger made him snap and the man cowered under his glare.
Tilting his head toward Badge, the waiter explained:
“She said you looked like you needed pie, so I recommended the apple. It’s our special. Take it or leave it, Mister. The kid’s paying.”
Reese pushed the plate toward the edge of the table, but a quick shadow intervened.
“We’ll take it, thanks.”
Glossy with cheer, Joss slipped into the high-backed booth opposite him and grabbed the plate before the waiter could remove it. She skipped the greeting and went straight for the fork, unwrapping it from the paper napkin and brandishing it over the pie with intent.
“I’m hungry, if you’re not.”
She looked so good to him, rested and fresh, golden cheeks shiny from the cold, her brown eyes bright with mischief and love. Reese took a deep breath and lowered his lids briefly. For the first time since the dawn’s bloody debut, he could exhale.
He hadn’t realized just how keenly he had missed her until she was right in front of him again.
He was beat, so tired he felt the dry ache of exhaustion in his back, his shins, ankles, and feet.
But the effect of Joss on him was like stepping out into a fresh spring shower. He felt cooled, alert, stimulated in all his senses - seeing clearly, hearing crisply, even smells came to him with renewed vigor now.
The pie smelled good: tart and sweet with the spices of vanilla and cinnamon curling into the buttery scent of the crust.
Joss smelled good too, her jasmine a reminder of home.
“How did you know where to find me?”
She smiled at him, at this simple exchange which was like a catechism for them now.
“Harold. He gave me the girl’s coordinates and since I was just in the neighborhood, I decided to pop in.”
He doubted that was true. This diner was nowhere near Joss’s precinct house or her usual beat. But he was glad for the casual lie, for the confidence she had in his welcome.
He picked up a teaspoon and scraped it over the surface of the scoop of vanilla. He would leave the apple pie for Joss, but the ice cream was too inviting to pass up. Dividing the task like that, they quickly finished the dessert.
Putting her cell on the table next to the empty plate, Joss punched in a number.
“I told Harold I would call him when I found you. He said he had something he wanted to share with us.”
She put the phone on speaker and pushed it toward Reese who made a brief report on the afternoon’s uneventful surveillance.
He didn’t think Badge could hear him from her seat across the room, but he lowered his voice all the same. Either to trick him or because she really didn’t care, the girl let her eyes drift toward the quilted aluminum on the restaurant ceiling.
Then with a whistling noise that brought frowns to the faces of both partners, Finch took a deep breath.
“Detective, you may have to put your fingers in your ears for this next part.”
Joss leaned toward the phone.
“Whatcha got, Harold? I’m long past the point where I’m going to give you a hard time for your hacking, you know that.”
“Even if it’s into the files of the U.S. Attorney’s office in Brooklyn?”
Joss hissed through clenched teeth and widened her eyes at Reese. In reply, he turned up a corner of his mouth.
He knew Joss had crossed the line long ago to join their mission, but these reservations were an essential check on their work.
Reese valued her ethical concerns, more than he could ever say.
These minute hesitations, the constant re-calibration of her moral compass in every new situation, made him cherish her partnership all the more. Each time Joss re-affirmed her commitment to him and to their mission he knew he was on the right track.
With this job, with this life.
“She says go on, Finch. Spill it.”
He heard his boss gather his breath for a long sentence with a payload of heavy words.
“Federal prosecutors are putting together a case that uncovers a sophisticated and effective cybercrime attack against major international financial institutions. The operation involves laundering tens of millions of dollars stolen from banks across the nation in a matter of hours.”
“Sounds sexy, Finch, right up your alley. Sure your machine isn’t behind all this?”
Reese chuckled and leaned back on the bench.
“No, Mr. Reese, I do not believe so.”
This was Finch at his frostiest, but since he was on the other end of the line, Reese continued smiling.
Finch continued: “I know that human hands are responsible for laundering the stolen money through purchases of luxury items like Rolex watches and expensive cars.”
The pause after this declaration would have re-frozen the ice cream if there was any left on the plate.
“Almost three thousand ATM machines in New York City were hit in a ten hour span on four separate occasions since last August. Each time the haul from these withdrawals added up to at least two and a half million dollars.”
Finch said nothing further, as if the scope of the operation was so enormous as to leave even a billionaire in awe.
Joss lowered her mouth to the phone and whispered her question. The astonishment was evident on her face and in the tense tone of her words.
“Do you think this has something to do with our number, Harold? How does Badge come into something gigantic like this kind of operation?”
“I’m not exactly sure, Detective. So far the federal investigators only have a clear grasp of the middle layer of this operation. They have drafted indictments -- still sealed - against the people they believe are responsible for laundering the money.
“But the prosecutors still don’t know who the front line soldiers are. Nor do they have a clear idea of who is the mastermind atop the pyramid.”
“So you think Badge and her crew might be the ones carrying out the heists?”
Reese let scorn slink through his voice.
“These kids aren’t even out of high school, some of ‘em. How do you figure Badge and her friends pull off a complicated financial racket like that?”
“As I said, Mr. Reese, I don’t know and neither do the federal prosecutors. The powerful mind directing this operation has a synthesizing grasp of detail, paired with a malevolent and ironic artistry, comprehensive in reach and imagination.”
Finch paused, as if stricken by the specter he had raised with these images.
“If you manage to keep our number in your sights, you might have the opportunity to ask her yourself about the spider at the center of this web.”
A few words more and Finch signed off, promising to check back with them if he uncovered additional details in his search through the files of the U.S. Attorney.
As Joss returned the cell to her pocket, Reese glanced toward the restaurant door.
A lanky boy with a pelt of thick black curls and a cocky stride was advancing toward Badge’s table at a rapid pace. His wispy beard suggested he couldn’t have been more than twenty, his dry skin and wind-burned hands meant he spent lots of time outdoors. Tight black jeans and navy pea coat were set off by a blazing red scarf wrapped twice around his neck and a heavy backpack identical to the one Badge carried.
Reese hated the kid on sight.
The stranger stood over Badge without a smile, his intense stare matched by her own. When he bent over her, Reese reached for the gun tucked in his waistband.
Then Badge turned up her round face and opened her mouth to the kid, accepting his kiss with an eagerness that grated on Reese’s nerves.
“Calm down, Papa Bear, that doesn’t look like a murder attempt to me.”
Joss flattened her hands on the table, reaching toward him.
Her tone was light, teasing him out of his alarm. Reese leaned back, but he let annoyance invade his next words.
“If he tries to get into her pants. Or anywhere near her pants, I’ll murder him.”
“Too late. Looks like that’s already mission accomplished.”
Joss crinkled her eyes until they disappeared, adding:
“And I think she likes it.”
Reese could only huff in agreement.
“You’re supposed to protect her from assassins, John, not sexy boyfriends. So stand down, soldier.”
+++++++++
Badge and the boy spent only a few moments in animated conversation before placing their order with the waiter.
Smiles wreathed both their faces, brilliant and so open Reese felt alarmed by the optimism he saw there.
The boy’s teeth were stained and Reese thought he must be a smoker, whereas Badge’s were white but small, framed like a child’s in bright pink gums. These two didn’t look like tough city kids as they sucked on chocolate malted milk poured from a shared aluminum shaker.
Badge and the dark-eyed boy looked happy, oblivious, and in love.
That dangerous combination sent dread crackling across Reese’s nervous system. But he kept his thoughts to himself as he listened to Joss sketch out the resolution of Shaw’s case.
“She handed him over to Fusco with only a split lip and a GSW to the calf. I guess she’s off her feed, missing the kneecap like that.” Joss tilted her head to one side, waiting to draw a laugh from Reese.
He grunted but remained silent, still watching the young couple across the room.
When the kid sprang to his feet, Reese started out of his reverie. Grabbing a backpack, the boy gave Badge one more wet kiss and swept out the door.
Joss was faster than he was to notice the anomaly.
“Did you see that? Romeo’s backpack was heavy when he walked in here. But it was flat and empty when he left.”
Reese nodded. “They switched. It was a hand-off.”
At that, the girl edged out from behind her table, leaving two bills next to her empty shake glass.
She slung the backpack over her right shoulder as she left the restaurant, heading in the opposite direction to the one taken by her boyfriend.
Reese and Joss followed at a close distance.
They shrank into the shadowed entrance of a nail salon when Badge stopped at a corner after walking for two blocks. When the light turned green, she didn’t cross the intersection, but looked with round eyes in all four directions. She was waiting for someone.
“The car!”
Reese pointed at a black sedan with smoky windows, idling in a bus stop at the curb. “Get rid of the driver. I’ll take the girl.”
As Joss stepped around the car, Reese saw her flip back her overcoat to reveal the badge on her belt.
The driver responded to this show of official force by jumping out of the vehicle, leaving the key in the ignition in his haste.
By the time Reese glanced back to Badge, he saw a thick man grab her collar and then her elbow.
The man, whose shaved head was only as high as Badge’s, wrapped an arm across her chest and started pulling her backwards toward the getaway car.
With his back turned, the assailant couldn’t see Reese step into his path. So when he drew alongside the sedan, the man’s rotating head met Reese’s fist straight on. That first quick jab to the jaw resounded with a satisfying crunch and the follow-up blow to the temple put the thug on the ground in another instant.
Reese wanted to memorize the man’s features for future reference: African American, darker than Joss, five eight or nine, maybe forty years old, beefy and top-heavy like a wrestler. But thirty seconds was too long to waste studying the man; he might have pals nearby.
So Reese clamped a hand around Badge’s upper arm and swung her toward the car door in a single movement.
“We need to get somewhere safe. Now. Move.”
He pushed her into the back seat and fell in behind her. He was relieved to see that even without explicit planning, Joss had slipped behind the wheel and was already peeling out of the bus stop before he could slam the door shut.