Back From the Dead
by
Harvey L. Bailey
Copyright 2014 Harvey L. Bailey,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2161-2
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
This is it, the last assignment for Shane Donovan. “In eleven days I’m out of here, I will retire with Thirty years on the Force.” Shane said to his partner of nine years and best friend of fourteen years, Duane Wiggins. “What you up to, twenty-seven,” Shane Asked. “Yep” Duane said. “When you gonna give it up, we can move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and fish every day.”
“Not me I’m never going to retire,” Duane said. “Hmm” Shane replied as he bobbed his head up and down, “We can go to Florida.” Duane responded “and do what date the Golden Girls. I’m gonna die a cop.”
“But not tonight” Shane said, Duane nodded, “not tonight” he said. These two worked in the Organized Crime division of the police department. They have been with that division for the last Five years. That’s when the Gang Task Force was taken over by the Organized Crime division. For the last two years they have been working a joint task force assignment with The FBI. Eight days into this assignment and they have managed to setup a deal with local Mob Boss Frankie Gianni a.k.a. Frankie G. It is believed he has connections to an International Arms Dealer who has been known to mingle with terrorist groups in Europe, Asia and Africa. He has even helped organize training camps in South Yemen for a few of these groups. The big problem was that no one in the Intelligence community knew exactly who this dealer was, and now for the first time he was on American soil and the FBI had a chance to get him. Shane and Duane were working undercover posing as gangsters, who needed specialized weapons and lots of them.
Duane’s cover was an Irishman with ties to a terrorist group in Ireland and Shane was his Nigerian sidekick. They were using the pretext of mid-level gangsters looking to take over the Miami underworld. They came up North just for this meeting. Shane who had prior dealings with Frankie G felt he should keep his distance.
Sitting on the docks for over a half hour the two cops talked about everything from money to women to retiring. Shane said to “Duane you’ve got the time come on retire with me.”
Duane nodded “its going down.” He got out the car said in his best Irish accent “I told ya I’m gonna die doing this job.” Shane said but not tonight. These two have recited this two man mantra on almost every undercover assignment they have had together in the last three years.
Duane said “I love you man.”
“Back atcha” Shane said. Duane turned around and strolled leisurely down the one way street that was Boston Street. At the end of this block was the pier and on the pier was several small buildings and one big warehouse. Frankie G was standing at the end of the pier in front of one of the small buildings with two other guys next to him. Duane walked up to Frankie G, they shook hands, then he shook hands with the other two guys. They were having a conversation probably about the guns, from where Shane was he could not hear them. The FBI on the other hand had Duane wired and should be getting an earful. Frankie was talking to Duane things looked to be fine. Shane poured himself another cup of coffee. The plan was that Duane would make the deal, He would take the truck with the guns, the FBI would surround the bad guys and Duane before they could get away and Shane would stay behind until the police cleared the area. Then he would meet Duane at the FBI building on Hopkins street. Shane did not notice the man standing across from Frankie G pointing a gun at Duane. He heard a loud noise that startled him causing him to spill his coffee. “Oh God” he said as bullets started hitting his car.
Shane put the car in reverse, rolled down his window and started returning fire to the guys on the roof, somehow, he had not seen them up there. As he backed out of Boston street, he turned the car around, drove off a couple blocks and called for back up while wondering where’s the FBI.
They were supposed to be providing backup. They should have made the arrest by now.
Shane drove his car full speed back down Boston Street with his gun out the window. He started shooting but found no one on the roof and no one on the street. He drove as fast as he could to the little shack where Duane was talking to Frankie G. Duane’s body laying lifeless on the ground. Shane jumped out the car did a quick three hundred and sixty-degree turn pointing his gun as he turned around to make sure no one was there. He kneeled down over Duane’s body.
“Come on you lucky Irish bum, don’t die on me,” he said. Shane gave Duane CPR but to no avail. When the patrol cars showed up, Shane was still trying to revive Duane. LT. Fisk told Shane to go back to the station and file his report then go home for a couple days. Capt. Wright would call him. It was two days later when Capt. Wright called Shane and told him to come into the station house. “I read your report, is this true Donovan.” Capt. Wright said. “Yes” Shane replied. “You saw the Arms Dealer.” “Yes, I think” Shane said. “Who was it, you did not say in your report.” “I don’t know sir. I saw him but it all happened so fast.” “What was you doing Shane, how did you see but not see what happened!” “You’re a trained professional Capt. Wright” said sternly.“I looked away for just a minute then I heard gun shots. The next thing I know they were shooting at me.” Shane said. “I don’t understand. You are one of the best cops I know, how could you let this happen. The Arms dealer’s identity is still unknown. Duane is dead and you were almost killed. You better tell me something because this crap is not going to fly upstairs with the brass. Tell me again in detail what happened,” Capt. Wright said to Shane. “We got there early, did a thorough recon of the place, we checked out everything, we had three escape plans. The FBI was supposed to back us up and get the collar, but they all got away.”
Shane went on with his story explaining from his point of view what happened. When he was done Capt. Wright walked Shane out to his desk and told him for the next nine days he will be on desk duty. Shane did not say a word he just sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.
Three days later Shane was assigned a new partner, Adelaide Cooper. During his last week on the force Shane and Adelaide spent a lot of time gathering Intel and preparing reports on the growing number of local gangs and their network around the United States and abroad. He spent his free time looking into Duane’s murder trying to get information on the case from the FBI, CI’s, gang members on the streets and in jail and his own department. No one would talk to him
They either didn’t know or wouldn’t say anything.
It had been three weeks since Shane retired he was no longer spending as much time looking into Duane’s death as a matter of fact Shane did very little these days except drink. He had lost hair on his head and gained it on his face. One day while he was at his favorite bar. Adelaide Cooper came in looking for him. She found him at the bar, She walked over to him and started a conversation with him. “How are you” she said “I’m all right” he replied. Shane did not say much he was polite but did not want to talk to Adelaide. She continued to talk. “You enjoying retirement. Lots of free time to reflect on life. Do you ever do that, reflect on life? I do, all the time.” “Uh huh” he said barely responding. Shane stood up pulled some money out of pocket and place it down on the bar. Then he walked out. Adelaide followed him still talking “I like to think about things, some people say I think too much, what do you think can a person think too much.” “What do you want,” he asked. “ I want to talk to you is that ok,” she said. “What about,” Shane asked. “I know you want to find peace, I think I can help you.” When he did not respond she suggested he talk to her friend who is a psychiatrist.