Mr. CEO(97)

I get up, my left hand holding my ribs, and wave him in. “I got a lot more.”

Nathan spits to the side and steps forward again, throwing what he probably thinks is a mercy shot, a looping overhand that if it lands is going to put me into dreamland for quite a while. I weave, coming under the punch and unleashing everything I've got left into a left hook. As weak as I feel right now, it catches Nathan with probably all the force of a sick grasshopper, but still it catches him, and I feel a sense of accomplishment as the bell rings.

He steps back, and wipes a bit of blood from his nose, while I work my jaw and spit, bright red splattering on the mats, but at least no teeth come out. “I did it.”

“You did,” Nathan says, stripping off his glove. He sticks his hand out, and I reciprocate, shaking hands with the man. “I didn't think you had it in you to get up from that second one.”

“Bullshit, you didn't think I'd get up from the first one,” I reply, rubbing my jaw. “Think we can get something to ice this thing? I'm not sure I won't lose a tooth still.”

“Yeah. Let's sit outside, and I'll get you an ice pack.”

We go out by the pool, Nathan going inside and coming back out a minute later with a bag of frozen peas and a couple of bottles of mineral water. I notice that Andrea's still at the dining room table, watching us as Nathan hands me the peas and sits down. He cracks one of the mineral waters and passes it over. “Sorry, no ice packs, but the peas work just fine, too.”

“Thanks. How's the nose?”

“Not bad, didn't break anything. You got my respect for that one,” Nathan says, cracking the other mineral water and taking a drink. “Now... I owe you a story.”

I nod, and swirl some water around in my mouth, washing out what's left of the blood before spitting it onto the lawn. “What makes the grass grow green?” I joke, and Nathan chuckles as I finish the line, ingrained for him but just a movie quote for me. “Blood, blood, blood.”

Nathan takes another drink of his water then leans back. “Samuel Grammercy isn't the saint that his daughter thinks he is. Then again, considering the man left his own daughter behind in this city's foster care system, I guess you already figured that out. But Samuel wasn't even the good cop that the papers made him out to be.”

“What was he?” I ask. “Nathan, I never really got to know the man. And I missed the timeline on his death, which is something I still regret since I missed Katrina going into the system, too.”

“That was Peter's plan,” Nathan says quietly. “The truth is, Samuel worked for Peter, or perhaps it'd be better to say worked for Peter's friends. You see, while Samuel got plenty of busts, the vast majority of them fell into two categories. Either he was busting the guys who were enemies of his employers, or he was doing an end around.”

“What's an end around?” I ask. Nathan smirks and gives me a look. “Seriously. I've been deluded for years, so don't just assume I know f*cking everything.”

“Okay. An end around is when Samuel would arrest or bust someone, but then before the case went to trial, something would get screwed up, charges were never pressed, whatever. The key part of an end around though happens in the evidence room. Say that a week ago, the cops made a bust for ten guns. Then Samuel pulls the end around, and in checking in evidence from his bust, things get mixed up, and when the charges are dropped, the evidence is returned to the suspects, but the first case shows only five guns on their bust now. Guess where those other five guns went? Right into Samuel's friends' evidence.”

“And this was profitable?” I ask, surprised. “Seems like a lot for five guns.”

“Oh, Samuel pulled end arounds for more than just five guns,” Nathan said. “He was damn near an expert in doing that sort of evidence tag switch on stolen property, too. Computers, art, currency, anything except drugs. It wasn't that Samuel had a problem with drugs, it's just that NOPD policy is to destroy drugs regardless of whether charges stick or are dropped. He had a whole other funnel system in place for that one.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“He got greedy and lazy. One night, the evidence clerk was some Dudley Do-Right who saw the Detective Lieutenant doing the switcheroo. He went to Internal Affairs, who started to gather evidence on Grammercy. Peter's connections in the NOPD heard about it, but at the time the ADA in town was just as righteous as you could get. Also, this was just a few months after Hurricane Katrina, so the feds were still in town in force. Samuel felt the jaws closing in on him, so he came to Peter for help.”

“A faked death.”

Nathan nods. “We set it up nearly perfectly. The horse show was one of the first big events at the Fair Grounds after the hurricane, and Samuel got his wife to leave her phone behind to give them a reason to send their daughter back and out of the way. Theresa, Katrina's mother, was opposed to it, but Samuel browbeat her into going along with it. Katrina was the perfect witness to leave behind. Young, innocent, and traumatized enough that she didn't notice some of the details. I'd pulled similar jobs faking deaths in the Green Berets, so I was the one tasked with setting it up. I was actually there, although in disguise so Katrina didn't recognize me. After they sent her back, Samuel and Theresa jumped over a concrete wall that was there into a dump truck that was parked below, landing in a giant pile of kitty litter. When Katrina picked up her mother's phone, I hit the switch, blasting the car all to hell. She, of course, didn't see that there was nobody inside, although later two bodies were planted in the wreckage. That was actually done by the first firefighters to respond, a crew that also covers up arsons in that area for Peter and his friends.”