“What!”
He took out one of those long, thin Dutch cigars, lit it, and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. “I was
working internal affairs for the state police out in Arizona a couple of years back. There had been a lot
of killing and they suspected it was dope-related. The main suspect was a big-time dealer named
Mizero. They sent me in, undercover, to check it out. It was Mizero?s game all right, but he had an
inside man, a narc named Burke, who was very highly situated. What they were doing, Mizero would
make a big sale. Maybe a hundred pounds of grass. Then Burke would step in, bust the buyer,
confiscate his money and goods, tell him get lost and he wouldn?t press charges. If the buyer got
antsy, Mizero would push him over. Then they?d re-sell the dope.
“I got too close to the bone and blew my cover. So Burke decided he had to get rid of Mizero. The
trouble was, it went the other way. Mizero dropped Burke. The locals made a deal with the state to
keep Burke out of it. It was an election year and this was a big case. Nobody wanted to deal with a
bad-cop scandal.
“I was a key witness for the prosecution. They knew they couldn?t muzzle Mizero, so they wanted me
to testify that Burke was working undercover with me. I said no, I won?t do that. Some things I?ll do,
but I won?t perjure myself for anyone, particularly a bad cop. Next thing you know, they ship me out
of state so the defense can?t call me, and put out the word I?m a drinker, a big troublemaker. And, get
this, they put it out that I committed perjury! For over a year everybody in the business thought I was
a drunken liar. And I don?t even drink.”
“How about the Feds?” I said.
“They didn?t want me back. I was always too independent to suit the bureaucrats. Anyway, Dutch
heard about it. I was living in Trenton working a security job and lie showed up one day, didn?t ask
any questions, just offered me a job. After I took it, I said, „I don?t drink and I?ve never told a Ii e
under oath in my life,? and he says, „I know it,? and it?s never come up since.”
Then he leaned across the table toward me. “That?s my excuse, what?s yours?”
“I know the rest of the Cincinnati Triad is here. I just want to dig a hole under all of them. I don?t care
where they fall, but I want them to drop.”
“Is it because you couldn?t nail them up there?”
“That?s part of it.”
“And the rest of it?s personal?” he said.
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
He gave me another big smile. “Splendid,” he said. “I truly admire a man who?s strongly motivated.”
He offered me his hand. “I think Zapata and I will have a go at finding this Nance chap.”
