Incubi

young, with reptile eyes and a pursed mouth, pure Type A.

Jack nodded to Olsher and the deputy comm. Then the kid stepped forward and said, “Captain Cordesman, my name is Lieutenant Noyle. I’m the field investigations supervisor for Internal Affairs.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Jack said. “What’s this all about?”

Gentzel answered. “Someone leaked details of the Triangle case to the press, Captain.”

Then Noyle: “The Evening Sun is doing a front page today, and tomorrow the story will be in the Post and the Capital.”

Deputy commissioner Gentzel stood up. “This is inexcusable. Do you have any idea how this will make the department look?”

“Sir, I didn’t leak the story to them,” Jack said.

“Perhaps you didn’t. But the zero progress you’ve made on the case will only make us look worse.”

Jack and Randy stared at him. Randy said, “Sir, it was probably somebody in admin; every police department has a mole to the press. It’s impossible to keep a lid on any case for long.”

“That’s not the point.” Gentzel sat back down. He looked at Jack. “I’ve examined your paperwork regarding the Triangle case, Captain, and I’m not impressed. Three ritual murders in a week, and you’re no further along today than when you started.”

“That’s not true, sir—”

“We didn’t want you on this case in the first place, but your superiors assured us you were the best man for the job.” Gentzel shot Olsher a blank stare. “Your superiors, obviously, were wrong, which leaves me to wonder about the efficiency of this entire squad.”

“With all due respect, sir, that’s not a fair conclusion.”

“And from what I can see, your active participation on the case is all but nonexistent. Lieutenant Eliot seems to be carrying most of the investigative load.”

“I’m very close to identifying the specific ritual,” Jack asserted. “If I can—”

“The ritual is a dead end. The perpetrators are obviously psychopaths.”

“That’s not true either, sir. We have plenty of evidence to suggest that—”

“I know all about you, Captain, you and your radical investigative avenues. I don’t want to hear about psychiatric profiles and satanic rituals. A homicide should be pursued through proven methods, not investigative quackeries.”

“Let me remind you, sir, that my past performance record—”

“And I don’t want to hear about your success rate, and your awards and decorations. In my view many of your operations were of questionable legality, and your search and seizure warrant in the Henry Longford case was barely constitutional.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but—”

“And furthermore—”

Jack, finally, exploded. “Would you at least let me talk for a minute, goddamn it, sir!” he shouted.

The silence in the wake of the shout felt thick as wet cement. Larrel Olsher and Randy averted their eyes to the floor. Noyle remained standing stiffly, hands behind his back. He was smiling.

“And there’s another disturbing matter,” Gentzel went on after the pause. “Lieutenant Noyle?”

Noyle stepped forward. “Clearly, your conduct in general is bad enough, and it only proves to disservice your own professional integrity, and the integrity of the department in general. I’ve never witnessed such irresponsibility on the part of a rank officer, not in all my time on the department.”

Jack could bear no more of this. “All your time?” he objected. “What’s that, about six months? I’ve been on this department for ten years, kid. I was busting dope dealers when you were still playing with G.I. Joes. And in case you haven’t noticed, I outrank you.”

But Noyle went on, cold as stone. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Captain, Internal Affairs operates under the direct authority of the county executive’s office. When we hear things within the department, we investigate. That’s our job. And we’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Okay, sure,” Jack said. His only tactic was to beat this punk to the punch. “I went a little batty after the Longford case, and I’ve had a few personal problems, and sometimes I drink a little too much, but I’ve never consumed alcohol on duty.”

“Were you drunk last night, Captain?”

Jack didn’t answer.

“Were you drunk two nights ago?”

The motherfucker put watchdogs on me, Jack realized.

“On those two nights did you drink liquor in the Undercroft Tavern?”

“Yeah, I drank liquor,” Jack admitted. “I’m pretty sure that Prohibition was repealed a couple of years ago.”

“Did you not in fact drink to the point of complete inebriation, Captain? Isn’t it true that you drank so much that you lost consciousness at the bar and had to be physically carried out?”

Jack was seething. It was all spelled out for him now, so there was no reason to restrain himself. “You suck- face little fairy. You put tails on me.”

“It’s my job to investigate the public behavior of any officer whose professional reliability is in question. Based on its documentation, Internal Affairs is satisfied that you have a serious alcohol-abuse problem, and it has been recommended to the commissioner’s office that you submit yourself to the county alcohol-rehabilitation program, posthaste.”

Posthaste, Jack thought. Only a pussy would use a world like “posthaste.” Suddenly he felt his entire career in the hands of this prim, anal-retentive little brownnose. “I will,” he said.

“Additionally, it has been recommended that you be suspended from active duty, with pay, until you have successfully completed said program. Please know that you have the right to contest IAD’s recommendations. I would strongly advise against that, though.”

“Please, don’t take me off the Triangle case,” Jack said.

“Do you have a hearing problem too, Captain?” Gentzel asked. “You are suspended from all investigative operations as of now. Whether you consent or not, you’re off the Triangle case.”

“Please, sir. Suspend me later, I’ll do the rehab thing later. I just need a little more time. I’m really close.”

“Captain, the only thing you’re really close to that I can see are insubordination charges and a mental breakdown. It would be derelict for us to allow an unstable alcoholic to remain in charge of a critical homicide investigation. You’ve expended valuable time and money, yet have produced no positive results. I’m reassigning the case to Lieutenant Eliot, who will work under the direct supervision of Lieutenant Noyle.”

Jack was aghast. “Noyle? You’ve got to be shitting me, sir! He’s an IAD buttprobe, he’s not a cop! You can’t let this stuffed punk take charge of a ritual murder investigation!”

“That’s enough, Jack,” Larrel Olsher advised.

“No, it’s not enough!”

“Lieutenant Noyle is a competent investigator,” Gentzel said.

“He’s a candyass creamcake who couldn’t investigate the back of his own hand!” Jack yelled. Randy was grabbing him, trying to nudge him toward the door. Noyle’s stiff posture and irreducible smile highlighted his triumph. As Randy edged Jack into the hall, Jack continued to shout, “He’ll run this case into the ground, Gentzel! He’ll fuck it up so bad you’ll never catch these guys!”

The door slammed. Randy held Jack off. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t talk to a deputy comm like that.”

“Fuck him,” Jack said. He shook loose. “And that asshole Noyle, fuck him double.” His rage, like a puff of smoke, suddenly reverted to a physical weight of defeat.

“Forget it, man,” Randy offered. “You did your best.”

“Then I guess my best isn’t good enough.”

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself, and let me tell you something, as a friend. Those two shitheads in there are right about one thing. You got some serious problems, and if you don’t start taking care of them, you’ll be through