The warrants were waiting when she got there. Under Article 700 of New York’s Criminal Procedure Law, the NYPD needed the proper paperwork to start eavesdropping and video surveillance. Now they could tap phones, peek through windows, and do all the creepy Big Brother spying they could imagine. They also had search warrants, but Webb wasn’t keen on serving those just yet.
“It’s better to keep them in the dark,” he said. “Assuming these guys aren’t complete morons, they’ll have their drugs and weapons pretty well hidden. I’d rather sit back and watch them for a little while. If they don’t know we’re on them, they’ll lead us to their stash soon enough.”
“The Captain’s not gonna like that,” Vic observed. “One PP is breathing down his neck to close this one. We better make some arrests soon.”
“Let me worry about the Captain,” Webb said. “I want convictions, not arrests, and so does Holliday. Patience.”
“I hate being patient,” Vic growled.
“If Rolf can do it, so can you,” Erin said.
Rolf, hearing his name, looked at Erin and wagged his tail.
“Okay, team,” Webb said. “We’ve got three of us, and three goons to shadow. I’ll take Maginty. Neshenko, you’re on Burke. O’Reilly, you’ve got Newton. I’ll give you each a plainclothes officer.”
“When are they gonna toss us another detective?” Vic asked. “It’s been months since Kira bailed on us. We could use another warm body in the office.”
Webb shrugged. “I put in the request when she gave notice. It’s bureaucracy. What can you do? You’ll each have a mobile reserve standing by, two cars with two more officers each, in case you need them. Remember preschool? Buddy system. These guys are dangerous, so don’t get too close and don’t play hero.”
Erin looked over Timothy Newton’s information. He lived just two blocks over from Liam’s place, in an apartment over a bar. He had no landline phone, unsurprisingly, and no internet connection. According to his parole officer’s report, he lived alone. Then again, according to the report, he didn’t associate with other felons and didn’t have firearms in his possession, so Erin wasn’t about to take anything for granted.
Her plainclothes buddy met her in the garage. Erin was startled to see that she recognized the other officer, a petite blonde woman.
“Piekarski!” she exclaimed.
The other woman grinned. “O’Reilly. How’s it going?”
“What’re you doing here?” Erin asked.
“Watching your ass, sounds like.”
“No, I mean, what’re you doing at the Eightball?” Piekarski worked for Precinct 5’s Street Narcotics unit.
“Logan said you guys needed a hand with some street stuff. No one seems to know whether this is a Narcotics case, or Homicide, so it’s all lumped in with Major Crimes now. He’s rolling with your buddy, the big Russian. We just got here a couple minutes ago. We’re gonna have to come up with some new ethnic stats, so we know who’s buying the drinks when this is all over.”
“Glad to have you,” Erin said, shaking hands. Piekarski offered her hand to Rolf, who gave her a polite sniff.
“Let’s see what they’ve got for us,” Piekarski said, looking over the unmarked surveillance vehicle. “Sketchy POS?”
“Affirmative,” Erin said. Their ride was a rusty brown van, no windows in back, that looked like it dated back to the early Nineties. Upon opening the back doors, they discovered it had a smell.
“Phew,” Piekarski said, wrinkling her nose. “Smells like my grandma’s house. She had a pipe burst in the basement and mold got into the drywall.”
“Equipment looks good,” Erin said. The van had the usual set of cameras and monitors, shotgun microphones, and fiber-optics. They ran through the checklist and made sure everything was accounted for.
“You want to drive?” Piekarski asked as Erin loaded Rolf into the back. The Shepherd gave Erin a very dubious look and circled several times before finding a patch of floor mat that was more or less acceptable and curling into a ball.
“I’d better,” Erin said, handing the other woman Newton’s file. “You can read up on the guy on the way over.” She cranked the key. The van’s engine was noisy, but it ran okay once it got going.
“So, we gonna bust his ass?” Piekarski asked as they drove up the ramp to the street.
“Not yet,” Erin said. “We need to make the case. This isn’t a buy-and-bust. We want to make a clean sweep, all the way up the chain.”
“Too bad. There’s no feeling quite like slapping the cuffs on a bad guy. Especially one of these big, macho bullshitters.” Piekarski was about five foot four and weighed less than a hundred and twenty pounds, but Erin knew the Narcotics officer was tough as nails.
“Easy, girl,” Erin said with a smile. “We’ll get him.”
“So it’s my turn to see how your office does things,” Piekarski said. “It’s gonna be exciting, right?”
“It’s going to be sitting for hours in a van that smells like your grandma’s basement,” Erin replied.
Piekarski made a pouty face. “I can see why you took the chance to hang out with us for that drug bust. We get better rides in SNEU.”
They got to Newton’s apartment and, by some miracle, found a parking space just a few spaces down the block. Erin parked the car. While she climbed in back and got the recording gear up and running, Piekarski took a walk and casually planted a mini-camera at the door to the apartment stairs. She disappeared around the building and came back a few minutes later.
“Got eyes on the fire escape and the back door,” she reported.
Erin checked the feeds. All three cameras were working fine. “Okay, we’re up,” she said.
“Now we wait?” Piekarski asked.
“Now we wait.”
Hours later, the sun had set, the streetlights were burning, and the two women were swapping stories of the most ridiculous arrests they’d made. They’d taken turns making trips to the bathroom, Erin had given Rolf a quick walk around the adjoining block, and Piekarski had grabbed sandwiches from a café up
