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FAKE First Year Together: A New Day (May)	By : BrittColumbia Category: +. to F > FAKE Views: 14597 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own FAKE, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
Fake First Year Together:
A New Day (May)

By Brit Columbia

Chapter 40

Fandom: Fake

Pairing: Dee/ Ryo

Rating: Worksafe. Four letter words.

Spoilers: To Volume 7

Timing: Set in May, directly after book 7 ended

Summary: Ryo is coming to terms with his new
sexual identity, as well as the changes in his relationship with Dee. Meanwhile, Dee and Ryo are trying to
find enough evidence to expose a crooked cop. This story explores homophobic
attitudes, but is primarily a love story between two men.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fake or any of the
characters created by Sanami Matoh. Essien Ibo, Tyrone, and Frank Rizzo, are mine however,
along with Detectives Greenspan and Shaver. Lieutenant Guerrero is also mine. I
have not based these characters on any living person.

Author's notes: I believe in a strong and equal Ryo and
Dee.

Thank you to Mtemplar ,
Moontatoo and LadyFeather

Fake First Year Together:
A New Day (May)

Chapter 40

Dee
sprawled in his chair, his suit jacket on and his tie back around his neck,
waiting for Ryo to get off the phone with Bikky. They had been working for the
past two hours, and they had to be at the Brooklyn Hospital Center in an hour.
Unfortunately, it was rush hour. He didn't think they were going to make it.

"Bikky,
cream of celery is good for you," Ryo was protesting. "It's not like
there are big chunks of celery in it - " There was a long pause while
Bikky evidently interrupted him with a reiteration of his well-known views on
the detrimental effects of vegetable soups. Dee was almost sorry he couldn't
hear it. Knowing Bikky, it would probably contain convoluted but entertaining
twists of logic that all hinged on some basically insupportable point.
"Well, then eat the leftover potato salad." Now Ryo's voice sounded
ever so slightly defensive. Another pause. "No, you can't order pizza
again! You had it last night. I want you to eat some vegetables."

Dee
got up and looked out of the window where a steady stream of traffic crawled
past the 27th. All those cars were full of lucky people going home to eat
dinner with their loved ones and maybe watch the basketball game on TV. And
where was he going? A fucking hospital in Brooklyn to question a slimebag gang
leader. And to top it all off, there was no time for dinner. The only person who
was likely to get any dinner was the monkey brat, who was bitching about his
food options. Dee's stomach growled at the thought of Bikky's despised cream of
celery soup. He banged his forehead lightly against the grimy glass of the
window. Shit. And whose mouth had made this sparkling evening possible? His
own, as usual.

"Fine,
make a sandwich then. But put some lettuce in it, do you hear me? And no TV
until after your homework is all finished! I'm serious, B. I'll be home around
nine, unless something else happens. I love you, Bikky...Bikky? Hello? Hello?
Crap." Ryo sighed and replaced his phone in its cradle. "Sorry, Dee.
God, look at the time. Let's get going!"

"The
Williamsburg Bridge is gonna be stop and go," Dee said.

"That's
why we'd better take the subway. We'll come back later for your car."

"What
about dinner?"

"If
we hurry, we might be able to grab a hot dog on the way."

Dee
brightened up at that. He liked hot dogs. So did Bikky, but Bikky wasn't
getting one. He started looking forward to rubbing it in the punk's face later.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^

Essien
Ibo lay on crisp white sheets, in a badly lit hospital room, his dreadlocks
spread out on the pillows propped up under his head. Even burned, shot, bruised
and with tubes going in and out of his body, the man still exuded a subtle aura
of danger. Ryo had been dismayed to see an oxygen mask covering his mouth,
because it meant he probably wouldn't be able to talk, but Marty didn't seem
much put out by it. In fact, he greeted the gang leader with a brisk, but
professional smile.

"Good
evening, Ibo," he said, and the other man opened his bleary eyes at the
sound of Marty's voice. "Congratulations on getting yourself out of that
warehouse in one piece. I don't think I could have done the same in your place."

Ibo
made no sound or gesture in response. It was clear that he and Marty knew each
other, and that there was no love lost between them. His brown eyes slid from
Marty to Dee to Ryo and finally over to where a large, light skinned black man,
one of his few remaining Stone Bloods, stood on guard in the corner of the
room. When Ibo's eyes returned to Marty, it was with a certain wariness in
them.

"I'm
sure you understand why we're here," Marty went on. "The doctor has,
of course, informed us that you cannot speak at this time due to your injuries,
and we certainly understand that. We'd still like to ask you a few questions
though, of the yes/no variety. You can indicate 'yes' by raising your right
hand and 'no' by just moving it against the sheet. If you don't know the
answer, just tap your index finger against your thigh. Do you understand?"

Essien
Ibo raised his right hand an inch or two and let it fall.

"Good."
Marty looked satisfied. "First of all, these are my colleagues, Detectives
Laytner and MacLean. They wanna ask you a few questions, too."

Ibo
looked at them again, resignation written all over his face. Dee understood
what the slimeball was probably thinking. The guy had to talk to the police at
some point, anyway, and it might as well be at a time when he couldn't actually
say anything.

"We
know how many guys you took with you to the meeting last night because we were
watching you," said Marty.

Dee
and Ryo had been hoping for a look of surprise, or another kind of reaction,
but Essien Ibo's face and body remained still and impassive. A monitor on the wall behind him beeped steadily away.

"What
we don't know is who. We'll start with a casualty list," said Marty.
"Did anyone else make it out, besides you?"

Ibo's
hand moved feebly against the sheet. No.

"Okay,
I'm gonna go through a list of names of guys we think died in the fire, and you
give me the yes or the no signal for each one as I say it, okay?"

Ibo
indicated yes with his hand.

"Good.
Let's start with Kenny Vargas, AKA 'the Rocket'. Was he with you?"

One
by one, Marty read names and Ibo indicated whether they had been with him the
night before or not. Then Marty proceeded to a list of known members of
Corporate America, and did the same thing, and once again Essien Ibo answered with
his hand, his eyes closed.

The
young man in the corner, clearly a bodyguard, began to get slightly agitated.
Everybody ignored him.

"Were
you and Frank Rizzo about to start working together?" Marty's question was
simple and direct. Ibo indicated that he didn't know.

"I
wanna know who your pick is for Frank Rizzo's replacement. I don't think it's
gonna be Reggie because although he's got the balls, the men don't trust
him." Ibo appeared to concur, so Marty continued. "Battista has a
good shot, so does Nick Contadino. But I think it's gonna be de Luca."

"'Nuff,"
growled a young voice from the corner. "He need to rest now. You come back
tomorrow."

"Fuck
off, Tyrone," said Marty without even bothering to look at him. He
addressed Ibo again on the subject of Frank Rizzo's successor. Ibo didn't seem
to be very interested in any of the men Marty had named. He just lay there with
his eyes closed, obviously wishing the police would go away.

"Your
organization's almost wiped out," Marty said bluntly to Ibo. "I'm sorry
your boys had to die that way. Fire's gotta be a hard way to go, and I know
it's not easy for you to even think about it right now. However, we both know
that there's soon gonna be blood in the streets as all the territories get
reorganized. CA is still the biggest, but the Devils have got some fight left
in 'em yet. One of my contacts saw a couple of 'em dealing only one lousy block
from your headquarters this afternoon. Business goes on, you know."

           Ibo
looked at him through narrowed eyes that seemed to be saying Get to the
point, you damn cop.

           "Everybody
knows that with you stuck in here, no one's steering the ship. You lost your
best guys in the blast, and now all you got left is dross like Tyrone over
there."

           "Fucking
pig!" sputtered Tyrone.

           "Quiet,
asshole," snarled Dee. Tyrone subsided, grumbling, a flush further
darkening the light brown skin of his face and neck.

           "You
need time to heal and rebuild," Marty said to Ibo. It won't be good for
you if the Devils or CA get too strong in your absence. We're just as
interested in fucking them over as you are. To be fair, we'll fuck you over
too, if we can, but right now you're the only leader we happen to have any
access to. You following me?"

           They
could see that Ibo did. There was a spark of something that might have been
ambition in his eyes, except for the fact that he also seemed to be in pain.

           "Lack
of strong leadership will mess them up but good," said Marty, with an
evil-looking grin that Dee hadn't imagined him capable of. "As long as they're
busy with internal squabbles, they won't have much inclination left over to
hunt down Stone Bloods or make any kind of real push for your routes. Now are
you on board with what we're tryin' to do here?"

           Ibo's
response was to ring for the nurse.

           "Wait
a sec there," Dee said quickly. "We haven't had a chance to ask any
questions..." He and Ryo looked anxiously at Marty, who as usual, didn't
seem to be perturbed. Marty shook his head at them and waited.

           A
middle-aged nurse wearing green pastel scrubs appeared in response to Ibo's
call. "Yes?" she said.

           Essien
Ibo tugged his oxygen mask aside, and rasped, "Lozenge," in a hoarse,
ugly whisper.

           "Does
your throat hurt, hon?" She looked at him with concern, not the slightest
bit afraid of big, bad Essien Ibo, gang leader and all-round bad guy.

           Ibo
nodded.

           "I'm
sorry," she said. "You're not allowed to have anything by mouth yet.
Doctor's orders. But I can bring you a few little swabs with a minty solution
to dip them in. How about that?"

Ibo
agreed with a silent nod.

"Back
in a jiffy," the nurse said. She patted his arm gently and left the room.

Silence settled over the occupants of the room for a while. The only thing to be heard was a gentle
bubbling, like the sound of a fish tank, that emanated from a rectangular
plastic apparatus on the floor next to the bed. Dee noticed that a flexible
tube ran from that up toward Ibo's body, disappearing under his pajama top. He thought it was probably something to
do with the fact that the man had been shot in the lung, and it looked painful
and debilitating. Nonetheless, Dee was both unable and unwilling to summon up
any sympathy for the gang leader.
He was just relieved that that damn skinhead who had clipped him with a
bullet a week ago hadn't plugged him in the
lung, like what had happened to this bastard here.

"Damn
cops," Tyrone barked suddenly, drawing himself up. He opened his mouth to
say more, but Marty forestalled him.

"Let
it be, Tyrone," he said in a bored voice, "Or I'm gonna have to start
asking you about your mama and her little business..."

The
young man immediately shut his mouth and withdrew to his chair in the corner,
looking uncomfortable. Marty rolled his eyes at Dee and Ryo.

A
minute or so later, the nurse returned with the swabs. She unwrapped one for
Ibo and put it in his hand, then fussed over his pillows, arranging them so
that he was able to sit up a little higher in bed, all the while urging him not
to try to talk too much.

"You
need your oxygen, dearie. I know you have to talk to the police, but make sure
you keep taking breaths, all right?"

Ibo
nodded and gave her hand a grateful squeeze before she left. Then he tugged his
oxygen mask down under his chin, and met Marty's eyes with a purposeful gaze.
He still looked like death warmed over, but his eyes were more alert.

"Pick
up De Luca," he wheezed, rubbing his throat. "He'll rally them... if
you don't."

"Then
who'll step into Frank's shoes?"

"Reggie.
That'll... divide them."

"How
about Battista?"

Ibo
shook his head dismissively. "No guts."

"Contadino?"

"Reggie's
successor. But not soon."

"We
don't have anything on De Luca at the present time," Marty said. "If
we pick him up, we can't hold him."

Ibo
smiled a dreadful smile. "I can fix that."

"Good.
Devil's next guy in line?"

"LeRoy.
Cokehead. Temper." Ibo winced and put his hand on his throat again.

"Contenders?"

"Hogan.
Good man. Don't let... in."

The
discussion went on a little longer, while Marty and Ibo quite openly discussed
necessarily abbreviated ways and means of destabilizing the remnants of the
Dyre Street Devils and Corporate America. When Marty had taken down the
particulars of Essien Ibo's damning information about De Luca and Hogan, it was
clear that the leader of the Stone Bloods was starting to flag.

"The
body had just better be where you say it is, Ibo," warned Marty darkly.
"If this is just a load of shit you're feeding me, I swear I'll point the
whole task force in your direction, and the Stone Bloods will be just another
defunct gang of mostly dead losers by this time next year."

"It's
there," rasped Ibo, and closed his eyes. He let the swab the nurse had given him fall out of his
mouth.

Yeah
and you know that because you probably put it there, thought Dee with a shiver. This Ibo was one scary
customer. But scary customer or no, the guy looked like he was about to pass
out, and they still hadn't had a chance to talk to him about their own concerns
yet.

"Hey
Marty, you done with him?" he asked.

"Yeah,
for now," Marty looked up absently from where he was scribbling in his
notepad. "He's all yours. See what you can get out of him."

Dee
and Ryo glanced at each other wordlessly. Marty was known as the 27th's best
expert on gangs. He worked with different partners on different jobs, never the
same partner for too long. He also headed up a multi-precinct task force that
had been created specifically to crack down on organized crime in the five
boroughs. They hadn't witnessed him dealing directly with gang members before,
and now they looked at him with a new respect. He really knew the players and
the scene inside out, that was for sure.

Dee
couldn't help wondering if anyone had a hit out on him, somewhere, while Ryo
felt worried about Marty's wife and parents. They could so easily be used
against him. Both detectives pushed these thoughts to the backs of their minds,
however, and focused on the task at hand.

"Mr.
Ibo," said Ryo with professional courtesy. "We know there was a
police officer in that warehouse with you last night. Detective Ned Shaver of
the Bronx 51st."

A
flash of something terrible appeared on Ibo's face for a moment, and the man's
hands jerked on the sheet in front of him, instinctively curling into claws. He
relaxed his face and hands with an effort, but the oxygen monitor that he was
hooked up to began beeping slightly faster, and numbers started to flash as
they changed on its tiny screen.

"We
want information about a dirty cop we heard recently started working with the
Devils... Internal Affairs lieutenant. You know the guy we mean?" Dee said, speaking quickly, with a
nervous glance at the door. In his experience, when machines in hospitals
started making alarm-noises, nurses appeared and ejected visitors fairly soon
after.

"Yeah."
Ibo raised the mask to his face and took a couple of deep breaths. The monitor
settled down and stopped beeping and flashing.

"He's
got a finger in a lot of pies," said Ryo. "He and Detective Shaver
had a... relationship, but I'm sure you're aware of that."

"Tired..."
Ibo closed his eyes, his voice a faint whisper.

Ryo
noticed that Ibo's fist knotted on the tubes that were attached to the mask,
pulling it askew. He couldn't be
sure whether it was because of the second mention of Shaver's name, or because
of the man's need for oxygen.

"The
IA guy," said Dee. "Give us something. We wanna nail him."

Ibo's
eyes and mouth remained closed, and they waited, nerves taut, to see if he
would answer. Unfortunately, the silence was broken by the monitor, which began
noisily indicating that once more, some threshold had been crossed within Ibo's
body. This caught the attention of Tyrone, who had been answering questions for
Marty. Becoming aware of Ibo's condition, he jerked his head up, exclaiming,
"Hey! Time to quit! Fuck, man, he got a lotta damage from that fucking
fire! Nearly died in there like the others, nearly died in the fucking
ambulance, give the guy a fucking break, you fucking pigs!" His voice rose
significantly on the last sentence; that alone would have brought the nurses
running, even if the monitor hadn't. Running footsteps sounded from the hall.

"Detectives,
please go," insisted the same fifty-ish nurse who had attended last time.
She began nervously checking Ibo's vital signs. Just then another nurse hurried
in. "I paged Doctor Rahman," she said to the first one. "He's on
his way."

"Good.
Everybody out," said the first nurse authoritatively. "Not you,"
she added to Tyrone, "but stay out of the way." She turned back to
Ibo, her anxious eyes fixed on the monitor. "Oh, I don't like the look of
the heart rate, Nora. And oxygen's at 84. We might have to intubate him again. Essien,
dear, your O2 lines are all twisted..."

"A
name!" Dee urged.

"Let's
go, guys," said Marty. "He doesn't look too good."

Ibo
turned his head and looked at them, the ghost of a smile twisting his lips.
"Ja Romeo," he whispered. "Music shop. East Village."

"Please
leave now!" The younger of the two nurses actually shoved Dee away from
the bed.

"Mr.
Ibo," said Ryo urgently, "did Detective Shaver die in the fire? Did
you see him in there?"

The
abhorrent expression once more distorted Essien Ibo's face. He turned blazing
eyes on Ryo. "Dead!" he hissed. "Burned. Fucking traitor."
The heart and oxygen monitor seemed to pick up a burst of speed and flashed
wildly. The nurse who had been fiddling with the oxygen mask clamped it down
over his nose and mouth.

The
doctor entered the room at that moment, shouting instructions, and Dee and
Marty dragged Ryo out into the hallway.

"Is
he dead?" asked one of the two uniforms on guard outside the room. He
looked hopefully at the three detectives from the 27th.

"Not
yet," said Dee.

"Damn.
Guess we're not getting out of here then," the other one said.

On
the elevator ride down to the main floor, Marty was shaking his head and
looking worried. "Fuck, I hope he doesn't kick it," he muttered.
"There'll be shit all round if he does."

"He
won't," said Ryo calmly.

"How
the hell do you know?"

"He
wants revenge really bad, and he's gonna make damn sure he stays alive long
enough to get it," Ryo answered.

"Huh,"
said Marty, looking at Ryo with interest. "That makes sense, actually.
Yeah."

The
minute they got outside the hospital doors, both Marty and Dee shoved
cigarettes into their mouths and lit them.

"Freaking
heavy scene," remarked Dee, pulling smoke deeply into his lungs.
"Every time I think I might quit smoking, something like that
happens."

"Sounded
like you got some good information back there," Ryo said to Marty.

"Yeah,
if he's not lying." Marty took a long drag of his cigarette and held the
smoke in his lungs for a moment before releasing it. "Times sure have
changed. "Fifteen years ago when I was a rookie, you never would've seen
gangs ratting each other out to the police like this. They'd shoot each other
up, carve each other's guts out, but it was total taboo to talk to the cops. Now
they see us as just another tool to get rid of their competitors in a
dog-eat-dog world. If the details Ibo gave me pan out, Tony De Luca will likely
get sent up for 25 years, and maybe his brother too. It's basically the end of
CA if that happens. And Vik Hogan may or may not remember starring in that
particular video I'm supposed to be picking up, but I think he'll blow town for
good if we show him a clip. Ibo plays hardball like no one I've ever seen. If
he manages to live through the next six months, he'll be running this town in
another ten years."

"Well,
let's hope the next six months don't go his way," said Dee.

"Maybe
Ibo will get his turn too, if, as you say, they're all using the police to get
rid of each other," remarked Ryo, trying to stifle a yawn. He needed to
sleep more than he had ever needed anything in his life. Now, if these two
would just finish their cigarettes and refrain from lighting another, they
could start moving in the direction of home. At that moment, his phone rang in
his jacket pocket.

"Nah,"
said Marty, in response to what Ryo had just said. "Ibo is freakishly
smart. He doesn't make mistakes often, and if he does, he makes sure someone
else takes the fall."

"Chief!"
said Ryo into his cell phone. "What's up?"

Dee
listened with trepidation to Ryo's side of the conversation. He would have been
willing to swear that that fucking badger took a secret joy in dumping new work
on them whenever they were just minutes away from knocking off for the day. He
hoped that wasn't about to happen now.

"What?
You're serious? Shaver?" There was a pause, and then he said, "Okay,
we'll see you back at the precinct."

When
he had hung up he turned toward Dee, who was looking at him and shaking his
head sadly.

"We're
not going home, are we?" Dee asked.

"Dee,
you'll never believe it. The ANFO car bomb..."

"What
about the car bomb?"

"It
was Shaver's car. A bomb on
wheels. The trunk was apparently already packed with a mixture of ammonium
nitrate and diesel when he drove it into the warehouse last night."

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

"Thanks for coming back,
boys," said the Chief. "I'll try not to keep you for too long, but
we've got to talk about this. The Commissioner already announced Shaver's
upcoming funeral in his press conference today. The media will be there in
force on Sunday. It's gonna be on the six o'clock news right across the
country."

"So
it's gonna be pretty embarrassing if it turns out that Shaver pulled a stunt
worthy of a suicide bomber." Ryo sat in his chair, drooping with
exhaustion, but his mind was working busily on this new information about
Shaver.

"Exactly.
And we'd better find out what the hell happened before the press gets wind of
this."

"How
many people know already?" asked Marty, who had given them a ride back to
the precinct.

"Too
many. Lieutenant Guerrero's team from the bomb squad, and the arson
investigation team, which pretty well means the whole of the FDNY. I even had a suit from Homeland
Security leaning on me about it today."

"How
about the 51st?" Ryo asked.

"Not
so far. At least, I haven't told them. But I probably should."

"There's
no doubt about this?" Dee looked troubled.

"None
whatsoever. By the process of elimination, it had to be his car. They got VIN
numbers for all the other vehicles, and they all checked out. The only one we don�t have a VIN number
for was the totally wrecked piece of scrap metal that was the source of the
explosion."

"I
guess the main question is: who planted the bomb?" Marty said.

"Yep,
that's the main question, all right. That's really why I dragged you back here
tonight. Sunday is only three short days away. We need answers and we need 'em
fast. Laytner and MacLean, you guys know more about Shaver's troubles and
motivations than anyone on his own team. So I ask you. Whaddaya think? Did he
do it?"

"No,"
said Dee at the same time as Ryo said, "Yes." They looked at each
other, then back at the Chief.

"Okay,
both of you give me your reasons, but make it snappy because we all want to get
home at a decent hour tonight. You first, Dee."

"He
was a guy who'd lost his honor," Dee said, with another glance at Ryo.
"It was eating him up inside. I can't see him committing murder on that
kind of scale. Also, he didn't strike me as much of a thinker or planner. He
was more of a 'reactor'. Shit happened, he reacted."

"Even
'reactors' sometimes get proactive if they're pushed hard enough," the
Chief reminded him.

"Well,
don't forget, his car was left unattended for about eight hours yesterday in
front of Cafe Bruno in Little Italy. We know he was being followed by gang
members. That's why he asked for my help."

"So,
you're saying anyone could have tampered with it without his knowledge?"

"Yeah."

"Okay,
good point. Randy?"

"I
think he did it because he saw it as the only way out. He was caught between
the expectations of two gangs, Abernathy had him running illegal errands every
time he snapped his fingers, and he couldn't even support his family properly.
Getting himself killed in the line of duty was the best solution to his various
problems. Now he's a hero and his wife and child get his pension and an
insurance payout. Abernathy can't
call his tune anymore, and most of his enemies are dead." He paused for a
moment. "If we'd been able to offer him a deal, it might have been
different."

Dee
looked at Ryo, feeling a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew his
partner was right, but he didn't want to believe it. "But his kid..."
he said. "The guy really loved his son. And Shaver was a fighter. Why
would he just give up like that?"

Compassion
for the other man flooded Ryo's heart, but he was careful to keep his face
neutral. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that Dee was perhaps remembering
Jess, his long-dead 'father' who had once been in a similar predicament to
Shaver's. Jess had been working on the side for the largest mafia group in the
city, and when one of their members had tried to recruit Dee as a boy
prostitute and errand-runner, Jess had shot the guy dead. Of course he must
have known that by doing that, he was essentially committing suicide. He had died
in Dee's arms, surrounded by Gianni Bruno and his sneering thugs, his blood
soaking through his own clothes and Dee's. Perhaps Dee was also remembering the
boy he himself had been, the boy that was left behind.

It
had been a turning point in Dee's life, that much was certain. Dee had glossed
over the aftermath, but Mother Maria had been more forthcoming. There were some
parts of Dee's past that he didn't want to talk about, and Ryo respected that.
But sometimes he wondered.

"Do
either of you know if he was perhaps afraid for the safety of his family?"
asked the Chief. The question was ostensibly for both of them, but it was Dee
that he was looking at.

"Yeah.
Maybe," Dee answered, looking down at the floor.

"Okay,
boys, this means we've got a problem. The Commissioner is dead set on this
funeral. It's damn good publicity for the NYPD, makes us look like hardworking
heroes, increases funding potential, all that jazz. Maybe Shaver did it, maybe
he didn't. The guy ain't around to ask. If there's evidence out there that he
blew up that warehouse himself, we've got to find it before the press does, and
then find a way to change the spin."

"Are
we proceeding on the assumption that he did it, then?"

"Yeah,
and we're going to hope like hell that we don't find any evidence to support
that."

"Are
we gonna float the theory that someone set him up?"

"Absolutely.
That's what the Commissioner wants."

"What
if we find incontrovertible evidence that he did it? We're not going to
suppress it, are we?" Ryo asked, looking at the Chief with a slightly
stubborn set to his jaw.

The
Chief gave him a level look. "I'm not in favor of suppressing evidence,
ever," he replied. "That shit has a way of coming back to bite a guy
in the ass. It's the kind of thing that can get a whole precinct a bad rep. If
we find incontrovertible evidence,
it goes to the Commissioner and the PR department."

"If
someone loaded MY car with a bunch of garden fertilizer mixed with fuel oil, I
think I'd notice," remarked Marty. "Just by the smell, if not the extra
weight."

"It's
possible he knew what was in his trunk and that he was being compelled,"
ventured Dee.

"Yeah,
that is a possibility." The chief nodded and picked up his half smoked
cigar from the clean ashtray that he kept on his desk as a souvenir from the
good old days when they had still been allowed to smoke inside public buildings
in the city. Now if he wanted a few puffs, he had to go stand outside in the
rain with the rest of the losers. He stuck the unlit cigar between his teeth,
anyway.

"There's
a flaw in that theory that we should consider," Ryo said. "If it was
a third party who turned Shaver's car into a bomb, detonation would've
presented a logistical problem, especially with ANFO being so stable and all.
Even if the bomb was detonated remotely and not by Shaver, himself, he would've
been caught in it. Would he have consented to die?"

"He
might, if they had his family or something," Marty said. "But it
still begs the question of who wanted to take out the Stone Bloods, Corporate
America, and maybe the Devils all in one go."

"You're
the guy with the best shot at answering that one," said the Chief. "What do you think?"

Marty's
brow furrowed in thought. "Hard to say. They were the three biggest. It
could be that whoever set it up didn't know the Devils were gonna crash the
party. Or maybe they did. Could've been a rival faction of the Devils, although
I can't imagine LeRoy being able to think up and carry out something like that
just to get himself a promotion. He's likely already installed himself as the
next leader," Marty added for the Chief's benefit.

The
Chief turned his hawk like gaze on Dee. "Didn't you say Shaver had been
beaten up by the Devils recently?"

"Yeah,
he was. Pretty badly, too." Their eyes met, and both were thinking the
same thing, though it couldn't be said out loud with Marty in the room.
Abernathy. He was involved with the Devils, or so Shaver had said. Could it
have been him?

The
Chief leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Food for
thought," he said. "Marty, were there any smaller gangs that might
have wanted that blast to happen?"

Marty
emitted a single snort of laughter. "Yeah. Like, all of them! Last night's massacre of gang personnel has
been the best thing that ever happened to the small gangs. Prices and profits
have practically doubled overnight."

"But
they'll be fighting amongst themselves, now."

"Yeah,
but what the hell," Marty answered. "That's what those assholes do.
It's all part of the job description. And to the winner go the spoils."

"Marty,
this is what I want you to do. Take some guys from your task force and get out
on the streets tomorrow. Tonight even, if possible. Talk to the gangs. See if
anyone wants to, indirectly-like, take credit for the explosion. Try to bring
me back something that PR can use."

"Yes,
sir. I gotta go pick up a very special gangland video from Stone Blood
territory, anyway. Is there anyone I can take with me?"

"James
should still be upstairs. If you can't find him, do NOT go alone. The gang
situation is too volatile right now. Until it settles down, no one works alone.
That's an order."

"Well,
worst case scenario, I can go tomorrow. But I think I'll be okay. Ibo really
wants us to have this particular video."

"Take
at least one other guy with you," the Chief repeated. "You might run
into trouble with other groups moving in on Stone Blood turf." He looked
at his watch. "You got a few more hours left on your shift. Get on it
now."

"Yes
sir." Marty stood up, relieved to be leaving. He was a man of action, when
all was said and done. "Good night, everyone."

"See
you, Marty," said Ryo. "Thanks for the ride."

When
the door had closed behind Marty, the Chief turned back to his remaining two
detectives. "Well?" he said. "Did you get anything outta
Ibo?"

"Yeah,
we've got a name. Sounds like a street name, but it's a start," Ryo told
him. "Ja Romeo, East Village. We're supposed to ask at music shops."

"Good.
Now about Abernathy..." The Chief paused, the lines on his forehead more
deeply etched as he thought. "Do you think it's possible he had a hand in
the explosion? You were there Randy. You saw him, talked to him."

"I
honestly don't know," Ryo replied. "He was certainly nervous about
something. It's a possibility of course. But if he did it for the Devils, he
certainly screwed up by killing twenty-two of them. In any case, it's something
to keep in mind."

"Exactly.
Now before I let you guys go, I wanna talk about detonation. You heard
Lieutenant Guererro this afternoon. They're not sure what kind of detonation
system was used. If it was Shaver who was behind the blast, he probably would
have used a different method than if it was someone on the outside who was
setting it off. Randy, what can you tell me?"

"M-me,
sir?" Ryo suddenly sat up straighter in his chair, discomfort apparent in
every line of his body. "I...um...er..." He was leery of discussing
explosive devices with any of his commanding officers. His past experience had
taught him to be wary. But this was Lieutenant Smith, who had always been fair
with him. He forced himself to relax. "Sir, it would be possible to rig up
a vehicle with a remote detonation device, although it may not be very
reliable," he said. "I've...um, read about such things."

Dee
had never forgotten about how Ryo had blown up Richard Feldman's house a few
years back, and he was pretty sure the Chief hadn't, either. Ryo didn't often
bring it up. It was a black mark on his record that might never go away. Ryo
was a straight arrow, rule loving, by-the-book cop, rock-steady during a
crisis. But once in a while he had been known to do something totally off the
wall, usually as a result of panic. That had been one of those times.

"I'm
sure you have, Randy," said the Chief, one eyebrow raised. "Tell me
how it might be done."

"There
are several ways. If it was Shaver, rather than an outsider, and if he didn't
really know any other way to do it, the easiest way would be if he...um... let
a fuse dangle out of the car and ignited it. He would have been committing
suicide for sure, though." He watched the Chief anxiously, hoping he
wasn't talking his way into a whole world of trouble. "The fuse would have
burned its way up into the trunk, where it would have caused an initial
explosion of, say, a stick of dynamite or a source of dry gunpowder. The blast
from that would be enough to set off the ANFO mixture. ANFO needs a big blast
because it's a pretty stable mixture compared to other explosives. But the fuse
would be noticeable, and that would be the main problem."

"Not
necessarily if there was a gun battle going on," grunted the Chief.
"What are the other ways?"

"Well,"
said Ryo, looking nervously at the Chief. "Some sort of timer. Or
something electronic, where someone presses a button on a radio unit that sends
a signal to detonate. But the person would have to have a fair bit of knowledge
and experience."

"And
that could've been done from outside the warehouse, couldn't it?" asked
the Chief, looking pleased.

"Yeah,
it could've. But a lot would depend on the range. There wouldn't be much of a
delay. An explosion that size could easily catch the guy who triggered
it."

"Well,
we know there was someone there," said Dee. "We know someone got away
on a bicycle, if Lieutenant Abernathy is to be believed."

"We
still gotta check out the idea that it was Shaver who prepared the bomb,"
said the Chief, and sighed.
"I'm gonna send Ted to Shaver's apartment tomorrow to look for
traces of ANFO bomb materials. Hopefully the landlord will let 'em in without a
warrant." The Chief put his cigar back in the ashtray again.

"Chief,
maybe we should..."

"No
Randy, not you. You're way overdue for a day off. Don't want you getting sick
on me. I don't wanna see your face here tomorrow, nor Saturday either. You're
back on for Sunday, second shift. Do me a favor and get some rest."

"What
about me?" Dee asked.

The
chief flipped open a binder and consulted the new schedule. "You're off
tomorrow, but back in at three PM on Saturday. You guys are both on second
shift for the next two weeks."

Ryo
glanced at Dee to see if he was smiling. He knew that his partner liked second
shift because he liked to sleep late in the mornings. Dee, however, wasn't
smiling. It was as though all the energy had gone out of him during this
meeting.

"Let's
go, Dee. We're done, right Chief?"

"Yeah.
Go the fuck home. "

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

Dee
was unusually silent on the drive back to Ryo's place, not even bothering to
curse when another driver cut him off. Ryo was too tired himself to try to
cheer him up. All he could think of was to invite him in for a snack, which he
did. Dee probably needed a little affection. Ryo hoped he wouldn't need more
than that. He was really too tired to think.

"Nah,
thanks anyway, dude." Dee kept his foot on the brake, his eyes flickering
from Ryo's face to the rear view mirror. "I've stayed over too many nights
in a row already. Don't wanna wear out my welcome. I'll just go home and
scramble some eggs."

"Are
you sure, Dee?" Ryo put a hand on his arm and gave his partner a searching
look. "You're more than welcome to stay."

"Thanks,
but I think I should go home. Bikky hasn't seen you for two evenings running
and I'm pretty sure he won't be happy to see me again so soon. But we're on for
tomorrow, right? After my stitches come out?"

"Um,
yeah..." Ryo suddenly found his face getting warm. "What time?"

"Call
me around ten on my cell."

"Okay."
Ryo hesitated, wondering if Dee was expecting a good night kiss. They were
directly in front of his apartment building, though, and people were still
walking on the sidewalk, very close to the car. Dee was making no move to kiss him...Was
his partner expecting him to do something? He felt he should at least give Dee
a hug after what had happened.

The
sudden honking of the driver behind Dee's double-parked vehicle jolted him out
of his anxious and indecisive thoughts.

"I'd
better go, Dee. Thanks for the ride." He gave his partner's upper arm a
squeeze before getting out of the car and hurrying onto the sidewalk. He turned
around to wave, but Dee was already moving. He felt vaguely disappointed, but
Dee was probably right. Bikky would be needing his attention tonight of all
nights. The funeral would have been on his foster-son's mind all day.

Tomorrow,
he would give Dee all the affection he needed.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

Ryo
stood outside Bellevue Hospital, waiting for Dee. He wasn't quite sure how he
had been talked into this, but somehow he had agreed to go with Dee to the
hospital to pretty well hold his hand while he got his stitches taken out. And
now, to top it all off, his idiot partner was late. Irritably, he looked at his
watch for the third time. He had things to do. Bikky had eaten a week's worth
of cold cuts last night, and there was practically nothing left in the fridge
with which to make dinner tonight, anyway. He'd been too busy lately to pick up
groceries. And if he didn't do laundry soon, he and Bikky would both run out of
clean socks.

"Ryo!"
It was Dee, jogging up to him in black jeans and a blue shirt over a black
tank. He was carrying a paper bag of groceries in the crook of one arm, and
with his other hand, he was pushing a pair off sunglasses up on top of his
head. The bright sunshine slanted into his green eyes and lit them like
emeralds. There was unfeigned happiness on his face at the sight of his
partner.

"About
time," said Ryo sternly, trying to resist this vision. He turned to face
Dee with his hands on his hips. Didn't you say you had an appointment at
10:45?"

"Ah,
so what if I'm a few minutes late? I wanted to pick up some groceries for you,
since I'm always mooching off of you." He handed the bag to Ryo, whose demeanor
instantly changed. Dee looking
startlingly handsome, he could maybe resist. But Dee looking startlingly handsome while handing him
groceries was quite another thing altogether.

"What
did you get?" Ryo couldn't help smiling at him before looking curiously
inside the bag.

"Bread,
milk, coffee, ground beef, tomatoes..." Dee was counting on his fingers as
they walked into the hospital together.

"And
cold cuts!" exclaimed Ryo, who was rooting around at the bottom of the
bag.

"Yeah,
I thought we could have sandwiches for lunch. At your place," Dee added
with a meaningful look. "Or mine."

"Let's
go to mine," said Ryo, smiling at him. "I...um...I put fresh sheets
on the bed this morning."

Dee's
face lit up and he moved as though to hug Ryo, catching himself in the nick of
time. Ryo's eyes had just flashed a warning at him, but the smile was still
there.

"What
time is the brat due home?"

"He
said he'd be back around five. He's going to watch Carol play field-hockey
after school today."

"Okay,
here's the schedule," said Dee, leaning in as close to Ryo as he dared.
"First we're gonna - "

At
that moment, a strident and all-too familiar voice rent the air. "DEE
LAYTNER! How dare you be late for your appointment?"

The
two men whirled around in alarm, and no little fear. It was Nurse Emiry
striding toward them with the light of battle gleaming in her piggy little
eyes.

"Come
with me, right now! How dare you throw our schedule off just because you're too
inconsiderate and selfish to bother to show up on time?" Nurse Emiry
seized Dee by the arm and started dragging him away.

"What
the - ? You're supposed to be in Brooklyn! Ryo! Help m- "

"QUIET!
This is a hospital!" Nurse Emiry gave Dee a good shake that rattled his
teeth in his head. "If you must know, I transferred here for a
promotion."

"Not
fucking likely. I bet New York East fired you for killing the patients!"

"I
won't stand for your nonsense! Others need their rest. You're supposed to KEEP
your VOICE down!"

"Me? You're noisier than a family of inbred rednecks at a
monster truck rally, and you're telling me - "

"Save
your pathetic insults, Mr. Laytner! Now get into that room and STRIP!"

Ryo
had been following at a safe distance as the large and powerful Nurse Emiry
pulled Dee down a hallway and was thus in time to see her propel him into a
treatment room. He heard the sound of Dee colliding with a chair or some other
item of furniture, and then a clattering sound, as though a tray of metal
implements had just crashed to the floor. More shouting ensued. Ryo had absolutely
no desire to go into that room.

There
was a vinyl-cushioned bench outside the room, which he sat down on to wait. It
was amazing to him that Nurse Emiry was still employed after years of behavior
like this. He figured that she was either a member of a strong union, or she
was damn good at her job. Or maybe she reserved this over-the-top behavior
strictly for Dee. They sure seemed to arouse the worst in each other. In any
case, Dee had snapped fairly early on like he always did, and now they were
going at it hammer and tongs. Ryo tried to block out the escalating exchange of
insults by burying his nose in a magazine, but it just wasn't working. He wished Nurse Emiry would hurry up
and get Dee's stitches out so they could go.

When
the screaming started, he knew she was doing just that.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

Dee
grumbled and cursed all the way back to the parking lot, rubbing his injured
side and looking quickly over his shoulder a couple of times as though he were
afraid that Nurse Emiry might actually be following him. Ryo listened to him
patiently and tried not to smile. There was something about a good fight,
physical or otherwise that seemed to energize Dee. Ryo had observed this
phenomenon in his partner countless times and he still didn't understand it. Of
course, it went without saying that the effect was lost if Dee ended up shot or
unconscious.

"Do
you feel up to driving or are you in too much pain?" Ryo asked, completely
deadpan.

"Yeah,
sure I can drive! My scar just stings like a sonofabitch thanks to that - that
sadistic mistress of torture masquerading as a nurse! At Bellevue, now! Fuck,
just when I thought I was safe. How the HELL does she get away with this
shit?" He went on and on, hurling invective and imprecations against the
character and behavior of the evil Nurse Emiry as he unlocked the doors of his
car and popped the trunk open for Ryo to stow the groceries. Still complaining,
he slid into the driver's seat and angrily jammed the key into the ignition.
"It's probably just her thwarted dominatrix fantasies - if that
she-gorilla had been born just twenty percent less ugly, she might
have..." He trailed off, realizing that Ryo had not joined him in the car.
He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that the lid of the trunk was still
up. What the hell was his partner doing? He swung the driver's side door open
and joined him at the back of the car.

Ryo
was examining the wiring of the trunk light at close range with that familiar
little frown of his, the one that usually indicated great concentration. His
reading glasses were on, and his rump was stuck out in such a way as to make
all of Dee's ill-feeling toward Nurse Emiry dissipate like fog being suddenly
burned off by the appearance of sunlight. Ryo was wearing a pair of thin,
microfiber slacks that clung to the curves of his perfect little male ass, and
Dee was suddenly reminded of the fact that he had sworn last Sunday to fuck
that ass on Friday, and Ryo had not only acquiesced, but had indicated in his
shy, roundabout way that he was looking forward to it.

"What's
up, baby?" Dee asked softly, longing to run his hands over his partner's
irresistibly outthrust buttocks and down his hard thighs, but naturally not
daring to in a crowded, well-populated parking lot.

Ryo
straightened up, holding the tiny light bulb from the trunk light. He was
peering at it through the lenses of his thick-framed reading glasses. "I
think..." he said thoughtfully, "I think I've figured out how Shaver
blew up his car."

"The
Chief and the Commissioner would be WAY happier if you didn't tell them,"
said Dee. "But you can tell me, if you want. While we drive toward bed -
er, I mean 'home'."

Ryo's
eyes met Dee's and he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could
get the words out, his cell phone rang.

Dee
swore under his breath. Please don't let that be the Badger, he prayed.

Ryo
flipped open his cell phone and frowned briefly at the sight of the number
before answering. "Detective Greenspan, hello."

Dee
clenched both fists and glared at Ryo. It was all he could do to prevent
himself from snatching the phone out of his partner's hand and hanging up on
the bitch. He knew trouble was coming; he could feel it. And her timing totally
sucked.

"What,
right now?" Ryo said into the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he could
see Dee rolling his eyes, and grinding his teeth. "It's just that I'm on
my day off and I'm in the middle of plans. I have many things to accomplish
before my son comes home from school."

Dee
stared at his partner in amazement. Was Mr. Workaholic actually blowing her
off? He wanted to start grinning, but a little voice in the back of his mind
warned him that that would be premature.

"Who?"
Ryo sounded quite surprised. "Are you...are you with him right now?"
There was a pause. "Good morning Commissioner. Very well, thanks, and
you?"

Dee's
mouth dropped open. Detective Greenspan was with the Commissioner. And any
second now, they were both going to blow his day to hell.

"At
Bellevue Hospital," Ryo said, sounding somewhat doubtful. "Kinney
parking lot. We'll wait. See you in a few minutes."

"FUCK!" Dee roared, shaking his fist at the
sky.

An
elderly couple passing near the car flinched and shrank away from him.

Less
than five minutes later, The Commissioner's sleek black Lexus rolled up and
Detective Greenspan got out of it, laughing. She waved, and to Ryo's relief, the Lexus drove off without
her. She walked toward them on kitten heels, a pretty summer skirt swirling
about her knees. She looked younger and happier than she had the last few times
they had seen her, but as she got closer, her eyes found Ryo's face, and her
smile faded.

"Detective
MacLean." She gave him a grave nod, and totally ignored the glowering man
at his side. "I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but I said this
was important, and it is."

"Will
it take long?" demanded Dee.

"Perhaps,
perhaps not," she said coolly, sparing him the briefest of glances. "Detective MacLean, as I said,
Lieutenant Abernathy contacted me again. And once again, he wanted to talk
about your son."

Ryo
stiffened. "What did he say this time?"

"Not
much. He brought pictures. He said they would speak for themselves." She
opened her stylish leather briefcase and partially withdrew a large manila
envelope.

Ryo
felt his heart start to beat faster. What the hell could it be? A short time
ago he had prevented Bikky from buying marijuana from Eddie. What if it was
something like that again? He felt Dee's hand reassuringly squeeze his
shoulder, and it steadied him.

Whatever
it was, they would face it together.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

end of Chapter 40

Additional
author's notes: Chapter 41 is up on my LJ page, where you will also find a list of all the major and minor characters I created for this story. http://brit-columbia.livejournal.com/ for the chapter and http://brit-columbia.livejournal.com/54129.html#cutid1 for the list. Thanks for reading Chapter 40!
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