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1813 Words
Morgan strolled through the offices of the FBI precinct. She had her transfer papers in her hand. The place was big with five floors. The organized crime division was on the third floor. She walked past the many desks, the other agents watching her as she wandered by.
She found her way to the CO’s office. Morgan knocked on the door. A man of about fifty looked up from his paperwork. He was bald on top with a band of thinning white hair. There were lines around his eyes. He wasn’t exactly a hefty man, but he couldn’t be classified thin. He was, like most of the other agents, dressed in a suit; an ash grey.
“Agent Bartlett?” She asked standing in the doorway.
“Yes.”
“I’m Morgan Perez.” She introduced herself.
He immediately came to his feet and made his way around his desk to shake her hand. “Oh yes, the newbie.” Morgan shook his hand, and he chuckled as he looked down at their joined hands. “Woo-wee girl do you got a hell of a grip. I like that. It shows character.” He released her hand and accepted the file she held up for him. He opened the file. He looked it over and then whistled. “A bit of an overachiever, aren’t you?”
“So, I have been told.” She smiled.
“You have been a cop for four years — one year as a uniform and three as a robbery detective. Now brass thinks you’re ready for the FBI. You ready to play in the big leagues?” He asked eyeing her closely.
“Yes, Sir. I think you will find I can more than hold my own.”
“I see that.” He said looking at her paperwork once more. “You have got an incredible amount of combat training. Your CO says you’re an expert marksman and that you’re arrest and conviction rate is outstanding for a rookie.”
“I’ve been doing this for four years. I’d like to think I’m no rookie.” She protested.
“I’ve been doing this for the last twenty-five years. You’re a rookie. Hum… I see you have a doctorate in criminal physiology. You ever consider FBI profiling?”
She had, but she preferred the hands-on experience she got in the field. “I like field work, Sir.”
He smiled and tossed the file on his desk. “Well, it is an honour to have an officer of your calibre joining the team… Special Agent Perez.” She liked the way that sounded. “Let me show you around.”
Agent Bartlett took her down to the personnel office where she was issued her federal shield and her firearm; a nine-millimetre Glock complete with a shoulder holster. Morgan removed her ladies suit jacket and pulled on her holster and gun. She then strapped her shield to her belt and put her jacket back on. It was tailored specifically to hide the bulky gun so that it was concealed nicely. Short of drawing her piece no one would even notice she was packing heat.
From the personnel’s office, he took Morgan back up to the department and walked her over to an empty desk that faced another desk. Seated in the desk across from her was a man of possibly sixty nearing the end of his career. He was dressed in a black suit that looked wrinkled like he had slept in it the night before. He had bags under his dark eyes; she would bet he didn’t get much sleep. His blonde hair was cut short, and his jaw looked like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. He lounged back in his office chair, his long legs out in front of him in a lazy sprawl. He looked like he was dozing. He very well could have been there all night. Agent Bartlett didn’t seem to mind.
Agent Bartlett kicked the dozing agent in the foot jolting him from his light slumber. “Anderson! Up and at’em. I want you to meet your new partner.” He sat up straight and looked Morgan over. “This is Morgan Perez.”
He came to his feet and shook her hand. “Special Agent Samuel Anderson.” He introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
His jaw dropped, and he looked at Agent Bartlett. “Are you serious? A kid? You’re partnering me with a kid fresh out of the academy?”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed with annoyance. He was talking like she wasn’t right there. “I’ll have you know I’ve been out of the academy for four years now. I was a detective for three. I’m not a rookie.” She defended himself.
“You have been an active detective for three years? How is that possible, did you fly through the academy and into a detective desk?” He snickered, and a cocky grin curved his thin lips. “Did you sleep with your CO or something?”
She was not impressed; this wasn’t a good way to start a partnership. “Did you?” She retaliated. “I’ve earned my promotions through blood and sweat.”
“Perez here is a child prodigy. She has a doctorate in criminal physiology.” Agent Bartlett informed him.
“You’re twenty-five, and you have been a detective and a doctor? When did you have the time for University?”
“I started University at the age of fifteen.” She said proudly.
Agent Anderson whistled impressively. “You must be a genius.”
Morgan grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
“It’s going to be interesting working with you.”
“I’ll leave you two to it.” Agent Bartlett said and headed back to his office.
“Can I call you Morgan?” Agent Anderson asked as he sat back down.
“Yes.”
“You can call me Sam.” He said leaning back in his seat folding his hands behind his head. “So, let’s get you up to speed. What do you know about organized crime?”
Morgan sat down at what was now her desk. “Pretend like I don’t know anything.”
“Well, here in California there is a lot of crime. We have got two major offenders: the Fiends and the Soldiers. You and I are assigned to the Soldiers’ task force. Have you heard of them?”
Oh, she had. The Soldiers were big contenders. They ran everything from drugs to weapons and prostitution, as did their counterpart the Fiends. Unlike the Fiends, who were a racist, sexist lot of bikers that kept to the rural areas, the Soldiers were an equal opportunity gang that functioned more like a corporation than a gang. They brought a sense of class to the underworld.
“See the Soldiers aren’t like the average gang out there. They don’t snatch purses or rob ma-and-pop stores. They only deal in federal and international crimes. They are highly organized, and they do everything by the books. They know just how to bend the laws to their advantage. They got accountants and lawyers not just on the payroll, but they’re Soldiers. They pay to send kids to Harvard and Yale to get top-notch medical and law degrees, and then those kids come back and work for the Soldiers exclusively. They don’t wear gang colours.” He said sitting up and typing something into his computer. “A Soldier can only be identified by the Soldier crest.” He said turning the screen of his computer around so she could see the picture of the crest.
It was round a deep brownish scarlet colour with great detail and a trademark S in the center. It was distinctive, unique, and unmistakable.
“You can find this crest tattooed to anyone from a street thug to a prominent businessman. They are six thousand strong. The Soldiers have better recruitment rates than the army, and they’re gaining popularity nationwide. We know what they’re doing, but our problem is we can’t prove it.”
“Who are the major players?”
“The balance of power has recently shifted. One of the only two remaining Veterans has recently passed away. Leaving his empire to his partner in crime Jonathan (the Reaper) Richards, a notorious hitman. Only the old dog has dementia, so he’s more of a figurehead now than a commander. His daughter and her husband have been running things.” He explained bringing up the surveillance pictures of the two kingpins he was describing. “This is Jessica Reynolds. She’s Richard’s only daughter. She is a legacy.”
“What is a legacy?”
“A child born to two Soldiers. She was born of Soldiers and inducted as a Soldier at eighteen. She’s been co-managing her father’s business for over thirty years. This is her husband Darnel (the Mace), Reynolds. He’s been the go-to guy for three different Veterans, and Richard’s right-hand man for thirty-five years. As it stands right now, Mace Reynolds is the most influenceable and powerful man in the Soldiers’ hierarchy. He’s untouchable.”
Reynolds? Why did that sound familiar? Desman’s last name was Reynolds. No, she shook it off. Reynolds was a common name like Smith or Jones. Especially among the African American demographic. She got fairly close to that man. If he had been a Soldier, she would have known. Wouldn’t she?
“We have reason to believe that due to the vast expansion of the organization Reynolds has been promoting within the ranks. Choosing individuals that he trusts to take over the day to day running of each of the four cities they now occupy.”
“Who?”
He shrugged and sat back in his seat. “That my young friend is the million-dollar question. It’s our job to find that out.”
“Well then let’s hit the streets and do a little recon. Since you’re the senior agent, I’ll follow your lead. Where do we start?
Sam stood up. “How about lunch?”
- Writer
