The Story.                                                                                 Began July 19th, 2002
- by Jeremy, Emanuel, Mike

                                                                                           CHAPTER: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

CHAPTER FOUR

EMANUEL

Lighting a cigarette, I scowled up at the gothic spires climbing into the inky black night. Granite gargoyles glared back ominously, as if to keep me away from the holy place of God. Exquisitely carved scroll work danced around the central stained glass window, dim now in the absence of the sun's illumination.

Like everyone else in my neighborhood, I was raised Catholic. Hell, I was even a fucking alter boy for a few years. My mother was so proud when I was confirmed, that she took me from door to door parading her young virtuous son in front of all the neighbors. Those days seemed like a world away now. I haven't stepped into a church in years, and since Charlie's death I'm convinced that God has taken a permanent leave of absence and left us all to fend for ourselves. But after today's events I found myself praying that he might sneak a peak back to our sad little corner of creation and help a wonderful woman fighting for her life in Beth-El hospital. The docs said her chances were twenty percent, and that even if she stabilizes she might never wake up from the coma. The guilt rocked my body like storm waves on a small ship, and I oscillated from wanting to cry and wanting to shoot myself in the head.

"Fuck" I said, as I crossed the street toward the large arched doorway. Checking my watch it read 11:45 PM. I was sick and tired of getting pushed around, getting played, getting shot at... I was going to get the drop on whoever left that note.

Flicking the glowing cigarette butt, it skipped along the pavement spraying crimson sparks along the damp concrete. Into the gargantuan wooden portals was set a smaller man sized entrance. This smaller "humble" door was flung wide open to admit any wayward soul in seek of late night salvation, or scabby drunk looking for a warm bed. I ducked down and plunged into the gloom.

Standing under the arched vestibule it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light. A small stand crowned with burning candles squatted to my right, the flickering candlelight sending shadows to play across the blank faces of long dead saints. In the nave, rows of heavy wooden pews stood aside a long wide isle leading up to the raised alter. There, bathed in the eerie luminescence of smoldering incense pots was a giant crucifix. The roughly hewn features of the Savior's frail body, amidst his Passion hung as a manifestation of my own inner agony. My eyes met his blank eternal gaze and a chill went up my spine. My hand clenched around the pocked grip of the 9mm in my trench coat pocket. If God isn't looking, then he wont mind what I'm planning to do next...

JEREMY

It may have been Karen's critical condition, maybe it was an aching need for something to believe in, or perhaps it was just that I wasn't sure what avenue to take next. I took up one of the unlit tealight candles and clenched it tightly in my fist. Images suddenly flooded my mind in a swirling whirlwind. K's body flying helplessly through the air; her frail form limp in my arms as her lifeblood flowed freely over my hands; the last images of Charlie waving good-bye to me; the old caretaker falling dead to that sniper; Alihandro's dead body on the floor of Ramona's apartment. All this pain and death.

When I opened my eyes, the many flickering lights from the burning candles of prayer, pierced my eyes and deep into my gut for a long moment. My hand was clenched in a tight fist and the candle was most certainly crushed in the pressure. Easing my grip, the my blood began to flow evenly once more. This meaningless candle, in this most mangled and deformed state, had become the symbol of what my hardened soul had become.

My heart was guiding my hand, without my minds approval, and I lit the wretched candle and sat it next to the dozens of other false hopes that lined this candelabra. Again, without my intellectual approval, I found myself muttering a silent prayer for Karen and my other fallen compatriots.

It was at this vulnerable moment that I felt the barrel of a gun in the small of my back.

"Mr. Granger..." a lithe feminine voice whispered in my ear.

"Trixie," I said with little surprise in my voice. "I was just thinking about you."

"Isn't that sweet, Jason. Now why don't you put that little shaft of yours away, so no-one gets hurt." She accentuated the end of that sentence with a little nibble on my ear and a bit more pressure in the small of my back. The feel of her sweet breath against my sensitive skin sent chills up and down my back.

"No problem, Love," I said as I slowly returned my pistol to my holster. "I just don't know what happened to the love. I was worried about you. After Alihandro's untimely-"

"Shut it Jason," she said sternly, the first touch of anger in her voice... or was it something else?

It started with her delicately manicured nails on the back of my well-groomed neck. She traced a seductive line that played wonderful patterns down and around my back. "Now, don't get any ideas," she emphasized this with an extra nudge of the gun. Her hand came around my left side and to my front. She tickled me just below my navel, this drove me nuts. She knew right where to touch me. The wall that I created for this night was crumbling with every moment of her touch. I was virtually oblivious that we were still in this house of God.

She reached in my holster and removed my gun. Cocking back the safety, she ran the barrel along my body and back around until it disappeared from my senses.

"It's really too bad that we were both put into our respective positions," she said, motioning with the gun that I should turn about.

"What positions are you talking about? I thought we were playing on the same team, but you're the one with a gun in my side."

"That's enough, just know that I am prepared to fire at any moment. I want you to smile wide, kiss me like nothing is wrong to get the prying eyes off of us, and then I will lead you to our next position." She said this all with a smile forced upon her face. When I turned about, she looked like one of the many angels that were etched in the artistry of this holy place. She wasn't wearing pretty garments, but things that looked like something you'd throw on if you were going to the local convenience store at midnight. She made even the trashiest clothes look good. But I noticed a change in her from the first time we met those few nights ago. Her eyes looked worn, she looked tired. The threatening words she just said to me lost their gusto after just a moment of looking into her eyes. She didn't seem at all like the strong woman that fended off six armed men the other night.

Putting on a halfhearted smile, I laughed for a moment as if she had just said something heartwarming and kind. I stared her solidly in the eyes, smirked, and leaned in for the promised kiss. It wasn't the kiss that she was expecting, it was a kiss that two lovers might exchange on a romantic evening in Paris. I pulled her in closer to me, the gun that was there a moment ago, fell away. There were sparks of a love affair that was not meant to be. Her soft mouth and mine met in a ballad of forbidden love songs, never heard by the cold of heart...

When I released her, she stood there wonderstruck, with her mouth agape, her eyes wide open.

"You might want to raise that gun up again if you don't want me to go anywhere. I'm not here for mass y'know. Besides, people are watching..." I grinned.

It took a moment for Ramona to even realize what I said. She quickly brought the gun back up and tried to hide the rush of red to her face.

"Lead on, my dear," I said, stifling my coy smile.

"Ahem... Have you confessed lately Jason?" she said, regaining her composure. "Go on to the second confessional on your left. I'll be right behind you," she said, hiding away from the few stares coming our way.

Mass had begun, there was a quiet and very beautiful sound of a lone choir boy singing in a voice that had to have been to some higher power. It was touching and beautiful. The scattering of people rose from their seats in reverence. I could feel that statue of the supposed son of God staring at me as we arrived at the confessional.

"Go inside... Confess," she said cryptically. Ramona just kept on moving past the confessional to sit in the pews.

Confused and more than a little intrigued, I stepped inside the confessional.

MIKE

The smell of old, well polished wood assailed me. Four cherubs stared down at me from the upper corners of the small room. Their smiling chubby faces, a sharp contrast to the hollow wooden judging stare they affixed me with now. I stared into the cross hatched screen in front of me slowly lowering myself on the padded cross bar.

"Mr.. Granger," came a voice on the other side of the confessional screen after a couple seconds. "Thank you very much for coming at this late hour."

The voice was soft, kind even, with a slight Latin accent, somehow I had heard it before. No matter how hard I strained my eyes, it was impossible to make out the face through the screen.

"We have been watching you for quite some time, Mr.. Granger. Especially after the untimely death of Alihandro." The voice paused. The vespers being sung by the choir boy continually shattered the silence with each note. Whether spurred on by my silence or not, the voice continued. "We have a proposition for you Mr.. Granger that can be beneficial to both you, and the men that I represent."

"Alright, Bub, you have two seconds to make your piece before I break through this balsa wood screen and make you wish you were still an evil twinkle in your Poppa's eye." The cherubs seemed to be openly frowning at me now.

"Very well Mr.. Granger." Like velvet over gravel, the voice so familiar, the constant tugging at my memories, would not go away.

The voice continued,"I'm sure you understand when Alihandro was killed, a very large power vacuum was created in the underworld." The voice paused again, and again his voice teased my memory. "You see, there are two powerful factions competing for control of New York. You have stumbled into playing hardball with the big boys. I, however, am prepared to offer you a deal, unlike our competition. Two of the larger families are vying for control of the distribution for Perro Del Orro. A spot once held by Alihandro. The man I represent would like that position. We feel that if we provide you with certain information you will be able to... Remove the competition. You bust a major drug family and look good, probably a promotion. We make money. That is the deal that I am proposing."

"Number one, Jag-Off, I am not going to deal with you, or your competition. Number two, why would I even begin to dream of making deals with shit like you." A cold anger began to form, tightening my chest, causing black flecks to dance across my vision like little spectres.

There was a deep sigh from the other side of the confessional. "Jason... Don't make a decision you are going to regret." The voice sounded truly concerned.

"Why the fuck do you care, in fact why are you even coming to me with this deal?" The cherubs seemed to stare at me with open anger now, their small chubby lips seemed to be down turned at the ends.

"Jason, please, the men that I represent are business men. They are out for money. If we do not find a peaceful way of resolving this power struggle... Alihandro is the first of many casualties to come." The voice trailed off at the end.

The voice so familiar, the way it said Jason, the accentuation on the S and the O, very Latin...

...Then it hit me. Like a blinding flash. My stomach churned and protested, bile rose in my throat.

"Charlie?"

EMANUEL

My mind swam in what felt like a surreal Fellini resurrection scene. The voice of the boys' choir rose in angelic rhythm that seemed to resonate with the sporadic beating of my heart. The dim light that filtrated into the confessional wreathed the other man's head, bathing him in a spectral shimmer.

"Charlie, is that you?" I panted, hoping and fearing all at once.

"No. That man is dead, Jason. He died a long time ago." The voice was calm, but filled with sorrow.

"It is you, you son of a bitch!"

"Jason, listen to me. The Charlie Avarencia that you knew was buried four years ago. He is a ghost, and one should not speak of the dead." Despite what the man said, I knew that this was indeed Charlie. Charlie, the man who had mentored me into the force, who had taken me under his wing when I was a green gumshoe pining for action. The man who had stood by me when I needed him most... who had been like a brother to me. Charlie who I was forced to burry four years ago, and now he was here, alive!

"What the hell is going on!" I yelled. "What the fuck Charlie, where have you been for the past four years?"

"Calm down Jason. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but you have to understand that I'm trying to protect you, even from yourself."

"Protect me from what? Why have people been trying to kill me?" I was getting claustrophobic as the tight confines of the confessional seemed to be closing in on me.

"Like I told you before, you have stumbled into a game with very high stakes, and even more ruthless players. Both sides would not think twice about discarding you. I am trying to protect you, but you need to let me help."

"The hell I do! You are a cop, how can you be involved in all of this?"

"I was a cop Jason, and I'm in deeper then you could ever imagine. I can't let you continue running around causing trouble. You need to face reality and join with me, otherwise you could end up at the bottom of the Hudson." He sounded so cool and collected that I knew he was telling the truth.

"You know I can't do that. You taught me for Christ's sake, you know that I cant do what you are asking! I thought you were my friend Charlie."

"Men have no real friends in this world Jason. We enter into it naked and screaming, and we try not to leave the same way. I can't ask you again Jason, you need to decide now." My mind was reeling in panic, and I wished I had my gun.

"What about Nick? He did hard time for what happened."

"Nick was just a pawn Jason, and he served his purpose well. What I am offering you is much better, I'm offering you real power and influence. I'm offering you the chance to be a player." Charlie seemed to shift
uncomfortably in his chair, and he leaned closer to the screen. "I'm sorry things had to work out like this. You were never supposed to be involved, and I managed to keep you away form it for as long as I could. Jason, we could be the most powerful men in the city!" Charlie fixed me with a long pleading look.

Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes. "Maybe you are right... Maybe the Charlie that I knew is dead. He would never have turned his back on his shield, his duty, and most importantly his friends! That Charlie is obviously gone... Maybe its time that you joined him!" With that I punched through the thin wooden screen and reached for the man's throat. My hands clutched nothing but air... I pulled my hand back and peered through the shattered Balsa thatching, but Charlie was gone.

I quickly tried the door to the confessional, and was not surprised to discover that it was locked from the outside. Bracing against the back wall, I kicked hard with both legs. The heavy wooden door barely budged, but the flimsy hinges gave an objecting groan. I kicked again and this time the hinges gave way.

Leaping to my feet I burst out of the coffin like enclosure and into the vaulted nave. Mass had ended and the choir boy was singing Ave Maria in a delicate falsseto. Frantically looking about I searched the sparse crowd for any sign of Charlie or Ramona.

An elderly woman seated in the nearby pew shot me a anxious glance. I was going to ask her where the two people had gone, but her frightened eyes darted back to the alter and she tightened her clutch on the small silver crucifix hanging from her neck. I doubled back to the confessional and looked into priest's niche. There on the brown wooden bench was my unloaded gun and Charlie's old detective's shield.

It started raining as I stepped back out into the street, as if the heavens were trying in vain to wash the sin and filth from the city. I paused and let the falling water streak across my face. Charlie was still alive, but he was obviously a changed man.

I was apparently mixed up in something that was way over my head. Going to the captain would only land my ass in a sling and probably get me suspended as a liability. I needed to take matters into my own hands, and one way or another I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Charlie was still alive, and that gave me a place to start...

I wonder how hard it's going to be to find Nick.

CHAPTER: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Last Chapter Four Update: 11/07/02

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