Greg and Pam waited quietly in the dark house.  It was early morning and the detectives waited for some sign of an intruder.  Greg called quietly, “Are you awake over there?”

            “I have to be.  After drinking that stuff you call coffee I won’t sleep for a week.”

            “I did make it a little strong, but I wanted to be sure it would do the job.”

            “Oh it was strong alright.  If you have some left you can use it to take paint the walls.”

            “OK, next time you make the coffee.”

 

            A few minutes later they saw the night light in the kitchen go out and Greg whispered, “Someone just cut the power.  They’re getting passed the security system; Sharpie didn’t send his normal goons.”

            The detectives’ senses were peaked, and then they heard someone working on a bedroom window.  They quietly moved to the bedroom staying low to hide their motion.  The detectives were in place on either side of the window when it began to slide open.  A figure slid like a cat through the opening only to be caught under the arms and hauled the rest of the way in.  Greg and Pam dropped the intruder on the floor.  Pam pressed her weapon to the back of his head while Greg looked for others.

            Pam quietly told the intruder, “Don’t move or make a sound.  I would hate for my partner to have to pay to get your brains out of his carpet.”

            They waited quietly for fifteen minutes to make sure their captive was alone; then they patted the man down and found the gun, wire cutters, and the unusual communication device.  They cuffed their prisoner and took him to the family room.

            Greg provided enough flashlight and candle power to illuminate the room and then he started on the intruder.  “So you were going to kill me with a standard police issue weapon.  Leave to Sharpie to try to be poetic.”

            “I wasn’t going to kill anyone,” the intruder insisted, “that’s not my style.”

            “Wait a minute,” Pam said shining a flashlight in the man’s face, “I know this guy.  This is Jack Denning, AKA The Ghost, he’s been a suspect in every uptown heist since the invention of rich people.  What the hell are you doing here?”

            “I have never been convicted of a crime in Baltimore,” Denning stated, “and no evidence ever tied me to a crime in Baltimore.”

            “I know,” Pam said, “you’re good.  Many of us have had an admiration of your talent and it would be big feather in the cap of the detective that brought you down.  Who would have known we’d get you on attempted murder.”

            “I wasn’t here to kill anyone; damn it.” Denning insisted.

            “Really,” Greg said, “I didn’t think classy thieves liked to pack this sort of weapon.  It seems bulky for your little cat suit.”

            “I’m not saying anymore.”

            “OK, attempted murder of a police officer it is,” Pam said, “you’ll like Jessup; I hear the prison yard is quite lovely this time of year.”

            “No, wait,” Denning said.  “Look I wasn’t here to kill anyone OK.  I was here to trade this gun for Kinsinski’s gun.  That’s all I can tell you.  This isn’t even robbery.  The most you have on me is breaking and entry.”

            “Why would you break into a detective’s home to switch guns?” Greg asked.

            “I don’t know; that’s what I was told to do.”

            “By who,” Greg insisted.

            “On no; I wouldn’t last two minutes on the street if I talked about that.”

            Pam asked, “Did you get the gun from the same guy that gave you the fancy cell phone?”

            “That’s my phone,” Denning said.

            “Sure it is,” Pam said, “where did you buy it?”

            “Online.”

            “Where online I want to get a record of the purchase.”

            “I don’t remember.”

            “OK, that’s it,” Greg was running out of patience.  “I think we’ve been far nicer to you than you deserve.  Hell I could shoot you right now and be called a hero for doing it.  You clearly broke into my house.  I’m sure we can match your wire cutters to the cut wires in my electrical box.  It might be worth cleaning the place up just put a bullet in a slime ball like you, but I won’t do that.  What I will do is let it be known that you were caught in my house and you sang out the name Andrew Sharp loud and clear and then we’ll dump you out in the middle of The Dogs territory.  We can even start a pool on how long you will last.”

            “You can’t do that,” Denning said in a shaky voice.”

            “Oh we can Sugar,” Pam said, “and we will.  Cops have no sense of humor about being messed with, now you better start giving us a story that we’ll be happy with or hope The Dogs kill you quickly.”

 

            Police Captain Alan Bartelli’s phone rang before dawn.  He mumbled into the phone, “Yeah.”

            “Captain Bartelli, this is Greg Kisinski.”

            “Kisinski, this better be goddamn good or you’ll be riding a desk for a month.”

            “Oh Captain, this is good, this is very good.  We have a rat in the precinct and I know who it is.  I need to come over to your house.  I want to show you what we have and I want you to hear this with your own ears.”

            “OK Kisinski, I’ll be waiting.

           

            Twenty minutes later Greg and Pam hauled Denning into Captain Bartelli’s living room.  Greg began to explain, “Sharpie came up with a clever little plan to shut down the clinic bombing investigation.  I’m sure one of the first reports you’ll see will be about the murder of a character named Campie Joe.”

            “You told me that he tipped you to a possible gang war,” the Captain interrupted.

            “That’s right sir,” Greg said and then he continued, “The report will indicate that the murder weapon is likely to be a standard police issue weapon.  What will also happen tomorrow is IAD will be tipped to check my weapon as the possible murder weapon, that’s where Denning here comes in.  We caught him sneaking into my house for the purpose so switching my weapon for one he was caring.  I’ll bet my last buck that the weapon he brought is the murder weapon and now for a final convincer.”

            Greg looked at Denning and said, “Do it.”

            Pam handed Denning the phone and he nervously push the button. Everyone heard a voice say, “Yeah”.

            Denning tried to hold his voice steady as he said, “It’s done.”

            The voice said, “And so is our business.  Leave the phone in the locker.”  The communication ended and Pam took back the phone.

            “Who’s going to tip IAD,” the captain asked.

            “I don’t know, but we’ll know when he or she does it.”

            The captain picked up his phone, “I’ll cue IAD and we’ll collar this low life as soon as he opens his mouth.”

            “Or,” Greg suggested, “we can ride it out and play along.  We may be able to follow this trail right back to Sharpie.”

            The captain asked Greg, “How did you know this guy was making his move tonight.”

            “We got a tip,” Greg said.

            “Oh yeah from who?”

            “From someone you told me not to talk about.”

 

            Tom returned to the Johnson apartment the next morning with Dr. Robert James at his side.  The Johnsons just stared at him and he said, “It’s sure nice to have twenty-third century medicine around when you really need it.”

It was time to determine how to confront The Dogs.  There would be no popping into view and surprising anyone; every inch of the streets around the bar would be covered.

“Why don’t we just march up there and go in,” Mike Junior asked, “they can’t stop us.”

“They’ll be tipped off,” his father said.  “They’ll scatter before we can deal with them.”

“We need more information about the place.  Who owns Kinky Joe’s?”   Tom asked.

“An old guy named Frankie Dwyer.  It used to be a strip joint but he mellowed out over the years and now it’s just a bar.  From what I hear he’s none too happy with The Dogs showing up in his place.  All his regulars are gone and when The Dogs aren’t around; he has no customers at all.” Big Mike answered.   

 

            Peggy added, “The bar is located in a small shopping center about ten blocks back toward town.  The bar is at one end of the shopping center and there’s a hardware store next to it.”

            That’s good,” Tom said, “the hardware store will be closed hours before the council is to start.  I’ll be inside the store.

            While the group pondered; the phone rang.  Big Mike picked it up, “Hello.”

            “Good day to you Mike, this is Andrew Sharp.”

            “Andrew Sharp,” Mike said out loud.  Everyone at the table turned at the sound of Sharpie’s name.  Mike continued, “Well Andrew it would probably be a better day for you if your boys did their job yesterday.”

            “Oh hell,” Sharpie said, “you did me a favor.  Tony and Snakehead were screw ups.  I sent them after you so your superman could take care of them for me.  He really is quite handy; I’ll hate to see him go.”

            “What makes you think Tom is going anywhere?”

            “Actually you’re all going,” Sharpie said.  “Why don’t you go someplace warm?  Why do you want to deal with another Baltimore winter? You don’t even need an airplane; I hear your buddy can zap you anywhere.”

            “OK Sharpie,” Mike had had enough of Sharpie’s cleverness, “let’s hear the threat.  Leave or else. . .”

            “You leave or else people get beat up, people get robbed, people have fires, and people die.  This starts today.  If you don’t leave town this afternoon one of Mike Junior’s classmates will have a terrible accident.  Maybe he’ll get run over, or maybe his home will catch on fire, or may be he’ll be shot by an apparent stray bullet.  Mike Junior can start thinking about the faces of his friends in school and wonder which one won’t be there next year.  That happens if you’re not gone by this afternoon.”

            “If you disturb my business this evening, someone will pay.  Maybe it will be your mail carrier, maybe a co-worker, or maybe just someone on your block.  People will keep paying for your actions until you leave town.  I’ll even make a gesture of peace if you leave.  I promise no harm will come to anyone in the neighborhood as long as they stay out of my business.  Don’t worry about this little scuffle with DW; I’ll dispense with him quickly.  So there, you don’t have to worry about the neighborhood.  You can leave with a clear conscious.

            Mike asked, “Will your people leave the kids alone and let them be kids?  They’re not your pawns to use as look outs and bag people.”

            “They are mine.  I own them and the streets they walk on.  They get paid for their work.  Consider it a duty to the one that protects them.  Mike, tell your government stooge that these streets are mine.  Tell him to take his little flock of darkies and annoy people in another city.” Sharpie hung up without another word.

 

            Mike related everything that Sharpie said to the group.

            “We can’t protect everyone,” Peggy said, “and we can’t have people suffering because of our actions.

            “We have to weigh the suffering.  Will the people suffer more if we walk away?  Tom asked.

            “We can’t play God,” Peggy insisted.  “We can’t decide that the poor child they attack today was an unfortunate casualty for the greater good.”

            Peggy’s words struck Tom hard.  He had praised Robert for not accepting the concept of people suffering for the greater good.  “You’re right Peggy; we can’t be the cause of suffering.  We must at least appear to leave as soon as possible.  Tell your neighbors that you’re going and pack up some things.  We need people in the neighborhood to believe that you’re going so that the word gets back to Sharpie.  We’ll go back to my place and think this through.  We still have twelve hours before the war council starts.  We’ll come up with a plan.”