The Vigilantes Part 17

Carlucci started nodding. "All right. I take your point. We can ma.s.sage that in the message, so to speak. Now, let's boil all this down to what I'm going to say."

"Thirty seconds, Mr. Mayor," Corporal Kerry Rapier said from behind the control panel.

Jerry Carlucci scrunched up his face and a.s.sumed a serious expression.

Corporal Rapier said, "In five, four, three, two . . . ," then pointed to Mayor Carlucci. On the monitor, Mayor Carlucci was perfectly framed in a tight shot of his face, with Mariana and Coughlin looking over his shoulders.

Carlucci said: "Good afternoon, citizens of the great city of Philadelphia. Thank you for letting me into your homes today. I respect your time, and will be brief.

"While it saddens me to have to appear here today to address a rash of murders, I must tell you that I am very proud to be speaking to you from the Roundhouse in the company of some of the finest law-enforcement officials anywhere.

"As you may be aware, in the last month, five known criminals-all fugitives guilty of s.e.xual offenses-have been killed and brought to the door of the Philadelphia Police Department. And last night, three more murdered men were left at the door of an organization that offers rewards for the capture of criminals.

The City of Philadelphia and our police department are grateful for any help in keeping our communities safe. We encourage citizens-who can remain anonymous-to provide tips that lead to the arrest and conviction of criminals. Simply call 911, or 215-686-TIPS. Depending on the case, there are cash rewards for information that leads to a criminal's conviction.

"While we do applaud the removal of any criminal at large in our free society, we cannot condone any such act that results in death. That is murder, and those responsible will be prosecuted to the fullest."

He paused to let that point sit with the various audiences.

"Since I have served both as your police commissioner and now as your mayor, crimes have declined in our fair city. Major crimes, such as homicides, by as much as half. While we are not where we would like to be-one robbery or murder or rape is one too many-we are committed to crime prevention and criminal apprehension. It is what we are well trained to do. And I believe the statistics prove that we do it exceptionally well.

"Now, in response to last night's criminal activity, today I am pleased to announce that Police Commissioner Mariana has formed a special task force to capture the armed and dangerous perpetrator. Operation Clean Sweep will be led by Homicide Unit Sergeant M. M. Payne-"

Carlucci paused as his image was replaced for a three-second count by one of Matt Payne and Carlucci. Payne, in a crisp Brooks Brothers two-piece suit and tie, was shaking hands with Carlucci. Their left hands held up a plaque that at the top was emblazoned with the words VALOR IN THE LINE OF DUTY.

"-whose name you may recognize as one of our highly decorated officers. He could not be here in person, as he already is fully immersed in the investigation."

Carlucci now gestured to the white shirts behind him and went on: "Sergeant Payne will be fully supported not only by the Philadelphia PD, but by any other state and federal agencies whom we partner with in such initiatives as the FBI Violent Crimes Task Force.

"And of course Operation Clean Sweep will have the full force of all departmental a.s.sets, which are legion."

He motioned to the panel of TVs.

Corporal Rapier worked the control panel, and each screen instantly was replaced with images of nearly everything in the department's a.r.s.enal. There was a pair of the Aviation Unit's Bell 206 L-4 helicopters hovering over a gra.s.sy field, their floodlight beams lighting up a suspect, his hands up, as uniforms on the ground converged. Members of the Special Weapons and Tactical (SWAT) Unit were rescuing a hostage. A Marine Unit's twenty-four-foot-long Boston Whaler, its light bar on the aluminum tower pulsing red and blue, was screaming up the Delaware River. And more dramatic imagery of the police department in action.

"You have my word that our dedicated police department will apprehend the perpetrator, and soon.

"Again, thank you for your time and for your confidence. May G.o.d bless you and keep you safe."

At least long enough for us to catch the d.a.m.ned murderer, Carlucci thought as he stared somber-faced at the camera as the boom swung, pulling back from him. Carlucci thought as he stared somber-faced at the camera as the boom swung, pulling back from him.

Payne was standing with Harris and Walker behind Corporal Rapier and the control panel.

As he heard Corporal Rapier say, "And . . . we're clear, off the air," Payne felt his telephone vibrate.

He looked at its screen and saw the call was from the uniform he'd stationed in the unmarked in Old City.

He answered it: "Payne."

Then, after a moment, he said loudly: "What? Oh, s.h.i.t!"

He felt eyes on him and looked up to see that everyone was indeed looking at him. Particularly Carlucci.

Payne was shaking his head as he listened to the phone, then after another moment he said, "What's the CCTV ID number there?"

He took a ballpoint pen from his pocket and, not quickly locating any paper, awkwardly held the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he wrote the code on his left palm.

"Thanks. I'll get right back to you."

He held out his left hand in front of Corporal Rapier.

"Kerry, please punch up the feed from this CCTV on the main screen."

Payne nodded at that bank of TVs, which had a real-time feed of the front facade of City Hall.

As Corporal Rapier's fingers flew across the keyboard, the main screen went to snowlike gray pixels.

"What is it, Matt?" Carlucci asked.

"You are not going to believe this. Looks like Five-Eff has received another charitable donation at his doorstep."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about, Matty?" Coughlin blurted.

"Not ten minutes ago, a woman arrived at the offices of Lex Talionis in a gypsy cab. It was a minivan-an older-model tan Toyota-and when the side door opened onto the curb, the woman got out. She met the driver at the rear door of the van, and together they wrestled a rolled-up carpet out of the back. They rolled it onto the sidewalk. Then the woman handed the driver his fare like it was something she did every day, and he sped away."

Gypsy cabs-their drivers unlicensed, unregistered, and usually uninsured-were illegal. But they were plentiful because they charged far less than legit cabbies. And they were everywhere, making them hard as h.e.l.l to crack down on.

The TV screen came alive with the all-too-familiar view in Old City: the office building at Arch and North Third that housed Lex Talionis. Everyone looked to it.

They saw that on the sidewalk by the front door four uniforms had formed a perimeter of sorts around a blood-soaked ratty carpet. It had been unrolled-and on top of it was the motionless body of a naked black male.

Just to the left of the carpet and its perimeter of cops was a frail-looking black woman. She was gesturing wildly with a sheet of paper at the office building's front door while another uniform, both hands shoulder high with palms out, tried calming her.

Payne, to no one in particular, announced: "Well, that makes pop-and-drop number nine. Shall we a.s.sume the old lady is our doer?"

Harris said, "You can't be serious. You don't really think-"

Payne turned and looked at him.

"h.e.l.l no, Tony. Not all nine, anyway. All I know is that my uniform in the unmarked just now said that that paper she's waving is a Wanted sheet, and she's screaming at that uniform on the sidewalk, 'I want my reward!'"

"Is that Mickey?" Jason Washington suddenly asked.

Matt and Tony turned and saw the wiry Irishman with a video camera in his hands. He was holding it high above his head, clearly recording the confrontation between the uniform and the woman. He now wore the blue T-shirt with the white handcuffs and MAKE HIS DAY: KISS A COP AT CRIMEFREEPHILLY.COM.

Payne grinned.

Sonofab.i.t.c.h must have been staking out the place, too.

Going to take some doing to get him to sit on that video-if that's even likely.

Then he felt his cell phone vibrate, and he looked at the text message on its screen: AMANDA LAW.

"ARMED & DANGEROUS"?

WHEN WERE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING ME, MATT?.

LAST I HEARD WAS THAT YOU WERE GOING TO LIBERTIES TO "TALK" ABOUT THE POP-AND-DROPS.

NOW I HAVE TO FIND OUT FROM THE MAYOR ON THE NOON NEWSCAST THAT YOU'RE NOT ONLY BACK ON THE STREET, BUT IN CHARGE OF A TASK FORCE? -A "Oh, s.h.i.t!" Matt said again.

"I have to agree with Matt," Carlucci said. "'I want my reward'? Oh, s.h.i.t!"

[FIVE].

Loft Number 2055 Hops Haus Tower 1100 N. Lee Street, Philadelphia Sunday, November 1, 12:14 P.M.

H. Rapp Badde, Jr., wearing baggy blue jeans and a red sweatshirt with TEMPLE LAW across the chest in white lettering, was seated at the large, rectangular, marble-topped table in the breakfast area adjacent to the gourmet kitchen. He had the television remote control in his right hand and was aiming it at the flat-screen that was mounted to the living room wall. He stabbed at the MUTE b.u.t.ton as he looked with some disgust at the image of a solemn-faced Mayor Jerome Carlucci.

Keep it up, Jerry, and you'll make it even easier for me to kick your Italian a.s.s out of office.

Badde turned his attention to Janelle Harper, who stood across the table from him, skimming a ma.s.s-produced flyer t.i.tled "Pennsylvania's Property Rights Protection Act & You." She was wearing a spandex sport outfit, black with purple accents, that clung to her curvy frame like a second skin, and athletic shoes. She had her hair pulled back and wore a pair of black-framed Gucci designer eyegla.s.ses.

"More murders," he said almost happily. "I can probably run on the crime issue alone and get elected mayor."

She looked away from the flyer and at him. "You're not really taking any joy out of those people being killed, are you?"

"Sorry, honey. But only because they're already dead. h.e.l.l, if nothing else, I've probably lost a voter."

Or not, if whoever takes over for Kenny can register their names to vote absentee.

Speaking of Kenny, I wonder what the h.e.l.l happened to him.

He glanced back at the television, and there was now a live shot from Old City showing policemen stringing up yellow crime-scene tape. The text at the bottom of the screen read: FOURTH HALLOWEEN HOMICIDE . . . MOTHER TURNS IN FUGITIVE SON'S DEAD BODY AT LEX TALIONIS OFFICES FOR $10,000 REWARD . . . MOTHER SAYS SON'S DEATH WAS DRUG- MOTHER TURNS IN FUGITIVE SON'S DEAD BODY AT LEX TALIONIS OFFICES FOR $10,000 REWARD . . . MOTHER SAYS SON'S DEATH WAS DRUG-RELATED . . .

"Jesus Christ!" Badde said.

Jan looked at him, then at the TV. "Oh my G.o.d! How awful!"

"They're animals out there," Badde said, then was quiet a moment. "h.e.l.l, look at the silver lining. At this rate, the outcry over all these killings might get so bad that Carlucci resigns and I get appointed to take his place."

Jan looked at him. "Don't hold your breath."

Badde gestured at the ma.s.sive three-ring binder thick with loose-leaf pages at her elbow. Its cover had in black block lettering the t.i.tle PHILADELPHIA ECONOMIC GENTRIFICATION INITIATIVE.

"When are we supposed to get the second wave of fed funds for PEGI?" Badde asked, p.r.o.nouncing the acronym "Peggy."

PEGI was a special program devised by the Housing and Urban Development Committee, one of dozens of such committees of the Philadelphia City Council. The city council had seventeen members: ten elected in their respective districts, the remainder elected at large in the interest of balanced racial representation. The seventeen chose a council president from among themselves, and the president then decided which council members would serve on which committees.

As the number of committees far exceeded the number of council members, it was common for the president to appoint each member to six or eight committees, occasionally even more.

Ask any council member, though, and they'd quietly admit that the sheer workload of serving on just one d.a.m.n committee was daunting; serving on many others became a logistical impossibility. Thus, it was common for council members simply to choose a favorite committee and pay only lip service to all the others to which they'd been appointed.

Not surprisingly, any oversight by fellow council members within the committees was replaced by an unspoken agreement: You pay attention to the business of your committee, and I'll pay attention to mine. You pay attention to the business of your committee, and I'll pay attention to mine.

In other words: Mind your own G.o.dd.a.m.n business. Mind your own G.o.dd.a.m.n business.

And so the chairman of each committee more or less had free rein. He or she completely controlled the committee's dealings with commerce in and out of City Hall, the letting of contracts, the hiring of vendors, and so on. It actually proved to be an efficient model in the sense that it avoided the frustrating back-and-forth process of committee decision-making. Instead, the chairman made a decision and-voila!-it was done without further debate.

To the City of Philadelphia Housing and Urban Development Committee, the president of the city council appointed City Councilman (At Large) H. Rapp Badde, Jr., as its chairman.

HUD chairman Badde, upon returning from an urban-renewal conference in Bermuda, conceived the Philadelphia Economic Gentrification Initiative. He then funded the special program with a modest fifty thousand dollars from HUD's "exploratory" budget line-all of it federal monies-and immediately entered into an open-term vendor contract (thereby avoiding a lengthy low-bidder selection process) with Commonwealth Law Center LLP of Philadelphia.

The law firm, its practice heavily vested in real estate law, would a.s.sist Chairman Badde and his committee-in effect, only Badde and his executive a.s.sistant-in the exploratory steps for two major gentrification projects: Volks Haus and Diamond Development.

The latter created what was termed "a multipurpose professional entertainment venue." It would be an indoor coliseum with a retractable roof and convertible flooring. It could house sixty thousand fans of everything from sports (football, basketball, hockey, soccer, motocross racing, et cetera) to music concerts. It was planned to be built just west of Interstate 95 in the upper end of Northern Liberties. Thus, it would displace thousands of residents in order to demolish a vast chunk of city.

The former, Volks Haus, was to serve as one solution for the relocation of those residents. The "People's House" would be low-income housing constructed on ten square blocks a few miles to the west, in the Fairmount area, reclaiming what Chairman Badde called "a d.a.m.ned unsightly black hole of money-losing federal government property"-otherwise known as the Eastern State Penitentiary, which happened to be a United States Natural Historic Landmark smack dab in the middle of a struggling residential neighborhood.

The exploratory process was completed within twenty-four hours-although on paper the period was listed as three months-and two minority-owned construction firms were awarded contracts conditioned on federal dollars fully funding PEGI and the completion of the eminent-domain process.

Janelle Harper looked over the upper rim of her Gucci eyegla.s.ses at Rapp Badde.

She said, "Those additional fed monies, I was told, after I finally got my calls returned from Commonwealth-"

Badde interrupted. "Why can't you just say her name?" He paused and shrugged, and with a weak smile said, "Wanda's not that bad."

"Why? I'll tell you why: Because your wife your wife treats me like your little girlfriend-actually, sometimes more like your little 'ho'-and not like your G.o.dd.a.m.ned executive a.s.sistant." She pulled at the spandex at her hips, adjusting it, then added, "I'm d.a.m.ned tired of it. She's not the only one with a law degree from Beasley." treats me like your little girlfriend-actually, sometimes more like your little 'ho'-and not like your G.o.dd.a.m.ned executive a.s.sistant." She pulled at the spandex at her hips, adjusting it, then added, "I'm d.a.m.ned tired of it. She's not the only one with a law degree from Beasley."

Temple University, and its Beasley School of Law, was a couple miles west of the condo tower, on North Broad.

Jan met Rapp's eyes and said, "She needs to be your ex ex-wife."

Badde suddenly sat up, almost spilling his coffee.

"Are you kidding?" he said, his voice almost squeaking. "Do you know what the h.e.l.l that would cost me? I mean, not only in money. I'd lose political capital, too!"