the end. You might think that's old fashioned, but that's how
it is here."
"So what is this?" asked Owen,
"You here to say you're sorry that nobody had my guy's back?"
Garrity pulled a pack of
cigarettes from his back pocket, pulled one from the packet.
"Nobody's got any of your
backs," he said grimly, lighting the cigarette with a match. "You
guys rode into town with a presidential seal and expected everyone
just to roll over. Fucking super-cops, getting your faces in the
papers, calling out every scum-bag and lowlife you could name. We
tried to warn you. What's going on in this city, it's different to
anything you've ever seen, I don't care how many places you've
worked. The Kings own this town and everything in it and nobody
goes up against the Kings. I mean nobody."
Owen frowned. "The Kings? As in
Cane King?"
"Cane King," replied Garrity,
taking a long drag from the cigarette. "Our lord and master and the
guy who told the guy who told the guy who pulled the trigger on
your friend here."
"Then it's true..." muttered
Owen. Rosa hadn't believed Magpye when he'd named Cane King as the
one behind it all and Owen, well, he'd only entertained the idea
because he thought feeding Magpye's delusions kept him on side. But
here was Garrity, the dirty cop among dirty cops, naming names.
"You're either very confident
or very scared, telling me this," said Owen.
"Neither," replied Garrity.
"What I'm telling you ain't no secret in the department. Ain't no
secret most places in the city, if you take the time to ask. That's
the trick, see? He hides in plain sight, so big and so loud that
nobody takes anything they hear about him seriously. What's he
doing, playing both sides like that, it's impossible... right?
That's what everyone thinks."
Not everyone, thought Owen.
There is someone who's got Cane King right in his sights, someone
else with a stake in doing impossible things.
"So why tell me?" asked
Owen.
"Because of this," said
Garrity, jabbing his cigarette at the open grave. "It's a step too
far. Over the line. King runs this town, sure, but a cop is still a
cop. If that stops meaning something then we're all going to hell a
lot faster than I'd like."
"So, what? You turning state's?
Is this you asking for help?"
Garrity laughed, a gurgling throaty laugh like someone
drowning in a bucket of bile. "Christ, no. This is me offering help ."
"Same difference," said Owen
flatly, "If things are going south like you say, turning state is a
way out for you."
"You think the Kings ain't got
people on the inside?" scoffed Garrity. "Trust me, there's plenty
of guys doing time right now that would love to know that they were
in the Kings' good graces. Kingsmen live a little differently, even
in prison, you know what I'm saying?"
"Kingsmen?" asked Owen. "Is
that what they call you thugs?"
Garrity tossed his cigarette
away and pulled down the collar of jacket and shirt. On the side of
his neck, down past his collar line, Owen could see a small blue
tattoo of an inverted crown. "We're a lot more than thugs," he
said, and Owen couldn't help but hear a note of pride in his voice,
even in this place he was proud of his status and the criminality
that went with it. "This ink here? You'll find the same on a lot of
people. Important people, you understand me?"
"It's all one conspiracy..."
said Owen, recalling what the Magpye had said in the back of his
car.
"Now you're getting it," said
Garrity, pulling his shirt and jacket straight.
"Still doesn't answer why
you're telling me this," said Owen. "All you've done is point me in
the direction of a guy that no-one in the country and can pin a
thing on to. You think nobody knows about him? Get the internet,
Garrity, Cane King is conspiracy theory number one and there are
people who look into this stuff."
"Crazy people."
"Federal people," replied Owen
flatly. "Your guy isn't as untouchable as he might think. Come in,
put what you're telling me on record, and we can take him. I know
we
it is here."
"So what is this?" asked Owen,
"You here to say you're sorry that nobody had my guy's back?"
Garrity pulled a pack of
cigarettes from his back pocket, pulled one from the packet.
"Nobody's got any of your
backs," he said grimly, lighting the cigarette with a match. "You
guys rode into town with a presidential seal and expected everyone
just to roll over. Fucking super-cops, getting your faces in the
papers, calling out every scum-bag and lowlife you could name. We
tried to warn you. What's going on in this city, it's different to
anything you've ever seen, I don't care how many places you've
worked. The Kings own this town and everything in it and nobody
goes up against the Kings. I mean nobody."
Owen frowned. "The Kings? As in
Cane King?"
"Cane King," replied Garrity,
taking a long drag from the cigarette. "Our lord and master and the
guy who told the guy who told the guy who pulled the trigger on
your friend here."
"Then it's true..." muttered
Owen. Rosa hadn't believed Magpye when he'd named Cane King as the
one behind it all and Owen, well, he'd only entertained the idea
because he thought feeding Magpye's delusions kept him on side. But
here was Garrity, the dirty cop among dirty cops, naming names.
"You're either very confident
or very scared, telling me this," said Owen.
"Neither," replied Garrity.
"What I'm telling you ain't no secret in the department. Ain't no
secret most places in the city, if you take the time to ask. That's
the trick, see? He hides in plain sight, so big and so loud that
nobody takes anything they hear about him seriously. What's he
doing, playing both sides like that, it's impossible... right?
That's what everyone thinks."
Not everyone, thought Owen.
There is someone who's got Cane King right in his sights, someone
else with a stake in doing impossible things.
"So why tell me?" asked
Owen.
"Because of this," said
Garrity, jabbing his cigarette at the open grave. "It's a step too
far. Over the line. King runs this town, sure, but a cop is still a
cop. If that stops meaning something then we're all going to hell a
lot faster than I'd like."
"So, what? You turning state's?
Is this you asking for help?"
Garrity laughed, a gurgling throaty laugh like someone
drowning in a bucket of bile. "Christ, no. This is me offering help ."
"Same difference," said Owen
flatly, "If things are going south like you say, turning state is a
way out for you."
"You think the Kings ain't got
people on the inside?" scoffed Garrity. "Trust me, there's plenty
of guys doing time right now that would love to know that they were
in the Kings' good graces. Kingsmen live a little differently, even
in prison, you know what I'm saying?"
"Kingsmen?" asked Owen. "Is
that what they call you thugs?"
Garrity tossed his cigarette
away and pulled down the collar of jacket and shirt. On the side of
his neck, down past his collar line, Owen could see a small blue
tattoo of an inverted crown. "We're a lot more than thugs," he
said, and Owen couldn't help but hear a note of pride in his voice,
even in this place he was proud of his status and the criminality
that went with it. "This ink here? You'll find the same on a lot of
people. Important people, you understand me?"
"It's all one conspiracy..."
said Owen, recalling what the Magpye had said in the back of his
car.
"Now you're getting it," said
Garrity, pulling his shirt and jacket straight.
"Still doesn't answer why
you're telling me this," said Owen. "All you've done is point me in
the direction of a guy that no-one in the country and can pin a
thing on to. You think nobody knows about him? Get the internet,
Garrity, Cane King is conspiracy theory number one and there are
people who look into this stuff."
"Crazy people."
"Federal people," replied Owen
flatly. "Your guy isn't as untouchable as he might think. Come in,
put what you're telling me on record, and we can take him. I know
we
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