The King of New York

“What the hell, Saul?” Tessa asked as she pulled back the curtain.

“Don’t start,” Saul said.

He slowly lowered himself off the hospital bed with a groan. The cut on his forehead had taken ten stitches to close up and his head was now wrapped in bandages. The painkillers hadn’t even begun to touch the massive headache he was fighting. He just wanted to sleep but the doctor wouldn’t allow it.

“What the hell happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Drive me home, will ya?” he said as he tried to put his pants back on. At least his boxers were clean.

“No, it’s not fine. Nancy’s already spoken to detectives and Zelman is talking about suspending you pending further investigation,” Tessa said. “This shit has gone too far.”

“Look, just get me outta here and I’ll tell you everything.”

She drove slowly through the west side, doing her best to avoid the bumps and potholes. She always wondered how Saul afforded such a nice apartment, especially with three divorces on his jacket. But he wouldn’t be the first cop to overextend himself and live beyond his means. She was still paying off student loans and would be for the foreseeable future.

“Spill it,” she said.

Saul sat in silence, his eyes closed to avoid the lights of the other cars on the road.

“Tomorrow,” he finally said.

Tessa pulled over to the nearest curb and sat there, her arms crossed against her chest.

“What are you doing, Foster?”

“Waiting for you to keep your word,” she said.

“Oh come on. Just take me home, will ya?”

“No.”

“Woman, I swear to God…”

“Keep at it, Augustine. I’ll drag your old tired ass out and make you walk home. Now spill it.”

Saul rubbed the bridge of his nose and did his best to suppress the pain radiating through his brain.

“The son of a bitch snuck up on me.”

“What do you mean? Who did?”

“I don’t know. Some big asshole in black. I was at the bank, talking with Nancy, when all of a sudden, I had a big Glock in my back.”

“Jesus—”

“No, definitely not.”

“Don’t be cute,” she said. “What’d you do?”

“I told him to fuck off, that’s what.”

“And that’s how you got that big cut on your forehead?”

He gave her a cold look. “He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Did you get a good look at him? What are we looking for?”

Saul closed his eyes again and tried to think.

“Big guy, maybe six five, about two-fifty. Muscular. His face was completely covered. Couldn’t make out a goddamn thing. No tattoos, scars, eye color…nothing.”

“How much did he take?”

Saul let the question sit in the air between them.

“No money. It was personal. He was there because I was.”

“Then it has to be the crew who’s been causing trouble, right?” she asked.

“Gotta be. Unless there’s someone else out there I’ve pissed off bad enough to commit a felony.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Tessa muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Listen, I hate to ask this, but it’s necessary…”

“Go ahead,” Saul said, knowing what was coming.

Not much got past Tessa Foster. He had taught her well. He hoped she’d remember when she was Chief of Ds.

“Where’s your gun and badge, Saul?” she asked. “They weren’t with your other belongings at the hospital.”

Even asking the question made Tessa sad. Even as he filled the passenger side of her Camry, she had never seen him look so small and old. He looked frail and beaten. A once great man now being beaten senseless in the lobby of a small bank. It was depressing.

“He took them. He put a gun to my chin and took them right off my goddamn belt.” He was angry, which was a good sign. “I swear to God, Foster, if I find this son of a bitch—”

“I know, partner. We’ll find them. I promise. And we’ll get your stuff back. These guys have to make a mistake sooner or later. No one is this perfect for this long. Their time is coming. And we’ll be there waiting on them. Okay?”

Saul nodded, suddenly not as sure of his victory as his partner was.

“Any way we can keep this between you and me? Just for a little while. I can’t deal with everyone knowing. Not now,” Saul said. “Let me get a lead I can use first. Please. I wouldn’t ask for this favor if I didn’t need it.”

Tessa thought for a long moment and considered her career. She had been doing so well before she’d been partnered with Saul Augustine. Maybe on the way to captain or even chief. Now she was chained to this old man on his last leg, being tasked with keeping secrets she wasn’t comfortable with. Still, she felt she owed the old man this one favor at least.

“What about Zelman?”

“I’ll handle Zelman. That little troll owes me more than you know.”

“Alright, I’ll hold the info until we have a legit lead. Then you have to come clean. Deal?”

Saul gave her a small nod. “Agreed.”

Tessa drifted back into traffic and steered toward Saul’s building.  

“Now I just have to figure out how I’m gonna pay these damned hospital bills. I needed that like I need another hole in the head.”

“Maybe you can get your grandson to pay them,” Tessa said with a small laugh.

Saul’s blood suddenly ran cold.

“What?”

“You didn’t know? Sam covered the hospital bills of that guard that got shot. Took care of the whole boat. Well, the family’s foundation did, whatever that means,” she said.

“Are you serious? When was this?”

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks ago. I assumed you knew. He’s your grandson.”

Saul stared straight ahead, his eyes glassy from the pain meds.

“Why would he do that?” Saul asked.

Tessa shook her head and focused on the road.

“Sam’s back in town…” Saul said to himself.

—

It had been a busy couple of weeks for Sam and his new partners. They had hit two banks without any hiccups or mistakes. As far as he could tell anyway, and that was no small feat. Of course, that didn’t stop a voice in the back of his head from telling him he was about to spend the rest of his life in prison. Maybe it would go away with time. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe that’s what was keeping him sharp and focused.

Simon’s research had been invaluable to Sam’s cause. He’d done such a thorough dive into Saul and his approach to criminals and how they operated, it gave Sam and Gerry the leg-up they needed to challenge Saul right in his own house. It was extremely rare for Saul to be beaten and this had made him confident, borderline egotistical. Using these insights, Sam and Gerry had mapped out a plan and it couldn’t have been going better. They were in and out in less than ninety seconds. They changed up their appearances on each job and only hit branches close to easy escape routes. But the job he was planning now was a departure all together. Why stick to banks when expanding to other venues would only add to the chaos of the mission? It would drive Saul nuts. Sam had only veered from their plan once and the evidence sat in in a box at the back of his closet. But he did wonder why he hadn’t seen anything about Saul getting robbed in the news.

He’d been keeping a close eye on the papers, hoping they would give him some insight into Saul’s hunt for him and his small crew. The near-daily headlines screaming “NO NEW LEADS IN VIOLENT BANK ROBBERIES” gave him some comfort, even if they weren’t completely accurate. The first guard had been Gerry’s idea and a calculated risk. She knew they had to get Saul’s attention somehow, and an old man’s ability to walk was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. Sam was adamant at first that he wouldn’t cause any pain or suffering to anyone but Saul. Hurting people wasn’t what this crusade was about. But Gerry had made the point that unless some blood was spilled, Saul wasn’t going to take his new villains seriously. Sam thought long and hard about it but eventually agreed. And Gerry had been right; the violence had gotten Saul’s attention to the point he had called Sam and his crew “hopped up thugs with no sense” in the papers. That had given Sam and Gerry a good laugh.

Casey had behaved himself after the second robbery. His cut alone being over thirteen grand helped with the attitude problem after the first job. When Sam had given him the thirteen in crisp, new bills, Casey was downright in love with Sam. It was Quinton he was worried about. Sure, he participated and happily collected his cut, but Sam could tell he wasn’t as engaged as Casey. There was something missing. Something was holding him back. Sam had initially attributed it to Quinton’s natural laid-back style, but something had been off the last couple of days. So when Quinton said, “You and me need to talk,” a small chill ripped down Sam’s spine.

They were on a beer run, Casey sleeping one off back at his apartment. Quinton steered his maroon Lincoln Continental Mark V through the side streets of Yonkers, taking his time and feeling Sam out. They’d committed five armed robberies together, and Quinton still wasn’t sure who Sam was or what he wanted. There was something off about the dude, but he couldn’t put a digit on what.

“Yeah?” Sam said. “What’s up?” He kept staring out the window.

“That’s what I want to know,” he said.

He wasn’t one to rush. Sam let the silence sit between them. He wasn’t about to give away anything for free.

“What’re you up to, man? Because something is off. Two of these bigger jobs we’ve done together now and both times you’ve gotten back to the car well after me and Case,” Quinton said. “A guard gets put in the hospital after the first job and neither one of us put him there. In fact, the old dude was fine when Casey and I left, so it wasn’t us.”

Sam didn’t try to interrupt him.

“Casey hasn’t noticed anything is off because he likes you and he stays focused on the money. And don’t get me wrong, the money has been right, and I appreciate that. But something is off with you, and you’re gonna tell me what it is or we’re gonna have to have a different conversation.” He pulled into the liquor store parking lot but sat with the car running. “You hearing me?”

Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off his window because he knew his face would give him away. As good as he had become at adapting to a life of crime, he was still a terrible liar. Gerry reminded him constantly. He needed time to come up with a story.

Quinton wasn’t done: “The first time, with the guard, I thought maybe you forgot something and had to go back in for it, but the second time, I clocked it again. It took you a while to follow us out, so I knew something was up. It wasn’t like that at first, with the gas stations and supermarket. And now the papers keep talking about some detective making it personal, but me and Casey doesn’t know a Detective Augustine.” Quinton said. “So again I ask: what the fuck is up with you?”

 He pressed a small .22 into Sam’s side. Sam finally turned to Quinton.

“Really, Q? Is that necessary?”

“You tell me. You still haven’t given me a reason to trust you, so this is how it is.”

Sam hadn’t seen this menacing side of Quinton yet. He thought Casey’s temper was going to be his only worry, but here he was in some neighborhood he didn’t know with a gun pressed against his ribs and Quinton wanting answers to some dangerous questions.

“Just chill out, alright? The old guard on the first job was an accident,” Sam said. “The shotgun went off when I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all it was. I swear. Just an accident. And the only reason I’ve been late to the car on the last one was because I was warning them not to follow us. That’s it. I’m the one taking all the risk. They’re hearing my voice, not yours. I have to make sure I’m not giving them anymore than I have to.”

“I can accept that. But that still leaves the detective being called out—by name, I might add. How you gonna explain that one away?”

“I don’t know where that’s coming from. I sure as shit don’t know any cops,” Sam lied. “Maybe the news is making it up. There probably isn’t even a detective by that name on the force.”

“No, there is. I checked. He’s old as shit, but he’s on the payroll.”

Shit, Sam thought. Now what?

“Then I don’t know what’s going on. I really don’t,” Sam said. “Maybe he’s making it up to make himself relevant again. I don’t know, Q. But it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Quinton looked at Sam and then looked out the window on his side of the car.

“I hear what you’re saying, but there’s too many coincidences here, man. None of this shit happened until you took charge and started planning things. You get that right?”

“That’s all it can be, Q…coincidence. Because all I’ve done is take care of you and Casey since the moment I met you. Yeah, you taught me the game, but, no disrespect, my jobs have been bigger and better planned than anything you’ve done. And you’ve made more money too. Or did you forget?”

“You ain’t wrong,” Quinton said.

Sam had created some doubt. It was all he needed.

“I’ve got your back and I’ve got Casey’s back. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Because if it does, I’m on the hook too. We’re partners. And I mean that,” Sam said.

Quinton heard what he was saying, and it did make some sense. Maybe that old cop was just making things up to get his name in the papers again. It wouldn’t be the first time a cop had lied.

“I’ve got your back, Q. You can trust me,” Sam repeated. “Now take the gun outta my fucking ribs before I feed it to you.”

Quinton looked at Sam for a long minute and then put the gun back under his seat with a smile.

“Keep talking shit. I’ll whoop ya ass if you ever try…” Quinton trailed off as he closed his car door.

Sam let out a big sigh. He had lived to lie another day.