The Job

It was the 'fucking politics' of the Job that got Casoni down. He'd joined the NYPD after two stints in Vietnam.

He loved the Job. It was a hell of a lot better than working as a tunnel rat in the hellhole that had been Vietnam.

The 'Nam had moulded him, although there were times he was haunted by the memories.

He sometimes wondered what had made him sign up for a second stint. Most 'grunts' just wanted to get back to the World and stay there. Get drunk, get fucked, and just chill 'man'. He supposed it had been patriotism. He'd joined the NYPD just as the Knapp Commission was winding up its findings on corruption within the NYPD, following the revelations of Frank Serpico. A new word had entered the lexicon of the Job - Accountability - with precinct commanders now held responsible for what their personnel got up to. The 'bagmen' were gone, and Integrity Control Lieutenants and undercover operatives monitored each precinct in the city. Some of the cynics would argue that the endemic corruption had simply gone underground.

Casoni himself was a cop who didn't take money. He had the same idealism about the Job that men like Serpico had once portrayed.

But the politics within the Department still irked him - the backstabbing, the kiss ass mentality, the gossips. And the brass.

It was the brass that had ordered him down to the House at 357 W 35th street, this fine Thursday morning in September - Midtown South. The order had just said report 'forthwith', which in the lexicon of the Job meant yesterday.

He flashed his goldshield at the desk sergeant. "Deputy Inspector Monroe?"

The desk sergeant gave him the once over, a cop's look. "Top of the stairs," he grunted. "Detective Bureau on your right at the end of the hall. Monroe's office is at the end." The desk sergeant had already picked up the phone. "Midtown South," he barked. "Could you keep calm, miss..."

Casoni heard no more as he took the stairs, nodding to one or two faces that he knew.

The precinct was the same as every other house scattered throughout the city. Ordered chaos. Detectives clattering away on keyboards knocking up 'fives', chatting on the phones, or talking to perps' and witnesses. Casoni strode across the squadroom, tapped twice on Monroe's door which was ajar anyway.

The Inspector motioned him in. "Mike Casoni?"

Casoni nodded and shook hands with the man. Monroe motioned him to a chair. "You come highly recommended by the COD...suppose you're wondering why you're here. You've been temporarily assigned to this squad...we need a man of your calibre for a special op'."

"What's on your mind, Inspector?"

The Inspector steepled his long fingers together like a prayer to heaven. He was a thin, cadaverous individual, with brown inquisitive eyes beneath thick bushy eyebrows. His head was as bald as a tyre without threads. He had a quiet way of speaking and he chose his next words with care. "Understand you're a Vietnam veteran?"

"That's correct, Sir." Casoni was suddenly wary. "US Marines."

"We've three guys working out of this squad...tight knit crew...good cops on the surface, but...?"

"Marines?"

"No. Regular army."

"What do you suspect them of?" Casoni queried.

"Corruption. Involving narcotics."

"Big money in narcotics," Casoni observed. "You think they're on the take?"

"Big time," Monroe replied. "But nothing that could be proven. I don't even have enough to put them on modified assignment. But if they are dirty, I want it nipped in the bud. Fast."

"Sir," Casoni acknowledged. They sure knew how to give him the tough ones.

* * *

They gave him a room at One Police Plaza to set up the operation.

He began by pulling the personnel jackets. He took off his jacket, the warmth of the room forcing him to check on the thermostat. It was hot outside too and he figured summer was shaping up to be a memorable one. He fetched a paper cup of water and settled at his desk.

The three cops were all in their thirties.

Jace Miller was the oldest at thirty nine. Blue eyes, a pinched face, big ears. He had joined the department in 1975. He had served as a patrolman in the South Bronz. His record included two citations for bravery. Casoni noticed he had done two tours in Vietnam; one in '68 and the other in '71. He had received an honourable discharge before sitting the exams for the NYPD. His record indicated no problems at the military level and his police record, on the surface, also looked clean.

In contrast, Josh King had been dishonourably discharged by the army for insubordination. Somebody must have pulled strings to get him into the ranks of the NYPD. Casoni nodded to himself when he saw that King's father was a Deputy Inspector assigned to the Mayor's detail. It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened there.

The third cop, Jim Doxon , had also done two tours of Vietnam, both in the seventies, including Tet.

Casoni knew from his own experience that the Tet Offensive had been the beginning of the end. After Tet the war had turned for the Americans and their South Vietnamese allies.

Doxon had joined the NYPD in 1975, the same year as Jace Miller and a computer check by Casoni showed that they had gone through the Academy together. Josh King must have met them later.

Casoni had cleared it with Monroe that he could put a small team together for this operation and he immediately dialled Detective Third Grade Jennifer Santino and asked her to report forthwith to the eleventh floor at One PP.

One of the things he liked about Santino was that she asked no questions and commented that she'd 'eighty five' him at the location given. True to her word she breezed in forty-five minutes later. In the meantime he'd also called in Wu and Laws.

As soon as they had all settled in Casoni set up a projector and gave a briefing. He emphasised that there was nothing worse within the department than a corrupt cop or in this case cops. Plural!

Wu asked a question. He was a second generation Chinese cop who had come to Casoni's attention when he had agreed to a dangerous undercover assignment in New York's garment district. He had received a quick promotion following that assignment, perhaps one of the quickest in the department's long history, making detective third straight out of the academy. It was what most cops dreamt of; a gold shield. Wu had a streak of orange running through his hair and slant eyes.

"I'll work out of the squad myself," Casoni explained, in reply to Wu's question. "Monroe said that might be best as I'm more likely to be taken into their confidence"

Laws was another one who had been promoted rapidly following his takedown of a cop killer. He was a slender necked individual with green eyes and a long, watchful face. He had a lean, lanky frame and it was known that he had wanted to be a cop since he was knee high to a grasshopper. He was also known as a cop who liked to be in the thick of the action. Still he had to wonder about this one. "Wouldn't it be better if Internal Affairs handled it?" he queried.

Casoni shook his head. "The 'nam is involved," he pointed out with emphasis.

Enough said, Laws thought. Every time Vietnam reared its ugly head then it was a given that Casoni and his squad would be involved. Nothing surer!

And narcotics were involved, always a dangerous combination.

The big question was could Casoni win the confidence of the three suspect cops. Well, he'd give it his best shot. In a way, it would be like working undercover with Casoni having to watch his every move, his every word. Of the four cops present Wu probably understood the dangers better than the others although Santino too had her share of undercover work under her belt. Casoni ordered that Jennifer would lead the team when he wasn't around and Wu and Laws had no problem with that. He ordered them to dig deep and to leave no stone unturned - personal stuff, assets, bank accounts. The works.

The precinct was located at 357 W 35th street. The precinct covered the many hotels and businesses in Midtown South, as well as Times Square, Grand Central, Penn Station, Madison Square Garden, Koreatown, Bryant Park, and the Manhattan Mall Plaza. Crime figures were up in recent years with shootings and felonies on the rise.

Casoni showed up at the precinct house on a busy Friday and flashed his shield at the desk sergeant. " Detective Bureau, Narcotics?"

"First floor," the desk sergeant said, giving him the once over and logging the name. "Office at the end of the hall, on the right ."

Josh King looked up as he entered. He had a somewhat unkempt appearance with his shirt sticking out, wild looking hair and a beefy face. His hair reminded Casoni of a Shetland pony he had once seen on vacation in the Scottish Highlands. "Help you?" he grunted.

"I'm on the job," Casoni replied, quickly flashing his shield and taking an instant dislike to King. "Lieutenant Green's office?"

There was no welcoming smile. King nodded his head towards another office at the end of the squadroom. "He expecting you?"

"Yeah," Casoni replied.

He walked briskly towards the lieutenant's office. He gave a brisk knock.

"Enter."

Green was a big black man with bright eyes, a large rounded face and big, welcoming hands, one of which took Casoni's shield whilst the other gripped Casoni's hand in a businesslike shake. "Headquarters warned me to expect a new man but gave me the impression you were starting next week. I understand you're ex-military?"

"Yes." Casoni returned his shield to the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"See action?"

"Vietnam."

"You're going to fit right in. We have a few veterans here already. You might have met Josh King outside. He's one of them."

"We met." Casoni didn't elaborate. He knew Green hadn't been consulted about his role here but that was the way Monroe wanted to play it and he was probably under orders from the Chief of Detectives Ray Cannelli. So be it. Casoni wouldn't break the confidence. He understood that Green could end up in the firing line as well for failure to properly supervise. That was the way the chain of command worked. He could be facing departmental charges if it was proven that three cops were acting corruptly under his command.

The lieutenant grabbed Casoni by the arm and steered him back towards the squadroom. He introduced him formally to King who looked him up and down, measuring him. There were a few other cops in the room and Casoni was introduced to them all before being shown to a desk at the far end of the squadroom.

The lieutenant cracked a joke. "The longer you're here the more you move up the room." He laughed at his own joke and Casoni's face twisted in a smile.

Over the next few days Casoni met with Jace Miller and he decided that the man was too cautious and experienced to let anything slip and coupled with his dislike of King that only left Jim Doxon.

Doxon was the most open of the trio and when he discovered Casoni was a fellow 'grunt' he became quite friendly. Casoni arranged to meet Doxon for a few drinks off-duty and he managed to give Doxon the impression that he was somehow disillusioned with the job.

They all called it 'The Job'.

Over the next few weeks, Doxon opened up more and more. He started giving hints to Casoni about how money could be made on the side and Casoni took the decision to start wearing a wire.

In the background, Wu had already secured warrants from the courts to monitor the phones of Doxon, King and Miller. Both he and Laws, and Santino when she was free from administration duties were spending long hours monitoring the wiretaps and conducting long range surveillance of the suspects. It had to be long range because as cops the trio would spot ordinary surveillance in a heartbeat.

Laws had done a good job of tracing down the trio's assets and there were things they would have to account for when they brought them in. Santino had run down their personal relationships and again there were more questions than answers.

If charges were brought an administration prosecution would be launched in the NYPD trial room and could result in dismissal. The NYPD trial room was actually a series of rooms located on the 4th floor of One Police Plaza.

"I hear he's filed an Article 78 with the New York Supreme Court?"

"Won't do him any good," Casoni remarked. He's as guilty as hell. Tons of evidence against him."

"Still?"

"I know," Casoni sighed. "It's the courts. Anything can happen."