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“We need to put something together that will knock Charlie Gates out of the polls,” said Ghost. “We need it to be solid, and we need it at that rally.”
“No, we need it before that rally. If we wait and do it then, things will already be out of control. I need the good guys on our side, and I don’t have a fucking clue who the good guys really are. How do I know which cops are with him or against him?”
“Maybe we go back and ask Wegman. He seemed like a solid kid, and he said his uncle was with the D.A.’s office. I’m going to bet that one or both know who can help us.”
“Most of the men we’ve met were APD, not sheriff’s office or state police. I wonder if they refused to be a part of his little band of merry men,” said Wilson.
“Only one way to know for sure,” said Gaspar. He dialed the number for Billy Wegman and waited.
“Wegman.”
“Billy, this is Gaspar.”
“Yes, sir. Nice to hear from y’all,” he laughed. “I heard you had an interesting visit. A few of the boys were pretty damn nervous about y’all bein’ here. I can tell you Charlie Gates has blown it off as not a big deal.”
“Good for Charlie,” frowned Gaspar. “Billy, why do you think he doesn’t have sheriff’s deputies or state police officers mixed in this?”
“He never had a good reputation as a cop. The sheriff’s office and state police tend to play nice with one another. Charlie always believed the APD was superior, and that earned him a hate badge.”
“Billy, we need you to hear something we have to say, but we’d love for your uncle to hear this, too. Are you near the D.A.’s office by any chance?”
“I can be. I’ll call you back in twenty minutes.”
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Billy returned their call via the teleconference system. Facing them was the same boyish face, but beside him was an older yet still boyish face.
“Fellas, this is my uncle, Carl Wegman, Assistant D.A.”
“Sir, it’s nice to meet you, although I don’t think you’re going to like us much when we’re done,” said Nine.
“If this gets Charlie Gates off the ballot and out of my hair, I’m going to love what you have to say.”
For the next fifty minutes, Nine and Gaspar took turns explaining what was happening with Charlie Gates and the boys from The Shield. With each statement, Carl scribbled on a notepad, frowning up at them, taking a deep breath, and then starting again.
“Right now, we have a couple of our folks undercover at Maison Soleil. We think they’ll have more information by the end of today for us. What we have to try and do is expose Gates before that speech in a few days, or Atlanta is going to have the worst riot in their history.
“Our challenge is that we have no way of knowing who the good cops are and who are the bad cops. We’d be just asking all the wrong people.”
“Actually, that’s easier than you might think. He never approaches anyone who isn’t within two years of retirement. He doesn’t want to risk somebody talking out of turn. That’s only going to be a handful of men right now. We already know the regulars at The Shield because we’ve been watching it for months now. We just didn’t have any listening devices on the inside.”
“We do,” smiled Nine.
“You do? What do you mean?” asked Wegman.
“When we were there a few days ago, my wife and I planted some devices around the place. We’ve been recording their conversations since that time,” said Nine.
“Anything we can use?”
“I think there’s a lot we can use, and we will, especially when it comes to his speech. We can stop the riot, but he’ll still want to deliver something to the general public proclaiming his innocence. We can intercept that with the truth, and the truth is ugly.”
“I’m scratching my head trying to figure out how this got so out of hand,” said Carl. “We knew this guy was creating issues years ago, yet no one would stop him.”
“No one like who?” asked Ghost, staring at the screen.
“I mean, like the mayor, the D.A., the chief, anyone. No one seemed to want to put a task force on this. The D.A. died about two months ago, and a new guy came in from Philadelphia. He’s been on a tear since then, and we’ve been making headway, but he’s also getting death threats, his car has been vandalized, hell, he even moved his wife and kids back to Philly for a while.”
“We can send security to him if he needs it,” said Ian.
“I’ll ask him. I know he’d trust all of you before he’d trust the department.” He rubbed his neck, shaking his head. “Listen, not all of these cops are bad. Just the ones that have joined Gates’ group. He really thinks he has it all figured out. I’m like you guys. Once these convicts get a taste of freedom and, worse, freedom without consequence, he’s going to have uncontrollable chaos on his hands.”
