Mercy Shall Be Shown Unto Them   Author's note: this story contains
language and scenes some may find offensive. The action within occurs more
or less concurrently, that is to say, if Ray does something at one end of
the country, Fraser is doing something roughly at the same time. The story
spans a period of roughly four months.
 
 Mercy Shall Be Shown Unto Them 

Herman
 Rated R   

 Blessed are the merciful; they shall have mercy shown on them.
 Matthew 5:10  

 The expected silence of the hospital was broken by a rush of victim-laden
stretchers and those who ran along side in marathon madness. Officer Dale
Lund tried to hold onto his saline bag but his frail, blood stained hands
could barely hold onto it. He looked pointlessly from side-to-side,
oblivious to the gaping gunshot wounds to his chest. More nurses joined
Dale's side as a formation of three police officers broke off and watched
helplessly as the emergency room tried to save his life. The other man on
the stretcher lay inert in his own blood. Doctor Ilene Carr cast a glance
on Dale and then onto the other man.

 "Four gunshot wounds, one in the cranium and three in the chest."

 "Treat Dale first." 

 Dr. Carr swiveled to the stern, green-eyed Italian who gave her the
order. 

 "Detective Vecchio, this man will die if I don't treat him." She brushed
away locks of auburn hair and fixed her glare on him. "If I ever have the
impertinence to take your badge, then you boss me around. You do your job
and I'll do mine."

 She rushed over to the second man and tended to him. 

 "I need more IV's now!" 

 A hand grasped Ray's shoulder and held him back. A hammy man with auburn
hair looked at him and Ray heeded the look like a warning. Ray watched
anxiously as the E.R. team worked to save the men. A third man to the left
of Ray lit up a cigarette. Ray brushed it out of his mouth. The man was
annoyed for a second but then was absorbed in anxiety. His brown eyes shut
as the both of them flatlined.

 Ray slammed his fist against the wall.

 "Dammit!"

 The auburn-haired man placed his hand again on Ray's shoulder. Ray
brushed it away.

 "Hey, come on, cool it, Vecchio!"
 Ray angrily pointed his finger at him.
 
 "Don't tell me to cool it, Bill! I want Carlotta dead!"

 Detective William Brown backed away from the mercurial Italian. The third
man lit up another cigarette, a coping cigarette. Dr. Carr took it from
his mouth and snapped it in half.

 "Smoking is bad for you, Solly," she breathed exhaustedly.

 

 Ray kept himself aloof from everyone at the dinner table. He sat at the
head of the table, where his father once sat, sprinkling Parmesan cheese
on his pasta and stirring it as his mother rambled breathlessly in Italian
beside him. Across from Ray, Bill and Detective Solly Goldwin picked at
their food. Bill wasn't particularly hungry and Solly was just fussy.

 "I don't know if I can eat all of this, Ray," Solly complained.

 "Shut up and eat," Ray commanded without lifting his head. "My mother
doesn't cook for ingrates."

 "But..." Solly tried to protest.
 
 "No buts," Ray warned.

 Solly threw up his hands and tried to pick at the food.

 The rest of the table's complement was nondescript. They just didn't say
anything. Cyfrin Vecchio ate her pasta as her nonna made it just for her.
Black curls rested on her small head. Her green eyes rolled under
half-closed lids. Scarcely three, she was bright and earnest and devoted
to her father. She pushed away her bowl and curled up to her father.
Weary, he instructed her to bother her cousin, Anna, the laconic
black-haired daughter of Fraser. She had been left behind in lieu of
Daniel, the new baby, being blessed by the village elder who had taken in
his father so long ago. She had experienced spurts of growth everywhere.
She was getting taller by the minute and her hair hung magnificently over
her shoulders.

 "Anna?" Ray called to her softly.

 She perked up her head and looked at him.

 "How are ya, kid?"

 Anna smiled.

 "Fine. I went to the consulate today to box with Turnbull. He says I'm
getting better."

 Ray raised a brow.

 "Who did you go with?"

 Anna bowed her head as if caught in a guilty secret.

 "I went by myself."

 Ray accusingly pointed his fork at her.

 "I told you not to go anywhere without a grown-up. What if something
happens? Then where will we be?"

 "Sorry, Ray," she mumbled.

 Ray smiled on her softly.

 "Just watch yourself, kid. That's all."

 Anna returned a smile and resumed eating.

 Bill looked around. Bess was missing. In fact, a great deal of Ray's
family was missing. This was not like the tight-knit family Bill was led
to believe that Ray had. He had to impose.

 "Where's Bess?"

 Ray did not look at him.

 "Bess is away with the kids," he replied with an air of sadness. "I had
her move out when things heated up here. After the Harrison bomb went
off."

 "But isn't Bess still pregnant?" Bill asked.

 "Yeah," Solly concurred. "The last time I saw her she was the size of a
boat."

 Ray bit his lip.

 "The last time you saw her she was just pregnant, Solly. And I moved her
and Rory out to Quebec. The twins were born there. Frannie has joined her
and she should be back soon."

 Bill nodded. He cast a glance to Cyfrin.

 "But she's still here."

 Ray looked at Cyfrin for a moment.
 "Cyfrin did not want to leave me," he explained. "Didn't you, Cyfrin?"

 She shook her little head no. Ray smiled a little at her. He remembered
the fight she put up to stay.
 Dammit, kid! You have to stay here with your mother!
 Cyfrin would not let go of him even if a hurricane forced by her.
 No, Daddy! Please, no! I want to stay with you and nonna! Please!

 Solly cleared his throat affectedly.

 "I think we should discuss why we're really here," he sullenly suggested.

 Ray dropped his fork purposefully and cast an angry glance at the errant
knave who upset the scene at the table. Anna stopped eating and focussed
all her attention on her angry host. Bill sat on edge.

 "Not here," he said. "Not now in front of my family," he waved his hand
about the table.

 Solly sipped some water and conceded to waiting.

 

 Dinner was over. Ray's mother left a tray with coffee in the sitting room
and left strangely quiet. Ray, Bill and Solly moved into the sitting room
and slumped into comfortable arm chairs. Cyfrin, with a stuffed lamb under
her arm, followed her father. Ray touched her head and motioned her out of
the room. He shut the glass French doors and drew the curtains. When he
sat down, he had a sense of being watched. He spun around and drew the
curtains. Cyfrin sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor and stared at him
through the doors. He sat back and tried to ignore her. He breathed once
and looked at the perpetual nervous wreck that was Solly.

 "Okay, Solly, what's bugging you?"

 Solly huffed incredulously. He pulled a cigarette out from his pocket and
the lighter was put to it. Ray pulled it from his lips and cautioned Solly
not to use it in his house.

 "I can't believe you asked that, Ray," Solly whined. "We are going to get
drafted into a friggin' war. The Feds, if not the brass of Chicago P.D.,
are going to ask us to bring Carlotta in."

 Ray shrugged at him.

 "Yeah. So?"

 Solly huffed again.

 "I don't want to die, Ray!"

 Ray's eyes rolled.

 "Solly, you sound like an old woman!" Ray scolded him. "Firstly, we have
not yet been called in. Secondly, even if we are, keep in mind that we are
professionals. We go in, pop the Carlottas, go home." He looked around the
room for consensus. "Is there anything I missed?"

 Bill sat up.

 "Ray, I think you're not getting the gist of what Solly's saying. The
both of us have been on loan from the thirty-third precinct and for good
reason. We both have experience in dealing with the mob. The presence of
the Feds should be setting off alarms in your head."

 Ray's eyes rolled again.

 "I'm not saying that we won't go in, Bill..."

 "Good, then. Now listen, Ray," Bill implored, "this isn't a mickey-mouse
drug bust. We go in, we take no prisoners, show no conscience because no
one will show any to us. You get me?"

 Ray understood.

 "It is our job. We shut up and do it."

 "You're not getting through to him," Solly slapped his hand on his head.

 Ray stood and glared at them.

 "For the love of God, you guys! Are you cops or aren't you? This is what
you signed up for when they handed you the badge."

 "Ray, we just don't pop one of the biggest cartels and go home!" Bill
yelled back. "Don't you see the risk in it all? We may never come back."

 "Screw the risk! It is our job to bring scum like him in! That's what
we're paid to do!"

 Bill met his height.

 "What about Dale tonight? And Rick, Sam? Didn't they get paid too? Ray,
you've moved half of your family away from here. Doesn't that tell you
something?"

 Ray's eyes bulged from their sockets.

 "You leave my family out of this," Ray warned.

 Bill backed off.

 "I say we keep our heads screwed on, Ray," Bill came back. "It may be our
job to take down people like Carlotta but it comes with a price. Don't
forget that."

 Ray kept still.

 Bill and Solly exited the room. They pat Cyfrin on the head gently and
wished her good night. Ray veered her way. Cyfrin had waited diligently
for her father.

 "Can I come in now?"

 Ray picked her up and perched her on his lap. He held her and listened to
her endless stories of the day. His eyes wandered vacantly and he let his
consciousness float on the sound of Cyfrin's voice.

 

 Ray felt different now. Evening was dawning and he was home earlier than
he normally was. He shut the door of his home, let the keys jangle off of
his index finger. His shoulders caved in slightly. Despite his
indifference to duty, a nagging feeling of trepidation tugged at the
corner of his mind. The call to infiltration had come. He, Bill and Solly
would go in.

 "In and out," he said to himself.

 

 Ray tossed in a few items, moot to the undercover world. The really
important stuff lay hidden in the false bottom of his suitcase. Cyfrin
pecked at a folded handkerchief. She crept silently throughout the house
like a shadow. Ray took the handkerchief from her and sat her down on his
lap.

 "Cyfrina?"

 He tried to look in her eyes as she coyly avoided them.

 "Cyfrin, look, I have to go away," he explained.

 She looked up at him.

 "Where?"

 "I can't say where. I have to go to another city and pretend I'm someone
else."

 Why?"

 "To catch a bad guy."
 Cyfrin's eyes became full of meaning.

 "But I don't want you to go."

 Ray measured the vibrato in her voice.

 "But I have to. A very bad man is out there and Daddy has to put him in
jail so he won't hurt people anymore." He brushed her hair from her
forehead. "I don't want to leave you but I really have to. I have no
choice."

 Cyfrin steeled herself.

 "When you catch him, will you come back?"

 Ray brushed her back and smiled slightly.

 "Yes, I will. I will never go away again. I promise."

 Cyfrin looked vaguely understanding. She got off his lap. She cupped his
face in her tiny hands.

 "You'd better come home."

 Ray laughed at her dire warning.

 "I will, Cyfrina."

 

 Midnight. Cyfrin was asleep on Ray's bed. He would not use it. Instead,
he picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number. 

 "Hello."

 Ray relished the gentle cadences in Bess' voice. The background was
utterly noiseless, a quiet that was domestic and reassuring to Ray.

 "Hi."

 Bess smiled when she heard Ray's voice.

 "Hello, Ray. Odd time for you to telephone."

 Ray nodded.

 "Yeah, I seem to pick funny times for a lot of things."
 "I don't mind, Ray," she consoled him. "How are you?"

 "Fine, great. How are the twins?"

 "They are well," Bess said, "but they're sleeping now."

 "That's a good sign."

 Ray could hear Bess smile, the gentle curve of her lips.

 "How is Cyfrin?"

 "She's great," Ray answered looking at his sleeping daughter. "Sound
asleep."

 "At this time I hope she would be," Bess expected.

 Ray swallowed.

 "Bess, I have to go in."

 Silence.

 It was anticipated but never dwelt on.

 "For how long?"

 "A few months," Ray answered. "I don't know. I can't say much about it."

 "Yes, I expected as much."

 Bess breathed in.

 "Elizabeth."

 Ray paused.

 "I love you. I wanted you to know that."

 "Tell me something I don't know, Ray."

 "Elizabeth, I wanted to tell you that in case..."

 "Ray, please don't..." she pleaded.

 "Bessie, I want to. If I don't come back..."
 "But you will."

 Ray stopped. He strained to hear her breathe, the receiver against her
cheek, the lost locks of jet hair caught on the telephone. Instead, he
could hear the smile. He could feel the smile.

 "Ray, you will tell me that again."

 Ray nodded.

 "Yeah." He paused for memory. "Io te do mio amore."

 Ray hung up. He sensed that Bess hesitated before she broke the
connection. He stiffened his lip again. 

 "She's a tough broad," he said and shut his suitcase, not after kissing
his daughter one more time. 

  

 

 "Ray, why are you telephoning me?"

 Ray laughed at Fraser. His naivety was cute and comforting at the same
time.

 "Benny, I'm your friend." Ray swallowed an obstruction. "That's what
friends do- they keep in touch."

 Fraser nodded as he was perched upon the telephone pole.

 "Ray, is everything all right?"

 Ray stopped for desperate breath.

 "Yeah, Benny," he lied. "Everything's fine. See you around."

 Ray hung up the telephone, gave a last nod to Walsh who waited in the
shadows and swung a set of keys before a scrawny blond man.

 "You treat her like a baby," Ray warned.

 "She's my bitch, now, Vecchio," the man curved is mouth into a devilish
smile. "Don't worry- I'll treat her nice."

 Ray frowned. That's what he was worried about.

 

 Sarah Goldwin always stayed up for a late night cup of coffee. Oddly
enough, it kept her well-rested for the morning. Solly never understood it
but he abided by the laws that Sarah set for herself as opposed to the
laws of physics that everyone else lived by. She lifted her head from the
steaming cup of coffee. Solly marked the delicate features on her tanned
face. Even in the dim light, he could still see her beautiful face.

 "Will you keep warm?"

 Her voice was shaky.

 "You sound like my mother," he chuckled.

 The levity was not accepted by Sarah. Solly got up from the end of the
table and put his 
 arm around her.

 "Look, I go in and out," he tried to mimic Ray's confidence.

 Sarah fell into his arms.

 "Will you sing Ella for me?" Solly asked.

 Her brown eyes glazed over him.

 "That always makes me fell better," he explained.

 Sarah rose and hummed Ella Fitzgerald in his ear. Solly was not afraid
now. 

  

Bill shuffled the opened letters and placed them in his desk drawer. He
picked up the container of fish food and sprinkled the crumbs on the
surface of the aquarium. He paused. Screwing the lid on, he stubbornly
shuffled the container away. 

 "Ah, screw it! You'll be dead when I get back anyway!" 

 He shut off the light and left his goldfish to their own devices. 

  

 

 Ray pulled up the front porch of Solly's house. He looked at his watch.
It was one in the morning. He got out of the car and walked to Solly who
waited for him on the inside. A lithe woman holding a drowsy child joined
him.

 "You're early, Ray," Solly noted.

 "Yeah," Ray nodded. He waved to Sarah and peered at the child.

 "Is that Moe?" he quizzed and esteemed the child. "Wow! He's big!"
 Sarah held her son in esteem.

 "He wakes up whenever Solly is up," she revealed. "He will be cranky
tomorrow."

 Solly smiled. He kissed his wife and son and got into the car. Ray turned
to follow him. Sarah grabbed his arm.

 "You'll watch him, won't you? Like, watch each others' backs. That sort
of thing?"

 Ray faced her. Her eyes were wide and waited for an answer. 

 "Don't worry, Sarah. Things will be all right." 

 She huffed. 

 "Yes. Everybody says things will be all right but I've heard that all
before." 

 "That's all I can tell you, Sarah," Ray apologized.

 Sarah bowed her head.

 "Just bring him back to me. That's all I want."

 Ray nodded.

 "See you soon, Sarah." 

  

Vittorio Carlotta loved Miami. It was perpetually sunny. His family loved
it. Both of his families. 

 A stocky, broad-shouldered man entered the room.

 "Are you ready, Vito?"

 Carlotta looked at his younger brother, Luca. Luca always had a sunny
disposition even when he was serious. The perfect uncle and the perfect
bookkeeper. A woman walked into the room and placed a bunch of roses
before Carlotta.

 Carlotta cleft a rose between his forefinger and thumb and sniffed it.
His wife, Gianna, cut the stem and placed the bud in his lapel. She was a
short, austere-looking Italian woman who smiled infrequently. She dusted
his shoulders, opened the french doors and led him to the men who waited
for him patiently.

 Jimmy Carlotta kept a straight face when his uncle approached. The wiry,
young man pushed a chair apart and invited the patriarch to sit before
them.

 "These men are from the east side," he explained. "The indispensable
kind."

 Carlotta nodded and scrutinized them.

 "This is Angelo Valeri," he addressed Ray.

 Carlotta locked eyes on him.

 "You are from the east side, my nephew tells me."

 "Yeah, that's true."

 Carlotta nodded.

 "You know how to kill?"

 Ray smirked.

 "You didn't bring me here for a tea party."

 Jimmy cleared his throat.

 "This is Marten Dugan, a very handy man, and Charlie Thumbs," he pointed
to Bill and Solly.

 Carlotta raised a curious brow.

 "Why do they call you Charlie Thumbs?"

 "It's a family name," Solly answered.

 Carlotta laughed.

 "I like a sense of humour," he revealed to the quietly tense men. He
stood with his back to them. He gazed at the swaying palm trees. "I
haven't found much time for humour since my Vincenzio died." His voice was
soft. He faced them like a Napoleon, stern gray eyes under a cuff of
swept-back graying hair. "You know why you are here and what I expect of
you. If you cannot be loyal to me, there will be a way out that I think
you won't want to take."

 They made no gesture or sound but were all in agreement.

 Carlotta sat down. A man came in and stood beside Carlotta. He leaned
over and whispered in his ear. He was tall and blond with discerning blue
eyes. He reminded the men of Michelangelo's David.

 "This is my consielliere, Wallis Crawford. I trust him with my life, as
should you."

 Ray's brow furrowed. Distrust gripped his core. Wallis likewise seemed
distant from the three new men.

 "Who are these men?" he asked Carlotta. "I've never met them."

 "These men are handpicked by my nephew," Carlotta explained calmly. "They
will serve me well against the Fanuccis."

 Wallis crouched beside the seated Carlotta.

 "I was not informed..."

 Carlotta glared at him.

 "I have trust in them, Wallis. And I decide their fates, not you."

 "I am your consielliere, Vittorio. I am merely doing my job."

 Carlotta smiled gently and patted the man on the shoulder.

 "I know, and I thank you for it. But let me do my job, Wallis."

 He stood and faced Ray.

 "Will you be loyal to me?" he asked.

 Ray made no sound. He picked up the man's hand and kissed his signet
ring. Carlotta kept still at first. The new man had shown such filial
loyalty to him. Carlotta pulled Ray to him and planted kisses on either
sides of Ray's face.

 "This is the loyalty I want."

 Luca smiled too.

 "Good kid," he grinned and left the room with Jimmy.

 Carlotta turned to leave. Wallis grimaced at Ray. Bill neared Ray,
whispering when the men were gone.

 "I think he likes you."

 "Get away from me." 

  

Constable Benton Fraser felt that God was in His heaven and all was right
with the world. He stood tall in O'Hare International Airport. The world
was a great place to be in. 

 Elaine lugged her dufflebag and let out a puff of air.

 "Ben, will you restrain Danny before he runs loose on us forever?!"

 Reclaiming the thin veil of reality, Fraser chased around a very
ambulatory one-and-a-half year old before he disappeared on the baggage
carousel. He pacified his anxious son and exchanged with Elaine him for
the luggage.

 Turnbull veered around the luggage carousel and relieved Elaine of her
dufflebag.

 "Turnbull!" she cried out in surprise.

 The tall, young man smiled at her amiably.

 "I see you've had a good flight," he noted.

 "Such as it was," she breathed.

 "And the ceremony?"

 Elaine screwed up her face.

 "It was the weirdest damn thing," she scratched her head. "Are they
supposed to chant so much?"

 Turnbull nodded.

 "After that, no harm will come to Daniel. The spirits will see to that."

 Anna snuck around the carousel and veered to Elaine. She pounced and
hugged her stepmother.

 "Anna!" Elaine cried and returned the embrace. She lifted Anna's head and
examined her teeth. "I trust you flossed?"

 "Yes," Anna lied and hugged Elaine again.

 Fraser let his luggage fall when he spied Anna. He lifted the girl up and
embraced her.

 "I missed you, Anna," he admitted and held her.

 He let her down and regarded her. She had grown taller, he could swear
it. Her hair was abundant. She swept it back with great difficulty.

 "I trust you behaved yourself?" Fraser warned her.

 "Yes," she nodded. "Turnbull said my uppercut has improved."

 Fraser smiled and scuffed her hair.

 "Tell me, Anna, why didn't Ray come to get me? Do you know?"

 "I don't know," she avoided her father's eyes.

 Fraser found his daughter's elusiveness odd.

 "Anna, is there something you're not telling me?"

 Anna looked up to avoid suspicion.

 "No," she replied quickly. "Let's go see Uncle Ray," she urged with a
hint of trepidation in her voice.

 

 The twenty-seventh precinct offered no portent to Anna's evasiveness.
Everything was as Fraser had left it. He climbed to the squad room. Fraser
snuck around the corner to surprise Ray. It was rather silly, very much
like when he peered through the balustrades of the old Fraser cabin on
Christmas Eve as a child, but he was rapt with a joy of seeing his friend
again. Nearly a month was too long to be away from Ray.

 "Ray!" he called out.

 No one sat at his desk. The smile disappeared from Fraser's face. He
approached Huey, the sole officer in the squad room.

 "Excuse me, Detective Hughes? Where is Detective Vecchio?"

 "Uh, lunch room," he fumbled and continued to talk to the old man at his
desk.

 Fraser went to the lunch room. No Ray. He went around again. Ray was
gone. The subtle hint in his voice when they spoke on the telephone should
have told him something but Fraser had not expected this. He went over to
the desk again.

 "Fraser!"
 A tall, scrawny blond man walked over to Fraser and hugged him.

 "Hey! How was your trip in the Northwest Area?"

 "Uh, Territories," Fraser corrected. 

 The man smirked as Fraser corrected him.

 "Excuse me but who are you?"

 The man laughed.

 "Ah, come on, Benny! You know who I am! I'm Ray."

 Fraser shook his head.

 "Excuse me, I think there is a mistake. I am looking for Detective
Raymond Vecchio, detective first grade, Chicago Police Department, Area
Seven..."

 The man produced an I.D. badge proving he was who he claimed he was.

 "Detective Raymond Vecchio, detective first grade..." 

 Fraser looked at the ID badge incredulously. This man could not be Ray.
Could he? 

 Fraser was at a loss for words. Why was this man claiming to be Ray when
he clearly was not? The telephone rang and the mysterious man answered it.
His face went pale.

 "Someone's trying to torch my house!"

 Fraser and the man bolted out to the parking lot.

 "Don't tell me you drive a 1971 Buick Riviera!" Fraser exclaimed.

 "The one and only!" the man cried back.

 They raced down to the burning house.

 "You were supposed to cut through here," Fraser corrected the man.

 "No I'm not and don't sideseat drive!"

 Fraser swallowed a lump in his throat.

 "If you were really Ray then you would..."
 The man cut him off impatiently.

 "Hey, I am the same Ray I always was!" He cooled down. "So how's
uh...little...boy?"

 Fraser furrowed his brow.

 "You mean my son?"

 He laughed.

 "Yeah. Little..."

 Fraser smirked. He had him.

 "You mean to tell me you don't know my son's name? He is your godson
after all."

 The man scowled.

 "Of course I know his name. It's Little....Terence."

 "No," Fraser shook his head.

 "Frank."

 "No."

 "Joey, Robert, Brandon, Dylan, Dennis, Nick, Bryan, Steve, Emile?"

 That one threw Fraser.

 "I know! It's Boris!"

 "You don't know my son's name because you are not Raymond Vecchio."

 The man laughed again but this time with a nervous lilt in his voice. 

 "I know your son's name all right," he faltered. "I'm simply toying with
you." The man breathed with difficulty. "The baby's name is..." He thought
for a minute. "Dan..." 

 Fraser huffed. It was a lucky guess. His annoyance was lost when he saw
the Vecchio homestead in flames. Whoever sat beside him in the Riviera was
now possessed with the sole concern of finding out why and who. 

  

Ray slipped his sunglasses on and waited. He was used to waiting, as was
Bill.
 "So this guy likes to wear red, am I right?" Bill asked. 

 "Yeah," Ray ascertained.

 "And we have to scare the shit out of him, right?"

 "That's what Don Carlotta wants," Ray nodded. 

 Bill swiveled his head to him. Don? 

 "Look, don't stare at me, okay!" Ray blurted out exasperatedly. "We've
got to be natural."

 Bill shrugged it off.

 Solly leaned over the back seat.

 "Do we have to pummel him?" he whined.

 Bill raised his brows. Ray let out an angry puff of air.

 "Look, Charlie- you have to start earning your name or I'm going to
pummel ya."

 Solly skulked in the backseat at Ray's sharp reprimand.

 "There he is," Bill pointed out.

 A slender man in a scarlet leisure suit exited the pawn shop he had just
frequented and proceeded down the street oblivious to the attention
surreptitiously being paid to him. Ray and Solly got out of the car. Bill
followed close by. Ray put his hand on the man in red's shoulder and
pushed him into an alley way. Bill blocked the alley way so that it would
be difficult for anyone to escape.

 "Hi there, Reynaldo," Ray addressed the man.

 "What do you guys want?" he asked nervously.

 "It's not what we want but what Don Carlotta wants," Ray explained.

 "You owe him some money," Solly added. "It would be in your interest to
pay it back."

 The man trembled.

 "Hey, I'll pay it back," he promised.

 "When?"

 "Tomorrow."

 Ray raised his brow.

 "How about tonight."

 The shrugged his shoulders.

 "I can't..." 

 "You will." Ray pounded the man's ribs. "Because you wouldn't want anyone
to punch those sore ribs of yours, now would you?" 

 The man doubled over and wheezed. He nodded weakly. Ray then deemed it
safe to say that the man would repay his debt. 

  

Ray stood before Carlotta. The late afternoon clouds promised heavy rains
despite the sunshine that was prevalent in the morning. But hidden in his
dark office, where most of his business was conducted, Carlotta did not
pay much notice. Wallis leaned further in the shadows in contempt of the
protg to whom Carlotta had extended his hand. 

 "You'll have the money by tonight, Don," Ray promised.

 "Good," the man nodded. He motioned Wallis. "Give him the money."

 Wallis reluctantly moved to a safe and pulled out a bundle of cash. He
handed it to Ray.

 "Now after he repays his debt, Angelo, I want you to make Gomez disappear
for good. Do you understand?"

 Ray nodded.

 Carlotta smiled.

 "You are dismissed, Angelo."

 Ray left the office. Wallis leaned over to Carlotta.

 "How do you know we can trust him?"

 Carlotta joined his fingers together, his gray eyes staring before him
vapidly.

 "We shall know tonight, won't we?"

 Carlotta patted the doubting Wallis' shoulder.

 "Patience, consielliere. Patience."

 

 Fraser sat at the table after lunch. A rush of blood flooded to his head
and made him lethargic. He pushed the empty teacup from him and thought
for a minute. Whoever torched Ray's home had some sort of resentment to
say the least. But who? This was an old foe, someone who had built up
their rage and hatred for a long time. Fraser scoured his memory for the
case. It baffled him. Furthermore, the man who claimed to be Ray still
puzzled him. Fraser could not entirely feel he could trust him. And the
other officers at the precinct? Why did they pretend to know this man? A
knock at the door disturbed his train of thought. Ray, maybe. Elaine
answered the door. Fraser wondered if she would recognize him.

 "Ray!" she cried.

 The blond man entered and spied Daniel on the floor toying with
Diefenbaker's head.

 "Wow, he looks a lot like you, Elaine," he commented and turned his
attentions to Fraser.

 Fraser felt spurned. His own wife turned against him. Anna pounced out of
her room. At last, Fraser thought, his own daughter would not betray him.
She hesitated when she saw the false Ray. She cast a cautious look at her
father and then leapt into the man's arms.

 "Uncle Ray!"

 Fraser no longer had the feeling of being toyed with but betrayal.

 "Let's go, Benny."

 Fraser took up his jacket and proceeded to walk out the door. He paused
and looked at Anna. She seemed guilty.

 "Anna?"

 Her eyes were limp.

 "It's a secret," she whispered.

 Elaine took her hand and pulled her away.

 "Phone if you're going to be late," Elaine smiled and shut the door on
Fraser's face. 

  

Ray primed his .45 Magnum and walked furtively out the door. Carlotta's
youngest sons jerked off in the other room. School books were neglected. 

 "Hey!"

 The nine-year-old and the six-year-old stopped in their tracks and looked
at Ray with a sense of rebuke.

 "That math homework's not gonna get done by itself," Ray pointed out.

 The two boys nodded and went back to their homework. Ray started off
again. A laugh 
 pierced the stark white hall. Ray turned around. Luca's solid form
jiggled with laughter.

 "You're a piece of work, Angelo!"

 Ray smiled.

 "Yeah," he nodded, "I like them."

 "Who doesn't?" Luca slapped him on the shoulder. "Those kids are my
life." Luca 
 paused. "Why didn't you get married, Ange?"

 Ray scoffed at the impertinent question.

 "Why didn't you?"

 Luca chuckled and slugged Ray playfully.

 "Ya got a cheek on ya, kid."

 Ray became serious. Luca was the Uncle Lorenzo of the operation. His
charm, his honesty, his fervour for life all reminded Ray of everything he
missed in his family. Luca was more than a hood's bookkeeper. He possessed
the capacity for benevolence as every uncle should. Why was he here?

 "Luca, why are you here?"

 "Oh, I just came to get an apple from the kitchen and I heard the kids
playing," Luca explained.

 Ray was stumped. That was not the answer he had hoped for but was
grateful that Luca did grasp his full meaning. 

 "I've got some stuff to do," Ray apologized and made his exit of the
lavish Carlotta home. 

  

 Fraser knocked on Lieutenant Walsh's office with a bundle of overwhelming
evidence that the scrawny blond man parading around as Detective Ray
Vecchio was not actually Detective Ray Vecchio.

 "Sir, if you'll allow me a moment of your time, I shall prove to you that
the man out there is not who he claims to be. I have taken his
fingerprints and a clay cast of his teeth..."

 Walsh smiled pleasantly and waved his hand to the ingenuous Mountie. He
motioned the young man closer. Fraser leaned closer to Walsh.

 "He's not Vecchio, Fraser. I've been trying to tell you that all day.
Look- all you need to know is that Vecchio has gone under cover, deep
under cover. This comes from the top. I can't tell you any more than
that."

 Fraser nodded. He composed his face to an expression of comprehension.
Ray had been sent on assignment. It was his duty as a law-officer to
apprehend those who believed themselves to be above the law and Fraser, as
a law-officer himself, was big enough to know what that entailed and how
he should react to it. But within his core, he did not react as the stoic
Mounted policeman he was bred to be.

 

 The night was crisp and lacked the movement under its shadowy skin
typical of the Windy City. A lone apartment on the west side housed a
couple conjunctive to the soul of the other. 

 Fraser paced the living room while Elaine waited placidly to soothe her
unusually tense husband.

 "Gone. Like that. This assignment could be his last."

 Elaine reclined on the couch brushing back the flowing mane of black hair
that fell to her face. She inhaled softly.

 "Ben."

 "Why didn't he tell me?" Fraser continued. "He could have told me. Why
didn't he? You could have told me! Leading me around like that!"

 She shrugged.

 "Ben."

 Fraser shook his finger at Elaine.

 "It might have been possible to give me a slight hint. I should have
detected it in his voice..."
 "Ben, sit down."

 Fraser obediently slumped down next to Elaine. She placed her hand on his
face.

 "Know this- he can look after himself and he will come back."

 Fraser pouted. It was a genuine pout, the only one he was capable of
expressing. Elaine was moved beyond words when she saw this. For a man
accustomed to solitude, the brutal Arctic elements, rigid ethical codes
and seeing the good in everyone, he was lost in the web of concern for
those who had clung close to him.

 Elaine allowed Fraser's head to fall on her shoulder. His blue eyes
became glassy. Elaine sighed. She had often thought she had two children
at her breast. One, a mere babe in arms; the other, a grown man with the
eyes of a child earnest in worry and attacked by fears which could only be
allayed by her soothing touch. 

 "You won't lose him," she promised. 

  

 

 Ray pulled up to the driveway, the long gravel road lined with cypress
trees that led up to the Carlotta mansion. The porch light was on. He
stopped the car and stepped out. Bill was waiting for him.

 "Carlotta wants to know why you're late," he offered nervously. 

 "Relax, Bill," Ray uttered quietly. He produced a bloodstained
handkerchief from his jacket. "I had a little a bit of trouble making our
'problem' disappear." 

 Bill gaped in horror at Ray.

 "What the hell did you do to Gomez?"

 Ray scoffed at Bill.

 "Let's just say you won't be seeing him around for a while."

 Ray unrumpled the handkerchief. In the centre, a large molar lay
coagulated with blood. He glazed over Bill's resigned face.

 "It's a job." 

  

Carlotta examined the molar Ray had pulled out of Gomez's head. 

 "He is gone forever?"
 Ray would not lie to him.

 "You could say that, yeah."

 "Very well."

 Carlotta dismissed Ray. He called him back.

 "Angelo?"

 Ray turned to Carlotta. Carlotta smile softly.

 "You have my trust."

 Ray smiled a little.

 "Thank you, Don. I am touched that you believe in me."

 Carlotta motioned him over to the desk. Carlotta pulled out a small photo
album out of the top drawer. He opened a few leaves of photographs and
stopped at one in particular. A young woman in a wedding dress stood next
to a man whom Ray took to be her brother. Actually, Ray knew the man well.
He was gaunt with a buzzcut and deep brown eyes. Carlotta rested his hands
on the photograph.

 "This was my Vincenzio."

 Ray knew him very well. He began to know him more as he measured the
sadness in Carlotta's voice.

 "He was my top soldier..." Carlotta's lip quivered. "My very own heart."

 Carlotta's eyes wandered in the distance.

 "He was killed by the police in Chicago..." 

 Ray did not move. He couldn't. He knew about Vincenzio's fate better than
the old man did.  

Dale was gunned down. He flailed helplessly like a fish out of water. The
man who stood over him had emptied the remainder of shells from his
nine-millimetre into the young police officer. He screamed at him
defiantly. 
 "Fucking pig! You're not taking me alive!"
 Ray peered from the shadows. Vinnie never said a truer thing. He jumped
from the shadows and planted three shots into Vinnie's chest and one into
his head. He did not say anything before he was shot. He was not even
aware that Ray was behind him.	

"I'm sorry, Don Carlotta." 

 Carlotta touched Ray's hand.

 "You didn't shoot him, Angelo." 

 Ray bit on his lip. Carlotta swiveled to him and examined his face. 

 "You remind me of my son," he touched Ray's face. Carlotta stood. Ray
tried to back away but Carlotta's hands still enveloped his face.

 "Promise me you won't betray me, Angelo."

 Ray could not answer. What could he say? I will not betray you for the
next three months or until the D.A. decides they have enough evidence to
put you away? I will betray you someday because you had fellow officers
killed and separated me from my wife and children? No, Don, I will not
betray you. I will forsake my duty and my soul for you?

 "I want to hear it, Angelo," Carlotta waited for Ray's answer.

 "Don, I will not hurt you."

 Ray felt safe with that ambiguous answer. He would betray him, yes but
not hurt the old man. The law required him to turn in Carlotta and the
entire cartel. Emotion required him to be gentle in all his dealings with
him. Don was a father to his men. Ray understood that now.

 Carlotta searched Ray's green eyes for meaning. He released his grip from
Ray's face. 
 He placed his hand into the tableau drawer.

 "I would like you to be don someday," Carlotta said. "But if you were to
ever betray me," Carlotta gripped Ray's face again and held a
semiautomatic just below his right eye, "I would kill you as surely as I
would the man who murdered my own son."

 Ray tried not to tremble. The cold steel of the semiautomatic was more
than frighteningly real for Ray. The dangers of the mission were now
apparent. It was as though Carlotta had forgotten his filial piety and was
ready to end Ray's life. After all, he would betray him.

 Ray's eyes tried to look into Carlotta's eyes. Carlotta released his grip
and embraced Ray. He let the young man's head rest on his shoulder. He
held Ray for an immeasurable amount of time.

 "Don?" Ray uttered shakily.

 Carlotta pulled him up and rattled his head.

 "Get some sleep, Angelo," Carlotta smiled.

 Ray nodded and went quietly to his room. 

  

Ray propped his head up with his hands. He was not particularly tired.
Gomez was gone, both Bill and Wallis frowned on him, as though they did
not trust him, and Carlotta.... He tried to brush the thought of the man
from his mind. Tonight he was frightened of him. Not that the man was the
most powerful man on the eastern seaboard and could have anyone killed at
a given moment but that the trust he put into Ray bore with it a
mortality. Betrayal would kill the man's heart and have Ray shot to pieces
and left in the ditch somewhere. He did not want to betray Carlotta. He
knew he would have to but for once Ray felt wrong about crossing the mob.
Carlotta had treated him like a son. Ray began to feel he was like a son
to Carlotta. Carlotta believed so. 

 The grating of gravel disturbed Ray. A car pulled up on the driveway. Ray
peered at the lone car in the darkness of his room. A slender teen-age
girl stepped out. Ray surmised it was Chiara, Carlotta's daughter. It was
one o'clock in the morning. Ray knew, as well as Chiara, that she should
not be out so late, particularly with a boy but she was a little willful.
Ray smiled. She was just a kid, he thought. Let her have her fun. 

 "No, I can't," Chiara said to the shadow in the car.

 Ray's brow furrowed. A hand gripped her wrist.

 "No, really. I'll get in trouble. I don't want to," the girl pleaded.

 Ray tiptoed downstairs. He put shoes on his feet and watched the scene
from the frosted window looking onto the porch.

 "I said get in the car!"

 A teen-age boy pulled Chiara into the car.

 Ray stormed out of the house and strode to the car. He kicked the
driver's side window out and dragged the boy out of the car. He threw him
on the hood and punched him in the jaw. Ray yanked his hair and shook him.

 "If you touch her again, I'll cave your fucking head in!"

 Ray threw him back and the boy drove away. Ray turned to Chiara. She
shook.

 "You're one of Dad's goons," she supposed.

 "Yeah."

 Chiara struggled for breath.

 "You're not going to tell my mom and dad, are you?"

 Ray looked at the girl huddled in the dark. She was scared more than
anything.

 "Naah." He smiled a little. "Just go in, Chiara." Ray felt the father
rise within him. He would never let Cyfrin get away with a boy like that.
"Hey, Chiara?"

 She turned to him.

 "Yeah?"

 "Don't hang out with boys like that," he offered gently. "They only think
of one thing."

 Chiara smiled at the mild warning and went in to bed.

 

 Ray had woken up late. It was not normal of him. He supposed the lack of
sleep until the wee hours of the morning is what did it for him. He poured
some cereal into a bowl. Gianna was in the kitchen preparing some pasta
sauce. She tore off bunches of fresh basil. It was a quiet morning. The
sun shone bleakly past ebbing rain clouds. Gianna turned from the kitchen
counter and cast a look on Ray. He put spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth.
He felt uncomfortable with her for some reason. Perhaps it was because his
mission was to put her husband in jail. It would not be wise to form a
relationship with her.

 "What time did Chiara come home?"

 Ray stopped eating. He was as a rabbit caught in the headlights of an
oncoming car.

 "I don't know," he lied and continued eating. "I wouldn't know."

 "That is not true, Angelo. I heard you." Gianna tore more basil apart.
"You were yelling at someone."

 Ray was caught. He lay his hands on the table.

 "Look, Mrs. Carlotta, don't yell at Chiara. She's just a kid. I know it
isn't my place to say.."

 "You're right," she agreed. "It isn't your place, but still."

 She sat next to Ray.

 "You are good with my children, Angelo."
 Ray was touched by her confession.

 "I always see you playing with Alfredo and Joey used to be a troublemaker
before you came." She held Ray's chin. "He's in line because of you."

 Ray smiled wistfully. Joey reminded him a little of Rory, his stepson.
Rory was a right little bastard who constantly challenged him but Ray was
secretly fond of the boy.

 Gianna smiled gently.

 "I do hope you stay, Angelo. I enjoy having you here."

 Gianna stood and touched Ray's face.

 "Mio figlo."

 He held the stern woman's gentle touch. 

 "Mia mama."
 

  

  

 Ray washed the bowl he had used and placed it on the dishrack. He dried
his hands on the dishtowel and looked at the olive-skinned man who glared
at him.

 "What do you want, Pop?"

 The grim-looking Italian paced toward Ray and pointed at him.

 "You are a disgrace to your family."

 Ray scoffed at Carmine Vecchio, the shade of his deceased father.

 "Like I haven't heard that before."

 Carmine became more grim.

 "You abandon your family for them?!" he waved his arm toward the phantom
family Ray had embraced.

 Ray looked at the shade of his deceased father.

 "Don't even start this!" he cried back. "You've never been a father to
me. Ever."

 "I'm not here to talk about what I did or didn't do as a father, Ray,"
the shade countered. 

 "I will pay for that in my own time. I'm here to remind you of the only
thing I've ever pressed into you. You do not abandon your family for
anybody! Nobody is more important than your own flesh and blood."

 "I'm not even going to listen to this," Ray refused Carmine and strode
out of the kitchen.

 "Tell me this, Raymond, " his father called out, "if they are your family
now, how will they feel when you turn them in? That's what you have to do,
you know. You're a cop. Cops always arrest people."

 Ray stopped in his tracks. He faced his father.

 "Me being a cop has nothing to do with this, Pop. This has to do with me
being in a family for a change. Don Carlotta treats me better than you
ever did." Ray swallowed with both difficulty and certainty. "I'd go to
hell for him."

 "You may very well do that, Raymond," Carmine said. 

  

Stan and Fraser landed with a thud into the convertible that collected
dust in the abandoned garage. His new partner's name was Stan, Stanley
Kowalski, in fact, a detail Fraser learned quickly not to question.
Diefenbaker stood on two paws and looked at the human wreckage as they
extricated themselves from the canvas in the backseat. Managing to finally
get out, they dusted themselves off . Fraser looked at the Mountie uniform
Stan had donned for the surreptitious jaunt outside the consulate. He
smiled quietly to himself. 

 "What?" Stan shot out.

 "Nothing," Fraser shook his head.

 "No, Benny," Stan countered, "you were laughing at me. Well this your
freakin' uniform and you can stuff it if you think it's so damn funny!"

 Fraser still found it funny.

 "Madder than a tormented muskox," Fraser called to him.

 Stan stopped in his tracks.

 "What the hell is that?"

 "A muskox, ovibus moschatus properly, is a large, hairy mammal with
horns, a relative of the antelope, and occupies northern Canada and
Greenland."

 Stan nodded at the explanation. 
 "They are creatures not to be trifled with," Fraser added with an air of
seriousness.

 Stan nodded again and shook his finger menacingly at the Mountie. 

 "Yeah, that's right, Benny. I'm not to be trifled with."

 Stan smirked believing he had won a victory. Fraser smiled. He still had
so much to learn.

 

 Carlotta had a private dining room in La Casa della Rosa. It was a
culinary refuge for he and his men when they were away on business in Las
Vegas. Carlotta joked that the food was the closest he had tasted to his
own wife's cooking. He settled the men around the table after an afternoon
of hard work. The casino the Fanuccis ran would be permanently out of
business. That afternoon's escapade was enough to put Carlotta away for
racketeering, Bill thought to himself. He assembled along with Ray and
Solly around the table.

 A waiter quietly placed plates of pasta before the starving men. Ray dug
in. He was positively famished. Solly tried to eat. For some reason, he
did not like Italian food. It was too rich or too filling or whatever
reason he could come up with.

 Carlotta lifted his head. He rose to greet the man who just entered the
private dining room. Ray stopped eating. The man was no stranger to him.

 Frank Zuko smiled at Ray and held him in his gleefully confident gaze.
But as Zuko beamed, Ray clenched his teeth. He threw down his napkin. It
would be just his luck that Zuko would betray his true identity, or at
least put him in between a rock and a hard place.

 Bill knew Zuko would not do anything so stupid as to betray the police
officers' true identities. The deal was to get them into favour with Jimmy
Carlotta and then into the heart of the cartel. Zuko did this
satisfactorily. The arrangement Ray had with him would hold out,
especially seeing as immunity was on the bargaining table. Bill wasn't
quite sure what precisely the immunity was but Ray had him under his
thumb. And he could see that Zuko returned the favour by getting under
Ray's skin.

 "Don Carlotta!" Zuko embraced the don.

 "It is good of you to join us, Frank," Carlotta greeted. He waved his arm
toward the men. "These are my soldiers. There are some you know and a few
you will meet for the first time." He pointed to Solly. "Charlie Thumbs, a
family name so I'm told. Marten Dugan, an extremely useful man and..."

 Carlotta stopped at Ray.

 "Angelo," Zuko supplied grinning, "Angelo Valeri." Zuko moved to sit
across from Ray. "We know each other from the old neighbourhood, the east
side of Chicago."
 Ray did not acknowledge Zuko.

 Carlotta laughed.

 "I did not know you knew Angelo!" he exclaimed. He gripped Ray's face.
"He's my best soldier. Aren't you, Angelo?"

 Ray let Carlotta's pride in him answer the question.

 "Ah, he's been a bad boy, then?" Zuko asked. He agreed to a plate of
pasta. "Funny thing is that Angelo has always been a good boy. Haven't
you, Angelo?"

 Ray picked up his fork again.

 "Not so good."

 Jimmy Carlotta laughed. He sipped red wine and offered some to Wallis who
sat silently in the shadows. Wallis observed both Ray and Zuko with
interest.

 Carlotta broke some bread and offered some to Zuko.

 "How are the children, Frank?"

 "Good," he replied, "Tommy's in fourth grade this year. He's such a
bright boy." Zuko stuffed bread into his mouth. "How are your
grandchildren, if I may ask, Don?"

 "Well, well," the patriarch replied.

 "The last time I saw Bianca she was up to my knee," Zuko laughed.

 Carlotta went placid. He stopped eating as did Zuko. Everyone at the
table went silent.

 "I'm sorry, Don," Zuko apologized solemnly. "I didn't mean to..." 

 "That's all right, Frank," the old man soothed. "Vincenzio's youngest is
fine. She's grown since you've last seen her. Perhaps you will see her
again." 

 Ray tried not to look up to Carlotta. Everywhere there was a reminder of
Vincenzio.

 "Do you have any children, Angelo?" Carlotta quietly asked.

 "Naah," Ray shook his head.

 "I'm sure he's got a couple kicking around," Zuko joked.

 Ray tried to silence him with a glare.

 Carlotta laughed amid the soft murmur of conversation and tinkle of
crystal throughout the room. He pinched Ray's cheek.

 "I should have set you up with my daughter. But she married outside of
the family," Carlotta lamented. "You would have produced fine children."

 Carlotta went placid again. He swallowed red wine and threw down his
napkin. He got up to leave.

 "Well done, men," he commented and left the room.

 Ray sighed. He was no longer hungry.

 "You gonna leave that food?" Zuko queried.

 "What's it to you, Frankie?" Ray shot back.

 "It's just a waste, that's all," Zuko replied. 

 "If it's all right with you guys," Bill tried to diffuse the tension,
"I'll finish what you don't Angelo. I'm starving." 

 Bill took a hearty forkful and looked as though he enjoyed it.

 Ray got up to leave.

 "That's good, Marty. You do that. I've lost my appetite." 

 Ray turned to leave. He heard a gruff laugh. A fat man sat with his back
to the wall. He had a sauce-stained napkin draped about his neck. 

 "Whatcha laughin' at, Fatty?"

 Carmello LaPaglia tried to stifle his laugh.

 "Nothing, Angelo, just..."

 "Just what?"

 Carmello cleared his throat.

 "Just how you and Don Carlotta get along. That's all."

 "Is that all?"

 Ray neared the portly man. Carmello became nervous.

 "How is it funny, Carmello?"

 "You know, the way you act around him, they way he talks to you. It's
like maybe you'll be don someday or something. It just kinda reminds me of
the way things were with Vinnie, that's all."

 Carmello made the Sign of the Cross when he spoke of Vincenzio. He
avoided Ray's eyes. He knew the man's handy work and did not want to
become an exhibit of bruises and broken bones.

 With one swipe, Ray knocked out Carmello's plate of spaghetti and sent
the chubby man reeling back in his seat. He grabbed Carmello's shirt and
pulled him up. No one at the table spoke.

 "Let me tell you something," he shook Carmello, "next to Don Carlotta,
you are shit! You got me? You're just a two-bit bookie who'd better keep
his mouth shut. And no one offers loyalty to anyone but the Don. You
should know that if you don't want to sleep with the fishes."

 Carmello tried to nod.

 Solly and Bill gripped Ray's shoulders and pried him from Carmello. Ray
eased off. Carmello sat back down and straightened his tie.

 "I don't see what the fuss was about. I was just talking, that's all."

 Ray pushed off the yolk of Solly and Bill and grabbed Carmello once more.
He shoved Carmello out of the private dining area and into the public
dining rooms. People looked up from their meals. The scraping of cutlery
on plates stopped, the crystal did not meet in toasts, conversations died.
Confused patrons witnessed a young angry man pushing a portly fellow
about. Ray pushed Carmello out the door and against the brick wall. Three
men rushed out of the restaurant. Carmello screamed at the injustice of
the treatment but was silenced with a slap. He cowered at his hurt jaw.
Ray turned away from the man and the restaurant. He was grabbed from
behind. Zuko shoved him.

 "What the hell are you doing, huh? Trying to prove your soldier? Well, I
know you're not, Vecchio!"

 Ray edged to Zuko.

 "Don't even think about it, Frankie. You filled your end of the bargain
and now just shut your mouth. You try anything like that again and I swear
to God I'll send you home in a box."

 Ray turned from Zuko and emerged into the glaring lights of Las Vegas.

 Solly and Bill rushed up to him. Solly grabbed Ray.

 "What in the Name of God were you doing, Vecchio?!"

 "My fucking job!"

 Solly shoved him against the wall and Ray shoved him back. Bill stepped
between them.

 "Who's side are you on anyway, Ray, huh?"

 "Mine," he answered.

 Bill lifted Ray by the shirt and pressed him against the wall.

 "Do you want to get us all killed?! Because that's what happens when
you're on your own side and not the team's!" He put Ray down. "I don't
want this screwed up because some guy thinks he's Al Pacino. You don't
fuck around, or I'll have you pulled from the mission."

 Bill and Solly left Ray. Still stunned by Bill's sharp warning, Ray
exhaled and tried to clear his mind.

 "I am doing my job," he muttered in a steady mantra. "I'm just doing my
job."

 

 Bill and Solly returned to the dining room. Ray's outburst was dangerous.
He had a temper. They had known that for a long time. At least that
Mountie-guy they had seen him with had a calming effect. He swore less and
shot fewer people. At any rate, now they had been stuck with the job of
damage control. They were surprised when Zuko obliged them in that regard.

 Most of Carlotta's men had cleared off. Only Wallis and Jimmy stayed
behind. They sipped wine endlessly. Wallis laughed a little.

 "Tell me, Frank, what school did you attend with our dear Mr. Valeri?"

 "I just spent first-grade with him at parochial school. He was shipped to
reform school after that," Zuko answered and poured himself some wine. "I
don't know him too well."

 "Hey, you said he messed around a little," Jimmy pointed out. "He's got
kids and shit."

 Zuko laughed.

 "Yeah, well- he's kind of a bad boy. He was when we were kids. He'd sneak
altar wine and that," Zuko laughed again.
 Bill laughed for effect.

 "Sounds like something he'd do," Bill added.

 Wallis became cold. He stared straight at Bill.

 "He was kind of out-of-sorts, this evening, wouldn't you say?" 

 "Hey!" Solly came to the defense. "LaPaglia asked for it. I think he's a
big, fat idiot." 

 Wallis reared his head to Solly. He glared in his brown eyes.

 "I wasn't talking to you."

 Jimmy tapped Wallis' arm.

 "Hey, Charlie's right. Carmello's got a big mouth."

 Wallis leaned in his chair.

 "Then we should balance this equation, shouldn't we, James?"

 Solly gulped. Bill nodded. It was a job, after all.

 

 Ray stepped out of the elevator and strode to his hotel room. He jangled
the keys to his room and cautiously drew his Berretta. He pushed the door
open and aimed before him. A rail-thin young man lifted his hands.

 "Hey! Don't shoot!"

 Ray cocked his gun and pointed it closer to the effeminate man who was in
his room.

 "Who the hell are you and why are you in my room?"

 "Don't go postal, man," the man implored, "the badge let me in. He said
he wanted to talk to you."

 "I'll bet," Ray rasped.

 The man squinted his eyes.

 "Please, oh please, man, don't kill me! I was doing what he told me!"

 "Shut up, bitch!" Ray commanded.
 He listened carefully. The sound of water from the bathroom was
abbreviated and ended with the turning of the doorknob. Ray readied
himself.

 "Ah, hello!"

 Ray clicked the trigger at the man who chirped cheerfully at him.

 "Put the gun away, Detective Vecchio," the ginger-haired man ordered.

 Ray tried to remain calm.

 "Who the hell are you?"

 The man lifted a badge from his pocket.

 "Agent Dirk Slicker, ATF. I'm here just for you. Now will you put the gun
away?"

 Ray replaced the gun in his holster.

 "Who the hell is he then?" Ray referred to the man sitting down.

 "That's Manny, Wallis Crawford's errand-boy."

 Ray threw up his hands.

 "Fuck! I only work with the man every fucking day! You trust a junkie to
keep his yap shut?!"

 Slicker calmed Ray down.

 "He's not going to say anything," Slicker reassured him, "I know how to
keep his sort under wraps."

 Slicker handed Manny a ten-dollar bag of heroin which he accepted gladly.
Ray's eyes bulged.

 "You give him drugs? That's illegal."

 "And so is murder," Slicker answered back, "now let's get busy."

 Slicker motioned Manny out of the room. Ray sat back uneasily in an
armchair.

 "Okay, why are you here?"

 "You are aware of the ATF's involvement in this case, yes?" Slicker
turned over a manila file.

 "Yeah," Ray nodded, "Agent Kopeck wants the lowdown on the arms that
Carlotta sells." 

 "Precisely," Slicker agreed, "I'm here for an update on your progress.
Things are very iffy on the other end and the DA is getting restless." 

 "Good. Well, I won't be long because if I am, then I'm dead with the back
of my head blown out."

 "I understand, Detective," Slicker nodded. "Continue." 

 "Carlotta wants a hit on the Fanuccis and to monopolize the entire arms
trade along the eastern seaboard." 

 Slicker raised his eyebrow. He was not aware of that.

 "That's interesting."

 "You're telling me. We are looking at a potential bloodbath," Ray
surmised.

 "I will have to inform Agent Kopeck about this. Right now I want you,
Goldwin and Brown to hang tight. Act normally."

 Ray nodded. 

 "How much longer are we here?" Ray asked. "The DA said three months." 

 The agent leaned forward. 

 "The DA is so close to shutting this operation down, Vecchio. You guys
can nearly go home and see-" Slicker lifted one manila folder from the
bedside table, "wife, Elizabeth, stepson, Rory, age six, daughter Cyfrin,
age two-and-a-half, newborn twins Tatiana and Anastasia, three months." 

 Ray's face went blank. Home. 

 "Has it been three months already?" he asked, his face void of any
emotion.

 "Yeah."

 Ray smiled wistfully.

 "The twins are three months already." Ray stopped. "I remember when they
were born, it was in the middle of the night and their hair was so black
and soft..." Ray retained his composure. "I'll bet they're big now."

 Slicker nodded. He did not know what Ray was talking about.

 "If you see Bess..." Ray began.

 "I can't do that, Detective Vecchio," Slicker apologized.

 "I'm just saying if you see her, tell her I'm fine."

 Slicker nodded in agreement.

 "I have to go now, Detective. You won't see me again." 

 Ray rose to let him out. Slicker veered left and escaped to the alleyway
via the fire exit. The darkness covered Slicker and with him Vecchio's
identity and hope. 

It was three in the morning. The telephone cried out its reveille and
stirred Ray from sleep. He picked up the telephone and placed the correct
end to his ear and mouth respectively. 

 "Hello?" he greeted groggily.

 "Hello, Angelo."

 It was Wallis. His silken deep voice had an eerily evil quality about it.

 "What can I help you with Wallis?" Ray asked.

 "Have you ever rooted a mole out of your garden, Mr. Valeri?"

 Ray was confused.

 'What is this about, Wallis?"

 "Meet us at the back of The Pink Flamingo on Freemont Boulevard in half
an hour," Wallis advised, "we'll need your expertise."

 The telephone went dead. Ray pulled himself and splashed water on his
face. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like death. Lifting
himself up from the edge of the bathroom counter, he put his jacket on
over his undershirt with his Berretta strapped securely in its holster. 

  

 The back of clubs such as The Pink Flamingo were dark, concealed from the
bright lights of Las Vegas. Ray peeled into the splintered wooden door
that led into the back part of the club. The shadows concealed little.
Solly rubbed something from his hands. Ray saw Bill hunched over a
gargantuan lump. When he moved nearer to it, Ray realized that it was
someone quite known to him. 

 Carmello was bound to an chair and gagged. His eyes were blackened and
dried blood poured from his nose and ears. He stared helplessly at Ray.

 Ray looked from Carmello to Wallis who stood away from the carnage with
arms crossed and a Sauer pistol in his hand.

 "I've rooted a mole out of the family's garden, Mr. Valeri," Wallis
illustrated, "and now you have to 'do away with it'."

 Ray was confused.

 Wallis handed Ray the gun, smiling.

 "Kill him, Mr. Valeri. Go on. It must be done. The don knows about this."
Wallis became more stern. "Vittorio wants you to do it. Prove yourself to
the family."

 Ray stared at the bound Carmello. He looked again at Wallis.

 "I've already proven myself."

 "Prove yourself to me!" Wallis demanded.

 "I don't have to," Ray countered.

 Wallis pulled Ray's wrist.

 "If you don't shoot this traitor, Carlotta will know what you really are.
I guarantee you that." Wallis pressed the gun into Ray's palm. "Now do
it!"

 "Come on!" Solly urged. 

 Wallis stepped back.

 "Charlie Thumbs over here has proven himself to me. Now you do it."

 Ray looked around the room. Everyone there wanted their pound of flesh.
Ray steeled himself. He cocked the pistol and pointed at Carmello's head.
The man squeezed his eyes shut. Ray bit his lip until he could taste the
blood. How was killing Carmello any different from the hits Ray had been
witness to? How offensive was this fat bookie that it warranted a bullet
to the brain? Ray's finger was locked on the trigger. He would do it.
Nothing would stop him. He would prove himself. He would see Bess in a few
weeks. He would report back to the D.A.'s office. He would see Fraser
again. He would not shoot Carmello, the stupid man who stared at him
vapidly, pleading with his brown eyes not to end his life.

 Solly's lip quivered. In the corner of his eye, Ray could see how Solly
had merited Wallis' trust. His hands were covered with abrasions. Bill had
made himself useful by binding the poor idiot up. They stared at Ray
guiltily. All were complicit in the crime in an attempt to gain trust. But
for what? For the sake of one man's pleading? For one crooked soul
perverted to the darkness Ray and his partners had for so long tried to
quash? It wasn't a job any more. Ray wanted to stop it. He wanted to wake
up if it were a dream, wanted to yell at the unseen men he perceived were
hiding in the shadows orchestrating this macabre fest of murder, wanted to
drop the gun and run away to Bess' waiting arms. He basically wanted to
tell Wallis to go fuck himself but he knew he wouldn't. He was paused in
the stream of time, held captive by circumstance and the whites of
Carmello's eyes.

 "For God's sake!" Wallis cried and seized the gun from Ray's motionless
hand.

 Wallis pointed and fired into Carmello's skull. Carmello fell limp and
dangled off the chair. The men saw for once what it really looked like to
blow away a man's head. The forehead was missing. The back of the skull
was gone. Cerebral matter was spewed across the wall behind Carmello's
carcass. Blood was everywhere. No one moved except for Wallis. He wiped
away drops of blood from his creamy cheek and handed the gun to a sluggish
Ray.

 "There," he said matter-of-factly. "It is done." He turned to Solly and
Bill. "Charles, do be a pal and drive me home. Marten, make yourself
useful. Get rid of the body, clean up the mess and have our rotund friend
here sleep with the fish." He turned to Ray. "It is fish, not fishes. The
plural of fish is just fish, Mr. Valeri."

 Wallis wedged out behind the wooden door with Solly and left the two men
to pick up the pieces.

 

 Daybreak signaled the new slant the mission was taking. Ray had not yet
told Solly and Bill that he had been contacted by Slicker but all still
shuddered by the events which took place earlier on. This morning Ray went
furtively to the warehouse where Bill waited. Ray snuck through the vast
doors and spotted Bill with a cup of coffee. 

 "We leave in an hour, Bill!" Ray yelled. "This better be good!"

 "Hey, Vecchio, Solly called this in, not me!" Bill defended himself and
sipped his coffee.

 Ray huffed with annoyance. He thought it would be so.

 Solly shuffled in. He looked around him and checked to see if he was
followed or not. Seeing that the coast was clear, Solly shoved the
cigarette into his mouth and lit it. He addressed the men he called before
him. They were clutched together like fledgling birds braced with anger.
 "He's onto us," he panicked. He puffed his cigarette. "Wallis is on to
us."

 "Shut the fuck up," Ray ordered calmly.

 Solly clasped the cigarette in his nimble fingers and gawked at Ray
incredulously.

 "Oh, come on, Ray! Carlotta is gonna fry us! We have to pull out!"

 "What part of shut the fuck up didn't you get?!" Ray snapped. 

 "No, you shut the fuck up!" Solly defended himself. "I've listened to
your PD job and guido honour shit since this all started and I'm telling
you we won't get anything done if Carlotta shoots us all in the back of
the head!" Solly waved his finger frantically at everyone. "I don't know
about you two but I'm going home to Sarah and if that's not cool with the
Feds or the ATF or the badge, fuck them!" 

 Bill hushed the anxious Solly.

 "Look we all want to go home."

 "Easy for you to say, Bill, you're not married." 

 "Look, Solly, we all want to go home but we have to be cool about
everything. Now last night shook everybody up but it is an occupational
hazard. It's only a matter of time before we go home. We don't know
precisely what Wallis knows but you're probably just jumping the gun. If
we stay cool and think this through, we can determine what Wallis knows
and if he's too wise, then..." Bill turned to Ray. "Well, that's your
department, Vecchio." 

 Ray's eyes widened.

 "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

 "You know full-well."

 "No, I don't," Ray contradicted, "No, I don't know. Could you please
repeat that, William."

 "Ah, jeez. Don Vittorio Carlotta's chief soldier is in the dark for a
change. Isn't that a surprise. You're an educated man, Ray, so I will be
blunt. You will make Wallis disappear the way you made Gomez disappear.
The way we made Carmello disappear last night. That is what I mean."

 "I did my job!" Ray rasped. 

 "Is your job to kill, Vecchio? Huh? Every time you touch your wife will
you think back to your soldier days and twist her neck?"

 Ray shoved Bill.

 "Fuck you, Bill! I, unlike, you, am a professional. I do things my way
and I do them right. I told everybody that Gomez would disappear and
that's what happened. No one's going to see him again until the trial!
Capisce?!"

 Bill was shocked.

 "That's right," Ray nodded, "I may act like a hitman but that's not what
I am."

 "I'm having a hard time believing that, still, Ray," Bill confessed.

 "I'm not proving anything to you! Go fuck yourself if you don't believe
that I'm still a cop! And I didn't see any of you expressing remorse over
popping Carmello. You wanted your pound of flesh at the expense of some
big, fat idiot! I hope you're happy."

 Bill and Solly said nothing. What they had done was indefensible.

 "We wanted Wallis' trust," Solly spoke. "You always said to play things
natural. We did."

 "You wanted the wrong kind of trust," Ray offered softly.

 "Trust!" Bill huffed. "That word is used rather flippantly."

 Ray was confused. Bill waxed poetically.

 "Like that which is not strained, trust is laundered like the money in
Carlotta's warehouses. It's used any way we please."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean-" Bill stopped for breath. "Whose side are you on? I hope you
know."

 Bill walked away. Solly looked after him.

 "Damn, he needs out!"

 Ray remained quiet.

 "We all do," Ray reassured his partner. 

  

 Wallis waited a few kilometres from the airfield where Carlotta's private
jet was being fueled and prepared for departure. He readjusted his
sunglasses and looked in the distance. The sun bore out of its orange
sphere a skinny black figure on a motorbike. It sped and pulled up to
Wallis. The rider took off his helmet. Manny, Wallis' private errand-boy,
walked toward him, holding his stomach in. He unzipped his jacket and
handed a large envelope to Wallis. 

 "I got what you wanted plus some," he smiled wryly.

 Wallis smiled gratefully to his manservant.

 "Well done," he tapped the man's cheek, newly-bruised.

 The envelope was stuffed to the hilt. Manny had done well by his master.
His face was proof.

 "Hey, are you still mad over me running into that badge?" the young man
asked.

 "No, Manuel," Wallis smiled, "it is all forgotten. In fact, your running
into that "badge" was very providential."

 Wallis pulled out the contents of the envelope. Files, confidential
police files.

 "How did you do it, Manny?" Wallis asked.

 "I have my ways," he replied proudly.

 Wallis opened the top file. It was for a detective, first grade, Area
Seven, twenty-seventh precinct, Chicago Police Department, Raymond
Vecchio.

 Wallis fingered the photograph that came with it. He laughed.

 "I knew it, I just knew it!" 

 Examining the extraneous contents of the file, Wallis looked at a bundle
of photographs. He picked up the top one. Two men stood side-by-side
drinking lemonade at a barbecue. But who was the man next to him? A tall,
angular individual, a stern yet handsome face in a smile. Was this man
Ray's brother? The photograph became alive.  

 Hey, Benny, you wanna come fishing with me?
 Why? Are you heading to the cottage in Quebec, Ray?
 Yeah. Why don't you come along? You can bring Elaine and the kids.
 I'd like that.
 Ray smiled voraciously.
 Maybe I'll let ya catch some fish.
 Benny smiled broadly as Ray laughed.  

 The next photograph depicted a beautiful woman holding a child with loose
curls. Wallis thumbed it.

 "Detective Vecchio knows how to pick them," he mumbled to himself. 

 Wallis opened the other file. It was not Charlie Thumbs but Solomon
Goldwin, detective from the thirty-third precinct, Chicago, Illinois. He
fingered a snapshot in the corner of the file. 
 His family, thought Wallis. How cute.	

 Sarah brushed away her chestnut hair and motioned Solly to stand near
Moise. She waved her hands desperately.
 "Hurry, stand near the baby."
 Solly shrugged his shoulder after her replaced the shutter on the camera.
 "Are you doing this or am I?"
 Solly hurriedly took his place behind Moise's highchair, brushed down a
sharp curl and leaned down.  

 The next file became redundantly revealing. Marten Dugan was not a
two-time hood who proved himself useful to the crime world. He was
Detective William Brown, also from the thirty-third precinct, twice
commended for bravery. Wallis flipped through a pile of photographs bound
with a rubber band. He recognized the sunburnt redhead holding a large
swordfish.  

 "She's a big one!" Bill cried. "Who said I wouldn't catch anything?"
 Bill's father laughed. He backed away and wound the film to an empty
shot. This was a catch to be seen.
 "Smile, Bill."  

 "Unbelievable," Wallis exhaled and shut the file.

 "What do you think, Mr. Crawford?" Manny sniffed and shuffled his feet.

 "Great work, Manny," Wallis smiled and took his gun to shoot him.

 The trigger being pulled, Wallis left Manny for the vultures and hurried
along the dust road to the airfield. Carlotta did not like being kept
waiting. 

  

 The private jet lifted and glided in the air over Nevada. Ray sat back
and tried to sleep off the flight. Solly tried to hide his nervousness
while Bill swallowed orange juice. Wallis sat in the back with the files
hidden under his arm. He thought of when to reveal to the don that the
three men brought on were really police men. He smiled deliciously over
the prospect. He would ask to execute them himself. 

 Carlotta put his newspaper down. He cast his glance to Ray.

 "What happened to Carmello last night?"

 Ray did not budge.

 "I thought you knew, Don," he replied.

 "No, I don't."

 Ray sat up. He had been lied to. He thought of Wallis.

 "I am not sure, Don."

 "I would like to see him," Carlotta admitted and then resumed reading the
newspaper.

 Ray leaned back in his chair and smiled quietly to himself. He could feel
the cold shiver that Wallis must have felt right then. He had Wallis where
he wanted him. Solly felt it. He sighed quietly with relief and shut his
eyes to rest. Bill felt it too. He sipped his orange juice wordlessly. The
job was secure. 

  

 "I can so do the job!" 

 Detective Lenny Tavish glared at the tiny Italian woman in a short skirt
who masqueraded as a civilian aide after Elaine became a mommy.

 "If you think that just because Elaine isn't here that nothing gets done,
well think against buster because I am in charge!" Francesca Vecchio
asserted herself to the blond detective.

 "Just when I thought nothing else could get screwed up here, some idiot
hired you!" Lenny shouted back.

 Francesca's face screwed up. Being as mad as hell, it was safe to say she
wasn't going to take it any more. Before she could scream at him, a
dark-haired man ran between them.

 "Come on, you two, stop this ranting and raving!" he tried to calm them
down. 

 Detective Thomas Dewey made himself adept at being the peacemaker. At
least when it concerned Francesca. He felt like a big brother around her
as opposed to a big bother like Ray. The both of them. 

 Stan and Fraser walked in amid the turmoil. No one was safe. Before long,
the strife Dewey hoped to avoid became a war. Everyone was on the floor
trying to throttle one another to death. Stan and Fraser walked over the
pile of dueling humanity. 

 "Madder than a tormented muskox, huh, Benny?" 

 Fraser tapped the bridge of his nose. Stan was catching on. 

  

 Walsh opened the door to a slender woman with strawberry-blond hair and a
stocky man. 

 "Hmm?" Fraser raised an eyebrow.

 "What's it, Benny?" Stan asked.

 "The presence of two agents for a clandestine meeting in Leftenent
Walsh's office, Stanley," Fraser replied.

 "How do you know who they are?" Stan asked. 

 "The badges on their lapels would indicate that they are a part of
federal agencies," Fraser explained, "yet I am uncertain precisely who
they are and why they are here." 

 Stan nodded. He tugged on Fraser's tunic.

 "Come with me," he tapped the bridge of his nose ostentatiously.

 Fraser followed Stan through the maze of beat cops, corridors and desks.
They went up a floor and knelt behind a photocopier. Stan pried open a
loose heater vent.

 "I think we should go on a little creative auditory excursion," Stan
grinned.

 "You mean eavesdrop?" Fraser quizzed.

 "Don't put it that way!" Stan scolded.

 Fraser went pale.

 "Stanley, this is not only illegal but unethical," he cautioned.

 "Oh come on, Benny, we're cops simply trying to assist our commanding
officers in exercising the law. Now shut your yap for a minute and let's
listen to what Walsh and those guys are saying!"

 The two men leaned over and strained to hear what was being said in
Walsh's office. 

  

 "So what is it?" Walsh asked. He joined his hammy hands together in a
form of secular benediction. "Does the DA have enough? Can they come home
now?" 

 Federal Agent Julia Kello sat down and smiled. 

 "Your men have provided enough evidence of racketeering to suit the DA
We'll arrange for them to come home. The typical car bomb, I think. Or
maybe a shoot-out, depending on how the cleanup squad feels." 

 Walsh did not enjoy Kello's flippancy.

 "The ATF's objectives haven't yet been realized," the stocky man
interrupted. "It would be premature to bring them home just now."

 Walsh sighed exhaustedly. The blond woman stood and faced the solid man,
ATF Agent Michael Kopeck. 

 "Agent Kopeck, I thought it had been made apparent that Carlotta had been
buying weapons from the Russians and selling them. We have enough. I say
we terminate the mission and let the DA take over." 

 Kopeck rapped his knuckles.

 "I'm not satisfied. It's a no-go!"

 "Please," Walsh solicited, "it's obvious we can't see eye-to-eye on this.
We'll resume when Agent Slicker makes his report."

 Kello and Kopeck lifted themselves from the chairs in Walsh's office and
left amid the now calmed squad room. 

  

 Fraser and Stan rose from the vent. Fraser's face went a degree paler.
Stan observed him. 

 "Vecchio's case is nearly wrapped up. I thought you'd be happy."

 "Something is not right, Stan," Fraser remarked, "I fear Ray might not
come home any time soon." 

  

 Stan slid into the utilities' room. 

 "Benny, if people knew I was in here with you, they'd think I was
freaky." Stan pointed at himself. "I can't afford that!"

 "Relax, Stanley," Fraser eked a file from Stan's sweaty hand, "people
will scarcely think of you as freakish."

 Fraser glazed it over.

 "Hey, I could wind up dead if they know that's missing," Stan reinforced.

 Fraser ignored him.

 "Joint operation by the F.B.I. and the ATF to bring a conviction against
the Carlotta cartel for racketeering and arms' smuggling." Fraser raised
his brow. "Strange that it is all, as vicious as the cartel is."

 "Yeah," Stan concurred looking behind his shoulder, "they're not above
cutting hands and throwing someone into a pool of piranhas. But they are
less vicious than the Chyornaya Smerte."

 "Russian Mafia?" Fraser surmised as he perused the file.

 "Yeah," Stan nodded. "Are you familiar with them?"

 "A bit."

 Fraser's finger stopped at a point on the page.

 "It says here that confirmation of the weapons' trade was substantiated
two months' ago. In fact, the ATF picked up a shipment in New Jersey three
weeks back."

 "Then why keep the men in the cartel?" Stan asked.

 "I don't know," Fraser confessed, "but I am sure that Agent Slicker would
know." 

  

 At home, Fraser placed his son, Daniel, on his lap and tried to endure
the squirming of the energetic child. The boy tried to perch himself on
his father's thighs and leap. However, he was restrained. 

 "Elaine, what if I were to tell you that I partook in an activity that
may be construed as unethical if not illegal with a fellow officer with
the purposes to ascertain the exact nature of a covert operation and the
participants therein..."

 "What? Did you and Stan eavesdrop on a secret meeting or something?"
Elaine interrupted.

 Fraser's face went pale. She could read him like a book. Elaine smiled
when she saw that she had eked a secret out of him. She entwined the jet
tresses of Anna who also laughed at her father's shock.

 Fraser motioned Anna to her room and placed Daniel in a playpen.

 "Elaine, what I must tell you can go no further than this room," he
whispered.

 "Is that why you locked Anna in her room and confined Daniel to his
playpen?" she joked.
 Fraser's face became more grave. He took Elaine by the hand and led her
out of the apartment. They stopped at the stairwell.

 "Ben, what is wrong?"

 Fraser sat down with Elaine. 

 "Stan and I overheard a discussion between two Federal agents and Walsh
concerning Ray and the other two men involved in the undercover mission.
One agent, Kello, believes enough evidence of racketeering has been
obtained by the officers for the DA to prosecute Carlotta, the man whose
cartel Ray has been sent to infiltrate. The other agent, Kopeck, believes
that insufficient evidence has been gathered to prove the smuggling and
sale of illegal arms." 

 Elaine nodded in comprehension.

 "But Agent Kello stated that Carlotta obtained arms from the Russians and
had been selling them. The file we obtained..."

 "The file you nicked," Elaine corrected.

 Fraser nodded wearily.

 "The file stated that they were aware of the under workings of the arms'
trade."

 Elaine nodded.

 "So, can they prove that Carlotta has been selling them or not?"

 "That is what I can not understand, Elaine. If they know, why not
terminate the mission now?"

 "Do you think Agent Kopeck wants the whole cheese?"

 Fraser's brow furrowed. He did not understand.

 "Doesn't it seem that Kopeck wants a little more than just arms deals?"
Elaine explained. "He has a bigger stake in this thing than he letting
everyone believe."

 Fraser exhaled at last. He kissed Elaine's cheek.

 "Thank you kindly, Elaine, what would I do without you?"

 Elaine sat back. She wondered too. 

  

 "We go in." 

 Ray made no movement. Wallis became flushed with impatience.

 "It is too dangerous to make the hit, Don," he countered. 

 Carlotta swiveled in his chair. The stress ball he fingered rested on the
desk. 

 "I have thought of this for too long. It must be done."

 Wallis stepped back.

 "I hope you are prepared for what may happen."

 Wallis exited the room. Carlotta exhaled.

 "I trust that man implicitly yet he is a thorn in my side."

 "Maybe you shouldn't trust him too much," Ray smiled.

 "What does that mean, Angelo?"

 "Just you shouldn't put too much faith in anyone. That's all."

 Carlotta thought for a second. He then laughed.

 "I trust you."

 He rose from his desk and kissed Ray's cheeks.

 Ray was left alone. He made his way out of Carlotta's den. Luca grimaced
at his laptop. For a relatively silent man, Luca made himself apparent
quite often.

 "What's eating at you, Luca?"

 Luca motioned Ray to him.

 "Have you ever seen the inside of a Swiss bank account?"

 "Nah."

 "Yeah, well, I have and it looks empty."

 Ray hunched over the hulky man.

 "Those figures," Ray pointed at the screen, "what are they?"

 "Profits," Luca explained, "and they're shrinking."

 "Is someone dipping in your pockets?" Ray asked.

 "That, my Angelo, is the size of it."

 Ray left Luca alone. He encountered Bill in the hallway.

 "He has a Swiss bank account."

 Bill acknowledged Ray without looking at him.

 "Make sure you get that on disk," Ray advised.

 "Done like dinner," Bill winked. 

  

 Fraser strode to Stan's desk as with a purpose. Dressed in his
resplendent brown uniform, he stood before Stan who worked obliviously on
some paperwork. Finally noticing the serious Mountie, Stan looked up and
gave him his undivided attention. 

 "Yeah, Benny. Is there a puppy in need of our help?"

 "No, Stan, this is more urgent." 

 Fraser gulped.

 "I have reason to believe that we should act on the information we
chanced upon yesterday. It may very well save a man's life."

 Stan chuckled.

 "Look, Benny, no one knows our little escapade yesterday. They can't or
we're so gone. You got me?"

 Fraser sat next to Stan.

 "Stan, I have reason to believe one agent will stretch the limits of an
extremely perilous mission for his own ends. If we can convince him to end
the mission now with sufficient evidence to apprehend the criminals being
sought then we may very well save lives..."

 Stan gripped Fraser's shoulder and let him out of the squad room.

 "If they know we were eavesdropping on them, Benny, we can kiss
everything we've worked for good-bye and our "assistance" won't make a
lick of difference." He gripped harder on Fraser's shoulders. "Benny, to
be blunt, they'd screw us over as soon as we're born. We can't try to save
the world for the sake of a friend. Know that he's doing what he's signed
up to do, like it or not. There is nothing we can do!"

 Fraser turned the tables on Stan. He pressed the man against the wall. 

 "Let me make something clear to you if I may, Stanley. That man who has
'signed up' for this job means more to me than you will ever know. He has
saved my life more times than I can recall, he has put a faith me that has
surpassed anything he had put trust in, he has opened doors for me that I
never dreamt existed." He pressed harder on Stan's shoulders. "When a man
takes a bullet for you, Stanley, you realize he has done more than his
duty as a police officer, more than a friend should do. He crosses the
boundary of a brother. Ray is my brother and I must do what I can to save
him." Fraser released him. "I would do the same for you." 

 Stan became still.

 "You would?"

 "Yes," Fraser nodded.

 "Okay, Benny," Stan surrendered. "But I did warn you," he put up a
cautionary finger.

 "Noted," Fraser replied.

 They both knocked on Walsh's door and were granted entrance.

 Fraser stood ramrod straight before Walsh's desk.

 "Sir, I have come to confess to a malfeasance on my part."

 "Confess away," Walsh allowed.

 "Yesterday, Detective Kowalski and I deliberately overheard a
conversation concerning the secret mission in which Detective Vecchio is
involved, as well as surreptitiously obtained a file pertaining to said
mission."

 Walsh went pale and red at the same time.

 "You did what?"

 "We were eavesdropping, sir," Stan added.

 Walsh rose and pointed threateningly at Stan.
 "I'm going to can you, Kowalski. You can kiss your job good-bye."

 Disappointment etched Stan's face.

 "Sir," Fraser tried to intervene.

 "I don't even want to here about it, Constable," Walsh interrupted, "you
are going to get deported so fast..."

 "Sir, if you will listen for a moment," Fraser implored, "I have reason
to believe that Agent Kopeck will draw out this mission for reasons
unclear." 

 "The mission's not finished yet," Walsh said. "We won't know everything
until we hear from Slicker." 

 "Then where is he, sir?"

 Walsh became silent.

 "I guess I'd better get Kopeck on the horn," Walsh picked up the
telephone. 

  

 Kello and Kopeck entered Walsh's office quite agitated. 

 "What the hell is going on, Lieutenant?" Kello demanded.

 "I will let Constable Fraser over here explain why we are gathered here
now."

 Both the agents were shocked. The mission had somehow been divulged to a
foreign party. It was jeopardized.

 "What the hell is this? A tea-social? Does everyone in the Greater
Chicago area know of this mission?!" Kello exploded.

 "I assure that is not the case, ma'am," Fraser promised her, "the mission
is still very much top secret. But that is not why we are here now. We are
here to ascertain why Agent Kopeck wants to prolong the mission."

 "I don't have to answer you that," Kopeck snapped.

 "I'm afraid you do," Fraser came back, "as Agent Kello as informed the
party, you have sufficient information to arrest Carlotta on the grounds
of illegal arms sales yet you hesitate. Why?"

 Kopeck felt cornered.
 "I have reason to believe someone in my organization is trying to
rebalance the power of the mob. They are doing this by supplying the
opposing cartel, the Fanuccis, with arms, information, that sort of
thing."

 Who?" Kello joined in.

 "Is it Slicker?" Fraser asked.

 "It very well may be," Kopeck answered, "but I'm not sure. I need to shut
down the lot. I've worked on this for two years."

 Kello went pale and tried to regain her composure.

 "I can't believe you would sacrifice men for this."

 "It needs to be done, Julia!" Kopeck shot back.

 "Dammit, Mike, that's what I.A. is for!" She went silent again.

 "Time is running out, Agent Kopeck," Fraser said. "Slicker is not to be
trusted. He may very well have revealed the identities of the officers
involved."

 Kopeck became still.

 "Where are they?" Fraser asked desperately.

 "Miami," Kopeck answered. "That's where the base is."

 "Thank you," Fraser said and left the office.

 "You can't go in, Constable!" Kopeck yelled after him.

 "I have no choice," Fraser returned. 

  

  

Fraser got a grip on himself. He broke ranks, broke order. He shook.
Regaining his resolve, he reaffirmed his purpose. He would not let Ray be
lost. He picked a telephone and rang Elaine. 

 "Elaine, I will be late for dinner this evening....and tomorrow evening
as well."

 Elaine cradled Daniel.

 "Where are you going?"

 "You were right about things, Elaine." He fingered the cord. "I think Ray
is in trouble," he whispered.

 Elaine bowed her head.

 "Don't be a hero, Mountie-boy," she whispered back.

 "It's too late." Fraser smiled softly. "Don't wait up for me."

 Elaine laughed a little.

 "You cheeky bastard!" She coaxed the baby to speak.

 "Bye, Daddy," Daniel chirped.

 "Be a good boy, Danny," Fraser advised and hung up.

 Fraser walked up to Stan.

 "I need you to do something for me, Stan."

 "What is it, Benny?"

 Fraser gave Stan a key.

 "This is the key to the Vecchio house. In it are five children, ranging
from ages six to three months. I want you to go to your apartment, get a
few things and sleep over."

 "Sure, Benny."

 "I am going to retrieve Ray's wife and then we will make our way down."

 Stan smiled.

 "Old Bertha," Stan clapped his hands together.

 Fraser looked at him. It hadn't occurred to him that he hadn't met Bess
nor knew of his relationship to her.

 "You don't know of whom I speak, do you?"

 Stan tried to mask his ignorance.

 "Yeah, I know old....Emily."

 Fraser shook his head.
 "Jolene, Marisa, Denise, Alison..."

 "Bess," Fraser supplied.

 Stan scoffed.

 "That's what people name cows!"

 "My mother didn't think so," Fraser said as he left.

 Stan was surprised.

 "I didn't know he had a sister."

 Lenny stopped nursing a day-old scratch on his head.

 "Yeah, he does. You'd like her, Stan. She's something else."

 Stan nodded. He assumed he would. 

  

 Fraser entered Bess' home. She had set to remodeling after the great fire
raged through her home. She was glad to have spent time away from home.
Bess retained her slender form after having given birth. She was always
thin, slight with muscle toned to her bones. Her black bluntly-cut hair
crowned her pale face. She brushed away a lock and stared seriously at her
brother. 

 "I'm going after Ray, Bess."

 She became serious.

 "Not without me."

 Bess ran upstairs. She came down a few minutes later with shoulder bag.

 "Let's not waste any time, Ben," she cautioned and exited her home. 

  

 Stan rapped on the window of the Vecchio home. Francesca opened the door.
A maroon bruise coloured her cheek. The scuffle yesterday hurt everyone.
Dewey was fortunate that the bleeding stopped. 

 "You're here early," she commented. 

 "Yeah," he nodded. "Where are the rugrats?" 

 "Ray's kids you mean." She called out for the children. Rory and the
visiting Anna burst into the lobby. Cyfrin peeked at the strange man. 

 "Hey kids!" Stan greeted.

 Rory stood tall.

 "Is he the enemy?" he asked Anna as he primed his NERF pistol.

 "No," she held him off. "He's good. He has a turtle."

 Cyfrin lost her shyness.

 "I like turtles," she confessed and embraced Stan. "I also like
elephants."

 Stan lifted her up.

 "I like them, too."

 Stan smiled broadly. He knew he would get along with the children
famously. 

  

 Bess gripped the arm of the seat. She glanced outside as the airplane
descended over Miami. She turned to her brother. 

 "We're going to get him back, aren't we?"

 Fraser touched her hand.

 "He will come back to us," he promised.

 Fraser had heard it before and tried to believe with everything that made
him. 

  

 Carlotta cleft a full, beautiful rose between his forefinger and thumb
and sniffed it. He replaced it in the bunch of roses he had bought for his
wife and then turned to Wallis. 

 "Remember, I did advise against this," he warned.

 Carlotta nodded.

 "But it needs to be done."

 He turned to Ray and kissed him on either side of his face.

 "You do what I have asked you, Angelo."

 Ray nodded.

 Carlotta disappeared from view with the roses in his hands.

 "It's Valentine's Day," Solly moaned as he thought of Sarah.

 "I remember what happened to some famous gangsters on this day," Bill
noted to an inattentive Ray.
 

 The warehouse was a block away. Bill felt uncomfortable waiting in the
car by himself. Rather, he felt vulnerable. He was a cop pretending to be
a crook no less. He should have kept his guard up more. He should have
been a little more like Ray. Despite his attachment to Carlotta, Ray at
least would never be suspect.

 Bill gripped the steering wheel tensely. He would be ready when the
others needed to drive away. He reperched the sunglasses on his nose and
looked from side-to-side. Something obscured his view to the side mirror.
A solid bar of metal touched his temple and with mercurial fury let out a
bullet that sailed through either point of his skull. 

  

 Ray prepped his semiautomatic well. The clips were already requiring only
a second to reload. Ray had become more proficient at gunfights here than
at any other time in Chicago. Now it was a matter of priority that this
hit end satisfactorily. Solly neared him. 

 "Are ya ready?"

 Ray did not look at him.

 "This is just business," Ray uttered emotionlessly. "It's just a job."

 Solly looked at him.

 "There are some jobs you just don't walk away from."

 Ray looked at him. Solly's eyes were glassy.

 "I want to see Sarah again, Ray," he confided.

 "You will, Solly," Ray whispered back. He cocked his gun. "Just do your
job." 

  

 The two men walked clear of the crates in the warehouse to the open lot
where Carlotta's men and the Fanuccis waited. Don Fanucci stepped out of
his limousine. His two body guards flanked him and walked toward Ray and
Solly. Jimmy came from out of the shadows ready to strike at a second's
notice. Each step droned on. Solly looked once at Don Fanucci and then
cast his eyes slyly to the top of the warehouse. A shadow had taken a
lethal form. Shadows were everywhere on this sunny day. Solly bit his lip.
He had to call it. Don Fanucci didn't smile for nothing. 

 "Set-up!"

 Ray spun around incredulously at the paranoid man. Solly pulled out his
semiautomatic, aimed and fired. But what Solly did out of fear confirmed
itself in the shots fired at Carlotta's men. Bullets thrusting their way
into unprotected chests and shoulders. Don Fanucci pulled out a revolver
and fired once, quickly retreating into his armoured limousine. Ray
recoiled, thudding on the hard cement and pulling out his gun. Bullets
coasted from everywhere and Ray could see that he was outmanned and
outgunned. 

 Still firing all that was in his clip, he took refuge from behind some
crates. Overhead, the roof made a clutter. Ray fired and hit a sniper
perched behind a duct. He turned around and fired at Fanucci's body
guards. He killed one of them, the other fell. Solly, he could see, was
left in the middle holding off the invisible gunmen by himself. Ray called
out to him. 

 The volley of gunfire seemed endless. Solly slipped another clip into his
semiautomatic and fired in return. He remembered Sarah's soothing voice
even as he was hit in the shoulder by a round-shot from an unseen gun. My
funny valentine, sweet, funny valentine... 

 Ray slid out from behind the crates firing indiscriminately at all points
he perceived perilous. He pulled Solly up by his jacket and dragged him
into the warehouse. Solly hung off his shoulder like a dead fish. Blood
spilled over Ray's shirt. Ray pulled the man to the end of the warehouse
where the sliding doors signaled freedom. A distinctive click caught Ray's
ear. Agent Slicker's smugly-smiling face was accompanied with the standard
ATF issue Glock .40 pointed right at Ray's head. 

 "You."

 Slicker nodded without a word.

 "Can I ask why?"

 "Money, Detective," Slicker grinned. "I'm getting more money to close my
eyes and lose a few seized weapons than I am walking on the straight and
narrow."

 "You don't care who dies because of you, do you?"

 Slicker snickered at him.

 "Don't give me that moralistic crap, Vecchio. I've really quite had
enough. Put the gun down."

 Ray dropped his Berretta. He fastened Solly more snugly around his
shoulder.

 "I'm afraid you two will have to disappear for good," Slicker faintly
apologized.

 "Ya ready, Solly?" Ray asked softly.

 Solly lifted his gaze slightly. Slicker grinned more broadly as he
pointed his gun at Ray's head. 

 Solly fired his pistol behind Ray's back. Ray stepped over the unlucky
Slicker's faceless corpse and took his car keys. Fucking traitor, he
thought. Ray rearmed himself. Tossing Solly into the backseat of a Cutlass
Sierra, he pulled away to the rendezvous point. Ray braked immediately
when he saw Bill's car. He ran to his window. Bill was sprawled over the
front seats, his brains splattered all over the interior. 

 "Dammit!" he cursed and ran back to the car.

 "How is Bill?" Solly asked feebly.

 "He didn't make it," Ray confessed, biting on his lip.

 Solly sat up. 

 "This was a fucking setup, Ray. Do you know that?" 

 Ray nodded.

 "I figured that. Yeah."

 Ray went pale. 

 "Just shut up and do the bleeding, okay, Solly? I'll do the thinking."

 Solly gripped his shoulder.

 "I think I will bleed to death."

 "No you won't, Solly," Ray reassured him. "You won't die. It's just a
shoulder wound. I'll take you to Vittorio's warehouse and let you sit
there for a while. Vittorio will look after you."

 "What makes you think he'll do that?" Solly huffed.
 Ray gripped the steering wheel tensely.

 "You don't know him, Solly."

 Ray pulled up to Carlotta's warehouse and slung Solly over his shoulder.
He kicked the door open and dragged Solly in.

 "Will you tell Sarah what happened, Ray?"

 Ray smiled.

 "I'll tell her you did your job. That's the truth."

 "Thank you," Solly smiled. 

 Ray plunked him down on a chair and wiped his hands clean on paper
wrapping in the corner. Wallis peered through the kicked-in door and
wedged his way in. Ray swiveled to see him. 

 "Where the hell were you?!" he cried.

 Wallis grinned smugly.

 "At a safe distance."

 Ray pushed him.

 "I'll bet you were! We were nearly blown to bits out there! We've gotta
tell the Don about this. We have to regroup." Ray swayed his arm over to
the wounded Solly sitting peacefully in the chair. "He needs a doctor."

 "What? Him?"

 Wallis pulled out his gun and planted several shots into Solly's chest.
Ray gaped, horrified at the action. He pulled his semiautomatic from his
holster and pointed it Wallis.

 "You sick fuck!"

 Wallis laughed.

 "Come on, Ray. What's one less yid?"

 Ray ignored Wallis' revelation.

 "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied. "But I am going to
kill you." Ray clicked his gun. 

 Wallis held his gun eye-level with Ray. The two circled one another,
daring each other with their hate to pull the trigger and end the
standoff. 

 "Did you think you could get away with it?" Wallis asked. "Do you think I
wouldn't piece anything together?!"

 "Ditto, you stupid prick," Ray answered calmly. "You've been embezzling
money. Luca figured that out." Ray let out a slight laugh. "To think the
Don let you be his consielliere."

 Wallis, indignant, cocked his gun and aimed for Ray's face.

 "You should know how Carlotta feels about traitors. Well you're a
traitor, par excellence. You're a pig and when Carlotta finds out, he'll
kill you himself."

 Ray steeled his resolve.

 "I'm not afraid of you," Ray said.

 "You should be."

 "What the hell are you doing?!"

 Wallis and Ray shifted their glance for a second to Carlotta as he made
his entrance into the warehouse.

 "Put your guns down," he ordered.

 They ignored him.

 "I said put the guns down." He went to Wallis. "What are you doing? I
thought I told you to put your gun down."

 "You don't understand," he implored. He glared at Ray. "I can't do that."

 "Why?"

 "Things aren't the way they seem. People aren't who they say they are,"
Wallis revealed.

 Carlotta went pale. He took his gun from his jacket and pointed it
Wallis.

 "Put your gun away, Wallis," he ordered. He turned to Ray. "You, too. We
are a family. We do not turn guns on one another. Do as I say!" 

 "Don," Ray implored, "the hit was a setup Lot of our guys were killed.
Charlie barely made it. Wallis killed him and he's trying to kill me.
He'll kill you." 

 "He's a liar!" Wallis yelled.

 "Remember when I said you shouldn't trust people too much?" Ray asked. "I
was right." He glared at Wallis. "Explain to us why you weren't at the hit
and why it went wrong?"

 "You tell me," Wallis challenged. "You were there."

 "I barely escaped," Ray countered. "And why'd you kill Charlie?"

 Carlotta grimaced at Wallis. He cocked his gun.

 "Why, consielliere?"

 Wallis could feel the heat. He swore he would get out of this alive.
Wallis had to make his point.

 "Carlotta, he's a..." 

 "Don't listen to him!" Ray cried. "He's been taking money from you. He
hates you. He'd turn you over to the Fanuccis as sure as you're born." Ray
caught Carlotta's desperate gray eyes. "You must believe me. I would never
lie to you." 

 Wallis fumbled to protect himself. 

 Ray smiled at his preemptive strike. He saw the look of betrayal on
Carlotta's face. 

 "You were going to kill me!" he cried. "You were going to kill my son!" 

 Carlotta aimed at Wallis. Wallis swiveled to Carlotta. Ray fired his
semiautomatic too late. Carlotta was pummeled back rather dully, as though
he were not quite aware that he had been hit. He soon winced in pain and
collapsed. Wallis stood still, incredulous to the bullet wounds in his
chest, and then fell to the cement floor. Ray had fired four shots into
his body. 

 Carlotta breathed softly. Ray fell to his knees and cupped the man's face
in his shaky hands.

 "Angelo," he whispered as he touched Ray's face weakly.

 "Don Carlotta, please listen to me," he implored.

 Carlotta struggled to sit up with Ray's help.

 "You'll be the don now," he sighed.

 "I can't," Ray lamented.

 "Why?"

 Ray's eyes were glassy.

 "Don Carlotta, I am not who I said I was." Ray neared the man's face.
"I'm a cop."

 Carlotta gaped and shook his head.

 "No..."

 "Yes, I am. I'm from Chicago. I was sent to infiltrate your cartel."

 Carlotta stared at him.

 "My son...you betrayed me..."

 Carlotta tried to release himself from Ray's embrace.

 "Please let me talk, Vittorio. You were like a father to me. My father,
when he was alive, always told me what I did wrong. I never did anything
right for him. But you...you led me along. You were as a father should
be..."

 Carlotta said nothing. Ray pressed his chest wound to stop the bleeding.

 "I'll call this in. When they come, I'll tell them what you really are.
You'd never hurt anyone. I know you..."

 Carlotta expelled the remaining air from his lungs and let out a cry to
divide the heavens in two.
 "You betrayed me!"

 He pulled Ray to him in an embrace.

 "My son," he whispered softly and pulled the trigger. 

 Ray co llapsed on his shoulder, his green eyes staring vacantly ahead.
Carlotta held him and cradled the limp man in his arms as he would his
infant son. 

  

 Bess tried to sleep off the journey in the motel room. She shut her eyes
but sleep would not come. Fraser rested in the arm chair. Bess' cellular
telephone stood on the edge of the table. Kello said she would send in men
to apprehend Luca and Jimmy. Ray and the other men would simply disappear.
Fraser shut his eyes and prayed that his faith in Kello was not ill-spent.


  

 Ray pulled himself from under Carlotta's arms. He was dead. Ray felt his
chest. He was hit badly. His ribs were cracked and he could not breathe.
The muscles, the blood, all sloshed about in the chest cavity. He reached
into his pocket and pulled out his cellular phone. He dialed a few numbers
and breathed labouriously. 

 "Hello. Constable Benton Fraser."

 "Benny," Ray gasped.

 Fraser sat up straight in his chair. He had not heard his friend's voice
in months.

 "Ray?"

 Ray keeled over.

 "Benny. I never thought I'd hear you again."

 Fraser smiled weakly. 

 "Likewise." Fraser paused. "Ray, are you all right?" 

 Ray shook his head.

 "No, Benny. They got me. Good."

 "Ray, are you hurt?"

 Ray coughed. Blood escaped his lips.

 Fraser held his breath.

 "Ray, I followed you here. I thought you were in danger. I...." 

 Ray laughed at the confession. It was almost refreshing.

 "Never mind, Benny."

 Fraser rose from his chair.

 "Where exactly are you, Ray?"

 "Never mind that, Benny." Ray struggled to get the words out of his
mouth. "I want you to do a few things for me, okay?"

 "Of course."

 "You've got to tell Sarah Goldwin that Solly did his job... he was a good
cop." Ray's voice broke. "You've got to take care of Cyfrina and Bess for
me. I love them... I don't want to go anywhere without them..."

 "Ray, where are you?"

 Ray's head touched the cold cement. His eyes went glassy. He could see
the darkness.

 "Benny?"

 "Yes?"

 "I want you to know....You're like a brother..."

 Then there was nothing. Fraser frantically yelled into the phone but it
was dead. He would have to use the trick of triangulation if he ever
wanted to see his brother again. 

  

 The emergency room door was swung open. Ray was stretched over the
operating table. His shirt had been sheared away to reveal to the large
bloody hole left there by Carlotta. Bess gasped when she saw it and then
retained her cool composure. The emergency room crew set the intravenous
tubes into Ray's arms and a breathing tube up his nostrils. 

 "Ten CC's," the chief surgeon cried.

 The nurse injected the drug into the IV and then prepared another
syringe.

 Fraser put his hand on his sister's shoulder.

 "I will not be a widow again, Ben," she swore.

 He prayed to God she would be right.

 The emergency room crew became blurs of light blue fabric moving at an
inhuman speed to save Ray.

 "Blood pressure 106/74."

 "Respiratory 20."

 "Temperature 37.2."

 A doctor pressed Ray's chest as he examined the hole in it. 

 "One entrance wound. Severe gunshot, pointblank, to the upper thorax.
Possible compromise of the lungs." 

 The doctor swiveled his head for confirmation. 

 "Do we have an x-ray?"

 A nurse obliged him. 

 The bullet's just missed the lower portion of the left lung but there is
severe hemorrhage. The lower ribs are shattered." 

 The chief surgeon peered into Ray's gaping eyes.

 "I want a large bore peripheral IV access, like now!"

 A tube was inserted into Ray. He did not twitch or offer any movement,
not even the flutter of his eyelids.

 "His blood type is O."

 The monitor did not look good. The green light indicating his lifeline
fluctuated. 

 "His heartbeat is dropping!"

 "He's going into shock!"

 "Stroke!"

 The chief surgeon turned pale.

 "Shock him!"

 The chief surgeon prepared the conflibulators.

 "Turn it up."

 The nurse did as she was ordered.

 The surgeon pressed the pads against Ray's chest. Nothing. He did it
again.

 "We're losing him!"

 Fraser pressed against the glass tensely.

 The monitor went blank and delivered the dreaded flat tone that meant
only one thing. The breath left Bess. Fraser's eyes welled with tears. The
chief surgeon shook his head. Ray lay back. The tubes swamped his limp
body. His green eyes stared into the distance, into the glaring light over
his head.

 "No!" the chief surgeon swore. "Dammit, get up!"

 An orderly grabbed the surgeon.

 "Nobody dies on my watch!"

 The orderly restrained the surgeon. Nothing could be done.

 "Time of death at..."

 Ray shot up. His eyes were clear but empty. No one stirred. Ray looked
around him vaguely.

 "I've got a song, it ain't got no melody..."

 Ray fell back. The crew were aghast. The nurse felt his pulse.

 "He's stable."

 "Put him in the intensive care unit," the chief surgeon ordered.
"Maintain constant vigilance."

 Bess fell back into her brother's arms.

 "I won't ever be a widow again, Benton," she wept.

 Fraser wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. Too stunned for
words, he nodded his agreement and embraced her. 

  

 Ray did not move. He lay still under layers of serpentine wires and tubes
that facilitated his breathing and fed glucose into his veins. He was
fragile, something Fraser had never seen his friend as. Nothing broke Ray,
he thought. He remained constant to what concerned him the most- his work,
his friends, his family. Now, Ray was as an infant struggling to survive
on its own strength. Fraser touched his sleeping friend's thin eyelids
lightly. 

 "And now my charms are overthrown and what strength I have is my own
which is most faint..." 

 Fraser lifted his hand from Ray's face. He leaned his head at the
bedside.

 "Where is your strength now when we need it?" Fraser's lip quivered. "Who
will carry me? I could not carry myself when I saw your life fade away and
I can't carry myself now." He lay his hand heavily on Ray's forehead.
"Where are you now? Wake up, Ray. Don't leave me behind. Rage against the
dying of the light." Fraser's eyes became glassy. "You're my friend.
That's what friends do. They..." Fraser stopped. He remembered the last
thing he had heard Ray say before the mission. I'm your friend. That's
what friends do. They keep in touch.

 Fraser rose from the bedside.

 "Keep in touch, Ray." 

  

 Bess sat on the curb. The night air was crisp, as though the Arctic air
she had grown accustomed to as a child had attacked again. She wrapped
Fraser's jacket around her and gripped the empty styrofoam cup that held
her hot chocolate. Irresponsibly, she threw it away and moved back inside
the hospital. Ray had been pulled from the brink of death but he was not
yet out of the woods. That was what the doctors had told her. She saw his
thin, damaged body and all the tubes connected to it. He could not speak
nor eat nor even breathe on his own. He was not awake to hear her sigh.
How she had lain on his chest all those times and listened to a quiet
heartbeat, the abruptness of breath as he slept. When she crept into his
room and put her head on his shoulder she longed to hear it again. 

 An hour had passed. Or half an hour. She did not calculate how much time
she had actually spent with him but she figured it was still not enough.
She moved outside and waited. A stocky man offered her a cup of coffee.

 "No thank you," she politely refused.

 "Your husband's quite a fighter," he remarked. He peeked behind the glass
where Ray lay immobile. "My name is Michael Kopeck. I work for the ATF."

 Bess shook his hand.

 "Yes, Benton- my brother- told me about you."

 "Yeah, well-"

 Bess' pale brow became laden with query.

 "Is there something you wanted to say to me, Agent Kopeck?"
 Kopeck shook his head.

 "I'm sorry, Mrs. Vecchio, I don't know if this is the right time."

 Bess was damned and determined.

 "If it is about my husband, now is a very good time, sir."

 Kopeck stood aloof from Bess.

 "You're husband is the only survivor, Mrs. Vecchio," he explained. "We'll
need him to testify."

 Bess huffed. She strongly doubted that Kopeck was happy to see him pull
out of the mission alive.

 "I'm glad you see his life as worth more than that," she said and turned
away.

 Kopeck took her by the wrist.

 "You're husband is the only survivor of a bloody shoot-out involving two
major cartels that have been under investigation for two years. He is more
than just a witness." Kopeck stopped, fearing his insinuation may hurt
Bess. "He may be a collaborator."

 Bess could have slapped him.

 "My husband has been accused of being a dirty cop before and every time
the accusation has been refuted." Bess pulled herself from his grip. "Take
your best shot, Agent Kopeck."

 Bess stormed out of the hospital. She would come back to Ray later. 

  

 Fraser waited in the motel room for Bess. She stomped in and threw her
jacket on the armchair. 

 "Damn Agent Kopeck!" she cried. "That son-of-a-bitch! I could have
slapped him!"

 Fraser was concerned.

 "What? What did he say to you?" 

 Bess swiveled to her brother. 

 "Ben, he thinks that Ray is a crooked cop."

 Fraser held his breath. He curled his fingers together.

 "Right. I think we should be able to break his legs," Fraser swore as he
made his way toward the door.

 Bess held him back. Fraser conceded to defeat. He shrugged.

 "Right. I am not thinking rationally."

 Bess swung her arm around him.

 "Ben, you need some sleep."

 Fraser nodded and went to wash up before bed.

 In his absence, Bess telephoned home. Maybe she could impart some hopeful
news or wish her children good night if they had trouble sleeping. When
the telephone was answered, Bess seemed troubled. The background was
noisy, as though a circus had raged through her home.

 "Hey, there!" Stan greeted cheerily. "Who's that?"

 "It's me, Detective Kowalski. Bess Vecchio. Um... Stan, is everything all
right there?"

 "Yeah, yeah!" he cried back. "The kids are a barrel of laughs. Damn
they're fun! Great bunch o' kids you got there, Bessie! Hey! Tell me
something. They're allowed to eat Kraft Dinner, right?"

 Bess hung up the telephone. She was paralyzed, in a state of shock.

 "I have to get Ray back." 

  

 Fraser was tired. When he telephoned Elaine, he ignored her protestations
of sleep. He wanted Ray to wake up and could not leave until he did. He
stood over his friend. Bess held Ray's limp hand. 

 "What if he stays like this, Ben? What will I do?"

 Fraser did not know what to say. He had not seriously thought of the
possibility.

 A dial tone rang out in Bess' purse. It was the cellular telephone. She
answered it.

 "It's for you, Ben. It's Stan." 

 Fraser took it from her. 

  

 "Hello?" 

 "Hey, Benny! How are things?"

 Fraser smiled to hear Stan.

 "He still hasn't woken up."

 Stan's brow drooped. He thought of the children still asleep. He had not
had children himself, though he had desired it. If there was anything he
could at least attempt to do, Stan thought he would.

 "Benny, I want you to put the phone to Ray's ear."

 Fraser was confused.

 "I doubt he will hear or converse with you."

 Stan disregarded Fraser's doubt.

 "Just trust me, Benny."

 Fraser followed Stan's advise.

 Stan cleared his throat. What to say to the legend that Fraser had built
for Ray?

 "Ray, it's me- Stan. You know- the guy sent to replace you. I just wanted
to say that..." Stan faltered. He thought of the children. "You've left a
whole whack of people behind- your sister, your mom, your kids, your wife.
I've never quite met her but they say she's really sweet, sweet enough to
eat. I meant that in a nice Christian way. Really. And Benny. He's like a
little puppy dog. He loves you, man. I mean- in a friend sort of way."
Stan paused for breath. "What I mean to say is that you can't leave
everything behind. People here love you very much." Stan stopped. Even if
Ray could not answer back, Stan felt that Ray knew what was at stake- a
whole life was waiting for him to return to it. "Oh yeah, and it's Benny's
fault that your car blew up."

 Ray shot up and enclosed his hands around Fraser's throat. He throttled
the steadfast Mountie thoroughly until his creamy flesh turned purple. The
cellular telephone fell to the floor.

 Bess yelped for joy and embraced her husband as he choked Fraser.

 Stan returned to the telephone. 

 "Benny? Benny? Are you there? Look, I'm sorry about that and I hope we
can still be friends. Benny?" 

  

 Ray had not seen the morning since he had been shot. The sun burned
orange on the white walls of his room. It was not only relieving but life
affirming. Solly and Bill were wrong. They would return alive. But in the
brevity of the thought, Ray corrected himself for his shortsightedness.
Solly and Bill did not make it. They were killed in the line of duty, duty
Ray had proffered was more important than life itself. Well how important
was it now? Bill and Solly were perhaps in the morgue by now. Ray shut his
eyes. Pain made it necessary. Ray tried to breathe. It was hard. A weight
was placed on his chest, he was sure of it. Tubes were everywhere. He felt
alone. 

 "Ray?"

 Ray moved his head left. Bess swept black locks from her face and gazed
upon him.

 "Bess..."

 Ray lifted his hand to her face.

 "Ray, I knew you would come back to me," she melted into his touch.

 Ray kept his hand to her face.

 "I couldn't leave you, Bess. Not again." 

  

 Fraser finished packing. Ray was coming home at last. A knock at his
motel room door disturbed his thought and he left his duffle bag to answer
it. It was Agent Kopeck. 

 "Do come in," Fraser invited him coldly.

 Kopeck stepped inside.

 "Constable," he began, "I simply wanted to say that... I was
wrong...about everything."

 Fraser calmly raised his eyebrows.

 "Yes."

 Kopeck could see Fraser was being smug in his own way.

 "You don't have to rub it in. It's my job to hunt the lawless down."

 "And is Detective Vecchio among them?"

 Kopeck made no movement.

 "I was trying to eliminate him from any possibility of wrongdoing,
Constable Fraser. It's my job."

 Fraser nodded.

 "So you have said." Fraser opened the door and led Kopeck out. "I will
inform Detective Vecchio of your sincerity. I doubt you will want to share
that information with him yourself."

 With that, Fraser closed the door.

 "Scoundrels and knaves," Fraser uttered as he tried to forget Kopeck. 

  

 T.S. Eliot was right. April was the cruelest month of the year. This was
especially true for Chicago. Snow sullied black with car exhaust marred
the nature strips of suburbia. The trees had not yet been crowned with the
green leaves of spring. Instead, brown soggy leaves clumped the curbs and
drains. The sun refused to shine. Clouds lay thick on the horizon. Fraser
smiled as he made the turn to Octavia Drive. 

 "I'll bet you're happy to be home at last," Fraser surmised smiling
ingenuously.

 "Yeah," Ray answered absent-mindedly.

 He stared at the top of trees, the barren branches withered by the rains
that dissolved the leaves that once adorned them. The car came to a stop.
They had arrived at the back entrance of Ray's house.

 Fraser opened the car door. He gripped Ray's hand and helped him out of
the car. This annoyed Ray.

 "I'm not a baby, Benny, I can help myself."

 Fraser would not hear of it.

 "Ray, you've sustained a massive blow to the chest. You'll be lucky if
you can sit upright."

 Ray entered his home through the back porch. It would be hard to go
through the front, what he had pictured himself doing months back. The
kitchen was pristine. Much of the old furnishings he had grown up with had
been done away with when Bess came into the home. Everything was Victorian
or old-style Scandinavian. It was homey and warm. Ray felt at ease when he
walked in. Nothing stirred. It was as though no one had occupied the house
when he was gone. Had life not gone on without him?

 Bess appeared from out of nowhere and kissed her husband. Ray returned
the kiss.
 "Where are the kids?"

 Bess turned to the hidden children. Cyfrin and Rory peeked behind the
door. Cyfrin's tiny fingers bit into the hardwood counter as she eased up
furtively to her father in stages. Ray looked over the top. He smiled to
see her.

 "Cyfrina."

 Cyfrin burst into view and jumped into her father's arms. Ray crouched to
her height and embraced her with every ounce of strength he could afford.
Cyfrin squeezed him. His chest hurt but he did not mind. He kept his
promise to his little girl.

 "I missed you, Daddy."

 "I missed you, Cyfrina."

 Ray let go. He stood up. Rory tried to hide from Ray in vain.

 "How are you, Rory?"

 Ray scuffed the black locks that hung loosely on Rory's head.

 "Have you been looking after things for me?"

 Rory nodded.

 "Good boy," Ray smiled and hugged the boy.

 Ray turned to Fraser.

 "It's great to be home." 

  

 Ray peeked out behind the closed curtain of his bedroom to see the car
the Feds had watching the house. 

 "How long do you have to live in the shadows?" Bess asked as she clipped
her toe nails.

 Ray intensified his view from the window.

 "When the rest of the Carlottas are put behind bars, then I can eat out,
baby." 

 Ray joined Bess on the bed.

 "Maybe then we can go anywhere you want. Like a ballet or something."
 Ray let his hand get lost in Bess' bluntly-cut tresses.

 "I hope we survive that long," Bess wished as she removed herself from
Ray. She placed her nailclippers in a little box and turned to face her
husband. "I really thought the mission was over."

 "Yeah, I thought so, too."

 Bess huffed.

 "Easy for you to say. You don't have to be guarded every time you buy
groceries. You don't have to watch every move the children make or else
someone will spirit them away." Bess threw up her hands. "I mean- I was
apart of the R.C.M.P. Special Task Force Unit for five years. I know how
to take care of myself!"

 "Baby, I know..."

 Bess glared at Ray.

 "Do you?"

 Bess tucked herself in.

 "I don't think you do."

 Ray bit on his lip. He tried to reach out to her.

 "Look, Bessie..."

 She pushed his hand away.

 "Don't talk to me!"

 Ray became impatient.

 "Bessie, I don't like this any more than you do but we have to walk
through fire before we can get out of the woods. You got me?"

 Bess nestled her head onto her pillow.

 "Yes," she replied reluctantly. 

 Ray softened with her agreement. He held her hand and shut out the light.


  

  

 Louise St. Laurent was the no-nonsense sort of woman ideal for the role
as district attorney. She had worked long and hard for it and now, on the
eve of trying the case of her career, she did not bite her nails but
rather embraced the tension.

 Kello, Kopeck and Ray sat at the table before Louise. With an ounce of
resignation, they remained calm and collected. It was an hour before the
trial started.

 "I hope you're up to this, Ray," Louise said, "everything rides on you."

 Ray huffed.

 "Well that takes the pressure off."

 Louise picked up her briefcase and started for the courtroom.

 "Relax. After this, Vecchio, you can kick back with a bottle of
Chardonnay and forget it all ever happened."

 Ray rubbed his temples. He hoped she was right. Ray felt a tug on his
shoulder.

 "Vecchio," Kopeck began, "look- I'm sorry about before, about thinking
you were crooked. I was just trying to cover all my bases. That's all."

 Ray glowered at him.

 "I'll try to keep that in mind."

 Ray exited the room and walked toward the courtroom. Kello edged to Ray,
stopped him and straightened his tie.

 "Remember to speak clearly and loudly," she instructed, "make eye
contact, give as much detail as you can remember."

 Ray smiled at her doting.

 "I'll be fine. Thanks."

 Kello smiled back nervously.

 "Godspeed, young man."

 Ray observed Kello and Kopeck as they entered the courtroom. They had
been through all the motions before. The Carlotta cartel was just another
fish in the pond snagged, hooked and gutted. Ray felt apprehensive. His
upper lip sweat. He would have to face the men he betrayed. He would have
to reveal his filial devotion to Vittorio Carlotta. Ray sturdied himself.
He would tell everyone what happened officially. That was it.

 Ray pushed the doors to the courtroom open. There was, all of a sudden, a
lull. As if he were the guest of honour, all in the courtroom swung their
heads to see him. Spectators, Fraser, Huey and his new partner, Elaine,
Walsh, the guy they had replaced him with, Louise, the jurors, the judge,
Jimmy and Luca Carlotta. Ray edged to Bess who waited for him patiently.

 "I think your fanclub has taken their devotion to you one step higher,"
she noted as she caught the Carlottas' glare.

 Gianna and Chiara looked at Ray. Jimmy and Luca, focussed on him. If
their eyes were as sharp as knives, Ray would be degutted.

 "I was just doing my job," Ray calmly stated.

 "I hope they feel that way," Bess hoped. 

  

 "I call Detective Raymond Vecchio to the stand," Louise announced. 

 A series of suppressed coughs hearkened Ray's arrival to the witness
stand. He climbed in and waited to be questioned. Louise walked to the
stand. 

 "Detective Vecchio, how did you come to infiltrate the Carlotta cartel?"

 "I was asked by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Alcohol, Firearms
and Tobacco to infiltrate the cartel and collect evidence of racketeering
and illegal arms smuggling."

 Gianna hung her head tried to fight back tears.

 "What was your function in the cartel?" Louise asked.

 "I was a soldier, a person who makes hits, frightens opponents, that sort
of thing."

 Louise seemed surprised.

 "And did you carry out these hits, as you call them?"

 Ray shook his head.

 "Not exactly. I was asked to eliminate Reynaldo Gomez, a bookie who owed
Carlotta a huge sum of money. He was suspected by the cartel to have
spoken to the Feds, which, of course, was true as he was an informant for
the past three months prior to the mission. I was sent to kill him by
Carlotta but I was actually going to make it look like I killed him and
then smuggle him out of state."
 "And how did you effect this?"

 "I pulled out Gomez's molar and produced shells from I gun that I
supposed to kill him with. I then made him wear a disguise and sent him on
a train to location where the Feds retrieved him."

 A few shocked gasps escaped some spectators but the murmur was silenced.

 "Thank you, Detective." Louise turned to the judge. "No further
questions, Your Honour." 

 The defense attorney rose and looked directly at Ray. 

 "Detective Vecchio, you testified that you were a soldier, correct?"

 Ray nodded.

 Yes, that is correct."

 "From whom did you take orders?"

 "From Don.." Ray corrected himself. "Vittorio Carlotta. Often, I was
given orders by Jimmy."

 "Tell me, Detective Vecchio, what happened to ATF Special Agent Dirk
Slicker?"

 Ray went silent.

 "Special Agent Slicker approached me one evening in Las Vegas. He wanted
an update on our progress and I told him that Carlotta planned a hit on
the Fanucci cartel." 

 The defense attorney shook his head and grinned. He reminded Ray of
Wallis. 

 "That is not what I mean. What I want to know is why Agent Slicker was
found in a warehouse with his face blown off with a Berretta?"

 Louise shot up.

 "Objection!"

 "Approach the bench," the judge ordered.

 The two lawyers scrambled to the bench. 

 "What the hell is going on?" Louise demanded. 

 "That's what I'd like to know, Miss St. Laurent," the judge concurred.
"What is this, Mr. Trent?" 

 "What I am trying to establish, your Honour, is that the death of three
law enforcement officers can be related to Detective Vecchio's miraculous
escape from death."

 Louise huffed.

 "Some miracle! A bullet to the chest."

 "Self-inflicted?" Trent quizzed.

 "Carlotta shot him," Louise retorted.

 Trent huffed.

 "While the good detective was in his confidence."

 "I'm ruling this inadmissible and irrelevant. This has no bearing on the
trial at hand," the judge pronounced. He glared at Trent. "If you pull
anything like that again, Mr. Trent, I'll have you disbarred."

 The lawyers resumed their stances. 

 "The jury will disregard that last question."

 Trent shuffled his feet.

 "What happened after the shoot-out, Detective?"

 "Slicker was going to kill Detective Goldwin and myself. He admitted that
he had accepted money from the Fanucci cartel to suppress evidence. It was
then that Goldwin fired his gun."

 "And how did Detective Goldwin die?"

 Ray cleared his throat.

 "Wallis Crawford shot him. Crawford managed to discover our identities.
He shot Detective Goldwin and then tried to shoot me."

 Ray went silent.

 Trent sat down.

 "That will be all, Detective."

 Ray was dismissed from the stand and returned to his seat. He made an
effort not to look at the Carlottas. 

  

 A session was adjourned. Ray had to be present everyday until the trial
was over. Louise had given assurance that the trial would be short-lived.
He could go back to his home life and return to his desk in a matter of
weeks. Ray held his breath. He tried to believe the simple promise. Ray
joined Bess' arm and walked out of the courtroom. A hand clasped his
elbow. Gianna held him in her eyes. 

 "Why?"

 Ray asked Bess to wait for him in the corridor. He held the small Italian
woman in his calm gaze.

 "Gianna, I want you to understand that I meant no harm to you or your
children."

 Gianna spat at Ray.

 "Che schifazzo!" The woman retained her composure. "I think you are
disgusting! All you care about is your damned job! Some stupid badge is
your excuse to destroy my husband and my family!"

 Ray bit on his lip.

 "Your husband killed men, ordered men to be killed." 

 "He was a father," Mrs. Carlotta countered, "he was, for a while, your
father. Does that mean anything to you?" 

 Ray could not lie to her. Carlotta was a father to him, more than his own
father had been to him.

 "That doesn't change the fact that what he did was wrong," Ray said as he
avoided her eyes.

 Gianna shook her head.

 "You have no idea what it is like to have children, to build up a family
and then watch it destroyed." Gianna wiped a tear from her eye and became
indignant. "You come to my house, destroy my family and then you go home
to that skinny puttana! She's not even Italian!"

 Gianna passed Ray to leave.
 "You killed my husband. I will not let myself nor my family be used to
ruin him further."

 Ray felt as though he had been beaten, stripped of dignity. He never
quite realized how his betrayal would rip apart the people he had let
himself get close to over the months. It was not a job but torture. 

  

 Gianna walked into the hotel room with Chiara under the watchful eye of
the federal agents sent to guard her and her family. An indignity on top
of a dignity. Her husband was killed, her nephew and brother-in-law being
tried like thieves and now her family was incarcerated and made to watch
the ruin of the entire dynasty. Gianna sat down. When the end was near,
Cleopatra poisoned herself rather than be paraded as a Roman spoil of war.


  

 Gianna smiled as she handed a bowl of steaming pasta to the agent. 

 "You need to eat," she offered. "They don't feed you well enough."

 The agent smiled. 

 "Thank you, Mrs. Carlotta." 

 She watched as the agent ate. Returning to her family, Gianna served her
family the pasta she had quickly prepared. She stirred it compulsively.
Chiara stared at her.

 "Mama?"

 "Just shut up and eat," she commanded.

 Alfredo continued to eat. Joey reached for the salt and pepper.

 "I'm starving, Mama."

 Gianna remained stony-faced.

 "That's good, Joseph. Eat. That's a good boy."

 Chiara nibbled at her food. She helped herself to some bread. Chiara
heard a gurgling sound and then a thump. She started to rise.

 "Sit down!"Gianna ordered.

 Chiara's face became plainly full of meaning. Horror attacked every
muscle under the smooth fresh face.

 "Mama!"

 Gianna was resigned. Chiara knew that instantly. Horror and then defeat.
Throwing down her fork, Chiara buried her face in her hands and wept.
Alfredo raised his brow.

 "What's wrong?"

 "Just eat," his mother quietly ordered.

 Gianna battled tears and stirred the pasta once more. What love could not
defend, pride made up for.

 Joey pushed away his bowl.

 "I'm tired now, Mama," the small six-year-old uttered softly, "I'm going
to bed now."

 Gianna nodded. He was such a resilient boy. Or perhaps he didn't know.
She watched for the last time as her son crept into the room and curled up
onto the bed. Alfredo, likewise, rose and nestled onto the couch. Only
Chiara stayed. Her head lifted and she fixed her gaze onto her mother.
Dried tears etched her face. Gianna observed her once and then sat down.
Though the day had not been long, she felt tired and yearned to sleep
along with her children. 

  

 Ray sat at his desk, bored. That Stan-guy wrecked the precious order that
he had maintained before he was called on the mission. The case files were
moved, there were too many pens all in one drawer and a Hawaiian
dancing-girl lamp marred the professional appearance that Ray hoped people
would fall for. Fraser sat next to him. Ray scowled at him accusingly. 

 "Why didn't you stop him from wrecking the order of my desk?"

 "I don't know what you mean."

 Ray scowled some more. The hell he didn't. The telephone rang.

 "Vecchio."

 Ray went pale. He rose from the desk.

 "Yeah. I'll come."

 Ray placed the receiver down. Fraser became worried.

 "Ray, what is it?"

 Ray's face was deadpan.
 "Mrs. Carlotta. Come on." 

 Ray and Fraser fled in a quiet urgency. 

  

 Ray and Fraser crept by the dead body of the agent sent to guard Gianna
and her family. They moved inside. 

 "Sweet Jesus!"

 Gianna sat upright, her arms stiff and her face pale. Fraser moved to
her. He touched her lips. Creamy white spittle eked out in small amounts.
He turned to Chiara. Curled up on an armchair and rosary beads wrapped in
her hands, he lifted her head gently. Tears had long since dried.

 "She was crying," Fraser quietly noted. Recomposing himself, Fraser
locked onto Ray. "Rat poison."

 Another agent exited the bedroom.

 "Two boys are in there. Dead."

 Ray turned from him. The pasta on the table had grown cold.

 "She poisoned her own children," Ray quietly concluded.

 "That would seem likely," Fraser agreed.

 Ray nodded. Picking up a chair, he threw it to the ground. Again, there
was silence, a deafening roar and testament to the dead. 

  

 Ray charged into the squad room. Fraser followed him at length. 

 "She's going to hell!" Ray cried, throwing up his hands in despair.

 "Ray."

 "I don't fucking believe it! I mean- what the hell would make her kill
her own flesh and blood? Chiara was crying..."

 Ray stopped when the lump in his throat became too big.

 Fraser remained calm for his friend's sake.

 "Ray?"

 Ray slunk down behind his desk. He was trembling not so much in fury as
in pure horror.

 "She is a murderer."

 "Ray?"

 "What?!" he snapped.

 Fraser locked his blue eyes onto his friend.

 "Let it go."

 Ray rose and came within a centimetre of his friend's face.

 "Am I hearing you right? Let it go?"

 "There is nothing you can do anyway, Ray," Fraser supplied.

 "Newsflash, Benny! She killed her own children."

 "I know that," Fraser answered calmly. "She thought she was doing
something right, no matter how reprehensible you may find it."

 Ray's face screwed up in disbelief but Fraser remained firm.

 "You don't find it wrong? Killing children?"

 Fraser remained silent.

 "She thought she was protecting her own children."

 "That's not what I asked you, Benny."

 Fraser walked away.

 "Benny?! Don't walk away from me!"

 Fraser turned his head. 

 "This is hardly about Mrs. Carlotta killing her children. This is about
you and the loyalties you've made. You crossed a line you never should
have and now you find it hard to turn back." Fraser shrugged his
shoulders. "It makes Mrs. Carlotta's murdering of her children seem almost
immaterial." 
 Fraser left the squad room.

 Ray remained still. His hands felt sticky and having looked at them once,
went to the washroom to remove the horrid feeling from him. 

  

 Midnight. Autopsies on Gianna and her family would be performed the next
day. Ray slouched at his desk thinking on Fraser's words. Loyalty and the
betrayal of that loyalty killed Gianna and her children. Ray wondered if
he had just steered clear of Don Carlotta's family they would be alive
today. But he did not feel entirely guilty. Gianna poisoned her children,
he didn't. She didn't have to but she did. The betrayal of loyalty should
never have included her children. A click and a creak at the door alerted
Ray. He sat up. A small woman in her thirties approached the desk warily. 

 "Are you Ray Vecchio?"

 Ray nodded.

 "Yes."

 "My name is Assunta Brind, formerly Carlotta. I'm here about my family."

 Ray hung his head.

 "Please sit down."

 Assunta sat across from him. She composed herself.

 "How did they die?" she asked.

 Ray was reluctant to tell her.

 "They...uh... poisoned."

 Assunta hung her head.

 "I'm sorry," Ray offered.

 Assunta nodded and allayed his consolation.

 "She was a brave soldier all around."

 Ray did not understand. Assunta exhaled painful breath.

 "I think my mother spearheaded it. She always told me that the family was
important and we should even die to protect it."

 Ray bit on his lip.

 "Did she?"

 Assunta nodded. She reached for his hand.

 "I know who you are and I understand why you did what you had to do..."
Assunta paused and recomposed herself. "It's not your fault. My mother and
father made choices in their lives and they were bad ones. They died by
them I didn't want the same thing to happen to me which is why I left the
family to get married. I wanted away from it all. My father hated me for
it, I think."

 "Maybe not," Ray joined, "he did think of you fondly."

 Assunta smiled with difficulty. It was a weight relieved.

 "Still. If he loved me, marrying outside the family was one of the things
he had trouble forgiving."

 Ray hung his head.

 "It doesn't matter now."

 It was agreed. Nothing much mattered now.

 Assunta rose.

 "I just wanted to say that. Get it off my chest."

 Ray rose to his feet.

 "Assunta?"

 She turned her head. Ray's lips quivered to accept the absolution.

 "Thank you."

 Assunta smiled politely, turned her back and left. 

  

 Ray couldn't go alone to see Solly buried. Fraser came with him though he
stood at a distance. Ray walked slowly to the burial plot in the clearing.
Sarah Goldwin bowed her head as the rabbi offered his prayers to God. She
tilted her head to see Ray coming. She grabbed a handful of freshly-dug
dirt and tossed it onto Solly's coffin. 

 Ray opened his arms to Sarah.

 "Sarah."

 "Drop dead," she said and strode away from him as fast as possible.

 Ray hung his head and walked back to Fraser. The spring day was cold and
leaves still clung to the earth heavy with melted snow.

 "Benny, I need a drink."

 Fraser put his arm about Ray's gaunt shoulders. 

 "I think there is a tavern open now." 

  

 Fraser and Ray sat in the booth saying nothing. Ray had a tumbler of
scotch and Fraser had before him a glass of bourbon, untouched. He wasn't
really fond of alcohol though he had not refused Ray's buying it for him.
He was a man in control and didn't have much of a tolerance for it anyway.
Ray enclosed his hands around the tumbler.

 "Benny?"

 Fraser perked up his head.

 "Am I to blame?"

 Fraser tilted his head.

 "What do you mean?"

 Ray sipped the scotch. 

 "I mean- did I do all of this? Did I kill Solly and Bill and was I
responsible for Mrs. 
 Carlotta and her children?"

 Fraser put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

 "Ray, they all followed their own paths. In our work, sometimes we are
called to die. It is apart of the uniform we wear everyday." Fraser
swallowed. "We all make conscious decisions to do what we do. We could say
it sounded reasonable at the time or that a sudden impulse drove us to a
particular action but ultimately when we are alone we have to confront our
actions."

 Ray put the tumbler down. 

 "That's not what you said yesterday. You said yesterday this wasn't about
Mrs. Carlotta and her children, but it was about me being stupid enough to
make loyalties where I shouldn't have. That's what you said." 

 Fraser reflected for a moment.

 "Yes, I did. But don't you think that there is a causality of things?"
Fraser moved his glass of bourbon and Ray's tumbler of scotch into a line.
"Everything is moved by something else, a domino effect, if you will.
Carlotta moved and then you moved to match him but it wasn't that you
moved it was how you did it." Fraser looked definitively at Ray. "I think
you were too eager to go in. Get the job done and then go home. Didn't you
think that there were hurdles to leap over?"

 Ray retrieved his tumbler and swigged it back.

 "I feel bad as it is, Benny. Don't make me feel worse."

 "Is that how you feel?"

 Ray shot a glance at him.

 "What the hell have I been saying all this time? That I feel happy? Just
really fucking peachy?! Is that it?!"

 Fraser became grim.

 "You haven't told me, Ray. You have been distant ever since you came out
of the coma."

 Fraser rose and tossed a bill onto the table.

 "I thought friends were supposed to keep in touch?"

 Ray watched Fraser leave the tavern. He clenched a napkin in his hand and
then threw it down.

 "Shit!" he exclaimed and chased after his friend.

 Fraser had a good pace and was well away from the tavern.

 "Benny!"

 Fraser turned.

 "What is it, Ray?"

 Ray met up with Fraser. He stopped and stared at his friend. He then
cleft his friend's face in his hands and juggled his head playfully.

 "It's 'cause o' you I'm so soft!"

 Fraser smiled. It was Ray's way of apologizing.

 "Think nothing of it Ray." 

  

 The day of reckoning had arrived. The trial was over and the world waited
to hear the verdict. The courtroom doors were shut upon the audience. Ray
shuddered a little and waited in the wings for the verdict. Bess tried to
hold his hand but he refused it. He was too tense to do anything. The
trial lawyers rose and waited for the verdict. The middle-aged woman rose
and placed spectacles on the bridge of her freckled nose. 

 "How does the jury find the defendants?"

 "Guilty," she answered plaintively and sat down.

 The gavel came down and Ray released the tension from his shoulders. He
nearly laughed. It was finally over. Stan pulled his clenched fist up and
down in a solid motion of triumph. Ray could feel hands pat his shoulders
heartily.

 "You got 'em, Vecchio!" Walsh congratulated.

 Huey playfully punched Ray on the arm.

 "Your kung-fu is the best, big guy!"

 Bess planted a kiss on his cheek. Ray touched her face and allowed
himself to smile. Ray turned to Fraser.

 "It's over. It's finally over."

 Fraser smiled slightly.

 "Praised be to God, and not our strength for it. What Henry the Fifth
said after winning the Battle of Agincourt."

 Ray beamed at his friend. 

 "Whatever!"
 He pulled Fraser to him and kissed his cheek. Fraser repelled him and
tried to wipe off any evidence of the impromptu kiss. 

  

 Ray quit the courtroom with Bess. After the unwelcomed kiss he planted on
his friend's cheek, Fraser decided to walk alone. Ray felt a firm grasp on
his shoulder and he turned around. Agent Kello grinned at him.

 "I wanted to personally thank you, Detective Vecchio. If it weren't for
you, the Carlotta cartel would still be in business today."

 Ray nodded.

 "Thanks, but, Solly and Bill deserve some of the credit. They paid a lot
for this."

 Kello nodded and bowed her head.

 "I understand. A lot of people paid a lot for this." She put her hands on
his shoulders. "Thank you once more."

 Bess joined her arm with Ray's.

 "There is a home waiting for you, Raymond."

 Ray pulled her to him.

 "Take me home, Elizabeth." 

  

 Supper had just finished. The children scrambled with frenetic energy
from the dining room to their rooms where they played boisterously. Ray
wanted to shout at them to keep still but he suppressed the urge. It would
be a cold day before he would silence any child in his home. He entered
the kitchen and poured some coffee for himself. Bess busied herself with
the dishes. Ray stared at her. She was so slender and beautiful. He wanted
to place his arm around her. He thought of Sarah the other day. She had
spurned him. Left a widow with an infant son, she had nothing to comfort
her. She should never have been left alone. No doubt she raised as much
fuss as Solly did when he worried about being sent in. He thought he would
die and so he did. Bill was a little more tightlipped about his
apprehensions. Nevertheless, his life ended at the muzzle of a
semiautomatic. Three men were sent in and only one came back, one whose
pride should have damned him to die. Or had it damned him to a fate worse
then death? Had he to live the deaths of his fellow officers over and over
again? 

 Ray charged through the backdoor. Bess was alerted and followed him. Ray
curled up on the back porch with the steaming hot cup of coffee in his
hands. Bess knelt beside him.

 "Why?" Ray chanted. "Why?"

 "Ray."

 "I am alive."

 Bess nodded.

 "Yes, you are."

 "But why?"

 Ray lifted his head to Bess.

 "I saw my father, Elizabeth, when I was under. He said I couldn't go yet.
I still had something to do." He touched Bess' cheek. "I swore I would
never leave you behind again." Ray's eyes were fluid. "Why am I alive if
it's not such a good thing?"

 Bess was all too familiar with death. It had plagued her since childhood.
She offered 
 experience rather than sentimentality, spiritual comfort than empty
promises.

 "Ray, if you have been sent back from the brink of death, then what you
have to do is not over yet. Solly and Bill have fulfilled their mission
here. Their names have been called and there was nothing you could have
done."

 Ray tried to smile at Bess' simple wisdom. He allowed his hand to be lost
in her dark tresses.

 "I couldn't leave you behind. I wasn't supposed to."

 Bess smiled.

 "Then we have a generous God."

 She embraced Ray and kissed him fully.

 A shuffle at the front door prompted Bess to answer to it.

 "Ben!"

 Her brother smiled.

 "I've just come to see Ray." He pointed behind him. "Detective Kowalski
is parking the car."

 "I'll put tea on," she said and retreated to the kitchen.

 Ray came from out back and greeted his friend.

 "You're not going to kiss me, are you, Ray?"

 Ray promised he wouldn't.

 "What are you doing here?"

 Fraser stubbed his toe on the porch.

 "Friends keep in touch."

 Ray laughed.

 "Yeah." Ray paused. "It's all over and we can begin again."

 "I'd like that," Fraser agreed.

 Stan pounced onto the porch.

 "Hey, Ray! Sorry about the car, nice porch, are those geraniums? My mom's
got some in her garden, you don't have cable, do you? Because there's
lacrosse on and...say, you could use a satellite dish here...."

 Ray scowled.

 "What are you doing here, Detective Kowalski?"

 Stan let out a toothy grin and swung his arm about Fraser's shoulder.

 "Benny here's my friend."

 Ray raised an eyebrow.

 "Oh really?"

 Ray pushed Stan out of the house.

 "I don't like you. You go now."

 Ray slammed the door on his face and led his friend to the sitting room.

 Stan peered through the front window.
 "Hey! I wanna come in."

 Ray ignored him whilst Fraser found it impossible to do so.

 "Ray, shouldn't we let Stan in?"

 Ray placed his coffee cup on a coaster.

 "Uh...no."

 Fraser became remorseful. His newfound friend would be left outside.

 "Benny, he's like a cat that won't go away if you keep feeding it. So
don't look at him."

 "But Ray!"

 Ray held up a scolding finger.

 "Tell me, Benny," Ray became serene, "how are the kids?"

 Fraser began to unfold his life since Ray had gone.

 Stan looked into the window. Clouds rumbled and rain dropped gradually.
Stan covered his head with his jacket. There was no hope of gaining
entrance as Ray would not have it and Fraser was powerless to stop his
friend. So, like a cat drenched in a storm, Stan waited for Fraser at the
corner of the porch mumbling curses and thumping his foot against the
railing. Fraser would need a ride home and no friend in good conscience
would leave another to suffer the cold.