Gregg Hurwitz: The Tower

"You'd better move on, junior," Jade said, looking straight ahead. "You might hurt yourself."

The cop stepped forward. "You got something to say?" he asked, placing a hand on Jade's shoulder and leaning toward him.

The moment the cop touched him, Jade grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the police car. He moved his face right up to the cop's until he could see through the darkness of his sunglasses. The cop didn't move. His arms were out to his sides, hands opened passively. Jade held him for a moment, then let him go. He turned to walk away.

Dave's wife was walking toward him angrily, tears drying on her cheeks. She had overheard Jade talking about her husband.

"You bastard," she cried. "I knew it was trouble, him working with you." She stifled a sob. "And now. How dare you talk about him that way? He died helping you on this job."

"'Helping me,'" Jade said under his breath. He looked off in the distance, slowly shaking his head.

Her voice was wavering and her words blended together, but she forged ahead. "I knew it. I knew it would end in blood. But he was so excited to work with you. The great Jade Marlow."

"I think we should just-"

"How could you have let him die? He was there for you. He died covering you, and you didn't even try to help him." She raised a finger, pointing it at him. "You're a curse, a fucking death curse."

Jade finally looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. "I hate to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but he was breaking orders when he got shot."

She slapped him, her hand ringing loudly across his face, leaving a red outline. She pulled back to hit him again, but Jade caught her arm and threw it away roughly. She collapsed on the ground.

"You'll get over it," he snarled. "Start dating." He turned and walked slowly to his car, leaving her sobbing on the pavement.

Three women clad in green-sequined bikinis gazed out from the yellowed poster. Its caption proudly announced: STRAUDERS FULL-BODIED BEER-IT GLITTERS AS YOU GUZZLE. The women held sparklers and curled their hands suggestively around the large brown bottles.

"You know, I never understood that shit," Jade said, indicating the poster with a flick of his head.

Tony Razzoni shifted heavily in his chair and turned to face him. "What shit, Jade?"

"Why they always put chicks all over when they advertise. Beer, cars, power tools. I don't get it. Are we supposed to be able to fuck these girls if we buy the shit?"

"No. No, I think if we buy the shit, then we're the kind of guys who can get laid by chicks like that." Tony stabbed a meaty forefinger at the poster to emphasize his last words.

Jade glanced at Tony's rugged face, then down at his belly, which was wedged subtly beneath the bar. "Oh yeah. Right."

Tony had gone through six months of FBI training with Jade before dropping out. He'd gone into the police force and now headed up a squad for the small town of Falstaff Creek. He had remained friends with Jade, and now was one of the few people relaxed enough to endure Jade's abrasive personality.

Tony was a large man, about six feet, two-fifty. Much of his size came from muscle, though it wasn't readily apparent from his appearance. His face was round, his features soft. A thin sheen of sweat seemed always to cover his cheeks, and his snug-fitting shirt usually showed spots of dampness on the back. Jade couldn't remember ever having seen him when he wasn't sweaty.

Tony didn't lose his temper. Because of his size, he never had to. And he had a gentle touch, even when he wasn't being gentle. Tony's personality could be read right off his face. He was never mean, and fair all the way through. If he ever hurt someone, it was deserved.

"So…" Tony said. He paused to clear his throat. "I hear you were a real asshole at the day care shoot-out today."

"So I'm garnering the usual thanks already?"

"I hear you yelled at the dead kid's wife."

"She was being dramatic."

Tony realized that he was pushing too far and softened his tone. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, Jade, but-"

"Bullshit."

"What, bullshit?"

"Whenever someone starts a sentence with 'I don't mean to be disrespectful, but,' it really means 'I'm gonna be disrespectful, but let's pretend like I'm not.' So just cut the shit and say what you have to say."

Tony sighed and set his jaw. "Look, kid. How long I known you?"

"About eight years, Tony. About eight years."

Tony smiled affectionately. "How many people you known that long who still talk to you?"

Jade pretended to count them on his fingers. When he got to ten, he turned to Tony and smiled. "None."

"Now, Jade, that's gotta count for something."

"Sure, Tony. It does."

Tony smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. "Then shut the fuck up for a minute and listen to me. You can't go through life like a wrecking ball all the time. It'll fuck up your job, it'll fuck up your broads, and it ain't fuckin' professional."

Jade lifted his black and tan and stared with one eye into the dark brown liquid. "Well, maybe I can't do what I do and be nice."

"Believe me, I'd never expect that much from you. I'm just saying you don't have to be an outright prick."

"That's not my intent."

"I'm not saying it is."

Jade laced his hands together on the bar, his thumbs touching, and stared at them. His eyes, though, were somewhere else. "A fuckin' eight-year-old kid."

"What?"

"He had a fuckin' eight-year-old kid, Tony. The rookie."

Tony slowly tilted his glass back into the wet circle it had left on the bar. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well so am I." Jade knocked down the rest of his black and tan and rose, pushing back the bar stool. "So am I."

He rolled through the crowded bar and a path opened up for him as people leaned out of his way. It was a policeman's bar and Jade was known there, even if he was rarely spoken to. He was not the biggest man in the bar, but the look in his eyes was as hard as ice. It didn't invite greeting. As he walked, he brought his fingertips up to the scar on his left cheek and absentmindedly traced its length.

A cop with sharp features and sandy blond hair came over and sat down next to Tony. A cigarette dangled casually from his lips, so natural-looking that it seemed like a part of his face.

"Hey, Robert," Tony greeted him.

"Sharing a drink with the infamous Jade Marlow, huh?"

"Yup," Tony said. "Infamous. Ever met him?"

Robert shook his head. "No. And from what I've heard, I think that's just fine."

"He's a good man," Tony said. "Well, not a good man. He's a decent man, and a great fuckin' agent, so I always figured they averaged out."

Both men laughed.

"I hear you brought him in to crack a confession out of that robbery suspect. Falstaff Creek, right?"

"Yeah, I brought him in. Worth every penny." Tony ordered another beer and settled back to tell his story. "We had a guy robbed a string of Seven-Elevens. Shoots out the security cameras before they pick him up. Last one, he shoots the clerk too. We have no hard leads, but a pretty good suspect."

"Evidence?"

"Circumstantial." The two cops shook their heads.

"But I call Jade in. He doesn't charge us much because we came up together. I want to question the guy that Saturday, so I send Jade home with his file. Friday night I get a call. Jade says, 'Cancel the interrogation. We're doing it next Sunday.' I have the mayor breathing down my neck for an arrest and this guy's telling me to push it back a week?"

Robert leaned forward, drawn into Tony's story. "Why?"

"Jade found out it was the guy's mom's birthday the next Sunday."

"So the fuck what?"

"That's exactly what I said. But Jade says you get 'em close to a birthday, an anniversary, something like that, it gets them thinking about the time they'll have to serve. Gets them thinking it's their last one if they don't cooperate. Then you hit them with the 'We'll go easier on you with a confession' speech and bang…" Tony slapped his hands together.