Chapter 7 - Cleaning House
While the Vasquez family reassembled their lives inside the hospital room, there was still garbage left on the streets of Queens that needed to be swept away.
By 5:00 AM, the rain had stopped, leaving the city slick and shining under the gray light of dawn. Tony and I sat in the Cadillac outside the 108th Police Precinct in Long Island City.
On the backseat laid three heavy cardboard boxes filled with Victor Harlan’s financial records, intercepted shipping manifests, and recorded phone logs provided by our contact at the telephone exchange.
"This finishes Harlan’s entire organization," Tony said, adjusting his rear-view mirror. "Federal agents are already executing warrants on his properties in Manhattan and Brooklyn. His corrupt cops, his coroner, his dock workers—every single one of them is going down."
"And Harlan himself?" I asked.
"The Coast Guard intercepted his crate ship before it reached international waters," Tony replied with a grim smile. "He’s currently sitting in a federal holding cell without bail. Attempted murder, kidnapping, racketeering, child endangerment. He’ll die behind bars."
"What about Marco?"
Tony fell silent for a moment, looking out at the gray street. "He was listed in the ledger as a key co-conspirator. The police found him tied up in the icehouse right where we left him. He confessed to everything the moment the detectives walked in. He was terrified Harlan’s men were coming back for him."
"A coward until the very end," I said.
I opened the car door and stepped out into the cool morning air. I walked up the concrete steps of the precinct, carrying the main box of evidence myself. I set it down directly on the front desk in front of a surprised desk sergeant.
"What's this?" the sergeant asked, squinting at the thick files.
"This is the end of Victor Harlan," I said flatly. "Ensure District Attorney Miller gets it personally. Tell him Don Moretti sends his regards."
Before the officer could ask another question, I turned and walked back out into the morning mist.
May you like
Queens was quiet now. The storm had washed away the dirt, leaving the air smelling fresh for the first time in weeks. The war was over. The traitors were exposed, the enemy was caged, and the innocent were safe.
I got back into the Cadillac and looked at Tony. "Let's go back to the hospital. We have a girl to bring home."
