had taken out a psychotic drug dealer with one impossible sniper shot. They’d had a tough time explaining how one of their main bad guys had come to be missing half his head, but Jackson’s heart had been giving out at the time, so Sean Kryzynski—and through him, the department—had given them a pass. Ellery wasn’t so sure how another Burton save was going to go over.
“Yes.”
Jackson swallowed. “Well, like I said, there were some shots fired and a big explosion, and Burton said he’d get here tomorrow to help watch Constance’s back.”
“Which is good,” Ellery said, because Burton did have a way of managing things.
“Well, if Burton’s explosion did what I think it did—”
“Kill off the big boss Siderov reported to,” Ellery said, seeing the horizon Jackson was waving from, waiting for Ellery to catch up.
“Yes. Exactly. If Burton’s explosion killed off Siderov’s superior, then Ziggy is running out of options. Siderov is either growing suspicious or about to start, and Ziggy just killed his nephew and used his supply train to cover it up. He’s too hot on the street right now to so much as stir a whisker outside whatever rat hole he’s hanging out in. If Siderov’s superior was the guy he’s sucking up to, Ziggy doesn’t have any cover whatsoever, and if he wasn’t the guy Ziggy was sucking up to….” Jackson frowned.
“There’s a power vacuum,” Ellery said, finally seeing what Jackson saw. “And if there’s a power vacuum, now is the time for Ziggy and his new friend to make a move.”
Jackson stood up suddenly, looking exhausted and intense. “We need to warn Tage’s parents. We… I can’t believe we’re saying this, but we need to warn Dima Siderov.”
Ellery stayed put. “Why? Dima Siderov is a bad man, Jackson. He traffics children and sells bathtub meth. He’s no better or worse than the guy who’s taking his place.”
Jackson scowled. “No, I could give a rat’s ass about Siderov, but look at Ziggy’s scorched-earth progression right now. Tage’s in protective custody, but his parents are relying on Siderov’s protection. They’re going to get hurt. Everybody in that apartment complex is going to get hurt, and some of them are just people looking for affordable housing!”
Okay. “Well, we’re not SWAT!” Ellery retorted. “Look, you know people, I know people. I’m going to call Arizona Brooks and tell her to get ready to start processing people. You call Christie and Fetzer and Hardison and give them a heads-up. And while you’re on the phone, get our Kevlar out of the closet. Tomorrow promises to be a treat.”
“But shouldn’t we do something?” Jackson protested, and Ellery did stand up now, because having this fight was much more impactful if they were standing three feet from each other and yelling.
“We are. We’re telling people with guns and vests and tactical gear where to find other people with guns. Jackson, it’s time to think. This isn’t meeting a bad guy on accident, or rescuing someone from a situation because nobody has your back. This is having valuable information for people who are better equipped to deal with it. If we go out tonight and get shot because we’re in the middle of a gunfight, who’s going to have Constance’s back? Who’s going to take care of Sophie and Maxim? This thing we’re in the middle of? It’s bigger than us. It’s huge. And we’re not out in the desert where we can just shoot a bunch of shit up and blow up a car and hope for the best. If we go cowboy here, we will get hurt, we will get others hurt, and we will not do the good things that we are capable of doing because we were someplace we had no business being. Now get on the phone and call the cavalry, young soldier, and I’ll do the same thing.”
“The cavalry was a bunch of racist pussies who tortured women and children, you realize that, right?”
“Well, Custer was a bad man, but not all of them were—”
“Genocide, Ellery.”
“Well, sue me for a bad example. And make your goddamned phone call before I blow on you and knock you on your ass!”
Jackson’s face went absolutely blank, and then Ellery heard it too. “Don’t,” he muttered.
“You’re gonna blow me and knock my ass?” Jackson asked, his lips quirking up reluctantly.
“If that’s how you want to do things,” Ellery said, pinching the bridge of his nose. His voice gentled. “Make your calls, Jackson. I’ll make mine. We have to be