are all built to more or less the same specifications, out of similar materials, no matter how much muscle or lard is on top of them. They’re vulnerable, if you know how to use them against your opponent.
I did.
Three hundred plus pounds of body odor, stupid and mean, slammed down onto the worn, dirty carpeting in the hallway, as if dropped from a crane.
While he lay there, stunned, I twisted his wrist straight up and behind him, keeping his arm locked straight with my other hand. From there, I could literally take his arm out of his shoulder socket with about as much effort as it would take to push a grocery cart. And I could make him hurt—a lot, if need be—in order to discourage him from trying any more stupid moves.
Being Ray, he tried stupid again, screaming and thrashing against the lock. I sighed and kept control, and he and his face relived his crushing impact with the carpet. We repeated that several times, until the lesson began to drill its way through to Ray—he wasn’t going anywhere. It would hurt if he tried.
“So I’ve been talking to people in several buildings,” I said in a calm, conversational tone. Ray was puffing like an engine. “I was wondering if you could tell me if you saw anything odd or unusual last night? Probably between two and three in the morning?”
“You’re breaking my fucking arm!” Ray growled—or tried to. It had been watered down with whine.
“No, no, no,” I said. “If I broke your arm, you’d hear a snapping sound. It sounds a lot like a tree branch breaking, actually, though a little more muffled. What you have to worry about is me dislocating your arm at the shoulder and elbow. That’s worse, overall. Just as painful and it takes a hell of a lot more effort to recover.”
“Jesus,” Ray said.
“Are you telling me that Jesus was visiting between two and three last night? I’m dubious, Ray.”
“I didn’t see nothing!” he said a few panting seconds later. “All right? Jesus Christ, I didn’t see nothing!”
“Aha,” I said. “You sound like an honest man.” I used my bracing arm to reach for my coat pocket, then tossed my badge down onto the floor in front of him.
He stared at it for a long second, and then his face went white.
“Here’s what happens,” I said very quietly. “You’re going to resign from your job. You’ll write a very nice letter to your boss, and then you get out of this building. You’re gone by noon tomorrow.”
“You can’t do that,” he said.
“I can do whatever I want,” I said. “Which of us do you think the judge will believe, Ray?”
That isn’t how I approached law enforcement. It isn’t how any good cop does, either. But the criminals are always willing, even eager, to believe the absolute worst about cops. I think it makes them feel better if they can convince themselves that the police are just like them, only with badges and a paycheck.
“You’re going, one way or another. You don’t play ball, I send the city inspector in here to verify all the code violations on this building. Fire extinguishers are missing. The smoke detectors are years old, and most of the ones that aren’t missing entirely are just hanging from their wires. You’ve got mold and fungus issues all over the place. Lights are out. There’s trash piling up outside.” I yawned. “On top of that, there are drug deals going down in your parking lot, Ray. I figure you’re in on that.”
“No,” he said. “No, I’m not!”
“Sure you are. It fits you, doesn’t it? And here you are assaulting an officer.” I shook my head sadly. “So when the building fails inspection, maybe even makes it into the paper, you’ll be fired anyway. And on top of that, I’ll finger you in the drug deals. I’ll press charges for assault. How many strikes do you already have on you, big guy? Can you handle two more?”
“You’re bluffing,” he said.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “On the other hand . . . maybe I just give John Marcone a call and tell him how you’re helping some of his street-level guys run some deals behind his back.”
Invoking the name of Marcone to a Chicago criminal is as significant as invoking the name of a saint to a devout Catholic. He’s the biggest fish in the pond, the head of organized crime in Chicago—and damn good at it. His people fear him, and even