Situated in a sequestered corner of the Los Angeles Police Department headquarters on the 33rd floor, a private conference room shared an adjoining corridor with the offices of LA's top cop: Chief Makaila Tomb. Chief Tomb sat at the head of an oblong marble table with her head bowed and resting in one hand. Shoulders slumped in resignation, she swung her glasses precariously between her fingers. "Six years. Six years and I can retire with my full pension. But at this rate, I'm going to meet my Lord and Savior in six weeks behind you two."
"Which two do you mean, Chief?" Rodriguez asked. "Me and Royce? Or me and Ko?" He cleared his throat with uncertainty and averted his gaze when she looked up to glare at him.
"Not another word, Officer Rodriguez," Tomb said. "I don't even want to hear your voice right now. After that stunt with the oil tanker on Monday and the heroin dealer on Tuesday. You're not just in the dog house, you're under it. Six feet under it! Are we clear?"
"Five by five, Chief."
Tomb's hair was majestically braided in a complex pattern of deep crimson and natural gray interwoven throughout the hairstyle. Kogami was fascinated by the intricacies of it and lost himself in the labyrinth of one interconnecting braid leading to another. Despite her high temper and curtness, there was a genuine quality of humanity that his superior, Chief Kasei, could not rival.
Still dressed in full uniform from the day's security detail, Royce and Rodriguez sat uncomfortably to Chief Tomb's left, while Akane and Kogami sat on the right side. The tension in the room was formidable and as cold as the chilled air being pumped through the air conditioning vents. Kogami found himself reminded of an evaluation meeting that might have sent him to an isolation cell for life. Hands folded in his lap, he took a deep breath and sat back in his chair trying to relax.
Rubbing her temples as if she was suffering a migraine, Chief Tomb sighed heavily. "Okay, you have my full attention. Officer Royce, talk to me."
"It's the McNeill case, ma'am," Royce pitched in earnest. "Rodriguez and I believe it's tied to four other murder cases in the last four months. Five murders, five street racers, all in the red and growing cold as we speak."
"Five murders that you've been trying to tie to tech mogul Travis McNeill, one of the wealthiest men in the valley," Tomb said. "The only link to him being the last words of a dying street racer, a petty criminal himself. Officer Royce, you can't expect me to authorize an undercover operation based on so thin a lead. These murders could be as simple as a beef over street cred."
"Chief, we initially thought this was just a rivalry thing, too," Rodriguez interjected. "But there's no street cred to be earned if your rivals are all dead."
"What did I tell you?" Tomb said to Rodriguez.
"Sorry, Chief." Beneath her fierce glare, the cop bowed his head and fell silent.
"If I'm going to risk my reputation to sign off anything, I need more than this." She threw her hands in the air in disgust. "I need more than your usual gut feeling. Royce, Rodriguez, you're rarely wrong. But this is big, boys. Bigger than anything you've ever run down before. I need another solid connection."
"What about the cars?" Kogami said. "In each case, the body of the driver was left behind, and their prized possessions, their cars, went missing."
"How do you know these street racers didn't kill the drivers and take the cars themselves?" Tomb countered. "In their world, they could scrub the vins, retitled the paperwork, and put those vehicles back out on the street or sell them for profit without any authority being the wiser."
"Because that would go against their code, Chief," Rodriguez said, risking her ferocity. "You could scrub every one of those missing vehicles, but you wouldn't dare put them back on the street. Not these streets. The racers would know."
Royce nodded in agreement. "These cars are one-of-a-kind. As unique as the drivers who built and raced them."
"Still waiting for a connection, gentlemen." Tomb pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead. "Give me some reason to risk my pension."
"BabyGirl," Kogami whispered.
"Excuse me, Enforcer Kogami!"
"Chief, he's not being disrespectful," Royce said quickly. "It's the name of a car. Reese Iazzetti's Porsche 911. We suspect McNeill tried to have Iazzetti killed, but the attempt failed."
"Well, Iazzetti eventually did die of his wounds," Rodriguez added, "but he made certain that McNeill didn't get the car."
"Without realizing who they were," Akane said, "we ran into Iazzetti's sister and daughter at the car show this morning."
Waving her glasses back and forth in front of her, Tomb asked, "What's the significance of this car? I'm still not making the connection."
"It's our way in, Chief," Rodriguez said. "Iazzetti was a Purgatory Patriarch, one of the leaders of the biggest underground street racing crews in Los Angeles. If we can get the car back on the street and racing, we might flush McNeill out when he makes another bid to claim it."
"And who is supposed to drive it, Rodriguez? You? After that stunt you pulled at the county line? No way! And Royce drives like my grandmother."
"Neither of us, Chief," Rodriguez said. "Him." He pointed to Kogami. When she rolled her eyes in reply, he added, "It's the perfect cover. With the red tape between us and Japan, it would be difficult to track Kogami's real records."
"And we could make that even more difficult with a bit of official hacking," Royce said. "Chief, you've been riding us hard on this case for months now. This is the break we've been looking for."
Akane absently rubbed at her chin. "It does make perfect sense, Royce. With a bit of work at MWPSB, we can make the digital trail very difficult to track. Shion could put a whole other identity into the system for Kogami." Then realizing she had spoken out loud, she gasped, "I mean! If you thought it was a good idea, Chief Tomb!"
"Not just a good idea, it's a good plan," Royce said. "Kogami's an unknown in Los Angeles. No records. No priors."
"Plus he's got the skills," Rodriguez said. "As proven at the track earlier today, and on top of it all, he's a cop."
"Something of a rogue cop," Tomb said, looking over a digital file on a tablet. She swept her hand over the contents. "Senior Inspector Nobuchika Ginoza describes you in three words, Enforcer. Impertinent. Insubordinate. Incorrigible."
Kogami said the words along with her in his head. He cracked his knuckles and sighed as he slouched into his chair. Even 8000 miles away, Ginoza was still a spur in his side. "Guilty. On all counts."
Tomb leered at him with a fake grin on her face. "Glad to see you can admit it."
"But, Chief," Rodriguez said, "his handler's right here with him. We send Inspector Tsunemori undercover with Kogami. He can play some exiled Yakuza brat."
"Sent here because of his psycho pass," Royce added.
"And Inspector Tsunemori can go in as his old lady."
"And if that doesn't wash, Chief, we've got 100% full cooperation from the FBI. They've been looking to bring this guy McNeill down a peg for their own reasons."
"FBI?" Tomb said. "Why didn't you mention that fact? How'd you two manage that?"
Rodriguez smiled. "Our people know other people. That's all we can really say right now. Full interagency cooperation, Chief! LAPD, FBI, MWPSB. That's a lot of acronyms for a headline."
"Or my headstone." Sitting back in her chair, Chief Tomb cleared her throat. She crossed her legs beneath the table and tapped on the surface with the rim of her glasses as she considered her decision. Turning to regard Kogami with hard cynicism in her eyes, Tomb said, "Enforcer Kogami...Inspector Tsunemori, welcome to the Los Angeles Police Department's official duty roster. At least temporarily."
"Yes!" Rodriguez wailed. Elated with the news, Royce and he exchanged a sharp high five and a fist bump.
Kogami gasped in surprise. It was not the answer he had anticipated, judging from Chief Tomb's stern expression. "You're okay with this? Even after that report from Inspector Ginoza?"
"Impertinent. Insubordinate. Incorrigible. Similar words were used to describe two rookies I hired out of the academy just five days after I made Chief of Police." Tomb regarded Royce and Rodriguez with a proud, but reproving, smile. "Those rookies are currently the top performing cops in this precinct. Results don't come without risk." She got up from her chair and leaned over Akane. "Don't make me regret this, Inspector Tsunemori."
"Yes, ma'am." Akane nervously stood up and bowed to her. "I'm just surprised Inspector Ginoza signed off on this."
"He didn't. And gave me laundry list of reasons as to why this was a terrible idea. So I went over his head and spoke to his superior, your Chief Kasei. She at least was reasonable. To win in gambling, you sometimes need a wild card." Tomb glanced back at Kogami with a wry grin. "I'll leave it to you to keep the boys in line, Inspector Tsunemori. If one of them steps out of line, shoot them. Just be careful and aim low, we have real guns here." Chief Tomb paused at the door to the corridor "Well, what are you all waiting for...the second coming? Get out there and do some good. Protect and serve. Street racers or not, murder is against the law. I want it stopped, and I want the people responsible. Feel me?"
"Copy that, Chief!" Royce said.
"Sgt. Royce, bring our Japanese consultants up to speed on the Pit Boss Luda Banks and the rest of the Purgatory Patriarchs. I want their cover stories to be air tight. Good luck."
The door to the conference room closed behind her as Tomb's returned to her offices. The four law enforcement officers sat in stunned silence until Rodriguez said, "Somebody pinch me! Did that really just happen?"
"This could be a career case, partner. The career case! We blow the lid on this one, and it's promotion time," Royce replied. He looked at Kogami and then Akane. "It's a little too late to ask, but you guys are down for this, right?"
"Of course they are—"
"We never really did ask them, Rodriguez." Royce turned away from glaring at his partner, his gaze softening as he looked at their guests. "Akane? Ko?"
"We're here to observe," Akane said cheerfully. She awkwardly drummed her fingers on the table. "And to assist."
"We're in," Kogami said, annoyed by her indecision. "What's the next step?"
"Rodriguez, call Ziggy. Have him do a data dump under my access code. We've got a lot of material to cover."
"Copy that." Rodriguez grabbed his cell phone and went to the back of the conference room.
"Who's Ziggy?" Akane asked.
"Kind of like your Shion," Royce replied. "A system analyst."
"Two-bit cyber hustler who pled his case down to a misdemeanor. He was sentenced to life in servitude to the LAPD."
"I can hear you, Rodriguez," said a voice from the cell phone speaker. "How would you like me to max out your credit cards. Oh wait, you have to have credit to have credit cards, right?"
"Take it easy, Zig, you know I'm teasing." Rodriguez terminated the connection and leaned against the wall. "He's collating the data now. Files are pretty extensive. Five minutes."
"What's the plan?" Kogami asked.
"I want you two on the street tonight," Royce said with conviction. "After the car show this morning, people will be talking. Can't miss this opportunity. It's the perfect insertion point."
"That does leave us a lot of time to learn about the people and the culture," Akane said.
"This particular crew is well-organized and well-funded. We've been trying to get an undercover officer inside for years, but haven't been successful. There is a lot of material to cover, but you two are quick studies."
Rodriguez's cell phone alerted with an incoming text. "Royce, Ziggy came through for us. The data for the file has been downloaded."
Royce activated a holo projector in the center console of the conference table. Glancing at Kogami and Akane, he smiled at them. The sorrowful expression on his face was in conflict with the friendly gesture. "Last chance, you two. If you bail now, it would be understandable. Five racers are dead. Chances are, if you play the part well—"
"And you will," Rodriguez said.
"The bad guys might come for you."
Kogami shrugged. "That's the plan, isn't it?"
Royce called up the digital files, which expanded and unpacked themselves on a holo background that simulated a white and black patterned checkerboard. "Damn, Ziggy. What kind of lame ass shit it this? This is an investigation, not battle chess." He shook his head in disgust. "Pardon our resident hacker. He gets carried away sometimes."
The conference door opened and a female, uniformed officer poked her head in to the room. "Did you guys request an order from Ziggy?"
"That's us," Rodriguez answered. He took the package from her and opened it, removing the two cell phones from inside. "No wristcoms," he said. "They're a dead give away that you're not from around here."
"Being Japanese looks normal?" Kogami asked.
"In California, yeah," Rodriguez, said. "Just speak slow and with an accent. And bow a lot. You'll be perfect."
"Rodriguez, shut up!" Royce said. "All right, crash course—no pun intended—on the street racing subculture in Los Angeles."
Royce manipulated the holo images to bring up the images of five individuals, four men and woman. They looked young, all in their early twenties. Red lettering: DECEASED was stamped at the bottom of each picture. With further manipulation, the photos split into two, featuring the victims and their vehicles.
Kogami sat up with interest. While he did not recognize the man in the final picture, he did recognize the thick, unruly brown hair and the intent eyes. "I'm guessing that's Reese Iazzetti? Phoenix's father?"
"The one and only," Rodriguez said. As an extensive rap sheet of traffic violations and other legal offenses scrolled beneath each victim, he pointed to the profiles. "All five of the vics were street racers, as you already know, but only Reese was a Patriarch."
"Phoenix mentioned something about that," Akane said. "What or who are the Patriarchs?"
"A gang, most street cops would tell you, but they're more organized than that. They're split into two main categories: Denizens, who comprise the majority of the membership, and the Patriarchs. The latter are the vanguard leadership of the most organized underground street racing crew in the city. But this man," Rodriguez said, "he is known as the Lord Patriarch." Manipulating the holographic mage, he enlarged the photo of a black man with closely cropped hair and a thin beard.
"This," Royce said, "is Luda Banks, and the name says it all because this guy makes bank. They call him the Pit Boss."
"Is a Pit Boss responsible for what happens in a casino?" Akane asked, reluctantly taking off her wristcom. She handed it to Rodriguez, who gave her a cell phone in trade.
"This guy is the casino. He's a street racer, turned organizer, turned entrepreneur. He's made a mint off of a few start-up flash apps. Everything from tune-up applications for cars to aftermarket performance programs. Even created an AI program that will actually let your car talk to you, and not just to tell you it needs an oil change."
"Besides organizing the races, he also supplies a considerable bankroll to fund the betting that goes along with it, thus the tag. And while, he's done well for himself, he has not done as well as this guy," Rodriguez said. He activated another holographic image on the other side of the chessboard. "This handsome devil is Travis McNeill, tech magnate, millionaire playboy, philanthropist."
"That's his day job."
"By night, he's a suspected arms dealers, black market supplier, and all around bad guy. For years, the CIA was doing business with him on the down-low, but the relationship soured, and both sides deny ever working with the other."
Royce rotated the holo to bring the business mogul's picture to the foreground. "A string of mutilated corpses on both sides of the line would tell a different story. The FBI has been trying to build a case on the backs of a string of victims from here to Russia, but anyone who gets caught snooping into McNeill's business, domestic or international, finds themselves slapped with legal action from his stable of high-priced lawyers or visited by men in dark glasses and dark suits."
"That's awful," Akane whispered.
"What's this McNeill worth?" Kogami asked.
"On paper? He's worth about $300-400 million, but off paper?" Rodriguez whistled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Double that when you consider his black market contacts and dark web influence."
"But why is he getting in the business of stealing cars?" Akane questioned. She scrolled through the inventory of missing cars. "McNeill has plenty of money. He could easily buy any of these cars or even all of them."
"The local street racers pride themselves on their rides," Royce said. "While it's not unusual to sell a vehicle, it's usually sold in house and within the family. If it happens at all."
"And it's rare. Most of the time these street cars are retired and never raced again"
Kogami lit a cigarette and after taking a brief drag, his hand hovered over the ashtray. "So the objective is to infiltrate these Patriarchs and make some noise. Enough to attract this Travis McNeill. And then?" When the officers did not answer in a timely fashion, he added, "Call me selfish, but I'd prefer to go home in business class, not in a box."
"To be honest, Ko," Royce replied with a frown, "we never thought about getting this far. It will also depend on how McNeill comes at you."
"If he takes an interest, you'll know," Rodriguez added.
"When Kogami refuses, it will force McNeill to make a move." Akane folded her hands in her lap. "We already know where that leads. What happens then? We may not even see it coming."
"This is what an Enforcer is meant to do," Kogami said. "To hunt and, if necessary, be hunted. Maybe you should sit this one out, Inspector."
Akane glared at him. "And let you cause anymore damage to the city? I don't think so, Mr. Kogami." With a determined spirit, she turned to their Los Angeles colleagues. "The MWPSB evidently has a stake in this now that Chief Kasei has given her approval. We won't let you down."
"Street scene comes out well after nightfall," Royce said, checking his watch. "You've got a few hours to dig into this file and get acquainted with the nightlife. What am I missing, Rodriguez?
"Before the cameras roll, the actors have to be dressed for their parts. These two don't look much like street racers, Royce." Rodriguez walked around the table and slapped Kogami hard on the back. "Costume call, partner. This is Los Angeles after all. Hollywood!" He fluttered his eyebrows. "I've got the perfect outfit for you in my locker."
Akane stood up and looked at Rodriguez. "I'm fairly certain that you don't have anything for me in your locker. If you did, I might be a bit worried."
"Fear not, Inspector," Royce said. He offered his arm to her in a gentlemanly fashion. "I just happen to know some lovely lady cops down in vice who will fix you right up." As she took his arm with a chuckle, Royce turned to Rodriguez and Kogami. "See you down in the motor pool."
# # #
Though Rodriguez and Kogami were about the same, general size, the LAPD cop was less defined and more bulk, spread over a powerfully built frame. While he was muscular, Rodriguez was certainly 30 pounds heavier. The clothes that he gave Kogami to wear fit loosely, but with the proper effect. He appeared casual with a fashionable flare.
Leaving his business suit in the locker, Kogami regarded himself in the mirror as Rodriguez watched on proudly. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with faded black, straight-cut jeans and leather motorcycle boots that sported a double buckle on the outside of the ankles. To complete the ensemble, Rodriguez gave him a black leather jacket and a matching black fedora with a red feather in the band.
"Ah man, those little gals on the strip are gonna take one look at you and leave puddles all over the sidewalk," Rodriguez with laugh. "Oh, one more thing. I almost forgot." Rodriguez took a polished 9mm Beretta from the top shelf. Clambering a round, he ensured the safety lock was engaged and handed it to Kogami. "You can use this, right?"
"Are you asking if I have permission or if I have the skill?"
"I already know you have the skill," Rodriguez said. "No directional voice here, Ko. You're an undercover cop behind enemy lines. A lot can happen in three seconds, not just a quarter mile." He winked at Kogami and slapped his shoulder. "Besides, a man's got to protect what's his, right? Come on, let's get down to the motor pool. I have a surprise for you."
Smiling like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, Rodriguez led Kogami through the back corridors of the precinct headquarters to the large motor pool in the rear of the building. Unlike the MWPSB parking hub, the garage was in a spacious, above ground area that opened onto to a test-driving track and obstacle course. Department mechanics labored on repairs and enhancements under fluorescent lights in glass cubicles that looked more like glasshouses than maintenance bays.
When they turned the corner into a secluded, private bay, Kogami halted in shock at the sight of the vehicle parked and awaiting him there. Polished to a high-sheen the blue and gray exterior of the Porsche 911 gleamed with an inner illumination. The doors, with their checkered patterns that shrunk and faded as they swept into the rear of the vehicle, gave it a sleek, fast look as if the car was in motion, even as it sat idle on the bay floor.
"Recognize your partner?" Rodriguez asked.
"This is BabyGirl," Kogami said, "from the car show this morning."
"I don't mean the car, old boy," the cop said. He wrapped his arm about the Enforcer's shoulders and turned him in the right direction. "I mean your partner." He pointed to the figure at the rear of the Porsche.
Other than a few fashionable outfits worn in holo when Akane went out with her friends, Kogami had grown used to seeing the Inspector dressed in the standard fare of a female MWPSB Inspector: a black suit coat with matching skirt and white oxford shirt. He was totally unprepared to see her dressed in a micro-mini kilt of brilliant scarlet and black striping. A white crop top revealed most of her slender shoulders, the graceful curvature of her neck, chest, and her tight, flat stomach. There was little left to the imagination as her curves were exposed and on display.
Akane slowly turned her head in his direction. She leaned against the Porsche's quarter panel and posed, as if competing with the car for his attention. A lollipop was sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Seductively, she rolled the cherry candy along the edge of her lips, enticing him with her eyes.
Kogami stopped breathing. "Down, boy," Rodriguez whispered in his ear.
"I tried calling the fire department," Royce said with chuckle, "but they said there ain't enough trucks in the city to douse those flames." The cop held his hand out to formally present Akane in her undercover guise. "Girls at vice did a nice job."
"I'll say." Rodriguez whistled appreciatively and shook his head. "So that's what's been hiding under that suit all this time? Where can I place my order? Please and thank you!"
Pushing herself away from the car, Akane cocked her head to one side with a grin. She was wearing more make up than Kogami had ever seen, but it was tastefully done. He was unable to look away from her, seeing Akane in a different light as if for the very first time. With a hypnotic swing in her slender hips, she walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. "Well," she said with a pout, "say something."
Though Akane hid it well, there was a slight instability in the walk. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he asked, "What happened to you? Why are you limping?"
"Kogami, do you have to ruin it?" Akane shoved him away and yanked the lollipop out of her mouth. "The ladies in vice were showing me the ropes. How to walk and talk and move. But instead of these," she said, glancing down a pair of cherry-red Converse sneakers, "I was wearing stilettos." Chewing nervously at her lip, Akane frowned. "That was just a very bad idea."
"Walking in six-inch stilettos is not a task for the faint of heart,"a familiar voice said. Rubbing a chamois cloth in a circular motion against the exterior of the Porsche, Nysa Iazzetti joined them. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Ko, or should I say Enforcer Kogami?"
"Nysa?"
Akane chuckled. "Special Agent Nysa Iazzetti."
"FBI? You're the LAPD's connection?" Kogami asked in shock. He turned to Rodriguez and Royce for answers. "You knew?"
"Not until we started making inquiries about the car. And then someone high up the food chain started making inquiries into you," Rodriguez said.
"Couldn't help myself," Nysa said. "Tall, dark, and Japanese. Charms my little niece and does so riding to her rescue in my brother's most prized possession: BabyGirl." She rubbed away a smear on the car's hood. "With all that looking me in the face? Yeah, I went asking questions. I had to—this is my brother's case." Nysa twirled the chamois cloth and lashed out at Kogami's thigh. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the LAPD also suspected Travis McNeill might be involved. I've been trying to convince my supervisor of that fact for the last three months."
"Aren't you afraid you're a little too close to this?" Kogami challenged.
"My brother and I didn't always see eye to eye," Nysa replied. "On a lot of things. We were on opposite sides of the law, but he was doing me a favor when he was killed. That bastard McNeill had something to do with it, which is why I am relieved that you and Akane agreed to go undercover."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Yeah, Ko, I'm too close. That's why I'm willing to give Babygirl to you without any questions or strings attached. If you went that far to save a little girl's toy, how far will you go to bring her father's murderer to justice?" She rubbed her hands in the chamois cloth. "The title and insurance for this car have been transferred into your name. The bill of sale is dated and notarized to reflect a transfer of funds as of this morning, an hour after the car show."
"If McNeill is checking, it will look like you bought the car after winning the final heat in the drift competition," Royce said.
"I also managed to get a copy of the car show video showing Kogami driving in both heats." Nysa held up her phone to show them the footage. "Congratulations, Ko. You've got nearly 300,000 hits in only a few hours."
"So we've got the costumes, the car, and the cover," Kogami said. "How do we get noticed."
"You race." Nysa held out the key fob. "I'd say good luck, but you won't need it. Babygirl is known on the underground circuit as a proven 3-second car. Now, with a few modifications, some performance tweaks, and a set of new tires. "She's a 2.5 second car. Maybe 2 seconds with you."
Rodriguez laughed. "That's what all the girls say." He stepped back as Kogami shot him a threatening glare.
"Any chance the police could interfere?" the Enforcer asked.
"Count on it," Rodriguez replied. "It's already in the script."
"An arrest will definitely sell your cover story to McNeill," Royce added, "and anybody else on the outside. So make it look good."
Kogami pointed a finger at Rodriguez with an impish grin. "Make sure it's you who tries to cuff me."
"Tries? I'll do better than that, Ko. Just make sure you're up for it." Rodriguez flexed his bicep.
Kogami laughed softly. His hands were trembling with excitement as adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream. Walking to the passenger side of the Porsche, he opened the door and glanced at Akane. "Inspector?"
Akane grinned and settled down inside the car as he closed the door.
"Officers," Kogami said returning to the driver's side. "Special agent. I'll be seeing you."