Neil Knight Private Dick

Follame

"And you, you backwater bitch, you gonna take care of my money, my investments. You and your MBA from Oral Roberts University gonna hide my money so it can't be traced. Offshore, onshore, banks or fucking mattresses, I don't give a rat's ass where. But when I need it, I want to be able to call one number and get as much as I need as fast as I need it."

"What do I get out of this?" she had asked.

"What do you get?" he had responded with a laugh. "You get to live."

His face drew nearer to hers and she could smell the remnants of lunch still decomposing between his teeth as he exhaled "You and your hillbilly husband get to live."

So, she had planned and waited for this day. A day she knew would come in some form or another once she and Cotton had decided to comply with the gang leaders demands.

Well, sort of comply.

Cotton had added code to record audio and video input from each smart device his app was loaded onto, and he had also initialized the geolocator to ping out, every thirty seconds, the location of each device, even when the device was turned off.

The Police Tracker had thus become the Gangster Tracker.

And then he had set up 'Mabel', the phone number the gang leader would call when he needed cash. Mabel was Artificial Intelligence, and her voice was patterned on that of Mabel Gardiner Hubbard, the wife of Alexander Graham Bell and the first president of the Bell Telephone Company. Mabel. Ma Bell.

Mabel was built using the API provided by IBM for their Watson platform, the same AI that had defeated humans on the television game show Jeopardy.

"It seems only natural" Cotton had said, "to have Bell call Watson when she needs help". Sue Ellen had rolled her eyes in response, but Mabel had proved up to the task, handling each request from Vinnie Fuentes flawlessly, as if she was, no, actually better than, a human being.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" shouted Vinnie as reports began to come in from around the city. His labs had been raided without any warnings and his members were being picked up all over the city.

It seemed as if only Frankie Hopeless had been able to avoid capture.

'Why hadn't the Police Tracker warned his members about the raids?' he thought. 'Why was it that Hopeless was the only one whose app was working? That kid had nine lives.'

"Ya gotta move quick" Frankie had said. "Something big is up."

To move he needed money, so he dialed Mabel.

The line was busy.

"What the hell?" he said to the empty room.

He hung up, redialed and Mabel picked up. He barked out orders.

"I understand the situation Mr. Fuentes" she said. "A car is on the way to pick you up. It should be there..." she paused "now".

A knock on the door.

'So fast' he wondered.

As Vinnie pressed his face against the peephole the door burst inward, driving him into the room. Men and women in blue and suits swarmed into the room, guns drawn.

"Who are you?" Vinnie screamed at the female pinning him to the ground, hands pulled behind his back. "You're no cop. Eres una mujer! You got no badge."

She leaned in close as she squeezed the cuffs.

"Badges? Soy una federale. I don't need to show you my stinking badge you god-damned cabrón and chinga tu madre."

She turned to Team Commander Harry Love and smiled.

"I've always wanted to use that line."

FBI Special Agent on Assignment, Auro Sombrero, yanked the Santa Ana Loper to his feet.

"Vamonos" she exhaled.

"Mr. LaFrenza" Carol Spodek, Carmine's receptionist called to him from the front desk at Orange County Auto Used Car, Towing, Parts & Repair. "There's some people here who would like to see you."

"Tell 'em I'll be right out" he replied.

Carol Spodek was a matronly woman of forty-five years, hired after Carmela had caught Carmine pinching the ass of his former secretary, a twenty-two-year-old former Miss California contestant. Carmine knew better than to complain, especially with Vinnie as his brother-in-law. Plus, Carol was efficient.

And limber.

And appreciative.

And one hell of a good lay.

He exited his office, entered the showroom and approached the front desk, right hand extended.

A metal cuff quickly secured his wrist as he was swung around, his face pinned to the marble reception counter.

Carol screamed.

"Your contract with the city has been cancelled" said detective Jose Juarez.

"Call my lawyer" yelled Carmine to Carol.

"He's already in custody" said the arresting officer. "You can talk to him when we get downtown."

Juarez stuck his hand in the air, making a circular motion, as agents entered the building and began to secure both the space and the people within it.

As Carmine was hauled away, thinking the day couldn't get any worse, he heard Carol Spodek call out to officers as they cuffed her.

"Be careful, you sunza bitches, I'm pregnant!!"

'Follame' Carmine thought to himself.