[center] [b]Part I: Tipoff [/b] [i]“You are ... entrusted with the pursuit of that most extraordinary of crimes: the theft of a human life. You speak for the dead. You avenge those lost to the world.” [/i] -- David Simon[/center] [b]Red Hook, Brooklyn 3:41 AM[/b] The black sedan raced down the Brooklyn side street. Its brakes squealed as the driver slammed the car to a stop in front of the small garage. Four men in black clothing and balaclavas leaped from the car with shotguns in their hands. The leader ran past the graffiti tagged sheet metal garage door and kicked in the wooden door beside it. "What the fuck!" Four men were gathered around a card table with piles of cash --crinkled up tens, twenties, and one hundred dollar bills-- surrounding them as they counted. The garage that operated under the name Pasha's Auto Reair was, in fact, one of the most successful bookmaking and loan shark businesses in the five boroughs. With the big St. John's/Georgetown game that night, there was easily fifty grand on the table. "Hands up where I can see 'em," the leader of the masked men said. "You move, you fucking die." "Fucking Leonid," one of the men at the table said in a thick Russian accent. "I knew he was a fucking rat." The Russians stayed in place while two of the masked men swept the cash from the table and into duffle bags slung over their shoulders. Two of the other robbers kept their shotguns trained on the Russians to make sure they stayed in place. Pasha, a fat and bald man dressed in a rumpled black suit, could barely contain his rage as he watched the money disappear from his table. "You think you can steal this from me and get away with it?" Pasha fumed. "You are dead. Everyone you loved. Dead. Anyone you ever talked to. Dead. Anyone who sold you a fucking sandwich. Dead. You masked cowards." The two men with the bags stepped back. Their leader stepped up and looked at the men at the card table for a moment. He reached up and removed his balaclava, showing the Russian gangsters his large head with a perfectly flat top. "Get a good look at my face, asshole," Flattop said with a wide grin that showed off the gap in his teeth. "And know this is the last thing you'll ever see. Big Boy sends his regards." The four Russians began to yell, their screams cut short as Flattop and his men opened up with their shotguns and plastered the garage floor and walls in human blood, bone, and brains. -- [b]Lincoln Square Manhattan 5:18 AM[/b] [i]Calling Dick Tracy! Calling Dick Tracy! Calling Dick Tracy![/i] Tracy groaned and sat up in bed. The ringtone on his cell phone was a joke recording Pat had made one night at the bar. Somehow Daz had gotten ahold of his phone and set Pat's nasally call as his ringtone. Tracy wasn't tech savvy enough how to take it off, and nobody in the squad would help him. Buncha smartasses. "This is Tracy," he said as he answered the phone. [i]"Cap'n, it's Tork.[/i] Tracy tried to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Tess stirred in the bed beside him. He should have gotten out of bed before answering the phone. She always was a light sleeper. "What's going on, Tork?" He asked softly as he padded towards the kitchen in his pajamas. "And why can't it wait until I came in the office?" [i]"Apologies for the hour, but I'm out here in Red Hook. The boys in the Seven-Six's homicide squad caught a quadruple out here tonight. Pasha Popov and three of his guys got turned into paste by person or persons unknown. They ran Pasha's ID through the system and it pinged Major Case and our investigation."[/i] "Dammit." Tracy leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. Popov was Major Case's in to the Caprice Crime Family. He was part of the money side of the organization and their quickest way to find out exactly where Big Boy's money was coming from and going to. Now that was as dead as Popov apparently was. "What are the Seven-Six doing with the investigation, Mike?" [i]"They can't wait to pawn it off on us, Cap,"[/i] Tork grumbled. [i]"I think the precinct captain's gonna call you as soon as he can and ask you take it off his plate."[/i] Tracy rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. Today already had the makings of a long day. He checked the clock on the wall and quickly devised a gameplan. "Okay, I'm heading up there now. I'll call Pat and let him know what's going on. He and the rest of the squad can stay on surveillance detail while the two of us work the crime scene. You up for running with the old man, Mike?" [i]"You kidding? I just hope you can keep up."[/i] Tracy laughed and quickly said a goodbye to Tork. He put his phone on the counter, cracked his neck, and prepared to get to work.