The Courier (Petras and Harvey: Episode 1)

Chapter Eight

The next morning was overcast. A heaviness hung in the air. Atmospheric pressure, whatever. Harvey thought it was the kind of day that made people feel irritable. The fact he was running late didn't help. He stepped out of the lift into homicide and made his way to his desk.

"DCI Harvey." Captain Sands said as she passed by. "You're late. Your shift started thirty minutes ago."

"Sorry Captain." Harvey apologised. "My usual bridge was shut. Fire at a gentlemen's club underneath. I had to detour and I'm afraid I don't know the city too well just yet."

"As excuses go, its not a bad one." Sands nodded. "Carry on."

"Thank you sir." Harvey sat down at his desk.

"Did I hear that right?" Blake asked from his own desk. "Fire at a strip club?"

"Yeah. The Diamond Twist. Know it?"

"Of it. Its got ties to the Albanian Mob. Dangerous guys. Its probably gang related."

"I've got something!" Petras shouted, popping up from behind her monitor. "I got a name!"

"Who?" Blake slid over on his chair.

"The account traces back to a Henry Tate. Its a Brooklyn address. He's got a record. Assault, assault, breaking and entering, another assault... He served five years."

"Think he graduated to murder?"

"What, and paid someone for the pleasure?" Harvey shook his head. "I don't get it."

"Don't be too sure. He owns a thirty eight. Same calibre as our murder weapon."

"Call up some uniforms." Blake ordered, grabbing his coat. "Have them meet us there. We're moving on this guy quickly."

The apartment block was shabby. Run down. Its red bricks were bleaching in the sun, and graffiti covered more graffiti in the alley to the side. The apartment in question was on the third floor, and it was a short trek up the dusty, creaking stairs. The lift was out of order. The two uniformed officers were first onto the landing and quickly located apartment eight. Blake took a stride up to the door and went to knock, but stopped short and motioned for them all to be quiet. Petras listened closely and was able to pick out a hushed argument from inside.

"...killed! Shot dead!" That was the voice of Terence Shen, Rachael Oswald's PA.

"That's nothing to do with me." Another voice, probably Henry Tate, replied. "I just passed on the flash drive. That's all."

"This is my..." At that point Detective Blake hammered his fist on the door.

"Henry Tate!" He yelled. "NYPD! Open the door!" There was silence inside. "We know you're in there Tate! Open the door or we take it off it's hinges!"

"Okay! Okay!" Henry Tate yelped from within. There was the clink of a chain and the thud of a bolt. The door swung open and they were staring right into the nervous face of Terence Shen. The uniformed officers pushed him aside, just in time to see Henry Tate squirm through the open window and disappear down the fire escape.

"He's running!" Blake yelled. Harvey was already moving and practically dove through the window, clattering onto the metal staircase bolted to the side of the building. Tate was already a flight below him.

"Tate!" He shouted, beginning to head downwards, leaping the steps in threes. "Stop running!" Back inside, Petras had turned and made for the stairs. She took them two at a time and quickly made it down to the ground floor. She barged through a young couple coming in through the door, sending bags flying. Outside, she bore left quickly, heading towards the alley. Just in time. Henry Tate emerged round the corner, his short legs pumping hard to keep his overweight frame running. His bald head glistened with sweat and his red tie was flapping over his right shoulder as he ran. He looked over his shoulder to see Harvey come round the corner close behind him, his lips tight together in concentration. He looked back forwards again, straight into the face of Petras. She bent down and hit him shoulder first with a heavy tackle to his chest. The momentum lifted him off his feet and, for a moment, they moved forwards with him balanced on her shoulder. But then gravity took hold and they fell forwards onto the pavement. Harvey barely stopped in time, his own momentum almost causing him to trip right over them. Petras, panting, flipped Tate over and dragged his arms behind his back. She pulled the handcuffs off her belt and flicked them around his wrists.