The King of New York

Chapter Two

More than four years earlier, Simon Augustine descended the grand staircase as his son made a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Who was on the machine?” Simon asked.

Simon was a tall man, elegant in his stride and at ease with who he was as a man and a father. He’d sold his first novel when he was twenty-three, an international success and an acclaimed masterpiece. His immense talent and non-threatening good looks had made him the hot new writer to know, and he hadn’t looked back since. He had fourteen best-sellers in a row before finally missing the prestigious list by only 577 copies sold; a fact that still bothered him if he was honest. Hollywood had come calling almost immediately and again and again, offering him large amounts of cash to adapt his stories for the screen. He had always enjoyed writing, almost as much as the lifestyle it afforded him and his small family. He’d invested well and was now able to provide a level of comfort for Sam his detective father could have only dreamt of. 

“It was Saul. Wants you to call him back, something about background,” Sam said as he smashed his overly stuffed sandwich down. The damn thing kept wanting to fall over.

“Third time today,” Simon said as we walked to the phone. “I’m starting to regret writing a book about the old man. I really am.”

“Not your best idea. That’s for sure,” Sam said as he stuffed the oversized sandwich into his mouth.

Simon winked at his boy as the phone rang against his ear.

“Hey, yeah it’s me… Okay.” He listened for a few moments as he took notes. “Yeah, I can make that… Say your office about nine tomorrow?... Alright, eight then… Okay, see ya then.”

“What’d he want?” Sam asked as he continued to eat.

Simon eyed his son’s sandwich and headed to the kitchen to make his own.

“Thinks he may have cracked his latest. Wants to get me up to date with the case tomorrow morning before they make a move.”

“What do you think?”

“He’s not wrong much and he’s good at what he does, which is annoying. And he’s not afraid to let you know about it either, which is also annoying.”

Sam nodded as he continued to chew.

“Be honest, do you regret doing the book on him?” Sam asked. “Can’t be easy to work with your own dad, especially when it’s Saul.”

Simon held a finger up as he finished a large bite. Like father, like son.

“Nah, it’s been okay so far. He can be a blowhard, but that’s who he’s been my whole life. He loves the attention. Can’t help himself. Plus, the publisher went nuts when I pitched him the idea. They liked the family angle. They think it’ll sell.”

“Even though you’ve only done fiction up to this point?”

“Yeah, we all agreed I needed to do something different for a bit. It’s been challenging, though. A whole new world for me,” Simon said as he popped a potato chip into this mouth. “Enough about me. How’s school been?”

Sam shrugged and continued to eat. “Okay, I guess.”

“You are going to class, right?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, dad. I told you that. You can stop asking me,” Sam said.

“Alright. Just keep those grades up so you can graduate and get the hell outta my house.”

Sam allowed a small chuckle which caused him to nearly choke on the last bite of his sandwich.

“Easy now. It wasn’t that funny,” Simon said as he patted Sam on the back.

“What do you think about me going with you to see Saul tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I haven’t been to the precinct in a while. Maybe I can swing an internship or something for the summer.”

Simon shook his head in disbelief.

“Dammit, Sam,” Simon said as he sat his sandwich down. “I knew you were skipping class.”

“What? I just wanted to go with you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Jesus.”

“No, you can’t go with me tomorrow. You need to be going to class, Sam. I’m paying way too much for you to not even show up.”

“C’mon, dad. The semester is almost over. I’m basically just sleeping through class, waiting for the day to be done,” Sam said.

“Can you at least pretend to respect me? I know your mom was the disciplinarian but dammit, Sam. Just pretending every now and then would be nice.”

“I wasn’t being serious. I just meant I don’t have anything to do because I’m just waiting around for school to end,” Sam said.

“No, Sam. You need to start taking responsibility for yourself. That means doing what you know you should,” Simon said. “And that means not skipping class and taking care of your own business. I haven’t seen that from you in a long time. Yeah, you’ve stayed out of trouble lately, but you’ve got your mother’s wild streak and it’s a mile wide.”

Sam stared at his empty plate. He hated when his dad brought up his old mistakes. He’d been arrested in high school for vandalism and public drunkenness. That had disappointed Simon, but not nearly as much as when he had almost flunked out and Simon had to make a rather large donation to the school so his son could redo some assignments and get his grades to a passing level.  

“You and I had a deal. I would pay for school and you wouldn’t have to work if you buckled down and stayed out of trouble,” Simon said. “You’ve got two years left. Now, I know you’ve worked hard to get back to where you were, and I appreciate that. I really do. But you’ve got to keep at it. Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah, dad. I hear you,” Sam said with just a touch of attitude. “Just thought it’d be nice to spend the day with you. Maybe see Saul for the first time in a while.”

“Really, a guilt trip? From you of all people?” Simon said. “We can spend some time together in two weeks when you’re done with the semester. Until then, go to school. You might actually learn something. I doubt it, but maybe.”

Simon carried his plate to the kitchen sink. Sam thought about arguing a bit more, but he knew Simon had made up his mind.

—

Saul kept his office like he tried to keep his mind: clean, uncluttered, and everything in its proper place. He could think better when he had an organized space. So when his brat of a grandson plopped his sneakers on his desk, Saul nearly pulled off his belt and beat the boy. Instead, he calmly waved Sam’s feet off the desk and gave him a look that would turn him to salt if Saul really wanted to.

“How come you’ve got an office when everyone else sits out in the bullpen?” Sam asked as he cautiously sipped hot coffee from a street vendor’s paper cup.

“Because seniority, that’s why. Where’s your father?” Saul said.

“He’ll be here at eight. You know him; he’s never late.”
“And you’re here because…?” Saul asked.

“Dad said I could tag along. He had a couple of things to take care of, so he told me to come ahead.”

Saul gave Sam another look. “He should’ve checked with me first.”

A few moments of silence let the awkwardness between grandfather and grandson settle in. Sam hopped up and began looking over the numerous citations and awards adorning Saul’s wall.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Tessa said as she entered. Sam gave her a polite smile. “Saul, you’ve got another visitor. Simon is here.”

Sam swallowed hard and tried to hide behind his coffee cup.

“About time,” Saul said as he headed to the front. Sam followed but at a safe distance.

The best thing about Simon Augustine is you didn’t have to guess what he did for a living. The man looked like a writer. He wore the tweed jacket, blue oxford button-up, and thin rimmed glasses; casual but deliberate and always put together.

“Morning,” Simon said as he waited respectfully on the other side of the front desk.

He knew Saul expected a professional relationship above and before everything else. And then he saw Sam trailing behind.

“What the hell, Sam?” Simon said. His exasperation was evident on his handsome face.

“I’d like to know the same thing, Sy,” Saul said, shaking his head in disappointment. “This isn’t play time. This is dangerous work. No place for a young man.”

“Yeah, I know, dad. I told him he couldn’t come,” Simon said. And then to Sam: “I told you no. Adamantly. Remember that? We had that conversation twelve hours ago, so I know there’s no way you forgot. What are you doing here?”

Tessa had followed her partner to the front but now found something very important to occupy her attention back at her desk.

“I just wanted to see Saul. I’m sorry,” Sam said, but no one believed him.

“This isn’t the place, boy,” Saul said. “You need to be in school. I’ll try to make it out to see you some time, okay? But you can’t be here today.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Sam—” Simon started, but Saul cut him off.

“Well, first of all, because I said so and secondly because your dad said so. A police station is a dangerous place for anyone, but especially a twenty-year-old who doesn’t have the sense God gave an asshole. So listen to me and listen to your father and get to school. Got it?’

“Dad—” Simon said, trying to be the peacemaker.

Sam stared hard at his grandfather, trying to decide what to say back. Finally, he blinked.

“Fine,” he said as he walked off in a huff.

“What’s the matter with that boy? Don’t you discipline him at all?” Saul asked, Sam still hearing every word.

“Take it easy, dad. He’s a good kid. He’s just got a curious mind,” Simon said.

Simon was doing his best to defend his son against the man who’d said the exact same things (and worse) about him when he was a young man. Sam’s elevator finally arrived, and he jumped on, wiping away a tear before Simon or his grandfather could see.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay, Sam? We’ll talk about it then,” Simon said as the elevator doors closed.

“Sure, whatever,” Sam said, the doors cutting off the last word.

“That boy…you just let him do what he wants, huh?” Saul said, shaking his head as he walked back to his office.

“Just forget it, dad. What’d you call me in so early for?”

Simon didn’t wait for an invitation before settling into a chair across from Saul’s desk.

“I know who this latest crew is. I figured it out yesterday evening, right before I called you. Got ‘em dead to rights. I’m waiting on warrants now and then we’ll go pick ‘em up.” Simon scribbled in a thick, dark green notebook. “And listen, this is the best part, I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m gonna let you sit in while we interrogate them.”

Simon’s curiosity was suddenly piqued. “Really?”

“I can’t let you sit at the table with me or anything. Tessa would kill me if I gave you her spot, but I’ve arranged it so you can watch. How about that?” he said, proud of his influence.

“Sound great, dad. Thank you,” Simon said.

The thought of being locked in a tiny room with a felon made him nervous, but also excited. It would be something different at least.

“Thought you’d like that,” Saul said, still proud of the favor he’d done for his son. Simon continued to take notes.

“So how’d you figure it out? Who they are, I mean…?” he asked.

“Most of these numb-nuts get caught because they’re idiots. They’re desperate for cash so they take the risk,” Saul said. “Very few actually take the time to plan it out. And even when they do manage to make it out of the bank, most of them can’t keep their mouth shut long enough to get away with it. They’ve gotta flash the cash and brag and show what big shots they are. And we’re always listening, one way or another.”

Simon looked up from his notes.

“Is that how you got these guys?”

“More or less,” Saul said with a sly smile. He was being cagey.

“Need details, dad.”

“You’ll have them. I want to make sure this pans out. When it does, you’ll have all the details you can handle. Okay?” Saul said. Simon nodded and kept scribbling.

“We got ‘em,” Tessa said as she crashed through the door.

“Warrants came through already?” Saul asked as he got up from his chair.

“Don’t need them after all. We’ve got them trapped in a branch near downtown. They tried to pull an overnight job and got caught inside. We’re surrounding the place but we gotta hurry. I don’t trust SWAT to wait on us.”

“Like hell they won’t,” Saul said as he hurried out the door.

Simon was taken aback when he crawled out of the back of Saul and Tessa’s cruiser. The whole scene was a madhouse. There were cops and cameras everywhere, news choppers hovering overhead.

“All this for a bank robbery?” Simon asked above the noise.

Saul had immediately noticed the news cameras in attendance and eyed them as he answered his son.

“Been a slow few days in the news. These vultures are desperate,” he said, his eyes still on the cameras and field reporters going live from the scene. To Tessa, he said: “Find out who’s in charge and then tell them to take a step back. This one’s mine,”

The young detective hurried off to do as she was told.

“How do these things usually go?” Simon asked as he opened his notebook again.

“Depends on if they have hostages or not. We’ll know more in a bit,” Saul said.

“Yeah, but if—”

“I can’t do this right now, Sy. I’ll give you all I can once this is done, but for now, I need you to stay out of my way and let me do the job,” Saul said.

Simon raised his hands in surrender and backed away to stand by the car. He felt like a scolded child again, a feeling his father routinely brought up in him. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but he knew what he had to do to get what he needed out of Saul, so he did as he was asked and stayed out of the way.

Saul, on the other hand, jumped into the middle of it all with both feet. The big bear of a man started barking orders here and there, moving his resources around as he saw fit. And to their credit, no one challenged him, not to his face anyway. A few grumblings here and there, but everyone agreed who was taking responsibility for this circus, for better or worse.

“Have we made contact with these assholes yet?” Saul asked his partner.

“We’ve got a direct line set up, but we can’t get them to answer,” she responded.

“Call ‘em again. If they don’t answer, keep calling every two minutes until they do. Let the ringing drive them nuts. In the meantime, find me a bullhorn and I’ll handle this like we did in the old days,” he barked.

Someone quickly found a bullhorn and handed it to the big man in charge.

“Attention: inside the bank. You are completely surrounded. Come out with your hands up or be forcibly removed. Let’s do this the easy way, gentlemen,” Saul said.

His voice was easily heard above the dull roar of the crowd surrounding the branch. The news cameras caught every word and deliberate gesture as the old man made his point and did his best to look good doing it. Unfortunately, the crooks inside the branch didn’t care who was barking at them over the bullhorn and simply ignored the man’s overtures.

“Goddammit, these sons of bitches are gonna make us go in there, aren’t they?” Saul said under his breath to his partner.

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Tessa asked. “I spoke with the branch manager. All his employees are accounted for, even the overnight janitors.”

“So?”

“So, that means it’s likely they don’t have any hostages with them. It’s just them in there. Unless it was a bring-a-hostage situation, but how likely is that? You built their profile, so you’d know better than me, but—I mean, is there any reason we can’t just wait them out?”

He nodded and rubbed his chin. Despite his best efforts, his eyes drifted to the cameras that seemed to be trained on his every move. Those cameras were here for a show. They were there for him, goddammit. They wouldn’t wait around for him to wait around, hoping these assholes get tired or hungry and just give up. He had to make a move. A big one.

“What do you want to do, Saul?” Tessa asked, somehow already knowing what his answer would be.

She may been a new detective but that didn’t mean she was an idiot.

“Gear ‘em up. We’re taking those doors in ten minutes,” he responded as he walked away.

“Saul, there’s no reason we have—,” Tessa called after him, but the man was gone.

Simon had done as he was told and watched the madness from a distance. He’d shed his jacket and now rested against the back of the squad car, his notebook near and at the ready. He’d taken copious notes throughout the last couple of hours, but it just wasn’t the same as being there, right in the middle of it. He hoped Saul’s recollection of events would be enough, but somehow, he doubted it. It was only after a couple of NYPD SWAT members jogged by in full rattle battle that he took a chance and stepped away from his assigned post.

“What’s going on?” he asked Tessa.

“Get back to the car, Simon. Find some cover and stay down. I’m serious, Okay? Now,” she commanded.

But Simon was a writer first and foremost and in his bones he knew something big was coming. And if he wanted this book to be different than anything he’d ever done, he’d have to behave different than he ever had. No more playing it safe. He disregarded Tessa’s command and went to find his father. They’re outta their damn mind if they think I’m missing this, he thought as he raced among the police, his notebook clutched firmly in his hand.

“Dad, what’s going on?” he said as he found Saul at the makeshift command center.

Saul ignored him as he spoke to the SWAT leader.

“Saul.”

That got the old man’s attention.

“Simon, get back to the car right now. I’m not gonna tell you again,” he barked at his only son.

“But—”

Saul stepped closer to his son, their identical noses this close to each other.

“Get back to the car or I will have you cuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car for the rest of the day,” he said as he poked Simon in the chest with a strong finger. “Don’t try me, son. Not today,” he said. Saul didn’t wait for a response as he walked toward the bank of cameras.

And while Simon was just about to cave to his dad’s command, his attention was suddenly pulled toward the front of the bank. The four felons inside—stuck there for hours after their last big job had fallen apart against the ever-present threats of insufficient planning and silent alarms—saw all the cops gearing up to breach their front doors and decided to beat them to the punch. Machine gun fire exploded from the front of the bank as the four criminals came out blazing. Bullets crashed into everyone and everything as the would-be thieves filled the late morning with a hail of gunfire. Those who were trained and knew what to do immediately hit the pavement and looked for a way to fire back. But Simon, caught off guard with the sudden loud noises, hadn’t been trained or instructed. He was a writer, for God’s sake. What did he know? Three rounds from a Cold War-era AK47 tore into his chest, sending him to the pavement in a puddle of blood and meat, his notebook falling to the ground beside him and soaking up his blood.

Saul ducked with the rest of his officers and quickly pulled his weapon to return the enemy’s fire. He emptied his revolver but there was no need to reload. The four assailants were dead within twenty seconds of the first round being fired. Their strown bodies decorated the stone steps, blood slowly trickling down to the street. Saul rose and surveyed the damage. A few had been hit, one or two were serious, but nothing that couldn’t be survived. Where was Simon? Maybe he had gotten back to the car before the mayhem had begun. And that’s when he heard Tessa calling his name.

The old man turned slowly, hearing the sorrow in his partner’s voice. She was holding Simon in her lap, his head slumped to one side, his blank eyes staring into nothingness. Saul rushed over to his son and grabbed him from Tessa. She respectfully backed away.

“Simon? Simon. Come on, Sy, wake up. Wake up, Simon,” he pleaded as he gently shook Simon’s lifeless body.

He knew the truth but couldn’t accept it yet.

“Please, son…”

—

Simon Augustine’s funeral was a crowded event. He had been a well-liked man with very few enemies. Friends, family, agents, managers, and even a few fans commingled among the bevy of cops who showed up to support Saul in his time of bereavement. A movie star even showed up, but only because his agents convinced him it was a good idea. Simon Augustine had written the role that had made him a star, so why not show up, pay his respects, and buy some good will? And despite the sadness of such an unbelievable death, Simon’s wife had preceded him some ten years before and most of the those in attendance were curious what was to come of young Sam Augustine and the vast estate he had inherited.

On the more pragmatic side of things, Geraldine Capet had read about the death of her brother-in-law in the paper. And while it wasn’t the worst way she’d learned of a family member’s death, she still wondered why she hadn’t received a call or even just a note.

“Simon’s dead. Funeral is Tuesday at 10am. Would love to see you there.”

Would that have been so hard? Never mind she barely knew where she was most of the time, it would have been nice to learn about it in more personable manner. After all, a lady likes to have a plan in place. Regardless, she had shown up looking like a million bucks as always and had quickly taken her place by Sam’s side; a move that did not escape Saul’s watchful glare.

Sam was at the casket, looking down at his father’s lifeless body in the casket when she’d found him.

“You look just like him,” Gerry deadpanned to him quietly.

The laugh that escaped from Sam’s throat caught him off guard and he smiled at his aunt. Gerry had done her job and followed it up with a comforting squeeze.

As Sam, Gerry, and Saul entered Simon’s home for the first time without him, there was a certain amount of uneasiness between the three. Sam hadn’t seen Gerry since his mother’s funeral a decade ago and with Gerry’s work history, her and Saul weren’t exactly the best of friends.

“Want me to make you something to eat, Sam?” Saul asked, trying to be helpful.

“No, you can go actually,” Sam said to Saul.

“What?” the old man said.

“You can go,” Sam repeated with no further explanation.

“Sam, I understand you’re hurting but there’s some things we need to straighten out. With the lawyers and the like,” Saul said.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Gerry said as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Mind your business, Geraldine,” Saul said.

Gerry raised a hand in momentary surrender as the other lifted the large glass to her lips.

“Don’t talk to her like that. And I can take care of things. I certainly don’t need you looking after me,” Sam said.

He plopped down onto the piano bench and buried his head in his hands. He was so tired, and his eyes ached from crying.

“I understand how you feel, boy, but still—”

“No, you don’t. How could you? Did your grandfather get your dad killed?” Sam spat the words at Saul.

“You can’t seriously blame me for what happened, Sam,” Saul said in disbelief.

“Whatever…” Sam said into his hands.

“What happened was an accident. Your dad was doing research on me, but what happened was a fluke. A total accident. You have to believe that,” Saul pleaded.

The feeling of pleading with a teenager didn’t sit well with him.

“All I know is you were supposed to protect him and now he’s dead. Is it true you were talking to reporters when he was killed?” Sam said.

Saul hesitated for a moment. How the hell could the boy know that?

“I was doing my job,” Saul said.

“No, if you were doing your job…if you were doing your job as a father, your only son would still be alive, Saul,” Sam said.

“Watch how you talk to me, boy,” Saul said.

Sam ignored the threat. “But he’s not alive, is he, Saul? He died alone in the street, covered in his own blood. Because of you!” Sam finished that last part at full volume.

Gerry sat to the side, nursing her wine. Sam was doing well and didn’t need her help yet. A silence filled the large living room as the three of them stared at the floor.

“I can’t just leave you here by yourself, Sam.”

“I’ve asked Gerry to stick around for a while. So that’s taken care of. Like I said, I don’t need you. You can go.”

“Her? Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you in the care of some con-woman who will rob you blind the first chance she gets,” Saul said with venom.

He and Gerry had never gotten along, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Stick it, Saul,” Gerry said, joining the fray. “You can’t prove anything. If you could, you would’ve arrested me back when.”

Gerry wasn’t scared of anything. A gift from living her life on the road.

“We both know why you skated, Geraldine,” Saul said, pointing his finger in her direction.

“Right,” Gerry said, flipping him off as she took another drink.

“Saul, stop,” Sam interrupted. “I’m twenty. I’m an adult. What you want or what you have to say really doesn’t matter. I was dad’s only heir, so things are cut and dry. Like I said, there’s no need for you to stick around.”

“And what are you gonna do for money? For food and essentials?” Saul asked. He was grasping at straws.

“I’ve been handling my own money and checking account since I was eleven. I’m set,” Sam said as he opened the front door and held it open.

“Sam—”

“Like I said, you can go.”

Saul looked at Gerry for help, but she gleefully ignored him. He had lost this particular battle. He walked toward the door; his head bowed.

“I lost someone too, Sam. You realize that, right? I lost my son. Treating me like this doesn’t help you or me,” Saul said.

Sam swallowed hard but stayed firm.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” Saul said as he walked out the front door in defeat.

“Don’t wait by the phone,” Sam said, calm but cold.

Saul looked back sadly at his grandson, but the front door had already begun to close.

Saul wouldn’t see Sam again for four long years.