#5 - Scarface, Fusco - Auf Wiedersehen
The first time Detective Fusco runs into Elias’ goon - Marconi, he reminds himself, because he’s the one who ran the three dozen rap sheets by Reese until he was sure which of the torpedoes it was that they were really looking for - the guy gives him a crooked grin and then disappears deeper into the warehouse that he’s supposed to be clearing of contraband.
He doesn’t say anything because first of all, that’s more fight than he’s equipped to deal with by himself, and second, he hears the doors bang shut a minute later and then the rest of his detail pronounces the building ‘clear’. So, Fusco knows he’s not the only rat in the house. When the warehouse actually checks out clean, he’s not remotely surprised. Likely Marconi had cleaned it out, and anything he’d missed was picked up by whatever guy Elias must have in the force.
Lionel actually has some respect for that, he thinks. Must be something doing to keep HR from knowing who it was, unless maybe it was a double agent or something. Maybe it’s Simmons, that fucker had an obsession with pies and stuffing his fingers into them.
The next time he sees Marconi, or at least he thinks he sees him - the same greasy hair pushed back, the same leather jacket that crawled out of a 50’s movie. The guy’s speeding away from the scene of a particularly nasty accident. It’s not an explosion, not this time, but the result is probably just as messy and Fusco wishes he could foist it off on traffic, but now he can’t because it probably just turned into a homicide.
The third time, he catches the guy following Reese.
He should just tell Reese, he knows that, but for some reason it makes him angry that Reese either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and he does something spectacularly stupid because for once Fusco wants to do one thing that nobody expects.
He catches Marconi off his guard by circling around - he knows this part of the city pretty good, and Fusco’s a big guy but he can muffle his footsteps a little, stick to the shadows, and Marconi’s pretty distracted trying to follow the Living Shadow over there, so he takes a page from Reese’s book and ambushes him at a T-intersection of alley and slams him against the wall with his hands curled up in the lapels of Marconi’s leather jacket.
It’s soft and smooth and well worn. It’s also covering a holster, apparently, because there’s a gun pressing into Fusco’s gut muzzle first.
"You wanna tell me what you’re up to?" Fusco asks anyway, like he’s not afraid, but his palms are suddenly damp and the leather is getting more slippery in his grip.
"Oh, say," Marconi says, like he doesn’t have the upper hand. He seems pretty content to play cops and robbers, once he recognizes Fusco. "I was just leaving, Detective. I got some place to be. You don’t wanna fight about it, do ya?"
Fusco decides he’s done being unpredictable for the day, and that Reese can protect his own damn virtue.