Perez sat in a booth at Sal's Pizzeria, cradling a chipped white mug of coffee in her thin fingers. Late morning traffic crawled along Main Street, a steady blur beyond the glass door. Inside, the lights were dim only the kitchen glow and the bulb above her booth lit the room.
Sal's hefty frame came through the swinging door, carrying two mugs. He set one across from her. Between them sat a box of pastries and a stack of small ceramic plates.
"You get these from that Russian bakery in Midtown?"
Perez nodded.
Sal flipped open the lid. Flaky pastries folded and glistened with syrupy fruit. Topped with powered sugar. He pinched one free with a thick finger and dropped it onto a plate beneath.
"So what have you heard?" Perez asked as he bit into the pastry.
"Always digging for the nugget, huh?" he said around a mouthful.
"Nature of the job."
"Told you already. Dent met with Liech."
"That's hardly news."
"Well, the little man stormed out in a huff."
"I'm sure Harvey didn't bend."
"Yeah. He's always been proud."
"Same big ego like The Roman and Cobblepot," Perez said, sipping her coffee.
"He's better now, I think. Back in the day he was just a kid working pies in the back—stupid little shit, always had a bruise and raw knuckles." Sal took another bite.
"Typical Uptown boy," said Perez.
Sal chuckled. "Yeah. Boys here were rowdy, the girls meaner. But I poked him while he was here. He didn't bite."
"Poked him?"
Sal shook his head. "Just the usual bullshit. The kind that used to set him off. He's got that pride in check."
"Well, if you say so."
"Still don't trust him?"
"That polished shine blinds most, but not me."
A knuckle tapped the glass at the front door. An older man stood there. Black, tall, six-four at least, late forties. His skin dark and leathery, worn hard by the sun. He wore a thick grey coat over jeans and a red button-down.
Sal rose, crossed the room, and let him in. They embraced, speaking low as they walked back to the booth.
"Well if it ain't thee Jackman Wolf," Perez said, standing to hug him.
"If it ain't my favorite Puerto Rican chica," Wolf shot back.
"Ain't what I hear," Perez teased, sliding back into her seat.
Wolf laughed, shrugging off his coat.
"Surprised I beat you here," she said.
"Got held up," Wolf replied, settling beside her. "Phone's been ringing off the hook. All about that mess with the lizard-man you call Killer Croc."
Before Sal took another bite, he asked, "How much of that's true?"
"Every word," Perez said. "Saw it from Milner's. Whole diner did."
"And the cops?" Wolf asked, sipping his coffee.
"Iverson and his crew were abducting young girls out of Little Saigon," said Perez. "Then feeding them to Killer Croc, thinking he was some demon called Bael who could make their crimes invisible."
Wolf leaned back, shaking his head.
"They stashed vials with venom in their homes. And, like Jim Jones, they committed suicide and took their families with them."
Wolf grimaced. "Jesus."
"Fucking crazy shit," Sal muttered.
After a long minute, Wolf lifted the lid of the pastry box, brows low. "And the other rumor?"
"What's that?"
Sal and Wolf both looked at her.
Sal said, "Don't give us those big 'ol wide eyes."
She sipped her coffee. "What exactly have you heard?"
Wolf said it quiet. "That the Night's not alone anymore."
Sal leaned in. "Word is, he's working with a cop. And Loeb's goons roughed him up."
Wolf added, almost to himself, "And now they're in the hospital."
Perez stared into her cup, taking slow sips as they talked.
"You know who he is, don't you?" Wolf asked.
She didn't answer.
"Well, when it spreads past the precincts and hits the mainstream, they'll tear him and the night apart."
"I know," Perez said softly, a memory scratched her, she touched her neck. "I worked for them once. It's why we have to back both of them."
"If this cop proves he can be trusted, then I will," said Wolf.
She sipped her coffee, then glanced at Sal, who was finishing the last of his pastry. "What about you?"
Sal chewed, took his time.
"Don't get dramatic, Sally," Wolf cut in.
Sal smiled before he spoke.
"Like I told Dent when he was thinking of running for A.D.A., people back you if they believe you're pushing real change. The kind that sparks something bigger." He leaned forward, voice low. "If things keep shifting, shit's gonna get crazier."