It started at my final year at the police academy. I was having a good time as a student enjoying life in the big city but was still single and missing a regular female companion.
One of my drill instructors pulled me aside after a class on 'Crowd control.' We were used by regular police whenever they saw more than one person making a little noise in the street. He pulled me into a meeting room where five people already were seated looking at what appeared to be my records.
"We have a proposal for you Mr. Adams," one of the older guys started.
"OK, but who are you?" I asked, causing everybody to look at each other nervously.
"Never mind, we are an ad hoc group fighting against organized crime. We are formed by the State Department and have unlimited access to use resources from police. Right now, we have a large operation running against the biker group <i>The Organization</i>. And we need your help".
That's how I got involved. They asked a lot of questions about my knowledge of the group, if I knew anyone there, if I had dealt with the group and on and on and on.
Bottom line was that the group was based in a building were the front was a Motorcycle Dealer and Repair shop. They urgently needed a mechanic since they had lost two in a shootout with a rival group. Because I had my Harley Davidson, they figured I could get by as a mechanic and help observe the group from inside.
So, while I spent the next couple of weeks training in a shop in another city, the team was doing the application that would get me an interview and eventually the job. As they had planned, I got the job with some fake references and a couple of other applicants who suddenly lost interest.
My days in the shop were both good and bad. There was a lot of work to be done and I had to study at night with the help from motorcycle importers and two specialists who had no idea why they were doing this. But the shop slowly started to trust me as a mechanic. There was not much criminal activity though while we were working at the place. I had been given small cameras with batteries and enough memory to last a few weeks. But they had to be concealed carefully or the whole operation would be blown. I managed to conceal some inside the wall structures and some in machines. The bad guys came often by the shop to watch bikes or just to stretch their legs. Every morning I could see signs of them having used the shop during the evening but at day they mostly kept themselves inside the next rooms where I was not invited.
Their girls were something else. There were changed frequently but all selected by the same format. Big tits and ass, long hair, pretty face and around 25 years old. Some were nice and said hello or small talked, but to some the mechanics were servants. I know the investigation team had a big job just keeping up with the girls names and partners.
And then suddenly one morning it was all over. As I got to the shop there was police cars everywhere and the investigation team leader explained that another undercover cop inside the biker group had been killed so they would go with what we had and see if it could get enough people in jail for various criminal activities including several murders, serious drug and people trafficking and racketeering. I was done and felt like a big disappointment even though I had been a small wheel in a successful operation. The success of the operation more than my own part landed me a decent position in my local precinct and the team leader promised to call if they needed another motorcycle expert.
After a few weeks I was back near the shop on other police business and went in to see the place again. Everything had been removed down to oil stains on the floor. I did however locate one of the little cameras which I peeled out of the wall with a pen and a flashlight. I slid it into the glovebox and forgot all about it.
Six months later we were changing cars and one of the carpool people came with leftovers including at least twenty ice cream wrappers, ten paper bags from the donut shop, and my little camera.
I took it home and again forgot about it for a few days but over the weekend, I finally got around to inserting the memory card into my computer. It was motion activated so there were hours of me and the other guys at the shop repairing bikes plus lots of people going through the shop. I fast forwarded until there suddenly was a guy tied up in a kneeling position in the center of the picture with a group of people around him. I changed to play mode and heard an angry voice interrogating him over some missing drugs in several deliveries. I recognized him as a biker but later was told he was Jack Hiscoll and working as an undercover cop like me. The guy was initially quiet but a severe beating with the help of the whole group changed his mind and eventually he started admitting to thinning the coke at first a little and eventually fifty percent. The cut he had sold to a competing group in the other end of town. The beating got worse and worse. The interrogator pushed three women towards the guy again and again. After some time, the group of people watching had moved out of the picture and it was only possible to see one or two people at a time beating or kicking the person. At the end Jack Hiscoll tried to save his life by yelling he was an undercover police officer. But the beating got worse and eventually he was quiet.
I was shocked. My first instinct was to call the team leader and transfer the video but then I realized that the Hero Cop we had buried would turn to Dirty Cop and it would reflect badly upon all of us. Probably all the people on the recording had received the penalty. Then this would only punish the cop's family. So, I started to make an album of all the people involved in the killing of the cop. There were two bikers of which one was clearly the leader and pushing the rest to hurt the guy. I knew his name but not the other. Then there were three biker bitches who, reluctantly in the beginning, but actively at the end participated. I had to find out more from the files.
It took me days to identify the group via the police files and press clippings. Luckily, I still had my access codes to the case so over time I could search a little. The bikers were in jail. The leader guy was Mean Mike, alias Michael LaCroffe who served 15 years for all kinds of verdicts but no murder. He was rumored to control the group today even from his jail cell. The other guy was convicted of the murder and several others so he would never get out.
The girls all were all sentenced with fines and one had a sentence served for holding illegal firearms. All were free today. It got me thinking a lot, and I started working on a plan.
Two weeks later, I was following the first of the three girls. Her name was Jennifer Jones. She had no formal education other than high school. She had not listed any previous jobs but had recently moved to Brooklyn and gotten a part time job in a fashion shop. No kids, but spent a lot of time taking care of her sisters two small toddlers. She had managed to get away from the police who had her just listed as a girlfriend. She was tall, fake blond with very nice tits which apparently was a must-have in biker girls. I had followed her on a few occasions and had seen no signs of biker contact or boyfriends, but one never knew.
I decided it was time for our first meeting and knocked on the door to her flat. In case of more people in the flat I had planned for her just to call me.
She opened the door with her arms full of groceries.
"Hello, my name is Nick Adams. I am with the police department. I have a few questions regarding your recent involvement with <i>The Organization</i>. May I come in please?"
She looked at me and my badge in shock and horror and I could see her mind struggling to find good reasons to make me go away.
"It won't take long. Just a few questions on relations in the group." I explained as I almost pushed her back into the apartment.
"Please be quick. I have left all that behind me. I have nothing further to say." She protested.
"Ok," I said. "I am just interested in your relationship with the late undercover police agent Jack Hiscoll."
"I hardly saw him there. He was a nobody in the group. I didn't even talk to him." She explained in a high pitch tone.
"Ok", I said as I pulled out my tablet computer.
"Then it is not you in this picture?" I said as I showed her some of the movie where her part was mixed together. Firstly, she kicked Jack in his ass but as the movie went on, she got more and more violent and eventually kicked him in his groin and face with her high heels.
She stood with open mouth and gasped for air while staring in disbelief at my screen.
"This looks to me like torture and murder which will get you a room and board for the rest of your life in a zero-star hotel. You are pretty enough that some of the groups will use you to eat pussy every night and none of the guards will lift a finger to save you because you killed a police officer!"
She dropped everything she had on the floor and grabbed the back of a chair to stop her from falling.
"But he was dirty. He admitted to skimming powder for himself and must have made a fortune. He was no better than the bikers." She was now crying and had to sit down not to faint.
"I am sorry, that part must be missing from my tape. You will not get away with throwing dirt at Jack. This will get you several life sentences if I decide to release this."
At my last sentence she looked up at me with curiosity painted on her face.
