NYPD Red

Chapter 18



THE CHAMELEON WANTED to scream. It had all been going so well, and suddenly the two detectives had pulled the rug out from under him.

His cell phone vibrated. Another text from Lexi: Ian is a trending topic on Twitter. Congrats. UR242.

He hated all that childish text lingo. He’d mastered ROTFLMAO and a few others, but this was a new one. It took him a while to parse this one out: you are two for two.

He was, but he wasn’t happy. He had switched magazines on the SIG Pro—as writ. The armorer gave the loaded gun to Edie Coburn—as writ. Ian Stewart was lying in a pool of blood—as writ.

But the next scene was the one he’d been waiting for all day. It was a turning point in his script.





INT. SOUNDSTAGE—SILVERCUP STUDIOS—DAY


The Chameleon waits his turn as the detectives interview the extras. He knows all about the elite task force they call NYPD Red. He was looking forward to jousting with them. They’d try to trip him up a hundred different ways, but he was ready. They were smart. But he was smarter.



When he wrote the script, The Chameleon had no idea who the lead detectives would be. All he knew was that there would be a dead man on the floor, he was the killer, and he would be standing face-to-face with two of NYPD’s smartest cops. Staring them down. Dodging their obvious trick questions. It was great theater.

But it wasn’t happening.

The two detectives talked to the whacked-out director, then they walked off with Shelley Trager. Walked off. He wanted to scream out at them, I’m the killer! Grill me. Suspect me. The audience will love it. It’s f*cking drama, you a*sholes.

But no, they simply left the studio—disappeared—leaving him to answer dumb questions from a bunch of unsophisticated, low-level bozos in blue uniforms. They would lump him in with ninety-nine other extras, none of whom were worth two seconds of screen time.

His cell vibrated again. He read the text: Jonesing 4 ice cream. Bring home sum Rocky Road. Luv u. CU46.

He smiled. CU46. His favorite text of them all: See you for sex. It would have to be fast. He was only 242. If Lexi paid a little more attention to the script, she’d know that by the end of the day he was planning on being 343.