Melting Ice 9

Kade Devine


Porn. The other Marshals in the squad room wouldn’t stop sniggering. Even my superior, Director Daniel Falken seemed to be having a tough time holding back a smile.

“Think of it this way, Kade.” David Cross put his hand on my shoulder at the water cooler. “You’ll have free access to all the guy’s flicks. He’s quite famous…from behind, that is.”

Laughter erupted again.

I made a face at David Cross, showing my middle finger to the other three clowns providing the background laugh track. “Guess you should know then, David. Jerk off much?” I taunted.

“Okay, okay.” Daniel Falken came out of his office into the squad room. “Enough, children. Leave Kade alone. This is an assignment like any other, and is to be taken seriously.”

Everyone went back to their desks.

“Kade, can I see you in my office?” Falken motioned.

I followed him. There was still some faint chuckling, but it had died down considerably. I was used to it. I was the new guy. I’d only been a marshal for about six months. I was often the brunt of jokes and landed all the shit assignments and crummy shifts.

“Close the door, sit.” He took a seat at his desk.

Falken waited until I was settled and he was sure he had my complete attention, then turned his laptop around and brought up a file. “Samuel Monroe, also known as Deep Delight, Rapido Hardon, Come Onsight, and a variety of other porn names.”

Angel Stud, Dive Well and Pump Slut. I knew most of them.

I swallowed as I looked at the pictures. He was naked in all of them. The guy was gorgeous, not just the body. Monroe had the face of an angel. God knows I’d jerked off a few watching him in action. He was known for his perfect bubble-butt and expressive appreciation while being fucked.

“Twenty-six years old. Monroe had been at the top of his game, fancy car and six-bedroom condo overlooking Central Park. Then shit hit the fan. He’d been discovered at the tender age of sixteen, living on the streets. He started out in straight porn, then like most, figured out there was a hell of a lot more money in the gay stuff.

“Monroe was Drilljerks’ top draw, winning award after award in the porn industry. The owner of Drilljerk, Frank Fuller, was like his surrogate father, most likely with benefits.”

“I figured that.”

“Fuller pulled Samuel off the streets at sixteen and made him a star. All was paradise until Fuller developed a serious gambling and drug problem. Cocaine, big time. Last year, Drilljerk was in deep financial problems, even though the company was pulling in big bucks. Fuller couldn’t pay his staff, and they began to walk.”

“Except Monroe.”

“Right,” Falken said. “He felt he owed Frank. Then, after he realized that he wasn’t ever going to get paid, he threatened to walk. When his biggest moneymaker wanted out, Fuller had no other choice but to go to the mob. Without Monroe, he was going down, and he wouldn’t be able to support his coke habit or keep the casinos at bay.”

“And that’s when things got ugly,” I commented.

“You got it. As you know, Fuller borrowed a cool million from the Irish mob, using his company as collateral. He paid the stars, and the talent came back. The company started pulling in real dough again.”

“The mob saw a good thing,” I nodded, “and wanted shares in Drill.”

“They offered to buy it outright, but Frank refused.” Falken ran a hand thought his hair. “Fuller didn’t want the mob to have any say in what films he made. On top of that, Monroe told police Cassidy Ross, brother to Seth, the big boss, had developed a serious obsession with him. He started making all kinds of demands. Frank didn’t like it, and it got uglier.”

Falken brought up another screen. “As you already know, this was the result.”

I found it hard to look at. All those bodies shot to bits, blood and guts everywhere. One wall of the studio was bathed in red. It was fast becoming known as The Drilljerk Massacre, twelve people dead, including Fuller, seven crew members, and four male porn stars. All of them gunned down with automatic weapons. Monroe would have been among them if he hadn’t gone off-set for something, just before the gunmen came in.

“Monroe heard the guns, ran upstairs and hid in a trunk full of props,” Falken said, turning off his screen.

“He's the only witness,” I said.

“You got it. The DA needs him to make this stick against the Irish. The mob knows Monroe is out there. They know he was supposed to be filming that day. They suspect he might be a key witness. Already two of their boys are in jail. The Irish want to get them out. The mob is looking for Monroe. We need to keep him safe until the trial. That’s where you come in.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

“Right now, Monroe is in a cabin hidden away in the Catskills. I want you there with him twenty-four-seven.”

I wrinkled my nose. “No time off?”

“You’ll get a nice long holiday once he’s brought in front of the court. I’ll send you all the info you need in an encrypted file later today. Take the weekend and be up there early Monday morning. There is a retired out-of-state marshal with him at the moment, and he’s anxious to leave.”

“How come?”

“He wants to go fishing.” Falken seemed distracted.

“No,” I asked, “not how come he wants to leave, how come Monroe is with an out-of-state marshal who’s retired?”

“Long story. Monroe is a reluctant witness. He ran to Boston, and it’s not their problem.”

“Oh.” I stood. I still wasn’t clear on the marshal.

Kade Devine


Porn. The other Marshals in the squad room wouldn’t stop sniggering. Even my superior, Director Daniel Falken seemed to be having a tough time holding back a smile.

“Think of it this way, Kade.” David Cross put his hand on my shoulder at the water cooler. “You’ll have free access to all the guy’s flicks. He’s quite famous…from behind, that is.”

Laughter erupted again.

I made a face at David Cross, showing my middle finger to the other three clowns providing the background laugh track. “Guess you should know then, David. Jerk off much?” I taunted.

 “Okay, okay.” Daniel Falken came out of his office into the squad room. “Enough, children. Leave Kade alone. This is an assignment like any other, and is to be taken seriously.”

Everyone went back to their desks.

 “Kade, can I see you in my office?” Falken motioned.

I followed him. There was still some faint chuckling, but it had died down considerably. I was used to it. I was the new guy. I’d only been a marshal for about six months. I was often the brunt of jokes and landed all the shit assignments and crummy shifts.

 “Close the door, sit.” He took a seat at his desk.

Falken waited until I was settled and he was sure he had my complete attention, then turned his laptop around and brought up a file. “Samuel Monroe, also known as Deep Delight, Rapido Hardon, Come Onsight, and a variety of other porn names.”

Angel Stud, Dive Well and Pump Slut. I knew most of them.

I swallowed as I looked at the pictures. He was naked in all of them. The guy was gorgeous, not just the body. Monroe had the face of an angel. God knows I’d jerked off a few watching him in action. He was known for his perfect bubble-butt and expressive appreciation while being fucked.

 “Twenty-six years old. Monroe had been at the top of his game, fancy car and six-bedroom condo overlooking Central Park. Then shit hit the fan. He’d been discovered at the tender age of sixteen, living on the streets. He started out in straight porn, then like most, figured out there was a hell of a lot more money in the gay stuff.

 “Monroe was Drilljerks’ top draw, winning award after award in the porn industry. The owner of Drilljerk, Frank Fuller, was like his surrogate father, most likely with benefits.”

 “I figured that.”

 “Fuller pulled Samuel off the streets at sixteen and made him a star. All was paradise until Fuller developed a serious gambling and drug problem. Cocaine, big time. Last year, Drilljerk was in deep financial problems, even though the company was pulling in big bucks. Fuller couldn’t pay his staff, and they began to walk.”

 “Except Monroe.”

 “Right,” Falken said. “He felt he owed Frank. Then, after he realized that he wasn’t ever going to get paid, he threatened to walk. When his biggest moneymaker wanted out, Fuller had no other choice but to go to the mob. Without Monroe, he was going down, and he wouldn’t be able to support his coke habit or keep the casinos at bay.”

 “And that’s when things got ugly,” I commented.

 “You got it. As you know, Fuller borrowed a cool million from the Irish mob, using his company as collateral. He paid the stars, and the talent came back. The company started pulling in real dough again.”

 “The mob saw a good thing,” I nodded, “and wanted shares in Drill.”

 “They offered to buy it outright, but Frank refused.” Falken ran a hand thought his hair. “Fuller didn’t want the mob to have any say in what films he made. On top of that, Monroe told police Cassidy Ross, brother to Seth, the big boss, had developed a serious obsession with him. He started making all kinds of demands. Frank didn’t like it, and it got uglier.”

Falken brought up another screen. “As you already know, this was the result.”

I found it hard to look at. All those bodies shot to bits, blood and guts everywhere. One wall of the studio was bathed in red. It was fast becoming known as The Drilljerk Massacre, twelve people dead, including Fuller, seven crew members, and four male porn stars. All of them gunned down with automatic weapons. Monroe would have been among them if he hadn’t gone off-set for something, just before the gunmen came in.

 “Monroe heard the guns, ran upstairs and hid in a trunk full of props,” Falken said, turning off his screen.

 “He's the only witness,” I said.

 “You got it. The DA needs him to make this stick against the Irish. The mob knows Monroe is out there. They know he was supposed to be filming that day. They suspect he might be a key witness. Already two of their boys are in jail. The Irish want to get them out. The mob is looking for Monroe. We need to keep him safe until the trial. That’s where you come in.”

 “Yes, Sir,” I said.

 “Right now, Monroe is in a cabin hidden away in the Catskills. I want you there with him twenty-four-seven.”

I wrinkled my nose. “No time off?”

 “You’ll get a nice long holiday once he’s brought in front of the court. I’ll send you all the info you need in an encrypted file later today. Take the weekend and be up there early Monday morning. There is a retired out-of-state marshal with him at the moment, and he’s anxious to leave.”

 “How come?”

 “He wants to go fishing.” Falken seemed distracted.

 “No,” I asked, “not how come he wants to leave, how come Monroe is with an out-of-state marshal who’s retired?”

 “Long story. Monroe is a reluctant witness. He ran to Boston, and it’s not their problem.”

 “Oh.” I stood. I still wasn’t clear on the marshal.