Precinct 111
Soundtrack: Shoe box (Barenaked Ladies)
A key in the door, a step on the floor,
A note on the table, and a meal in the micro
Note says "I'm in bed, please make sure you're fed
If you're taking a shower, you can borrow my bathrobe
And when I'm asleep I dream you move in next week"
I crumple the note and save it to put inside
My shoe box
Shoe box of lies
Shoe box
Shoe box of lies
It's under my bed, it's never been read
It's in with my school stuff and my mom never cleans there
From the first little fib, when I still wore a bib
To my latest attempt at pretending at someone
Who's not seventeen and doesn't know what you mean
When talk turns to single malts, or stilton, or
(Chorus)
Did somebody tell you
This is how it's supposed to be?
Or did you just find it
And you don't want any more from me?
(Chorus)
Was it something I said, or was it something you read
That's making me think that I should never have come here
I can offer you lies, I can tell you good-bye,
I can tell you I'm sorry, but I can't tell the truth, dear
And if I could - would it do any good?
You'll still never get to see the contents of
(Chorus)
You're so nineteen-ninety
And it's nineteen-ninety-four
Leave this world behind me
'Cause you don't want me anymore
"...in other news, six people were hospitalized after a riot at a Necropolis nightclub, the Outer Limits. The unexpected cancellation of the popular underground rock band Green Dragon prompted ravers to riot. The Outer Limits was, unfortunately, burned to the ground. Doctors expect the injured fans to make full recoveries. Members of Green Dragon could not be reached for comment, and their whereabouts are currently unknown. I know if I had a club full of angry fans, I'd be hiding too, ha ha. Now, back to you, Susan."
"Thanks, Ted. It certainly shows the state of youth today, with the rising statistics of drinking and Flight use among the under twenty-five demographic. We've been taking calls all morning, and our listeners mainly want to know why the NYPD doesn't have a stronger presence in the streets..."
There were derisive jeers and shouts of "Turn it off!" from the various cops going about their business. One young woman, her hands full, hooked the radio's cord with her ankle and yanked it from the wall socket.
Brenda Harrison, Police Secretary for Precinct 111, New York City Police Force, shifted the packages in her arms and rapped on Captain Daly's door.
"*What*?"
Brenda grinned to herself. Oh, the captain was having one of *those* days, the kind when it was best to keep you head down and refrain from making eye contact, and *maybe* you'd make it through to quitting time alive.
Well, this applied to everyone except herself, obviously. Secretaries are by nature diplomatic people, and Brenda was good at what she did. Fixing her face into a carefully blank expression, she opened the door and walked through, setting her still-warm packages on the cluttered desk.
Captain Daly was pushing fifty, with short dark hair and green eyes. She was wearing a glare that could cut diamond. "What is that?"
"Lunch." said Brenda, closing the door and settling herself into the chair opposite the desk.
Daly prodded the package cautiously, as though expecting cockroaches or a small thermonuclear explosion. Brenda sighed. "It's a souvlaki wrap from the place up the street, extra tomatoes. And I brought you a double espresso, four sugars."
The captain leaned back in her chair, pinching her nose to ward off a headache. "Fine, fine, what do I owe you?"
"How about a 10ยข pay increase and a half-holiday at Christmas?"
Daly finally cracked a small smile. "Thanks, Brenda. I needed that."
"You need the lunch too. So why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
Daly snorted. "Is it *that* obvious?"
"Well, you nearly made Duggan cry this morning, and Dunsmore's trying to super-glue her composure back together, and don't even get me started on Bown..."
The captain took a long sip of coffee. "I'm sorry. I really am. It's just been a horrible week, and I haven't heard anything from Gordon or Starr."
"No news?"
"Nothing. No call, no email. Hell, I'd be satisfied with a bloody carrier pigeon. They've literally dropped off the face of the earth."
The captain began rifling papers on her desk, a clear sign that she was upset. Brenda could only shrug. "They're two of the most dedicated people we have. I can't imagine that they just took off for no reason. Have you checked their apartments?"
"I've sent Laura and Alison to both buildings three times this week. Starr's landlord says he hasn't seen her for days, and Adam's sure as hell not been there. There's nearly a week's worth of unchecked messages on his answering machine, and the milk in his fridge is three days past the expiration date."
"That's weird."
"Weird's not even the word. The last time they checked Gordon's place, they found an address card for someone named Legolas. Mean anything to you?"
"No, I've never heard Adam mention him. Did they look him up?" Brenda picked up Adam's file from a leaning stack of papers and began to flip though it.
"Yeah, I had Avril and Rudkin check out his place yesterday. One of those old posh places down in the depths of Necropolis. They met his landlady." Daly winced. "A sweet old woman by the name of Mrs. Briggs."
"Why don't I like that tone of voice?"
"She let them in, sat them down, gave them tea and biscuits, then proceeded to talk their ears off for forty-five minutes before finally declaring that, no, she had no idea where Mr. Green had gone, that, no, his rent had been paid up 'til the end of the year, and weren't they kind to come and keep a old lady company for the afternoon."
"Oh, dear god."
"It gets better. She convinced them to have a look at the lobby bannister, it kept wobbling and the tenants were complaining, and with her eyesight and arthritis she wasn't up to maintenance like she used to be."
"Are you serious?"
"Completely. They finally reported back, after fixing the bannister, the hot-water boiler, *and* dropping off her library books. Rudkin looked like he was hypnotised for the rest of the day."
"Sounds like my Gramma. The militant old lady type. So, it appears that the old Address-in-the-Vacant-Apartment lead is dead. Have you contacted his family?"
The captain took another sip of coffee. "You're holding his file in your hands, Brenda. His parents are dead and he's got no listed siblings or other relations. There's no one *to* contact. We're stuck."
The secretary frowned. "It's hard to believe that we've worked with this man for years, but know next to nothing about him. He's such an open guy, too. I've heard him make some vague mention about having friends in Paris, but nothing else. What about Starr?"
"Her file's even thinner. Mind you, she only transferred in eight months ago, she was working down in the Bronx. But we asked around her old precinct, and they couldn't tell us anything either. Alice never was the soul-baring type."
Brenda raised her eyebrows. "That's a bit of an understatement. I believe the term 'Ice-Queen' would be more appropriate."
Daly frowned. "Be nice. She grew up in one of the Great Society orphanages. Showed some potential, so when the war broke out, she joined up with one of the majic training camps. Her file says she never saw service, though."
"Everything was probably blown to hell by the time she graduated." Brenda's face darkened. "I remember those days. God, they'd train anyone, druggies, psychotics, didn't matter. Then, bang, the war ends, and we've got streets full of mages crackling with killer spells and itching for a fight. The gangs form, the turf boundaries get drawn up, the chimaera start to get restless. Poor kid. I don't envy her, those camps were supposed to be like hell."
"Don't be silly, Brenda." The captain's voice dripped with contempt. "It was all for the Cause, don't you know? Had to show the damn necromancers who was boss, didn't we? Didn't matter how many lives got destroyed, how many kids got orphaned. Small price to pay." Her voice dropped to a growl. "I heard the Governor making that speech last week. 'Got to pull together for the good of the many, put ourselves and our city back together, the magic's clearly on its way out, everything will certainly be back to normal by next Thursday at the latest.' Easy for him to say when he's not the one trying to pick up the pieces."
Daly stopped then, and took a deep breath. A moment later, she sounded more composed. "I'm sorry, Brenda. I didn't mean to rant at you. I'm just on the edge. On top of everything else, there's Harry and the chopper. The divers recovered some wreckage, and Harry's remains, thank god. But Adam was supposed to go up with him that night! I didn't realize until I checked the duty roster, and that was *after* he disappeared. And no one in this precinct can *confirm* that Adam went up that night."
Brenda nodded. "I can see why you're worried. This is so completely out of character for Adam that it's scary."
"The chopper was attacked. The Forensics lab says it's obvious. Still trying to get a match on bullet fragments, though."
The secretary shrugged. "Back to Adam and Alice for a second. Did you ask the Seers? Maybe they'd be able to get a read on them."
Daly shook her head. "I already did. For once, all six of them actually *agreed* on something. They confirmed that neither of our missing cops are in the city."
"Shit."
The captain leaned back and ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know what to *do*! The guys from Internal Affairs have started to sniff around, and I can only hide things for so long before it becomes obstruction of justice. I'm *trying* to cover their asses, but if Starr and Gordon don't show up anytime soon, the nasty little IA twits are going to start asking questions. The kind that are really hard to answer and end with the two of them collecting unemployment insurance."
"Well..." Brenda had a worrying glint in her eyes. It usually meant someone else was going to get in a lot of trouble. "Starr's been working really hard on the Subway Kidnappings, the stress and the magic use just piles up, it's absolutely tragic, don't you know, studies have proven that witches are more susceptible to work-related depression than any other group, tragic, like I said, she desperately needed the time off, went out west to stay on her friend's ranch for a while, her partner so devoted to her needs that he took the time off to go with her, the sabbatical time that *you* approved. Isn't that right, Captain?"
Captain Daly was silent for a few moments. Then she spoke. "It really is vital to attend to the mental health of our magic-users, isn't it?"
"Of course, Captain."
"After all, a stressed witch presents a serious hazard to her co-workers, doesn't she?"
"Of course, Captain."
"It really wouldn't do for Internal Affairs to be investigating two of my best officers. Especially since I *approved* their sabbatical time, didn't I?"
"Of course, Captain. I'll fetch the papers directly, shall I?"
"Thank you, Brenda."