Chapter Sixty-Three
The Call Before the Pride
The line of police cars trailed along through the city streets, with the burly, uniformed occupants within grinning, chuckling and congratulating their partners and the other officers over the radio. The effects of the fear and the adrenaline wearing off, the officers of the ZPD had become cheerful, and every car was filled with the sound of lighthearted chatter... all except for one.
Within this car, the air was quiet and still. The driver was focused entirely on following the cruiser ahead, and the passenger was occupied with staring at the buildings as they continued along the street. Not a word was said between them. Both were too dreadful — both the rabbit and the fox — of what was to come on their return. Thus, the mood for celebration was non-existent. Nick's head severed at last from the passenger window. "Mind if I stick the radio on, Carrots?"
"Go ahead. I don't think this silence is doing either of us good." Nick flicked on the radio and kept it on whatever came on first: a piece of instrumental music, which was only slightly too cheerful for the moment. Neither cared if it was good or bad music. It was just something to block out the endless stream of morbid thoughts. The streets narrowed as they left the industrial sector. The factories and industry buildings became apartments, apartments turned to businesses and, as they approached the center of the city, the businesses turned to government buildings that reached the conclusion of edifice of the ZPD headquarters.
The cars' radios crackled and Bogo's voice made itself heard, "Listen up, all of you. I know you'll all be wanting to get out of your uniforms and back home, but procedure dictates there must be a debriefing in the bullpen first. So, once our mammal cargo has been safely deposited into the cells, that is exactly where I expect to see you." Judy turned the corner into the ZPD car park with a sigh.
"Hopps," Nick said, the rabbit maneuvering slowly between a dozen other parking cars, "this may well be the last time we get to speak openly for a while. I just wanted to let you know now that, well... When you talk to Jack, and he starts trying to drag my name through the dirt... there's a good chance a great deal of it'll probably be true…"
Judy didn't respond. She extinguished the engine and turned to Nick in the darkness. "You were involved in a raid before, weren't you?"
"You remember the time I told you why and when I left The Firm?"
"Yeah, you said you'd had a near-death experience."
"That is what I was referring to." Judy licked her lips, turning to stare at the dull, brick wall in front of them. Nick adjusted his seat, leaning back further into it. "It was... what, two? Three years after I'd recruited Jack? I can only assume Jack thought that he'd had enough help getting noticed around the MI-Z, and getting promotions. Because, one day, he decided to go up to the 'new' Tundratown police chief, made up a story about how he'd been observing our movements from afar, and told him... about where all our safehouses were."
"The 'new' chief of police? You mean Chief Bogo?"
"Yep." Nick chuckled, dryly. "You know, it's funny how life all works out. The only reason Bogo is head of Precinct One now, is because he managed to dismantle The Firm. The only reason he could do that was because of what Jack told him. And the only reason Jack knew what he told him... is because I recruited him to The Firm."
"So what are you saying: that if you hadn't recruited Jack, he wouldn't have gone to Bogo and that we might have a different police chief?"
"And The Firm would still be in operation today. And you, just like every other trainee officer at the time, would've been posted there in a vain effort to strengthen the crumbling police influence. And because you are utterly incorruptible, you would've refused all bribes, ignored all threats and would have wound up dead within the week."
"I wouldn't have met you," she added, like that was the more striking fact.
"Yeah, I'd still be up to my neck in crime. As I said, it was only the raid, which threw both my and Scar's faith in our immortality. It's surprising how different a raid can look from the side of the criminals. I never thought I'd be doing one with the law."
"So what happened?"
"A blur's all I can remember really," he reminisced, flatly. "Lots of screaming, shouting, noise lights. I was chased, shot at, trapped inside a room with a dozen other people." Nick's voice became strained, his fist slowly clenching as the memories came back. "We hid there in the silence, listening to the screams and the gunshots. The ZPD didn't have much of a choice but to use lethal force back in those days. And the raid armor they wore back then was nothing like the crap we use now. It does the job, sure, but this ain't nothing but a sardine tin compared with the suits of armor they used to wear. They were mean-looking bastards back in the day, and no one cared about police brutality or unnecessary fatalities." Nick's voice started to rise in tone and temper as he spoke.
"It was a fucking war, Hopps. I was chief recruitment officer for a criminal sect in a fucking war against all civilization. There was no security, there was no home, there was no time to enjoy life. You had to keep moving, you had to stay sharp. We all knew all the time that any moment could be our last. That the cops could come bursting in at any moment and mow the lot of us down, cut us down, come charging in with all their malice and their rage and—"
Judy grabbed the hyperventilating fox. "Nick," she cried out, "it's alright, I'm here. You don't need to worry, I'm here." The rabbit hushed a number of soothing sounds into the fox's ear, holding her arms around his soft neck, while listening to his lowering heartrate. "I've never seen you like this before," she said, stuttering a little. "Are you okay? Is there someone I can call or something?"
Nick smirked, faintly. "It's... I'll be fine, Carrots, I'm not schizophrenic or anything."
"But you were getting so— so desperate! So frantic and futile!"
"Yeah, that's what PTSD'll do to you. With all the time that's passed, I've gotten pretty good at keeping a lid on it. But that raid— it just—"
"I understand," Hopps said sincerely, moving her paws from around his neck and placing them on his cheeks. Calmer, Nick took Judy's paws away from his face and held them steady.
"I lived with that knowledge for five years, Judy... and it still scared the shit out of me when it finally happened. As I said," he added, gazing at nothing, "I was chased, shot at... I barely got away with my life. I got cut up and bruised pretty bad. But no one got a good look at me. Later, I met back up with Scar, and she told me Firm safehouses all over the city had been compromised.
"It didn't all happen in one night. It took weeks, months of raid after raid to bring The Firm down. I could've got in touch with The Krays and rejoined at any point. They only left me alone 'cause they thought I was dead. Perhaps, with my interpersonal skills, we might've been able to rebuild some of our former stature and recover... but it wasn't worth the risk. I was tired of fighting. I just wanted to settle down somewhere safe. I went and found a flat somewhere in a quiet part of town, moved in with Scarlett, and we went from there."
"But, then The Krays found out...?"
"And killed her," he finished for her. "Yeah. So now you see why I have such a 'high' opinion of the 'reverential' Mister Savage. He caused it— well, I caused it, by employing him. He was no undercover sleeper-agent. I would've sniffed that out the day I met him. But what he is, and always was... is an opportunist. It's what made him such a good spy for me then, and what continues to make him so dangerous now." Judy felt Nick's eyes on her, and turned away, from gazing at the wall, to face his expressive, emerald eyes. "When you speak to him tonight, you going to tell him how much you tricked him? How easily you pulled the wool over his eyes?"
"Yeah," she said, a cheeky grin growing. "I think it'll be fun to rub his face in it a bit. Get a little payback off him after all he's done to you. I can't wait to see the look on his—"
Nick glared at her, sternly — like a parent at a misbehaving kid. "This ain't fun and games, Carrots. If he sees you as a threat to him or his career, he will find some way of..." Trailing off, Nick sighed, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his eyes with his paw. "You're gonna have to watch yourself when you speak to him tonight. Take a gun, a tranquillizer. Don't be afraid to use it. He's a dangerous rabbit when he wants to be. And he wants to be far more often than he has to be. I'm good at understanding how people work, and Jack is a very predictable person when you know what makes him tick. But even I'm not sure how he'll react. My advice: try and keep him completely in the dark about this whole thing. Let him leave thinking you're acting against me. Just find out what you can, make your excuses and leave. Don't spend longer with him than you have to."
"Don't tell him we duped him?"
"I don't think he'd take kindly to it."
"Point taken. Alright, I'll keep quiet about it, I guess."
Nick nodded. "Come on, Carrots," he said, opening the car door, "they'll come looking for us if we don't turn up soon."
"What are you doing about Finnick?" Hopps said, standing.
Nick thought during the moments when Judy locked the car. "I'll wait 'til you've left to see Jack. Bogo wanted to talk with me about something anyway. Hopefully I can slip him out."
"You're just gonna free him? Just break him out just like that?"
"'Course I'm not, not by choice anyway. I'll talk to Fin and see if there's another way. I'll see if we have some advantage over him we can use. But I'm not gonna hold my breath." Nick sucked on his teeth; Judy walking around the side of the car to strand before him. "What worries me is: what's he doing working for the same guys who killed his brother?"
"No ideas?"
"I... no, it's far too much a stretch. Anyway, this could be it, Hopps: if something messes up while I'm sneaking Fin out, or if Jack gets a little too clever, this could be the last time we talk to each other as upstanding citizens of the law. Gimme a kiss." She did — a sweet kiss, which didn't last nearly as long as either wanted — before they walked, together, towards the back entrance to the ZPD.
"What do you think Bogo wants to speak to you about?" Judy asked, the two of them moving further away from the car.
"Nothing much, probably," he said, entering the code and pulling the security lock open. "I still owe him that overtime for taking Monday off. It's probably something to do with that."
"Well, if you're sure," the rabbit drew, as the metal door swung closed behind her. "Come on, we'd better paw our gear back to Officer Bloat."
...
"Where d'you keep the damn coal in this dump?" Shuck nodded towards a heavy cloth that was covering a wicker basket in the corner, beside the iron stove — the fading embers of which were the only source of heat in the small, iron room. George made an agitated sound in the back of his throat, turning and tugging away the cloth. Inside the basket was a mound of pieces of dusty coal and a small shovel. The coyote muttered under his breath, as he stuffed the shovel into the mound of soot, and started piling it into the stove.
"Cold?"
"You're cold!" George snapped back, aware this comeback made no sense, but in too foul a mood to care."
"Would've helped, if you hadn't of smashed my window, y'know."
"Shut up! Stupid mutt. Not another word, you hear?"
"I remember back in the Great Winter of Seventy-Nine, I was moored up in—"
"No! You've always gotta keep this 'mightier than thou' monologue, haven't ya!" the coyote shot. "You've always gotta point out how 'you've dealt with colder'," he continued, spitefully, " 'you've dealt with windier', 'you've dealt with bigger' or 'stronger' or 'more dangerous'. You're always having to build yourself up; out-do everyone else around you, ain't ya!"
Shuck picked an ear clean. "Not my fault kiddie-winks like yourself ain't raised properly these days."
"You're not God, you know!" Shuck just grinned, his barbed teeth glinting. A slight shiver ran down through the coyote — those teeth had always creeped him out. He didn't let it show; however, he forced himself to remain in there with him in an effort to try and regain some of his 'street cred' in the eyes of his subordinates.
"So what's the next step?" Shuck asked, his breath turning to vapor before him. "What's the next stage in this little scheme of yours?"
"My—"
"Not that this is your scheme," the dog cut in, offpawedly. "No, you didn't come with all this. You don't have the smarts for that. If you did, you'd be smart enough not to be stuck in here with me. No, you're clearly just a tiny pawn in this."
"Unusual, don't you think," George deflected, stepping closer to the dog, "for a 'pawn' to be put in supreme command of the largest import of drugs this city has ever seen!"
"How much longer 'til it's all unloaded? I'm getting cramp sittin' here."
"You will stay here for as long as it takes. There are two more containers, which need to be unloaded. We'll leave after that."
"We?"
"That's right, mutt," George said coldly, "you're coming with us. We're going on a nice long voyage together."
"Oh, goodie."
"Oh... 'goodie'!?"
"It'll be nice to be out at sea again," Shuck said through gritted teeth, "the ebb and flow, the gentle rocking, the endless stretches of deep blue sea. And Nyilas, what about him? He's been told you'll let him and his wife and kids go if he helps you. He's helped you now, so—"
"Yeah yeah, the old-timer will be reunited with his wife and kids, and the lot of them can live 'happily ever after' and die in whatever way befits them."
"You just be sure that happens. There'll be hell to pay if it doesn't."
"I thought I was already going to 'burn' or something."
"Oh, you are," Shuck repeated, "but if something happens to Nyilas or his kids. Then... I enjoy it." The fire inside the iron stove picked up, the bright, orange flame shining out into the room, reflecting off Shuck's one eye which glinted red in the light. George remained under the hound's heavy glare. He then glanced to the polar bear, armed at the window, looked back to Shuck... and bottled out.
"What's taking you so long," he shouted out the window, moving, just a little too quickly, to open the door and get out of the small shack. "Come on, get a move on," he called out to the other people. "We don't have all night."
Shuck Black looked about himself in the dim vision of the fire and his oil lamp on the table. He was alone finally since the escaped had started. The aging dog allowed a slow, grunted sigh to filter through him, his eye falling closed, as his every muscle slackened with fatigue. His whole life had been one bleeding fight after another.
"Come on, then," he mumbled to himself, slipping a paw into his pocket, with the feel of the reassuring cold of his flick-knife within, "another 'do or die' moment. Let's see if your luck runs out on this one."
Right, his pulse gave raise, and hot blood started pumping through his old body... Right... right!
...
"Sooo... you're the little scrapper in charge of this mob of pathetic excuses for honest citizens. The one behind all the troubles you've been giving us." Finnick rolled his eyes, because he had dealt with this act many times before. "I know... exactly what your game is in this. You're going to tell me the names of your other associates and the location of the rest of the Hives. But before that... your own name and address will suffice."
"The name's Banes," Fin reminded once more. "Frankfurt Banes of number eight seven two, Coven Square. Next question, capeesh?"
"That's Chief Bogo of the Precinct One Police Force to you, Frank. Now, it's a real mess you've gotten yourself into here, isn't it? Not only have you been found in possession of a vast quantity of illicit substance, but there is also a phenomenal amount of proof pointing towards the fact that you are in league with a vast criminal sect." Finnick focused-off to one side, at the giant mirror they had in all the police films, which could be looked through from the other side. Judging by the lack of tape recorder in this room, the small fox guessed he was currently being filmed by a surveillance system in the other room.
Bogo beat his arm down on the table, making it lurch suddenly to the left. Finnick easily looked back, as the buffalo's large finger pointed aggressively towards him. "Who are you working for!?"
"Who am I working for?"
"Their names. Who's paying you? Who gives the orders?"
"Das a lotta questions there," Finnick complained, impersonating the voice of a 'simpleton'. "I don't know if I can quite remember all dem questions, if you give us them all at once."
"Damn you!" Bogo shouted, beating the table again and standing. "You listen here," he threatened, leaning imposingly over the small fox. "Now, whatever you do, you're looking at a very long time in prison ahead of you. Moreover, you're looking at a very long time in Blackheath."
Finnick's wandering gaze shot back. "Blackheath?"
"You've heard of it?" Bogo chuckled cruelly. "Good. Then you know it can be a real nasty place, if you get put in the wrong ward. I can help you," Bogo assured, sitting down again and allowing the tone of his voice to soften. "I can help make sure you end up in one of the nice wards... the ones that have running water and electricity and three meals a day."
The small fox's eyes darted from side to side — he knew exactly what Blackheath could be like. "All... alright," he stuttered unsteadily, leaning closer on the table. "Alright, I'll tell you who's in charge here." The Chief rested back in his chair and pulled out a notepad and pen — the interview was being recorded — but Bogo always found that taking notes enhanced the atmosphere.
The buffalo cleared his throat. "Name?"
"Gabriel. He's name is A. Gabriel."
"A. Gabriel?" Bogo asked with curious note, "What's the 'A.' stand for?"
"Archangel."
The Chief's curious expression fell flat. "Archangel Gabriel..." he muttered, standing. "Alright, wise guy, be that way. I just hope you like sleeping on iron, mattress-less beds and scavenging for worms and insects to eat."
"Well," Fin quipped with a toothy grin, "they kinda are my natural diet."
Bogo blinked in a sort of distraught. Then he grunted, stood and made way from the room. "Damn bloody foxes. I thought dealing with Wilde was bad enough. Now there's two of you wisecracking, suave bastar— Alright," he decided, pausing at the doorway, "be like that. You'll come around sooner or later. For now, I think I'll let you sit and think about your future for a while."
Stepping outside, the Chief inserted a large key into the large keyhole, turning it until the reassuring click resounded out of it, and the heavy-duty lock slid into place. Grinning, Bogo reached up and opened the view portal, calling out to the fox locked inside. "You won't go anywhere while I'm gone," he mocked, "will you?"
The view portal snapped shut again, and the fox was again, alone. "I might," he spat, "if you don't get back soon, plod."
Author's notes:
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Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
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