Chapter One Hundred and Two
Association Elicitation
His stride slowed by indecision, the Chief paced into the familiarity of his office. There was something missing, a grayness in the walls, a heaviness in the air. It didn't take long for him to notice it was his own spark that was lacking, absent.
"Chief?" Snarlov said, rising swiftly from Bogo's chair. "I, eh, I've just been in touch with Term Four, Sir. They've agreed to get transport sorted out between the ZPD and Blackheath for us."
"Good. Good work, Snarlov."
"They were very keen," she added, a grin appearing. "I wouldn't be surprised if we get a call back from them in the next couple of hours telling us they've got it all sorted out."
"It'll take at least twelve hours," Bogo flat-lined. "It takes that long just to have the transport prepared and the paperwork verified."
"Eh, yes, Chief, yeah, I was just..." Realizing Bogo wasn't 'on board' for any joking behavior, the bear's voice shifted into awkwardness, "Just making a... joke."
Bogo looked to the bear, a lack of smile upon his existence. "Good. Get back down to the others. Leave a half dozen to watch over the prison cell, send the rest back to their duties: previous orders."
"Yes, Chief." Snarlov left the room, while Bogo remained motionless, stood in the center of the wide floor. As the door closed quietly behind him, he turned to where the figure of the polar bear had been and tightened his lips. A snort of resolution leaving him, he shadowed over his desk and chair he'd sit upon practically every day for the past five years. Yet, he took his seating once more to the longevity of the still-unbroken cycle.
A notepad was snatched closer to his fingers, and he gazed into its blank page. His brow lowered in thought. Where to start? Of all the wretched places, where should he start? An idea coming, the buffalo reached over and took a pen. He removed the lid, set it down beside the page, pressed the nib onto the surface and wrote a title 'Investigation of Governor Zafearov'.
He leaned away from the title and took interest in its edges and letters. It needed an underline… but then he just crossed the whole thing. Then, finally, he ripped the page from his notebook and scrunched it into a ball that was dumped into a nearby bin. His methodical calm breaking like an overexerted elastic band, Bogo smacked his pen upon the desk.
"Wretched damn... wretchedness. This is intolerable. There is no start, there is no end. There is no damn 'best angle' to take. If he's innocent, he's innocent; if he's not innocent, then the more corrupt he is, the more innocent he'll look."
Bogo forced himself to sit back and allowed his rantings to shift into constructive thought, all the while drawing identical-sized squares beside one another. They didn't mean anything. They were just an aid to his mind. "Innocent until proven guilty. No chance of finding even a scent of real proof if guilty, he'll be too smart for that. No. No, this is another Erkin job. Assume guilt first, then find evidence to support it, but... how to start." Gradually, the boxes started getting larger, the edges less uniform, with the pen digging lines into the paper.
"Assuming guilt... assuming he's the head of this whole wretched organization. He has enough finance and influence to keep himself very well-covered. Even had Nyilas as a backup. Killed a mammle and burnt down Ladders at just the possibility we might find something. It's too well-organized, too well-executed to expect evidence to be able to just 'present itself'. Going to have to... break the—"
The nib of Bogo's pen broke off, sending its small point of metal pinging across the room and a trail of ink upon the desk. The Chief swore darkly, leaning to the bin, dumping the broken device inside and moving to search for a cloth or something to clean the mess with. Passing by the bin, he looked at it and at the ink sprawled across his desk. Leaning down to the wastepaper basket, the Chief snatched the ball of musings and unscrewed it to gingerly gaze upon the still-hot title of evidence.
"Traces," he breathed. "Everywhere we go, everything we do, we leave traces. Well, not this time, Harold. Going to have to play this one as carefully as Zafearov." The Chief moved towards a desk in the corner of the room, flattening out the piece of paper and feeding it through a shredder. "No traces," he reminded himself again. "Can't be on the record. Not yet. Argument Jack gave for how we were to look into Wilde: can't risk open investigation… he'd start checking every drawer for bugs and would cover his tracks with his tail."
Pacing back to his desk, Bogo got out a key and unlocked a cabinet of his, which only every officer in the PD knew the contents of, even if they would never openly admit such. Reaching past the mostly empty bottles of burgundy-colored liquid, the Chief grabbed an object unknown to anyone else and opened it upon the desk, flipping through its hoof-written pages.
"Someone," he muttered, "has to be just... right for the..." He paused as he scanned through the pages of names and contact numbers, his finger upon one name in particular. He huffed lightly, his shoulders sagging. "Jack. Would've been perfect. Discrete, dependable, trustworthy." Bogo bit down upon his mouth at the saying of the word, the recent revelations pressing upon his mind.
"Trustworthy? Wilde. Oh, Jack," he tutted, "why didn't I have my doubts before. The intel, the promotions... it makes so much more sense now. You came to our side in the end, but... you never really were trustworthy at all." The next page was flipped, then the next, then the next. His hoofs slowed in their workings, his burst of motivation fading into doubt. The tired eyes rose and waited upon the intercom on his desk. "May as well," he grunted, snapping shut the wide book in his hoofs. He pulled the intercom a little closer and pressed down the speaker. "Whoever's in reception, respond."
"Hello, it's Office—"
"And I'm Chief Don't-give-a-crap— put me through to Wilde."
"You want me to call him?"
"No, put me through to him direct." The air wiggled in blankness as the receptionist adjusted something, and then the Chief's ears were filled with static in which he urged, "Wilde? Officer Wilde, come in..." He snarled, flicking a switch upon the coms device. "Whoever's in reception, identify yourself."
"Hi again," jovially came the voice of before, "is this, Chief Don't-give-a-crap?"
"No, he left. This is Chief Going-to-come-down-there-and-sign-your-name-on-a-letter-of-resignation-in-thirty-seconds-if-you-don't-answer-me!"
"Howlitz, it... it's Howlitz, Sir." Apparently nothing had changed between the communication lines, which only just grew to confuse the tired mind of Bogo.
"I'm not getting anything from Wilde. Look into it."
"From Wilde?"
"His radio, fleabite. He's not responding. Check his radio connection."
"Oh." The Chief sighed and settled back into the upholstery of his chair, raising a hoof and soothing it against the side of his brow. "So, where is he?" asked Howlitz to Bogo's twitch of annoyance.
"He's at... at least he should be at Saint Bernard's Hospital."
"Okay, I'll get on that, Sir."
A short minute later, a further response came, "Chief? I don't know what to think. I don't know if something's happened to Wilde or not, but I'm not getting any signal from his radio. Not even sure if it's picking my messages."
"You're sure?"
"Well, eh... I'm no Clawhauser… I don't have all his tricks, but I'm sending a single-frequency high-clarity pulse at the hospital. Even if there was military-grade interference, a signal as clear and strong as this one should be able to get at least partly through. But... I'm not picking up anything."
"So what is it?" Bogo asked, "His radio's out?"
"Looks that way, Sir."
Bogo took some to contemplate, but that some crumbled too quickly. "No way of knowing if it's just the radio or... problems, though." The Chief reached into his pocket, drawing out his mobile and scrolling down to the 'R's. He entered the contact and waited through several nerve-tingling rings.
"This had better be important, I'm in the middle of something," came the feminine scolding.
"Rose, it is. Do you have Wilde with you?"
"Yes. Here." Without another word, the nurse's voice disappeared from the telephone and was replaced by the notes of a familiar fox.
"Who? Bogo's calling?"
"Wilde!"
"Uh, Sir?"
"Any trouble?"
"Judy's... taken a turn."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Nick," Bogo replied, his demeanor taking a turn on itself.
"Me and her, we got into an argument with Billy. Started getting a little rough. Next thing I knew, Judy jumped out of bed, punched him right across the nose."
"In her condition?"
"Yepp. You know Judy."
"Huh. Still, she surprises me. But, Hopps aside, has there been any issues with you?"
"No, Chief. Why?"
"I couldn't get a response. Check your radio."
Bogo increased the volume of his intercom at the quietness that ensued, but heard no change in the sound of static, until the audible surprise filled his ear, "It's... dead. What? But it was working just, like—"
"These things happen sometimes, Wilde. I'll have a new radio delivered to you momentarily. I'm busy right now, but I'll be in touch."
"Uh. Sure, Chief."
"Oh, and, Nick?" Bogo cleared his throat, his voice lowering. "Keep me updated on Judy, alright?" Bogo hung up before a reply could come through, and rested the intercom upon the table. "Howlitz, hook me into the auxiliaries radio system. Officer Fields."
"Yes, Sir."
Static went on to crackle, but it was shortly resolved by attentive silence. "Chief Bogo here. Auxiliary Officer Fields, respond."
"Uh, here, Sir!"
"Auxiliary, what's your status?"
"I dropped Officer Wilde at the hospital like you asked me to, Chief Bogo. I'm in traffic, heading back to the HQ."
"Turn around, go back to the hospital."
"Right away."
"Tell Kathy in the reception that I sent you, and that you need to see Officer Wilde immediately."
"Yes, Chief."
"I want you to then find Officer Wilde and give him your radio."
"Something wrong?"
"His radio's broken, no longer receiving or transmitting, need him to have yours. I'll issue you a new one when you get back."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Fields... what are you thanking me for?"
"For... giving me this opportunity to work with Officer Wilde?"
Bogo gazed at nothing. Then, reaching over, he ended the call. "Wretched, optimistic, grateful little—"
"Chief Bogo? Howlitz again. It's Officer Jefferson, asking if you'd like to hear the investigation report now."
Bogo groaned with a grimace of frustration. "Tell Officer Jefferson that Chief Don't-give-a-crap is having a very long meeting with Chief Glass-of-brandy, Chief Wants-to-fire-somebody and Chief I'm-busy-sod-off."
"I'll... I'll ask him to reach out later... eh, he wants to know if him and Leopolde can leave the scene, at least; let cleanup get started?"
"Yes, yess," he grunted, his chair tilting back as he leaned deep into it with his hoofs raising to cover his eyes. "Tell him to take a holiday to the Romalla islands."
...
A white door swung open, the figure of a rabbit hurrying in through the doorway. "Ohh, Billy," the motherly doe fussed, stepping into the small medical room and speaking to the rabbit who was lying on the bed. "The nurse told me what happened. I saw Judy hit you, but, I didn't realize she knocked you out!"
"This... ugh," the buck grimaced, still holding a tissue to his oozing nose.
"Don't try to get up, Billy. It's a bad knock." Bonnie glanced around the small examination room. After she had returned with Flo to the room where Judy had 'fallen' from her bed, Flo had told her to wait downstairs. A few minutes later, another nurse found Bonnie, told her that her son was unconscious and led her to where she was at now.
It was a single-person examination room, where the nurse had said Billy could rest until he was feeling better. He didn't need medical attention, just a place to recover. Looking around, Bonnie spotted a well-polished sink in the corner of the room. Reaching into her pawbag of endless motherly goods, she drew out a packet of tissues and wetted one under the fresh tap.
"Here y'are, hun-bun," she said, putting the damp tissue on the buck's forehead, "this'll help."
"Thanks, Ma."
"I'm surprised at Judy," Bonnie said, lowering into a small seat beside the bed. "Hitting her own brother like that..."
"It weren't Judy what took me out, Ma, this weren't Judy. Knocking me out, this'un was that fox."
Her attention suddenly fixed upon the buck, Bonnie's cheeks started to redden. "He did what?"
"Punched me, after you'd gone out, punched me out."
"That... that beast, that... brute." Her cheeks, after reddening with venom, swiftly paled with panic. "And Judy, our Judy is... is dating that creep!"
"We gotta do something, Ma, we gotta!"
"We will."
"Wan' me to go down, see Nick again? He just caught me off surprise before, I can take him."
"No, sweetie," she answered, rising with urgency from her seat, "Nick, that manipulating predator, has already given us means to getting him seen to."
"What, Ma?"
"It's been almost thirty years since I suited law, sweetie," she added, pushing open the door out. "I've got some research to do, some administrative procedures to brush up on." She stepped out into the corridor, but paused and glanced in on her son. "Billy hon, I'm going to need you to stay here. Don't try to get back at Nick. You can do much worse than beat him up."
"What you want me to do, Ma?" he called as she tried to leave. "Leave you out in the city all 'lone? Pa said, Pa said I's to watch over you in 'city'."
"I'll be alright, Billy. I saw a library just a few streets away on the way in, I'll only be in there."
"Mh... but, Ma!"
"We've both got our phones, honey. All you need to do is call." Bonnie pulled the door shut with a reassuring smile to the young buck, glancing up and down the corridor, before, pacing her way to the staircase. As she walked, she picked up speed as her mind turned in her head, thought leading to action, thus, she reached into her pawbag and took out her phone.
A number was entered with the patience of several moments, until a response came true. "Hey, Stu, nothing's wrong, just... well, actually yeah," she corrected, her voice energetic and breathless... "Yeah, there is something wrong. Nick, that... that fox who Judy works with? He just punched Billy... Yeah, punched our Billy, out cold." Pushing open the door, the rabbit slipped into the stairwell, making her way down the tall steps to the ground floor.
"What am I gonna do? I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, Stu: I'm on my way, right now, to the local library to use their computers. I might've forgotten a lot of the high-dollar words and how the system fits together in cases like this, but I sure as heck know outright assault when I sees it. I'd phone the PD now if I didn't know they'd just sweep the whole thing under the rug. I'm going through higher circles, bringing it down hard on Wilde's head, Stu. Won't need to worry about him taking advantage of our Judy no more. What do I mean?" she answered, reaching the reception and marching straight on for the light of the city outside. "I'll tell you, hon, I'll tell you what Judy just told me. Her and that Wilde are-wh—"
There was a collision of bodies-uncomfortable. "— Sorry! Sorry, Miss, my mistake."
"Forget it," Bonnie lashed impatiently, side-stepping the lynx who she'd walked into to her goal of exit.
"Hey, uh, did I hear you mention Officer Wilde?" asked the young officer.
"Yes. And you would be?"
"Oh, Auxiliary Officer Fields, Miss."
Looking over the lynx, Bonnie hesitated and then raised the phone to her lips. "Stu... call you later, hon, kisses... I remember you people," she stated, her voice slowed by reminiscence.
"The... Auxiliaries?"
"They were just bringing together the CFP form when I left the city."
"Ehm... Miss?"
"Oh, of course," she smiled, waving a dismissive paw as her voice lightened, "the Central Framework Proposal, you'd be too young to know about all that side of things. What... did you make of Officer Wilde?"
"He's...! Well, ehm," Fields faltered before murmuring, "I think he's wonderful."
The doe raised a brow, her lips twisted and unimpressed. "Do you know him well?"
"I've read all the reports he's written since he joined the PD. And I've watched every time he's been on TV... and I've got... ehm..." Fields cleared her throat awkwardly, realizing the personal and private nature of the information she was blathering.
"You don't know him at all, do you, girl? Not really."
"Well... well I did get to meet him, just today."
"And? What was he like?"
"He was... very... quite-kinda-cold at first, like, short-tempered." Bonnie turned her nose up at the mentioning of Nick's behavior; Fields leaped in to Wilde's immediate defense, "But he said he's having a bad day, and I believe him. His partner's just been put in ho— in..." her words slowing to a stop, she turned her head upon its side. "You're Officer Hopps' mother?"
"You don't know Nick at all," Bonnie hissed. "You think he's such a hero? You tell that to the youngster he assaulted less than ten minutes ago."
"He... what?"
"Punched him, out cold."
"He... Nick must've had a—"
"A reason? The youngster was my son, girl," Bonnie shot. "He didn't do anything to deserve that from the fox." Bonnie stormed from the door, her face tightening into a demeanor of controlled rage as she made her way towards her goal.
Fields slowly withdrew herself into the foyer, the meanings and implications of the words the doe had spoken taking quick roots within her chest. "Oh..." She glanced over her shoulder and saw the figure of Bonnie Hopps disappearing from sight. "Interesting," Fields said to herself, her quiet voice solidifying as she began her prior route to the reception. "Interesting, and... possibly useful."
Bypassing the lengthy queue of impatient people, she got to the very front of the reception desk with no small amount of dirty looks from all those in the congestion of bodies-waiting. "Hey, who's Kathy?"
"Hey, who do you think you are?" a burly beaver with a thinning coat complained from the front of the queue.
"Auxiliary Officer Fields, ZPD, here on official business," she answered, repeating from a memorized quote she had read in one of Wilde's reports and pulling her auxiliary's badge from her belt. It bore close enough resemblance to the 'official' ZPD badge to avoid unnecessary questions, despite how plain-clothed the auxiliaries were.
"I'm Kathy," answered a groundhog from inside the receptionist's spot. "I'm assuming you're here for Officer Hopps?"
"Can I meet her?"
The receptionist's brow lowered cautiously, picking up the oddness, excitement of what was said, or more like how. "Are you here to meet her? Are those your instructions?"
"I'm... no, Kathy."
"Who do you need?"
"I need to speak to Officer Wilde. It's very important I get to see him as soon as I can."
"I see," Kathy answered, turning herself around in her chair and pushing herself towards the computer beside her, typing into the keyboard. "Wilde, Nick. Okay, going to take a moment or two to find him. He's not a patient, we don't have him on record where he... I'm guessing he'll be with... Hopps, Judy. Nurse Flo is her primary carer, so, right now... Nurse Flo should be with them, I'll phone her."
"I can just go look for him myself, Kathy," Fields mentioned. "I don't want to cause a bother."
"Well," the receptionist replied slyly, reaching out to the phone, "You're very welcome to go looking by yourself, Officer. There's only four wards and three floors and ninety-eight corridors and twenty-three hundred rooms for you to look through. I'm sure you'll find him in no time."
A blush grew on the lynx's cheeks with her gaze crashing to the floor in embarrassment.
"Hi, Flo, Kathy here. We got a young officer in reception, wants to see Officer Wilde? Where can she find him?" Kathy took a pen and jotted something onto a slip of paper. "Got it, thanks, Flo. Here you are, this is the room where you'll find Nick. First floor, Ward A, room thirteen. Elevator's just that way."
"I got it. Thanks!" Fields grabbed the slip of paper and read it in a flash, accompanied by her quick shift of feet that gave wind to her new destination. She noticed the beaver's not-amused side glare, but gave it no thought.
"No problem," the beaver muttered to her indifference of steps.
Author's notes:
Hesitance jumps around your mind,
Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
All delivered by luscious feedback.
So don't hide like a tiny shrew,
Thus share that belovable review!
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