Chapter 107
Chief
"Zafearov? What do you mean Zafearov? The governor of Zistopia?" Her mind racing with incredulity, Snarlov gazed down upon her open paws. "Six thousand miles? Seven thousand miles away, and you're saying…" Her concentration fled her paws to the drop of her lap. She turned to Bogo, her concern about his mental state greater than ever, but before she could pull her words, the Chief reached out to the radio on the van's dashboard into which he filled the transmission with orders.
"Officer Klunkerkranich, Grizzoli, Jackson, dismount. Take the equipment for the others with you. Get the officers on-scene kitted up. Message me when you're done. Snarlov and I will be joining you shortly." Snarlov watched with tightened lips as the Chief finally gave her thought, her sense of intrigue nullified by doubt, and irritation growing from the impending situation; the work of the officers she should be helping on the field, right now.
"Snarlov," he said, taking his sweet time, "it's ridiculous, I admit that."
"Can say that again… For starters, how does he even have the time? Let alone with all the councillors watching over him. I know they don't have a system of Surveyors, but—" It was as if he was expecting what she'd say, so at least this gave her reassurance about his senileless state of being.
"You know the rumors, the things the public and the media mutter about him." Was conspiracies going to be what Bogo was going to base his evidence upon? Maybe this initial reassurance wasn't going to be so useful.
"Criminals and gutter press and yelling madmemmle on the street, yeah."
"And a few more reputable sources," Bogo nudged with a tone unbefitting himself, as if she was hearing a familiar voice of a certain cocky fox.
"Chief, if the PD is gonna chase conspiracies and ghost stories, we—"
"— Have to know the source of this organization. Who's financing it, organizing it. We've both seen the scale of this wretched operation, how deep it runs: it's cost me my job already. Going to have to dig out the very roots, or more'll just start growing."
"So what's the lead? What do you have?" Snarlov asked, resigning herself to hearing the Chief's words, despite the overwhelming futility.
"Mister Black, the dog who watches over the harbor, had the chance to speak with Professor Nyilas, the goat. According to Black, Nyilas had been blackmailed into helping the gang: blackmailed by Zafearov." Even through the overwhelming need to scoff, her respect for her superior sprouted only a subtle sigh.
"Sure, sure. Not like he had a reason to try deflect culpability or anything."
"If that was the reason for his lie, Snarlov, then why take his own life? Why march into my PD with a gun and shoot himself? Clawhauser also reported unusual behaviour: talking to himself." The buffalo folded his bulky arms. "Not to mention we have the earpiece he was apparently receiving instructions through."
Her gaze moved to the window outside, steel containers and distant ships of rust under warm light, her thoughts twisting at this new reasoning of recent events. "I agree… it's doubtful Nyilas' in charge like we thought—"
"It's definite he's not. I already have operations in place to apprehend another member of this 'organization'."
"But if he gave the name Zafearov… I just don't get it, Chief."
"Sometimes it's necessary to assume guilt." Snarlov's gaze snapped. She knew the mindset; it was dangerous, a mindset taken by rookies and Auxiliaries… the ones who were never part of the department long. "Don't look at me like that," Bogo chuckled. "I'm not saying it's right to try and 'create' evidence. Just that, sometimes, looking at a problem impartially doesn't get results."
"Like Erkin?"
"Exactly like Erkin."
"What happened there's getting you fired." What was he thinking, as if he could justify this at all with anything the recentness had brought hard upon their department.
"Snarlov…"
"Chief, I'm…" putting her paws in a clasp of regret, Snarlov's voice softened, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"The reason I'm telling you this… unlikely though it is, this has to be looked into, thoroughly, carefully, quietly. I can't risk making it general knowledge to the other officers, can't risk it getting into the public."
"The PD's reputation?"
"For one. And Zafearov would act far more careful for another."
"Assuming Zafearov's involvement." The pause's reign sent an itch on her neck, but she wasn't given the moment to scratch it away.
"Yes. Snarlov, when I go… you will be the Chief of the ZPD." Her fur bolted, struck with the lightning of surprise. She had long known she would eventually become the Chief, but it was the kind of 'eventually' which always felt like years away. To hear the words spoken, to have the expectation resolved, blew a foghorn through her lifelong essence.
"Ch— Chief?"
"Yes. Chief." Lost, the bear tried to find where she had misunderstood, tried to confirm she had misheard, that her expectation had been misplaced upon her rampant imagination at those special times.
"Buh—but McHorn? He's been around for years longer than me! He's the only officer left on the force who has experience with The Firm, aside from Claw and you."
"Correct. And if it was a resurgence of The Firm we were fighting against, then hold no mistake, McHorn would be my first choice. Policing today requires far more subtlety and forethought than then. I have adapted to it. McHorn has not. Suiting in tactical armor and getting into street fights worked then. But the law was different, more flexible. The media would never stand for it today."
"So… So it's—"
"It's you, Snarlov. Chief Snarlov of the Zootopia Police Force. I think it sounds responsible enough."
"Well… Of course, sure, yeah." She took hold of her emotions, turning her thoughts to Bogo and what this meant for him. "It shouldn't be now. You're still more than able."
"Able. Willing. Not allowed. This lead, this case, it's too delicate to make a public spectacle of, but I couldn't keep it to myself, not with my place here in jeopardy."
"You can argue your case, go to a—" Attention now broken, it appeared that Bogo had no intention of further talking about this, as he grabbed the radio, from where the crackle of a voice filled null the excuse for interruption.
"Chief Bogo, this is Fangmeyer, reporting. We're ready for entry."
"On our way, Fangmeyer," the Chief responded, his hoof leaving his radio and pointing at the future Chief. "Sorry Snarlov," he said, not turning to the polar bear whose mind was swirling with adrenaline and apprehension, "our time's up for now."
"What about the report from Jefferson?" Snarlov reminded, Bogo moving to depart from the van. His glare tried to burn the top of the pages in his hooves, but he lacked enough cosmic energy.
"Paperwork. One thing I won't miss. I'll read it after we've sorted things here." He continued on his way, stepping out and down onto the tarmac beneath.
Snarlov glanced over the open page the Chief left on the seat, picking up the gist of the findings: radio equipment, medical stuff, body parts… She pulled herself away at the mention 'body parts', trying not to linger upon where and how they'd been sourced.
…
The hospital's outside walls glowed in the midday sun, the light clouds of soft white filtering the earth with patches of warm shade, while the patches of sun sparkled with the clarity of unhewn snow.
An irritated lynx moved down the sleek corridors above, having had to ask at reception to find the room she was after: any unnecessary interaction was a problem, to her beliefs. She realized she'd blundered, that she hadn't appropriately used her resources, failing to ask Bonnie for the room's number so she could go there without need to put herself in the spotlight.
Breathing away the irritation, she noted her mistake for future reference, and came upon the door she was destined to pass. The corridor was empty, so her ear pressed against the door: silence. Then her paw went for the handle and she pushed her way inside.
"Heyy," she smiled at the face of suspicion that confronted her, "it's Billy, right? Billy Hopps?"
"I know mh name, who're you?" Forcing naivety in her appearance, she gestured in the air with hesitation.
"I'm an off— old friend."
Billy sat back, tilting his head as he leaned against the back support of the hospital bed he occupied. "Friend? Of Judy's?"
"Something like that. I was talking to your mother about what happened with Nick." Grace waited a moment, testing to see if her words had moved the buck from his focus on just who she was. His expression was a blank gaze, so Fields took this as a marker to continue. "You mind if we talk a little? I know talking with preds might be discomforting."
"You're just a cub, an' a girlie, and not tryin' to date my sister. Wha's you saying about Ma?" Despite the insulting words, she jovially accepted his lack of reluctance.
"I was speaking with her about what happened between Nick and you, the little 'accident'."
"Weren' no accident. Fox did it deliberate, took a punch to me no… no tr, no, uh…"
Fields waited a moment, but soon realized Billy no longer had the capacity to figure out an end for that sentence. "But what did he do? Bonnie told me he was trying to help Judy."
"Tryin' to help? Nah, making threatening f' her."
"Threatening her? Why, Billy?" He fumbled in his words, his mouth moving but his brain visibly unable to formulate a response quickly enough… Or probably unable to find a way to warp the truth into his favor. "I'm guessing," she helped… "Judy was trying to tell you and Bonnie about how Nick was abusing her?"
"Yeah, yeah! Judy trying to say what for, so Nick had t' stop her."
"And you jumped in to try and protect her. Even though he's a fox? Bigger… stronger…"
"I dealt with foxes before, girlie," the buck retorted, a light grin on his features. "They're scairy, strong, but you hit em quick, they gonna drop just like any'on else." In a way Fields saw Billy as able to do as he had said, as he was from the provinces and people there were hardened by life.
"What then? What happened next?"
"I tried ta help. Got the fox off her, he lashed back, took me out." The shame on his fake scorn made her nearly jump in place from shiny excitement.
"Soo… your 'Ma' told me you took a hit from Judy." The buck coughed, his breath catching on his stupidity, or so Grace guessed. He looked to her with the same silent-moving lips of before, and the lynx sighed internally as she realized she'd have to, again, lend him a paw. "I know how silly it sounds to hear. Why would she ever punch you?"
"Yeah. I know."
"Did she slip and fall? Maybe Nick was holding her paw, pulled her out when you tried to help her?"
"Yeah, it was the fox what cause it. Pulled her out!" he took her option of salvation. Grace knew he'd forget it was anything but his own idea before the conversation was even through.
The teenage femammle nodded, as though having understood everything he'd said, ignoring all ludicrous aspects. "With what you've told me, I don't even see how that fox can believe he's innocent. I'm surprised you're just sitting here… I thought you'd want to get back at him."
"Fox deserve it," Billy grunted, "Ma said, Ma said I was to leave fox none alone."
"Doesn't she 'have' to say that?"
"Wha's you mean?"
"I mean she's culpable to your, she's…" gazing at the buck's blank expression, the lynx reworded the statement. "If you do bad stuff, stuff the police don't like you doing, and it was your mother who told you to do it, she would get the blame as well as you."
"Why?"
"She's your… your 'Ma', she looks after you."
"Yeah… Guess."
"So, in a way, she had to tell you not to go see to Nick, even if she wanted you to, or she'd be told off by the cops. So if she wanted you… I'm just theorizing, but… if she wanted you to go 'see' Nick, the only way to do it without getting herself in big trouble would be to tell you 'not' to, then go off somewhere she can't watch over you. Somewhere like, say… the library?"
"You're saying… Ma told me not to, to— to tell me to?"
"I don't know, Billy," Grace said, smiling to him, "I'm just speaking my mind. I just find it interesting how there's hidden meanings in what people say. It's as though she's telling you 'not' to do something, then turning her back so she can't see you doing it. It's like she's asking you to!"
"So see… she told for…" Grace watched the buck as his thoughts processed. She could almost see his cogs moving… well, not actually 'moving' as such, but they were there. Something seemed to ping in Billy's mind. His eyes lit up and his voice raised in tone and temper, "She did, she did say it. Ma said to me, she said to stay here even though Pa said I's to look out for her. Why would she say to wait 'less she wanted me to go see Nick!"
"Exactly! Why would she?"
"She's a great Ma, best Ma I had. She so smart too. Helping me defen' our Judy." Billy rose from his seat upon the bed, Fields taking a step back, a look of concern crossing her expression as the buck moved into action. "Fox can't fool me none, Judy need our help!"
"If you're sure, I don't know what she was trying to say. I was just talking, I don't know—"
"Don' worry, I know what Ma's telling me."
"Billy, just – just calm down, and—" The door shut between the rabbit and the lynx, the figure of the buck disappearing down the corridor. Grace gazed off after him, her expression of concern holding for a few seconds more, before it melted into restrained satisfaction.
…
Mealy a few feet away, a rabbit paced along a long corridor, the scent of disinfectant a sharp, almost painful contrast to the scent of soil and produce her life was usually in tune with. Her ears pricked at the sound of a doorway close by. Soft irritation hissed at the appearance of a nurse exiting from the very room she was heading to enter.
Bonnie turned sharply and made to look as though she was walking the other direction before, "Excuse me… Mrs?" Her heart pumped, her ears tinted pink with the anxiety of confrontation, but she was a mother for more than enough years not to show it. She turned to the voice, smiling kindly.
"Could you, uh… Could you tell me what you're doing here?" The voice came from a beaver, his paws on a tall, three-leveled trolley containing variously covered plates of food, many of them missing, rims of condensation dotting the stainless steel surfaces.
"Bonnie, dear. Bonnie Hopps, my daughter's staying here. The police officer?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs Hopps, but visiting time's over for lunch. I have to escort you back to the waiting area."
"I'm here for my son, Nurse. My son who was attacked and knocked unconscious."
"Ah." The beaver licked his lips, attracting a smile from Bonnie: the mother of hundreds could tell when she'd won the argument. "You're that Hopps. I was told. I'm sorry, go right ahead."
"Thank you," she said, pointing up the corridor. "It is this way?"
"That's right. Room eight one seven. If you'll excuse me."
Smiling, the doe walked slowly up the corridor, her ears raised and in tune with his footsteps. They moved away, a door opened, then closed with a thump. In a doubled pace she turned about and marched back. Her gaze filtered through every door, until she streamed to the room, sliding open the wooden divider.
"Mom!"
"Hi sweetie," she said casually, sweeping the door closed and pacing firmly inside. The two damaged officers jolted from their food to stare upon the self-admitting rabbit.
"Mom, what're you… You know you're not supposed to be here right now."
Bonnie acted a slight frown, seeing easily how best to deflect the issue. "I thought you'd be happy to see your mother." While her daughter busied herself with stuttering an apologetic rephrasing of the question, the motherly doe found a soft chair to sit in, taking the weight off her padless feet as she hopped up to sit.
"I am, I mean of course I'm happy to see you, Mom… I'm just, kinda, wondering what you're doing here."
"Just wait— resting, Judy. Just resting. You just go on eating." Satisfied there wouldn't be much more chit chat for a while, the rabbit went into her small bag and took out the pages she'd printed before. She flicked through the first few, the leaves of bleach-white parting, revealing their knowledge to her bright, clear eyes.
"You know, eh," Nick tried, cautiously. Bonnie's ear rotated towards him, but she kept her gaze on the pages in her paws, "kinda surprised you're okay being here, what with… me, and all."
Her regard flicked up to the fox and held for a long moment. Noticing her own reaction, Bonnie told herself to calm down, relaxing the automatically tensed muscles in her shoulders and lowering her gaze back to the page. Contemplations brimmed for a reply… but then she decided one wasn't necessary at all, but realization soon overwhelmed at the futility of ignoring the red fox.
"Well, at least you're giving me this opportunity to get to know you. Or, for you to get to know me, anyway." Bonnie refused to give the fox what he wanted, knowing his attitude being that of a small cub pining for attention. "Sorry about the food, not exactly dinner at a restaurant, I know. That was the first plan, didn't work out that way." If she could focus on her task, his voice might just turn into a meaningless buzz.
"I know this must be a shock to you, I know this really isn't a good way this has come about, in hospital, Hoppsie here in stitches and bandages. I know you have your doubts about me and my intentions, but we can talk about it. Better than jumping to conclusions and running off with them, yeah?" The fox paused; she didn't look up. "I know this is hard for you, Bonnie, but…" Bonnie heard the fox sit up, his voice a tone louder, "I also know you're listening to every word. So you can stop pretending to read that book of yours."
The doe slapped the pages on her knee, rolling her eyes back in a deliberate display of exasperation. "Mister Wilde—"
"Nick."
"What do you expect from me, Nick? Hm? After you hit my son."
"Billy pushed Nick first!" Judy cut in.
"A push isn't a punch, Judy dear."
"It wasn't just a—"
"It escalated," Nick summarized. "It wasn't a specific act by a specific one of us. You can't say 'it was all me', I can't say 'it was all him'. We're both partly to blame."
"I don't want to get into this argument right now," Bonnie hissed. "I just want to—"
"It's not about what you want, Mom! It's not about what you want all the time, it's about—"
"Don't speak to your mother like…!" Bonnie stopped herself, standing upon the floor, her paw clasped until the pages within were creased and warped. She pulled her fists tighter, put all the frustration and endless work of motherhood into those small furry balls of fury, and then let them go. Her fists opened, and the frustration fell down the floor.
"Judy dear," she said slowly, fiddling with the paper, trying to straighten the edges back to how they were, though never managing to get back the pristine perfection she had had. "My special snowflake." Bonnie took a step towards her daughter, but her pace halted as she remembered the pages in her paw; the pages on law she dare not let the fox see her reading…
"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to say that. You've never put yourself above… us, above your daughters and sons."
"Oh, Judy dear, I'd hug you if I could, sweetie."
"Give…" a slither of a smile crept upon Judy's face. "Give Nick a hug for me."
Bonnie's smile fell to a stare. She turned to the fox, while Nick shot a startled glance at Judy.
Even her imagination lacked this surprise.
Author's notes:
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Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
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