Trials
For centuries smart men and women have tried to get into the mind of criminals. Today Bobby Callahan would have been very curious to hear their opinion on gangsters and those of them that take hostages in various supermarkets at 9 am. For once, Bobby was not a morning person.
'…there. Callahan..'
'Chief…'
'What is it?'
'I guess they are taking over?'
'Who…'
Lasher's SWAT team was the salt and pepper of every hostage situation in town.
'Damn it,' swore Kermit and approached Bobby.
'Did you tell her?'
'I haven't had the chance yet, Captain.'
'Thanks, Blake, you're a treasure.' Tara looked at her freshly delivered map. 'Tell me what?'
'About Lasher…'
'Who… You mean the imbecile preparing to take Forth Nox? I'll be happy to have a word with him.'
'Uh-oh..'
All the two men could do was sit and wait for the disaster.
XXX
'We've already checked, the victims aren't related.'
'If they're not then there wouldn't be anything peculiar about these homicides...'
'On a certain level you do believe they are related, don't you?'
Harris sat and stared at Peter while he was going through some data on the computer he had been given access to.
'I was right about you.'
'You figured me already?' smiled Peter without setting eyes off the screen.
'I'm trying…'
'Don't.' Their eyes finally met. 'I'm like an onion – the deeper you go the more tears there are to shed.'
Before the pretty detective managed to answer Peter changed the topic.
'There it is!' The woman gladly came closer. 'Mrs Weiss was client of Astra Insurance Int.'
'We know. But Mrs Hansen was with a different company.'
'Not until 4 years ago. See? She's been client of Astra for 11 years before that.'
'I can't believe we missed that!'
'It's not exactly obvious…'
'Then…' Joanna was close enough to feel the aroma from Peter's aftershave.
'Time to go rip some feathers.'
'My second favourite morning workout.'
Peter shot her a side glance and moved ahead. Fortunately she didn't see him blushing.
XXXX
Captain Jack Lasher was too stunned by the beauty of the woman in front of him to react adequately. By the time she was done with him he was ready to return teach in the Academy.
'What are you doing?'
'Doing my job.'
'Killing innocent? Nice.'
'Who exactly…'
'Chief of Detectives Tara Jahn, 101st.'
'Chief? Good for you,' mocked Lasher and tried to return to his business.
'Oh, I'm brand new here. All my previous battles have been military…Captain.'
Lasher stared.
'So… what do you suggest?'
Tara needed minutes to regroup the troops. The strategy had been ready in seconds – inside her razor-sharp mind – and included SWAT members reluctantly working side by side with 1-0-1 detectives.
'This is outrageous.'
'You know what is outrageous?' hissed Tara and came dangerously close to the SWAT captain. 'Risking innocent people's lives while playing Commando.'
'We've got a hostage situation here…' raised voice Lasher but Tara interrupted.
'Listen to me you, idiot, these are amateurs we're dealing with here; they are unpredictable. They may surrender, they may blow the place up. We will dictating the rules.'
'We dictate nothing…'
'If you think so, then step aside and watch how it's done, because they're going to do exactly as I want them to.'
XXXX
Greg Franklin watched his interrogators leave the building. Life hadn't turned the way he planned it. In his late 40s he had finally transformed from a man who blindly followed the rules to one who broke them. And things actually turned around pretty good, money was no longer scarce. In fact, money was abundant now, so he wasn't going to let an ambitious police chick and her hot-shot friend ruin his plans.
Meanwhile Detective Harris was about to take her keys when Peter stopped her.
'I have a better idea, let's walk.'
'Walk?!' It's freezing…'
'It might get warmer…'
XXXX
'All teams set?'
Several rather reluctant, but affirmative, answers followed. Tara glared at Lasher who was waiting to be amazed.
'Let's dance.'
A second later loud sirens filled the air behind the supermarket. Sounds of flying helicopters and gunshots followed, all coming from the same source, all without the presence of a single machine around.
Tara had given orders for the whole front area to be emptied. The talker had been told to inform the criminals that all their requests would be fulfilled, but that they wouldn't be able to hold the SWAT team for long.
This was so obvious that it felt unreal, which is why it worked. That was the good thing with amateurs – they always think with a few guns and hostages they'd be able to retire on the Mexican beaches.
'You really think this will work?' shouted Lasher, attempting to sound serious in the noisy mess around them.
'You Western people always search for the complicated solution. Simplicity, Lasher, always look for simplicity.'
Simultaneously with her words two cars arrived at the parking. The drivers ran out, both leaving the keys on the ignition. One of them stood in front of the doors and placed a large, black travel bag on the ground. Then he disappeared, too.
Only seconds later the doors opened. Screaming people fled out panicked, followed by five masked figures that were shooting in the air. Only three of them made it to the cars however. Two were lost in the panic, partly with the assistance of Callahan and Morris who quickly and quietly took them from the back and then blended with the running crowd.
'You idiot, you blew up the tire!'
'I didn't…'
From the safe distance of their hideout Lasher was trying to figure it.
'You gave them a car with a punctured tire?'
'Of course not! But my people are such unreliable shooters…'
The criminals were forced to remain with just one hostage.
'The bag's too big!'
'Please, please…' The girls was crying.
'Check it out!'
The travelling bag was full of unmarked 5 and 10 dollar bills. The problem – 1 million dollars in 5 and 10 dollar bills…
The car was too small, the bag – too big.
'Get out of here, bitch,' shouted the gang leader, seriously worried about the approaching army of police cars and helicopters.
The men hadn't managed to start the engine when a black circle engulfed them. SWAT and cops teamed up to make sure the car wouldn't move an inch. The situation had been solved.
Tara looked victoriously. Sipping from her coffee she moved away.
'You see, Captain, all clear, without a single shot. …Oh, pardon me, with one shot, actually.' She winked and left.
Lasher was too humiliated to leave the hideout. Instead he readily dedicated himself to the media.
XXXX
'If you wanted to get to your car I could have taken you there…'
'I prefer to walk,' replied Peter and the moment he said it realized he couldn't sound more 'Caine' than that.
'These quarters aren't very… prestigious…'
'You're a cop. You're afraid?'
'N-no! Of course not.'
It had taken them less than quarter of an hour to get to the centre of the 'poor' areas which were as ghetto as a little town could get.
'They need to clean the streets,' mumbled Peter and unbuttoned his jacket.
'It's close to zero and you're warm?'
'I'm not comfortable with my moves when I'm too dressed.'
'Moves?'
'Is your gun loaded?'
'Always! …Why did you stop?'
No answer came. What appeared were four thugs. Detective Harris could never understand how these vermins always seemed to dwell in the poor areas.
'Got lost, guys?'
'We can help you find the way… To the hospital…'
'OK, guys, here's the thing…' The detective stretched for her gun.
'Harris, no!'
Peter didn't manage to stop her. By the time she was ready to shoot, one of their attackers fired a gun. Fortunately he missed as Peter jumped and pushed his temporary partner to the side.
'Great, now I'm the reasonable Shaolin...' he mumbled.
The first two attacked together. Peter didn't have time to get up but he was fast enough with two brisk moves of his hands. The power field threw them to the end of the little square, enough for Peter to get up, help Detective Harris, and face the shooter.
'Nice trick.'
'You haven't seen anything yet,' grinned the priest. Of his two lifted hands he slightly moved the right forward and seconds later the heated gun dropped down. Its owner was too shocked to react fast enough. Before he realised what happened, a heavy fist knocked him unconscious.
'What the…'
'Cuff him, I'll tell you later,' said Peter with even voice and approached the last one.
It must have been the haste, or the reduced concentration… Or probably the exhaustion from the almost simultaneous use of The Hand of Thousand Bells and pyrokinesis. Whatever it was, Peter didn't sense on time the presence behind him.
The man in front attacked and was knocked out immediately. This was when a short person from behind attacked, too. Harris shouted just in time for Peter to turn. The iron pipe licked his forehead but he couldn't avoid the kick in the stomach. He staggered and tripped over a stone; the scaffolding he hit afterwards did the rest.
Harris, who had already shot the shorty, remained helpless witness to a pile of construction junk falling on her new partner. For parts of the second images with big city cops turning her neat, little town upside-down flashed through her head. She remained motionless until the piecing sound of sirens brought her back.
XXXX
Chief Jahn was pleased with the outcome of yet another successful operation. She was just preparing to leave for the precinct when her glance caught the inevitable crowd of journalists who were gathering at the sight of a crime scene faster than vultures gather around a dying body.
It wasn't the crowd that annoyed her, it was one particular woman who had allowed herself to pass the safety zone and was trying her luck with Jody.
'Who does she think she is?'
'It's Sandra Mason,' came a voice from behind. Kermit was headed for the precinct as well. 'The necessary evil at every crime scene in this city.'
'Why has no one put her to her place by now?'
'Freedom of speech, democracy, and other blessings of the Western world…'
Tara looked at him patronisingly then moved on.
'What are you up to? …Tara?...'
'I feel lucky today,' grinned the young chief and headed for the place where Jody was practically burning at the stake.
'And... here is our new chief of detectives… I'm sure she can give you all the information you need.'
'Thank you, detective.'
'Hello, I'm Sandra Mason, Channel 4, can you tell us…'
'I can't and I'm not going to tell you anything. An official police statement will follow once the case has been closed.'
'The people have the right to know,' said Sandra in her usual manner. She couldn't help, however, feeling completely intimidated by the tall woman opposite her; she thought her sight could probably melt bricks...
Tara came even closer. She was looking Mason straight in the eyes.
'The people have the right to remain safe… which cannot happen if the media puts the lives of those meant to keep them so in danger.'
'I have no intention…'
'Miss Mason... It's Miss, isn't it?'
Mason shivered.
'Your very presence at the crime scene is a danger and violation of at least 5 different rules and regulations. I'm not going to endanger the lives of my people as well as the whole operation in order to help the career of a local upstart reporter.'
Mason made signal to her camera man to quit shooting.
'There's a freedom of speech in this country, chief…'
'Miss Mason,' continued Tara with an even, composed tone. 'There are many freedoms in this country. And many laws. Unfortunately…' Tara came even closer. 'I know them well. Now, you will leave the crime scene… and my sight, too, and mingle with the rest of your colleagues…'
'…Or…'
'… or I will launch an investigation against you. It will take months, and in that time you won't be able to come close to a camera, let alone a microphone. I will track every… single… reportage of yours and count every… single… violation you've made, starting with this one… The investigation will take a lot of time, and, if successful, it will threaten to change the entire journalistic landscape in the US of A. And even if you're lucky to avoid jail, at the end of it you won't be able to get a place north of a school radio.'
After a few seconds of silence Sandra asked:
'Who are you going to call?'
'Oh, no, Miss Mason… The call is yours.'
No response came. Sandra Mason was desperately trying to withstand her opponent's powerful sight. In the end she regressed.
'Corey… Let's go.'
Tara didn't move. In a disturbing silence she observed the retreating reporter that had been pestering the cops of 101st for years. When she finally turned, the new chief was welcomed by a small crowd. All of the 1-0-1 team that was at the crime scene was staring in a silent awe. Kermit had actually taken his glasses off.
The new chief smiled and walked passed them.
'Sometimes it's just too easy…'
XXXX
'We should call.'
'Why? Do you want to give explanations to over-polished, know-it-all, big-city cops? I don't think so.'
'Joe…'
'We're in public, James! …And, we're not together any more… Look, I'm not saying we won't call. Let's first see how he's doing; the man may be all right…'
Detective Harris was interrupted by the Chief of the Riverton ER Dr. Craig.
'Dr...'
'Detectives… We're moving him to an intensive care room.'
'But he's OK?'
'It's too early to tell. I can't believe that after having so much rubble crashing on top of him he's actually alive!'
'Anything broken?'
'No, just a sprained ankle and a cracked rib.'
'Thank God!'
'But…'
'I hate 'but',' mumbled Det. James Weaver.
'It's his head I'm worried about. I fear there might be some internal injury, I'll know more after the CT scan.'
'Is he going to wake up?'
'He will. But you should be prepared for something more than a headache.'
'Oh, boy…'
Two long hours later, left alone by her colleague, Harris was finally allowed in Peter's room. She brightened significantly at the sight of doctor and patient having a chat.
'Hello, there,' greeted the woman, visibly excited.
'Hi,' was the weak reply. Peter was looking like he couldn't comprehend the whole fuss.
'How's the headache?'
'Uhm…' Peter was practically piercing the pretty detective. 'I don't really have one…' He searched the MD's assistance.
'You'll feel it once the effect of the pain killers is over. Unless you want us to prescribe you…'
'No painkillers.' Peter gulped and tried to move. 'I've been trained… to deal with pain…' he groaned and sat in bed. Then he felt what could be described as an avalanche sliding down from his head.
'Ugh…'
'I advise you to lie down for a bit longer,' said the doctor slightly bored.
He was well informed about Peter. The patient's medical file had been sent to him at once. It took Dr Craig more than 15 min to check through the basics only, but at least he knew what he was dealing with – a stubborn but otherwise healthy former cop who hardly had a patch on his body that hadn't been cut, bruised or shot at.
Peter closed eyes and reluctantly followed the advice. He opened them when the deafening noise in his hears receded. The pretty detective was looking at him concerned.
'Would you like us to call anyone?'
'No, no need to worry my… No, thanks.' Then he turned at the MD. 'What the hell was that?'
'I'll have the results from the CT scan any time now. My prediction is that the hit has caused a swelling in your brain.'
'The hit… Right.' Attempting not to succumb to panic Peter looked through the window. It was snowing again. 'It's snowing! Snow?'
The detective was puzzled.
'Yes… It usually snows in February.'
'Feb..ruary…' whispered Peter and frowned. His face strained.
'What is it?'
'Uhm… Doc, how long do I need to stay?'
'Once the results are here I'll let you know. But not more than a day, I reckon. That is, as long as you stay put and rest.'
'Oh, I will.'
'Do you want me to fix your mood?' interfered Harris.
'Please.'
'We have progress on the case. Turns out the two victims have not only been customers of the same insurance company, they've had the same broker.'
'Yes?'
'Uhm… that... is good, Peter.'
'That's good…Yes… We're progressing… on the case…' Uncertain Peter took a peek at his forearms – they were still branded.
'You were right!'
'I was?'
'No wonder you've got this super-hero image… You're sharp, you beat those thugs…'
'The thugs… Yes, I've beaten thugs… Lots of them…'
The doctor silently nodded at the injured man. For some unknown reason Peter badly needed his encouragement.
'Uhm… Look, Miss….'
'I told you to call me Joanna.'
'Joanna… what do you say once I'm out of here, we go out for a dinner and you tell me everything about... the case?'
Pleasantly surprised at the unexpected turn of events Harris blushed.
'Absolutely! My treat.'
'Great. And… Joanna, right?'
The woman turned to the doctor and then back at Peter and hesitantly nodded.
'Before we go there, I've got two questions.'
'Yes?'
'Where the hell am I, and what's going on?'
XXX
