Son of New York (Ephialtes Shorts Book 3)

by Gavin E Parker

  The suited man nodded and took a pace back. “Information. What information? How to make a bomb, that sort of thing? How to organise a riot? How to maim a police horse?”

  “No,” said Adam, some genuine offence just discernible beneath the fear in his voice.

  The suited man stood still. “What then?”

  Adam didn’t know what to say. It felt like the truth, which was innocent enough, would seem deeply suspicious and incriminating in this scenario. Without the time or clarity of mind necessary for anything more politic he felt he had no other option but to go for honesty.

  “I wanted to know what happened at the rally.”

  “What rally?”

  ‘Is this really necessary,’ thought Adam. “This afternoon. At Washington Square Park.”

  “It’s all over the network what happened. Some good people - colleagues of mine and your father, in fact, - were nearly killed defending democracy from the mob. You don’t need to go to the darknet to find out about that.”

  Adam’s shoulders were slumping. “I just wanted some other,” he searched for the word, “perspectives.”

  “‘Other perspectives’, uh-huh.” The suited man took a step closer to Adam. “You don’t need other perspectives, lad. The network has it right. Dangerous people - violent people - were necessarily subdued by use of ultimate force. NYMAPD special operations officers, acting under extreme duress, nullified an extremist element in the crowd this afternoon, preventing what could easily have turned into a massacre. That’s what happened. I was there.”

  He was close enough that Adam could smell the stale coffee on his breath.

  “Stay away from the darknet. There are some bad people on there.”

  He stepped back. Adam could see across the lawn to another police car where his father was flung over the hood. The suited man walked over to him, again issuing the command, “Turn him over.” Beyond them Adam could see officers walking from his house carrying clear plastic bags filled with his and his father’s possessions. Two officers manhandled Greg Watson so he was facing the suited man as he approach while, behind him, his terminals, comdevs and other devices were being removed from their home.

  “Greg,” said the suited man, without inflection.

  Adam’s dad looked up. He didn’t say anything.

  “Your boy’s in a lot of trouble.” He let a strategic pause hang in the air. “Potentially. Poking around the darknet, associating with undesirables. Do you not keep an eye on the company he keeps?”

  Greg looked at the man. “He’s eighteen. What can I do?”

  The suited man nodded. “Kids. Tell me about it. But y’know, Greg, we’re living in dangerous times. Keep an eye out, in future.”

  The suited man went to turn away.

  “Or what?”

  The suited man turned back. “What was that, Greg?”

  “I said, ‘or what?’”

  “Yes, I thought so.”

  They looked at each other.

  “All I’m saying, Greg, to your son and to you, is that who a person associates with, who they communicate with, who they fraternize with, can tarnish their reputation. It can lead to suspicions, and it can lead to investigations. Like I said, these are uncertain times and it might be better for both of you to,” he paused again, picking his words carefully, “toe the line.”

  He nodded to the two officers holding Greg’s arms. “Let him go.” He turned and gave the same command to the two holding Adam. “We have to take all your coms equipment. And you’ll have to come in for questioning. Just a couple of hours, for appearances sake. But I’m sure I can clear all this up. Especially for the boy.”

  Adam stumbled forward. “Why are they taking our stuff?”

  “We have an investigation to complete, but like I said to your old man, I’ll make it all go away. This time.” He made to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, Greg.”

  Greg stared after him. “Goodnight, Captain O’Halloran.”

  The four burly police officers once again took Adam and Greg by their arms, issuing the gruff command, “Let’s go.”

  Four

  Adam spent Sunday alone. His father was working uptown. When they had got back from the police station it had been just after dawn. Adam had gone to bed but his father had got ready for his upcoming shift.

  The police had kept their terminals but, after taking copies, had released their comdevs back to them. On waking, Adam rolled over in his bed searching through the network on his comdev looking for more news about what had happened at the rally. Everything he found confirmed what he had heard already on the mainstream network; that the police had been forced to act against a hard-core of protesters who had been bent on taking armed violence to the police. Regrettably, according to the reports, some of the protesters had been struck and killed by police bullets when the forces of law and order had been left with no option but to open fire on a dangerously out of control mob.

  There was nothing like the reports he had seen on the darknet. The clips he had seen there, the young man and the crying girl, were nowhere to be seen on the official reports. The more he looked the more he saw the same story repeated. It seemed like it had to be true, but if it was, what was it he had seen on the darknet? Was it some sort of anti-government propaganda, promulgated by the same hard-core elements who had bought the wrath of the state upon themselves? That sort of made sense; that a nihilist anti-establishment organisation would rail against authority from the edges at what should have been a peaceable rally in the real world and from the hard to trace recesses of the darknet in cyberspace.

  There was still something about it that troubled him. The video footage he had seen on the darknet had seemed genuine and had been uploaded almost as the events depicted were happening. It seemed unlikely that anti-government forces would have various actors set up around the protest, waiting for specific moments when they could act out given parts and then upload videos in order to galvanise others. Also, there was something about the videos and the people in them that just felt genuine.

  Adam was conflicted by it all. What particularly bothered him was what had happened during the night. The operation against him and his father must have cost thousands of dollars and yet, ostensibly, it was simply about a young boy dabbling in parts of the network that were legally off-limits. Surely, that should be a fine or a slap on the wrist at most. None of it made sense.

  He thought about what Captain O’Halloran had said to his father. Maybe Adam’s brief sojourn into the darknet was just the cover that O’Halloran or whoever he was acting for needed. Perhaps his father was the real subject of the raid. He had overheard his father discussing things with his colleagues which had sounded covert. He had even mentioned O’Halloran by name; ‘If we confront O’Halloran right now we could blow this thing wide open.’ There had been something about the conversation between his father and O’Halloran which suggested there was a history between them. Their mutual animosity had been palpable even at the distance from which Adam had observed it.

  He had often heard his father talk about Captain Patrick O’Halloran, rarely in positive terms. Though he had never met him Adam had a very negative image of the captain. If his father was to be believed O’Halloran had little interest in policing or the welfare of the police officers working under him. All he cared about was his own advancement in the force. His priority was looking good to his superiors and getting the job done on paper, whether that correlated with the real world or not.

  His father had also mentioned that over the last year or so police officers like himself were being asked to do things which strayed into legal grey areas and which he had found troubling. The energy crisis had led to big rises in unemployment and a general unease in the population. The attendant rising crime was something that fell within the remit of the police to deal with but they had also been asked, on occasion, to break up rallies, meetings or pickets which, as far as Greg Watson could see, were being operated within the law.
/>   Greg wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy. What had started as a locker room conversation with some colleagues had grown into a loose association of police officers, based at his precinct but also involving others, who were thinking about pushing back against some of the more outrageous requests they had been tasked with. They hadn’t taken it further than that. All it was at that point was a very loose affiliation of people blowing off steam about some of their discomfort at work.

  The questionable things they had been asked to do had all come from above, through O’Halloran. None of them had been explicitly illegal and it was very difficult to take issue with the precinct captain. Some of the police in Greg’s unit followed the suspect directives unthinkingly. Others actively supported them. But there was a large minority who instinctively felt that something was wrong, and they found a release for those feelings by discussing them with others.

  Greg had been trying to coalesce those people into something a little more organised. He felt, correctly, that this was the thin end of the wedge. Rather than turning the police into a paramilitary instrument of state force overnight it would happen incrementally, one small turn of the screw at a time. By the time the police had been turned into state oppressors it would be too late. That was why Greg thought it was important to organise and resist from the very beginning.

  Adam had been vaguely aware of his father’s difficulties at work. Overheard conversations on his comdev or terminal and the odd throwaway remark he had made suggested there were some issues. In light of what happened during the night he now wondered if it was all more serious than he had thought.

  He lay his comdev down on the bed and rolled over. There were so many thoughts whirring through his head, so many maybes and what-ifs that he felt like he was starting to lose his grip on it all.

  First of all Leon Eyre’s paranoid worldview seemed to be legitimised by the massacre of protesters at the rally. His father’s unease about the changes in the police force also suggested some validity. The actions of the police at the rally and more sinisterly at the raid on their house all sat well with Leon’s rantings.

  Or was it all just craziness?

  Adam rolled over in bed again and tried to process it all but he knew the more he thought about it the less it would make sense. He would just go round and round thinking about whether the world was going crazy or he was.

  He sent Alice a message on his comdev. ‘RU okay?’ it said. He lay the comdev on his pillow in front of his face and looked at it. A couple of minutes later it bounced and gave a little judder. He picked it up and looked at the new message.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ it said.

  ‘Can U talk?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Adam tapped on the comdev and held it up to his ear, listening to the dial tone.

  “Adam?”

  “Alice? I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry about what happened. Are you okay?”

  Alice sounded tired. “I’m fine,” she said. “How are you?” It was a ridiculous question in the context of her previous twenty-four hours but she said it almost as a reflex.

  “I’m fine. Is there anything you need, is there anything I can do for you?”

  Alice paused. “I don’t think so, but it’s really kind of you to offer.”

  The conversation felt awkward.

  “Alice, I really need to see you.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just . . .” Adam struggled. “I really need to see you is all. Could I come by?” He felt embarrassed and foolish at having asked the question. “I mean, I know this is a terrible time and everything, but I have to see you. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” said Alice, cautiously. “Look, I’m really tired at the moment. I’m gonna get some sleep, but come round tonight, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Adam. “I’m sorry to do this to you but . . .”

  “It’s not a problem, not a problem at all. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Alice lived in a basement apartment about twenty minutes away from Adam’s. When Greg Watson had arrived home after his shift Adam tried to ask him about O’Halloran and the questionable things he had been asking his officers to do but his father had batted him away.

  “Let’s not get into that now,” he had said, “that’s work stuff. It’s none of your concern and I’ve had enough of work today.”

  “Yeah, but what are they asking you to do? What sort of things?”

  Greg Watson had put his coffee cup down on the table and folded his arms in a gesture that Adam knew only too well before saying, “It’s work stuff Adam. I can’t talk about it.”

  Parental authority and the vague suggestion of ‘police business’ had shut the conversation down.

  “I’m going over to a friend’s,” said Adam.

  “Be careful out there,” his father replied. It was his standard refrain whenever Adam went out but on that particular evening it sounded unusually sincere.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back by nine, probably.”

  “Okay. Be careful. I’m beat, I’m gonna get something to eat and then go to bed.”

  Adam walked to Alice’s. The streets were mostly empty. It seemed to Adam that there were more police cars than usual but he couldn’t be sure if it was just his paranoia causing him to notice them where otherwise he wouldn’t.

  Alice answered the door to her apartment. She shouted over her shoulder to a parent Adam could just about hear in the background. “It’s a friend of mine, we’re going to my room.” She beckoned Adam in. “Come this way,” she said, leading him down a short corridor to her room.

  Adam took his coat off as he entered and threw it on a chair in the corner. The room was small. There was a bed against one wall with a purple throw over it and a smattering of cushions and stuffed toys. Against the other wall was a small dresser and another table with a terminal on it. “This is my room,” said Alice, somewhat redundantly.

  “It’s nice,” Adam replied, feeling awkward.

  “Please,” Alice gestured, “sit on the bed.” Adam sat on the bed with his elbows resting on his knees. Alice sat beside him. “What is it?” she said.

  Adam thought before speaking. “I don’t know,” he said. “You must be feeling terrible. I shouldn’t have even come here.”

  “It’s okay,” said Alice.

  “The cops came to my house last night.”

  “Really?” Alice looked at him, concentrating. Her eyes had widened.

  Adam nodded. “They took our terminals, me and my father’s, and all our other network connected stuff.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “It was a proper raid. Special operations, helicopters, dogs.”

  Alice was nodding seriously. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I think it might be something to do with my dad, or something to do with knowing Leon. I tried to get some information on what happened yesterday afternoon from the darknet. Maybe it was because I did that.”

  “They monitor all that stuff,” said Alice.

  “All the things I saw just made me more confused. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

  “I don’t think anyone does,” said Alice, sympathetically.

  Adam looked up at her. “I guess that’s why I wanted to see you. What did happen yesterday? You were there.”

  Alice tilted her head. “I wish I knew.”

  “You didn’t see anything?”

  “I saw what I saw, and I heard a lot of stuff, but . . .” She shrugged.

  “What did you see? Do you know what happened to Leon?”

  “Leon got shot,” she said, and bit her lip. “We got split up earlier but we’d arranged to meet up by the coffee shop if that happened. The crowd was huge and we were moving towards the Business School. The next thing I know, I hear these shots and then it’s chaos. That’s as much as I know. Leon was killed, and some of the others he was with.”

  Adam studied Alice. She was looking down and twisting a ring around her finger. She looked understandably di
stressed but Adam pressed on. “They said on the darknet that people were specifically targeted. Does that sound plausible to you?”

  Alice looked at him. “I don’t know. Maybe, who knows?”

  “Did you speak to anyone else?”

  “People were saying the police opened fire without warning.”

  “What about the bombs?”

  “Bombs?”

  “On the network they were saying the crowd were throwing bombs at the police.”

  Alice frowned. “I didn’t see anything like that, but I was way back from where it all kicked off.”

  “So you don’t know?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Alice.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to find out what actually happened.”

  “There were a lot of people there, covering a lot of ground and when it got crazy it was difficult to tell what was happening to whom and when. They killed people, that’s all I know. They killed Leon.”

  Adam thought hard before continuing. “You think Leon was right? All that stuff he used to say about the cops and the revolution?”

  Alice smiled at the memory of Leon’s rantings. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know either.”

  Leon Eyre’s crew of associates tended to wear black, so they didn’t look particularly different to usual on the day of his funeral. Adam Watson had decided not to go. He had only recently got to know Leon and felt his presence was unwarranted. Leon had been popular and there were many others who would be there to grieve in his stead.

  The college had done little to acknowledge the deaths of three of its students. An announcement had been made but there had been no memorial services or cancelled lessons. Once the news had been promulgated through the system the college had moved on, business as usual.

  In his afternoon geometry class Adam felt the absence of Alice deeply. The class was half the size it would have usually been but somehow Alice wasn’t there more than the others. Adam couldn’t help but wonder how she might react at the funeral. Would she collapse in tears, leaning in to the supportive hugs of those nearby or would she stand stoically, head held high, defiant?