Diane looked at Parcells, then at Hathaway. Her right hand slid down to her sidearm. She released the safety strap on her holster and prepared to draw. She wasn’t sure on who.
Before anyone could escalate, a group of heavily armored police rushed into the room with oversized ACTF lettering across their backs and upper arms. They trained their weapons on Parcells and ordered him to raise his hands. Parcells spat and shook his head. “You enjoy your moment, kid. Fair warning: if you swing at me, best not miss.” He raised his hands and two officers pulled his arms back to cuff him.
Diane tightened her grip on her suspect. “Um, are we booking these two, or not?”
Another clerk stepped forward, his hands trembling as he watched Parcells being led away. “Y-yeah, yes, of course. Murder one, right?”
Diane rolled her eyes. “For starters.”
After their suspects were processed and Parcells was hauled away by four members of the ACTF, Diane pulled Hathaway aside. She jerked her thumb at three officers who methodically gathered documents and devices from the intake desk. “Do you mind explaining what all this is about?”
Hathaway shrugged. “I think it’s fairly obvious, Pembrook.”
“You’re pretending to be an everyday patrol officer, but really you’re a lieutenant or something and… what, finding excuses to take Panther apart bit by bit until we’re forced to shut down entirely, or merge with some other division? Like a power play?”
Hathaway shook his head and chuckled. “My, that’s a touch dramatic, Pembrook. I think on closer inspection you’ll agree I am in fact an everyday patrol officer, but, you’re right. I was sent here with special orders. A mission, you might say. I’d appreciate it if you kept that under your hat, because at the end of the day, the less people stick their nose in ACTF business, the better.”
Diane reeled, then pushed Hathaway against the wall. “I’ve had it up to here with people lying about who they are. And I damn sure don’t appreciate people reporting to secret agencies or whatever.”
“The ACTF is hardly secret. We’ve cleaned up Cincinnati metro, Buffalo, and now I’m here to get Panther back on track. You seem like a good officer, Pembrook. I’m hoping you’re on our side.”
Diane patted her Panther insignia on her shoulder. “I’m a sworn officer of the Panther Division. I’m not on any other side.”
Hathaway shook his head slowly. “That’s disappointing. The only side you should be on is the law. I get that you’re upset about the sergeant getting remanded to custody while we sort out his ethical lapses, but I’d hate to see a good officer like you get mixed up in something that at the end of the day could ruin not only her career, but her whole life.”
Diane glanced up at a clock. It read 10:05 A.M. She took a step backward. “So, what, I stay close to you, and at the end of the day you’ll protect me from whatever is going down?”
“Not exactly. I was going to recommend keeping your nose clean and staying out of trouble.”
Diane rubbed her nose and looked at her fingers. She didn’t see any dirt or blood. “Well,” she said, “it’s kinda hard to do my job if I stay away from trouble.”
Hathaway smiled and patted her shoulder. “Okay, smartass. Come on, let’s grab a coffee for the road.”
Diane inhaled to reply, then let the thought pass. She simply nodded and walked with him toward the commissary.
A short time later, Diane and Hathaway were back on patrol. She kept a watchful eye out for suspicious or outright criminal behavior while Hathaway focused on driving. When they reached a fresh stoplight, Hathaway relaxed a little and gave Diane an odd look. She tried to maintain her surveillance of the sidewalk, but curiosity got the better of her. She turned to him and said, with a huff, “What?”
Hathaway took a deep breath and appeared to choose his words carefully, almost as though he was running through their conversation in his head before engaging in the real thing. “I’m sorry you weren’t briefed about my mission. I honestly had no idea we would be paired up together until we were, and even then, the brass wants to keep my purpose under wraps. Well, they did, anyway. That cat is miles out of the bag by now, I’m sure.”
Diane thought about the months she spent in solitary after being wrongly accused of being a cop killer. Word traveled fast back then, and she was someone they knew. She could only imagine what kinds of stories were going around about Hathaway. Her stomach soured at the realization they had been seen getting coffee together after Parcells was arrested. Diane thought she should learn more about Hathaway and what happened back at Panther intake.
“Oh yeah, word gets out quick,” she said. “I’m still trying to make sense of what happened with Parcells back there.”
Hathaway kept his gaze fixed on the stoplight as he spoke. “I’m not authorized to comment on an ongoing investigation.”
“Well, something big is about to go down, isn’t it? Partners are supposed to have each other’s backs. Never mind what happens at the end of the day, am I going to have a job to come back to tomorrow?”
Hathaway contorted his face for a moment, then chuckled. “I think you’ll be just fine.” He tapped on the gas pedal as traffic began to flow through the intersection when the stoplight changed.
“How can you be so sure? With Parcells out, I figure he’s just the beginning.”
“Again, Pembrook, I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. I can say you’re probably alright, unless you’ve got some serious skeletons in your closet.” He gave her a stern glance. “Do you?”
Diane shrank in her seat. The question made no sense. She kept her clothes and her rifle in her closet. Did he think she kept a pile of dead bodies in there too? She put her hand to her nose and winced. That would smell horrible, wouldn’t it? She shook her head vigorously at the thought, eliciting another chuckle from Hathaway.
“Just messing with you, Pembrook. As for having my back, I trust you. Do you know why?”
Diane looked away from the passenger window for an instant. “N-no.”
“You didn’t draw on me when I called in the strike team. Parcells was damn sure thinking about it. If you were in the tank with Parcells, the two of you would have ventilated me nine ways to Sunday. I mean, you’d both be in deep crap and guaranteed a trip to the firing squad, but I could see that he didn’t care about any of that. You did.”
“Doesn’t that just mean I’m not stupid enough to shoot a fellow officer in the middle of Panther intake?”
Hathaway shrugged. “True, but I saw it first-hand up in Buffalo. When corruption sets in, it’s like bone cancer. The herd mentality takes over, and there’s a huge us-versus-them dynamic in play. Back there, I was the ‘them’ in that scenario, along with my team. You’re either too new here to have been sucked in or, like you said, you’re smart enough to pick your battles.”
“I guess we’ll find out at the end of the day,” Diane said.
The remainder of their patrol passed without any major incidents, to Diane’s disappointment. A routine traffic stop resulted in three citations. Another man appeared to be dealing thignoids but was just giving his friends elaborate handshakes. Now Hathaway guided the cruiser back to Panther headquarters, and Diane felt anxiety creeping up her spine as they rode together in silence. It was the end of the day. Something big was going to happen, but she didn’t know what to expect or who else would be tossed in solitary pending administrative review.
She glanced furtively at Hathaway, who seemed utterly unconcerned. After they reached the parking lot and put the cruiser away for the night, Diane entered the command center with one hand close to her sidearm. Hathaway strode along beside her, his arms swaying easily as he approached the duty sergeant. To Diane’s dismay, the sergeant on duty was Griggs, now dressed in his standard office uniform.
Griggs checked the duty roster after the pair logged in their shift. He gave Hathaway a disapproving stare. “Officer Hathaway. You are quite the topic of conversation today.”
Hathaway
smiled. “That’s always how it is for a Johnny-Come-Lately, sir.”
“I hear I have you to thank for my extended shift. Normally, Sergeant Parcells would have this assignment, but he covered intake today and now, for reasons that are not entirely clear, he has been remanded to custody.” Griggs gave Diane an oily smirk. “I assure you both he is being treated with dignity and respect.”
Diane couldn’t control herself. “Gee, what’s he got that I haven’t?”
Griggs ignored her and addressed Hathaway. “But I’m glad you’re here, Officer Hathaway. I took the liberty of perusing your file while you were out with Miss Pembrook. I found a matter that begs for… clarification, if you’d indulge me.”
Hathaway took an uneasy breath. “I’m not authorized to discuss an ongoing investigation, sir.”
Griggs gave him a questioning glance. “No, of course not. Nor am I asking you to divulge anything of a sensitive nature. However, your file states you joined the ranks of the Buffalo Municipal Police Department shortly after Arbor Day.”
Diane rolled her eyes. He said that during the morning briefing, genius, she thought darkly.
“I recall mentioning that during today’s briefing, sir,” Hathaway said stiffly.
“Yes, yes, of course you did. But that’s not what interests me. There’s a report that provides details about your activities before you were accepted into the academy. Do you have an inkling what I am referring to?”
“I don’t, sir.”
Diane sucked in her breath. Hathaway was lying. She saw it in his eyes as they darted around. She wondered why, after his big talk about being honest and staying on the right side of the law.
Griggs cleared his throat and pulled up Hathaway’s file on his tablet. “Third Precinct was taking heavy fire. Officers Nelson, Bates, and Jergens were gunned down trying to disperse the mob. Officer Michaels and I barricaded the front door with as many desks as we could move before they started breaking windows. We thought the desks would hold them while we sent a distress call to the Fifth Precinct. Michaels took a bullet to the head before he made it to the terminal. I took cover.”
Hathaway’s face scrunched up and his eyes watered. “Don’t,” he said.
Griggs looked around at the officers and staff filtering into the command center. He gave them all a satisfied smile and continued, his voice stronger and louder. “I heard shots. They weren’t a crazy mob looking to take out as many cops as they could. These shots were like,” Griggs paused for dramatic effect, “a steady… pop–pop–pop. I heard screams, then wild shooting. But that first gun, it was like a drum beat. One shot after another, and after each one, the screaming got quieter. Instead of the mob breaking down the door and tearing it up, someone was taking them down, one by one. I heard six more shots, then… nothing.” Griggs wiped his brow. Diane’s hand slid down to her sidearm as she eyed Hathaway warily.
Hathaway wiped his eyes and took a step forward. “That’s enough, Sergeant. I don’t appreciate having my personal file aired out without my permission. You have no right.”
Griggs took a hard swallow and continued. “The next thing I heard was a young man’s voice calling through the west window. I drew my sidearm and figured I’d aim for his head. After crawling over to a row of file cabinets, I peeked around the corner and identified myself as a police officer. I gave fair warning that I intended to use lethal force. The subject raised his hands and dropped his weapon. He said he knew I was a police officer, and nobody was going to hurt me. I told him the mob had other plans. He shook his head and said, ‘No sir. The mob isn’t around anymore.’”
Diane looked at Griggs and read his twitchy body language. She let her hand fall away from her sidearm. She had seen this look on his face once before. Diane flashed back to her brief time at the academy. Griggs wiped his lips and spoke again, much quieter.
“Subject identified as Hathaway, Noah. Initial forensics determined he shot fourteen hostiles using two standard issue C-3720 handguns. Secondary report raised the count to twenty-one. All causes of death were reported as a single gunshot wound. Subject does not appear to have ever reloaded, using found weapons to neutralize the threat to the precinct.” Griggs lowered the tablet and gave Hathaway an incredulous stare. Diane looked past him and saw a mesmerized crowd inching closer, all bearing similar facial expressions.
Hathaway took a deep breath and looked Griggs squarely in the eyes. “I give Noah Hathaway my full endorsement to join the academy. Officer James Brescia, Third Precinct.”
Griggs looked at the tablet, then dropped it on the desktop. “Yes, that’s what it says.”
“And you want to know if it’s true.”
Diane felt a surge of awe and envy. Yes, it was true. She had seen him in action. He was fast. He was deadly accurate. And he never reloaded.
“I want to know,” Griggs sniffed, “what sort of shooting gallery you believe this place to be.”
Hathaway was taken aback. The crowd behind Griggs groaned and gave him dismissive waves. “What, now?”
Griggs arm-pointed to Diane. “It’s bad enough we are graced by Officer Oakley. We don’t need two gunslingers on the force. We have procedures, Officer Hathaway. Courts. Due process. I trust they had such things in Buffalo as well? Or were you lured here by rumors of a lawless hellscape, yours to fire upon at will?”
Diane turned sharply to Griggs. “You mean, had a gunslinger. How’s that working out for you?”
Hathaway gave Griggs a haughty stare, then jutted his chin at the sergeant. “I stand behind my record. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns about it, you can take that up with Lieutenant Kenner.”
Griggs turned beet red and raised his finger to retort, then bristled at the sound of a door opening behind him. Lieutenant Kenner stepped out of his office and gestured to Hathaway. “You. My office.”
Diane walked a few paces behind him, unsure if she was included in the summons. Kenner put his arm around Hathaway and escorted him into his office, then slammed the door behind them. Diane paused outside the door long enough to hear a can of Blast cola being opened and poured into a glass.
CHAPTER FIVE
Diane slammed her locker door shut and glanced at her comm unit. She yearned to return to Trauma One and check in on Lyssa. Diane closed her eyes and fantasized about having five minutes alone with her, simply to squeeze Lyssa’s hand and kiss her forehead. Anything else would be a welcome bonus. Her comm unit beeped once and snapped her out of her daydream. Diane looked at the screen and saw two words flash on the screen before the unit returned to its normal state: EAST LOT.
Diane checked her hair in a nearby mirror before proceeding to the east lot as directed. She hated having to report to the Masked Man and his ultra-secret department. Unlike Panther and its static headquarters building, the Masked Man had no shortage of tucked-away places where he and his people worked on something Diane could not fully grasp. She enjoyed the giant simulator room and the exciting scenarios it could produce, but she wished she knew what all of it was for. Being a cop was cut and dried: you patrolled the city and caught or killed bad guys. Whatever the Masked Man was up to seemed, well, creepy.
Diane shuddered at the thought of him. He always wore suits, black gloves, and that blank mask that she found especially off-putting. She tried to ignore it, but she wondered what it was hiding. Was he some sort of lizard-man from outer space? Why couldn’t he show his face? What was wrong with it?
His field agents were no better, in her opinion. Unlike the Masked Man, she had seen some of them with their helmets off, but only rarely. She wasn’t sure if she ever saw the same agents twice, as she took a moment to think about it.
She walked out to the east lot and looked around. The gate was locked with a chain and padlock. A few cruisers were parked toward the back of the lot, but other than a few dirty wooden crates and a blue oil drum scarred with rust, she didn’t see any obvious reason as to why she had been summoned there.
Diane heard somethin
g clatter in the back corner by a stack of crates. She patted her hip instinctively and whirled around to face the possible threat, then groaned when she realized her sidearm was locked away with her uniform. Weapons would be provided by the Masked Man, along with her sleek black body armor, if he intended to run her through any tests.
She rolled her eyes. Of course there will be tests. That’s all he ever does, she thought. Diane stepped forward to investigate the source of the noise. In a flash, her eyesight was robbed from her and she struggled to breathe. She reached up and pulled at a thick hood. She felt gloved hands pull her wrists behind her back and apply restraints, then her ankles were bound. The unseen hands grabbed her arms and dragged her along the pavement. Diane struggled with her bonds and tried to shake the hood free. Something was pulled tightly around her neck in response.
Diane heard a jingling sound followed by something squeaking. She was hoisted from the ground and dropped horizontally into a tight space. She pulled her knees up to her chest and inhaled to scream but thought better of it. Nobody is coming to save me, she thought glumly. She felt it was best to conserve her energy.
A trunk door slammed, then her prison cell jostled as her abductors got into the car. Diane felt around in the dark for the trunk release handle but couldn’t find it. She squirmed around in the trunk and contorted her body until she was sure her fingers were brushing its location. She found a tiny length of string instead. She squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger and groaned as the string slipped away. This was deliberate, she thought. Someone wanted me to struggle and come up short.
A blend of terror and rage shot through her as she considered her top suspect: Sapphire.
She struggled against her bonds and felt the vehicle pull away from the east lot. She banged her head on the trunk floor as the car struck a patch of uneven concrete on its way through the gate. The car paused, then a door slammed shut after another man sat down. She heard a gruff voice say simply, “Move out.”
Hostiles Page 4
