by Adam Carter
“Yeah,” Baronaire replied. “We’re about half a mile east. What’s up?”
“Thompson and Jeremiah just called in for back-up. They were chasing a perp and he’s high-tailed it into the park. Takes more than two people to search a park.”
Baronaire grunted. “So write it off. Tell them there’s always tomorrow.”
“Thompson says no can do. Perp saw them both and heard Jeremiah call her by name. You know Sanders’s rules, Baronaire. Perp becomes a priority if he can nail the organisation.”
“Fine. Tell them we’re on our way.” Baronaire flicked the radio off and noticed Lin was staring at him. “What?” he barked. “And for Christ’s sake keep your eyes on the road.”
“What about this innocent woman we have to hunt down?”
“She can keep.”
“And she hasn’t seen more than we can afford?”
“All she’s seen is someone commit murder and trying to make it look like suicide. She doesn’t know the guy she saw was a cop. Stockwell’s right, this takes precedence. And Jeremiah knows that.”
“Which means?”
Baronaire remembered then this was Lin’s first day. She had yet to meet Jeremiah. “That I think Jeremiah figures his situation is more important than ours.”
“You’re saying he let the perp hear him say Thompson’s name on purpose?”
“My, she is a detective after all.”
They came upon the park moments later and Baronaire indicated the car, now abandoned, which belonged to their colleagues. They stepped out and surveyed the scene. Thompson and Jeremiah had obviously entered the park already, but Baronaire could see nothing of them. He noticed Lin was about to activate her radio and he caught her hand, his speed surprising her.
“Wouldn’t want to tip off the perp,” he said.
“Nor do we want to search the same area the others have already cleared. How else are we going to find them if not through the radio?”
Baronaire tapped the side of his nose.
“More secrets?”
“No, I meant I was going to smell them out.”
“Jerk.”
Baronaire shrugged, wondered how long it would take before Detective Lin realised he didn’t do sarcasm.
The trail was fresh, which was handy since the rising sun was diminishing all his powers, and Baronaire was able to head swiftly through the park, Lin at his heels. They arrived at a lake and here Baronaire stopped, crouching and motioning for Lin to follow suit. The lake was oddly-shaped and hidden almost completely by bushes and lakeside vegetation. He strained to hear anything, his sense of smell being thrown off by the proximity to the water.
Two geese appeared from behind the bush and waddled to the water’s edge.
“There’s your perp,” Lin whispered. “They must have escaped Christmas dinner.”
“Where’d you spend Christmas, Lin?” Baronaire whispered back.
“With my folks. You?”
“That’s classified.”
“Did I mention you were a jerk?”
“Down!”
Baronaire span, shoving Lin’s face into the foliage as he saw a figure charge around the bush. He froze as a gun was pressed into his face.
“Baronaire?”
Baronaire grunted again, but said nothing.
Detective Jen Thompson was a slim woman with shoulder-length dark hair and a stern expression. She was a decent woman to be partnered with, Baronaire had always found; she didn’t complain, didn’t let morals stand in the way of her job; didn’t talk endlessly about soap operas or who was dating whom in the world of showbiz. Thompson was a detective first and foremost, and she was Baronaire’s first choice when he needed a partner.
She lowered the gun slowly.
“How’d I even manage to sneak up on you like that?” she asked, bewildered.
“Don’t start,” Baronaire warned. “I’m having a bad day.” It was true, however; Baronaire’s reflexes and senses were sharp. Even if she had managed to see him, even if she had managed to then approach him without him noticing, she would not be able to shove a gun into his face before he could take the thing from her hand. Baronaire had walked into rooms filled with hoods wanting a piece of him and still walked out without breaking a sweat.
“Hi,” Lin said, “you must be Thompson.” She thrust out her hand. “Detective Lin.”
Thompson stared at the woman, at the hand, back to the woman; then turned to Baronaire. “I take it Stockwell sent you in to help?”
Baronaire tried very hard to suppress his smile, but the sight of Lin practically fuming over the rebuff was certainly a brightening sight to the day. Baronaire’s respect of Thompson rose an appreciable notch. “Where do you want us?” Baronaire asked. “And why the gun?”
While the bunker was equipped with firearms, they were seldom ever issued. Sanders did not like for his officers to be found with guns, and saw no point for them being used. If an operative involved in a covert unit needed to run around waving guns, said officer had no place being in a covert unit to begin with. That Thompson possessed a gun this morning meant either the perp himself was packing or Sanders had made some New Year’s resolutions he hadn’t informed them about.
“Perp’s packing,” Thompson said.
Shame, Baronaire thought. That would have made for an interesting year.
“Where’s Jeremiah?” Lin asked, still trying to maintain some dignity. Bless.
“Swinging around the trees like he’s Jeremiah Tarzan. Honestly, Baronaire, that guy’s not stable.”
“I don’t know,” Lin said, “I’d say that doesn’t beat smacking your face in the tarmac.”
Thompson noted Baronaire’s injuries then and her eyes widened. “You tore your coat.”
Baronaire felt like grunting again but the sound was becoming a little old even to him. No one was under the impression he was annoyed; even he thought he just had a bad cough. “How many are we after,” he asked, “and does the guy have to be taken alive?”
“One and no. But this gun belongs to a rival gang, so if we shoot him with this we can divert the case when it comes to ballistics.”
Baronaire hadn’t even noticed Thompson was wearing gloves. He wondered whether he really was coming down with something. This certainly explained the gun in Thompson’s hand, however; Sanders wasn’t going soft after all.
“You want me to handle Jeremiah?” Baronaire asked. This was Thompson’s operation and he wouldn’t step on her toes. However, they both knew Baronaire was the best choice at keeping Jeremiah at bay.
“Sure,” Thompson agreed. “Jerry’s herding the perp into the open, where I can plug him. Lin, you fancy stripping to your underwear and pretending to be a jogger? Would sure help draw the perp out.”
Lin started incredulously at the other woman. Baronaire thought she was partway between punching someone and exploding. “It’s winter, Thompson; there’s still snow everywhere. Besides, who goes jogging in their underwear?”
“Just take your coat off, that’ll have to do. Baronaire, you OK with me borrowing your partner a while?”
“Just don’t get her killed. I’m sure Sanders’d find some way to blame me for it.”
He left without listening to Lin’s reply, although he could feel her anger in waves. He realised he was probably being unreasonable to her. Detective Lin was more than likely a very good officer; it was just that he was in a bad mood and Lin today was pushing all the wrong buttons. Still, with Thompson taking care of her he didn’t have to worry about her getting shot or anything. Putting both women out of his mind, Baronaire decided not to take to the trees. He had no doubt he would have been able to keep pace with Jeremiah if he did, but after his mishap with the roof earlier he was not certain he wouldn’t screw up again and fall. For one thing he could do without alerting the perp he was giving chase, and for another he didn’t fancy hurting any more than he already did.
Instead he entered the trees at ground level. Jeremiah had left no tracks
upon the ground, of course, but Baronaire was able to follow his scent. He had only been moving a few minutes when he heard a voice above him. A soft laughter of one in whom mirth was only ever directly comparable to death.
Baronaire looked above him. There was a man sitting in the branch above his head. He was tall, well-dressed, with a fine dark coat and which flowed almost as a cloak behind him. Where Baronaire wore a shirt without a tie, Jeremiah had mastered the smart-casual without even trying. Jeremiah was a man who took great care in his appearance, and yet at the same time didn’t much care what anyone else thought about him. He often walked with a wooden cane, as though he was some kind of lord, but thankfully had not thought to bring it with him to the woods.
Jeremiah smiled down at Baronaire with that irascible, often annoying, grin. Jeremiah was a handsome man with short dark hair and pencil-thin moustache. He wore a short beard which travelled down from his moustache but seemed to avoid the rest of his face. Baronaire was envious of anything which could successfully avoid Jeremiah.
“You’re wounded,” Jeremiah noted. “Your new partner playing rough?”
“Where’s the perp?” Baronaire asked dryly.
“All business?” Jeremiah tutted.
“Jeremiah? The perp?”
“By the children’s playground. He’s panicked, confused, waving that gun around as though he knows how to use the thing.” Jeremiah shrugged. “I was going to go in for the kill when I scented your arrival at the park gates. Thought I’d wait for you to reach me.”
“Who is this guy we’re after?”
“You really need to know things like that?”
“Humour me.”
For a moment it seemed as though Jeremiah wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “Sebastian Lanyard. Twenty-eight, drug dealer. Nothing special about him, and no one’s going to miss him. Except maybe his mother. Poor thing’s spending her final few months in hospital. She won’t have any visitors after today, but then her son shouldn’t be such a villain.”
“You’re all heart, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah raised an eyebrow where he was perched. “What’s this? Charles Baronaire growing morals?”
Baronaire snorted. We’re bringing him into the open so Thompson can get a clear shot.”
“He’s in the open. I just told you, he’s in the kids’ playground.”
“I know, but Thompson can’t go charging into an open space like that with her gun. We need to take him back to the lake. There’s a big field there and if Thompson hides behind the bushes she can get a clean shot.”
“Fine. You want me to lead the way? It’s just you look a little beat up.”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“I said I can handle it.”
Baronaire stormed off, not even sure why he was so cranky today. He was making a lot of enemies, but he didn’t much care what people thought about him. Jeremiah didn’t care about such things and he got on well with everyone. But then Jeremiah was charismatic while Baronaire was seen as the weird reclusive one.
The very thought made him care even less about his image.
He found Lanyard right where Jeremiah said he would be. There were many ways in which Baronaire could have made the guy run towards the lake. He could hypnotise him; he could create a lot of noise and make the guy think he was being chased by an army; he could just charge the guy screaming.
Instead Baronaire just walked right out and stopped at the edge of the children’s playground. Lanyard wasn’t much to look at; tall, wiry, his eyes darting all over the place through fear and drug abuse. He positively reeked of drugs, actually, and Baronaire had little time for this.
It took Lanyard a moment to realise he was standing there, and when he did he brought the gun around and fired three shots, yelling all the while. The noise was good; they were intending to make this look like a rival gang killed him, so the more shots people heard right now the better. Baronaire wasn’t concerned about the bullets, and evaded them without even thinking about it. Lanyard was running by this point and Baronaire strolled after him.
Lanyard reached the field, stumbling over his own stupidity, and Baronaire was always about twenty metres behind him. Lanyard was approaching the lake by this point and stopped, raising a shaking gun at Baronaire. Baronaire stopped, said nothing.
Thunder cracked across the field, the echo ricocheting wildly, as Thomson’s bullet tore through the man’s shoulder. He staggered, screaming, his own gun firing. Baronaire had not been prepared for such a lousy shot from Thompson – he’d seen her in training and had always been impressed – and felt one of Lanyard’s bullets impact with his thigh. A second shot from Thompson took Lanyard through the chest and he crumpled.
Baronaire hobbled back to the trees, knowing he couldn’t give Thompson’s position away by heading over to her. He reached the car to find Lin waiting impatiently behind the wheel. Jeremiah and Thompson were just pulling away. “Go,” Baronaire said as he closed the door behind him, and Lin took off without comment. His entire body was one great big injury now, and Baronaire wondered what the hell was wrong with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What, you think the guys we’re framing would have taken Lanyard out with the first shot?”
The four officers had regrouped at a safe house. They were places where offices could take refuge and regroup if necessary. Sanders had several scattered around the city, and they took various forms. Most were closed down shops or simple houses. The one they were currently in was an old barber’s that had folded long ago. No one lived upstairs and they were using its well-stocked supplies to see to Baronaire’s gunshot wound. Or at least Lin was trying to do so; Baronaire had removed his shirt and was extracting the bullet himself with a knife. There was little blood, and Lin stared at him in complete incomprehension.
The man was her partner for this assignment, and all he had ever done was brush her aside. He had suffered wounds today which should have killed him, what with leaping from that building and now being shot at. The bullet had only hit his arm, true, but she could not believe the lack of blood coming from the wound. In fact, aside from the strangely thick blood covering the knife and staining his shirt, there was very little at all.
She realised Thompson had spoken then and looked across to her even as Baronaire once more waved away Lin’s help. He wasn’t angry with her yet, but she could tell he wasn’t that far off. Thompson was leaning against the wall casually, looking pretty bored. Jeremiah had flipped on the television and had his feet up. There was a black and white film on and he seemed absorbed. It seemed to be an old weepy, and Lin would not have pegged him for a fan.
“What did you say?” Lin asked Thompson then.
“I didn’t mean to kill Lanyard the first time,” Thompson explained. “That’s why I missed.”
“Makes sense,” Baronaire said as he cleaned the wound, having tossed the bullet aside. “Single shot kill makes it look professional, and no professional would leave the murder weapon at the scene of the crime. Thompson needed to shoot Lanyard at least twice before he died. When the police find the gun, they’ll figure it was the rival gang. And once they get ballistics involved they can even prove it.”
“Which,” Thompson said seriously, “you should have known, Baronaire.”
“Yeah,” Baronaire said evasively, “kind of off my game a bit today.”
Lin watched the casual exchange with curiosity. There was much alike in Baronaire and Thompson. Both were dedicated to their job, neither seemed to care much about human emotions or feelings. And both were being as rude as possible to the new girl.
“Are you two done then?” she asked of Thompson and Jeremiah. “Can we get on with our own mission now?”
Thompson smiled wryly. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your ... mission.”
“Do you have a problem with me?”
Thompson shrugged. “No. Just try to look after your partner a bit better. I’ve been out with Baronaire a lot an
d he’s never come home in that state.”
“Why are you so God-damned rude?”
“Because that’s what Sanders wants.” Thompson shook her head, and Lin thought perhaps she could even see her mellowing somewhat. “Look, Detective, Sanders doesn’t like his people getting involved, right? Doesn’t like them fraternising. We’re not a family, we’re not friends, we’re just work colleagues. When we leave the bunker to go home after our shifts, we don’t see one another. Or if we do, we do it carefully. Sanders has eyes and ears everywhere; it’s best not to antagonise him.”
“Unless you do it carefully?” Lin guessed.
There was still humour to Thompson’s eyes. “Right.”
Lin looked from her to Baronaire and pointed a waving finger. “So you and Charles ...?” Her voice drifted off.
Thompson seemed to find that funny. “No. Not me and Charles. I’m talking friendships, Lin. Heaven help anyone who actually started a relationship with a fellow officer. That’s just asking for trouble.”
Jeremiah sniffed, reaching for a tissue.
“This job is weird,” Lin said, sitting down at last.
Baronaire went through a wardrobe to find a fresh shirt, dumping his old one on the table, along with the bullet. Lin had been told something of the safe houses. Once they reported that they had utilised it, Sanders would send in a sanitation team. They would not only replenish any supplies they had used, but remove all fingerprints and evidence of their having been there. If Baronaire left the shirt and bullet on show, there was less chance of Sanders’s team missing it. Because that would prove catastrophic.
“I’m set,” Baronaire said, shrugging on his somewhat battered coat.
“Well, thanks for the assist,” Thompson said. “We’d best head in to file that report. You guys sure you don’t need any help with your case? Only seems fair.”
“It’s cut and dry,” Baronaire said. “I can handle it.”
“Uh,” Lin said, “don’t you mean ‘we’?”