The Price of Disrespect (Gray Spear Society Book 6)

by Siegel, Alex

  Aaron looked at the papers. They were a complete history of the Chicago protests with all kinds of interesting details. The twins had even included helpful maps.

  "This is excellent work, girls," he said, "as usual."

  "Thank you, sir," Bethany said.

  He scanned through the material. The protests had started five months ago with isolated cases of civil disobedience. Gradually, the size and frequency of the incidents had increased. One confrontation with the police a week ago had turned into a near riot and had left an apartment building in flames. The most peculiar aspect was the lack of consistent leadership. It seemed every protest had a different message and different voices, but the angry tone was always the same. Most of the activity was in the west and south sides of Chicago.

  The twins left, and only Wesley remained with Aaron.

  "I have to go out again," Aaron said. "Take a look at this stuff while I'm gone. Tell me what you think." He handed the papers to the boy.

  "Where are you going, sir? Can I come?"

  "I'm going to the Cook County Jail. Children are not permitted inside. I should be back in less than two hours."

  Wesley sighed with obvious disappointment.

  "Jack is in the security booth," Aaron said, "and you have my number. Call if there is any trouble while I'm gone. Norbert and Smythe are ten minutes away if you need them. Your protection team is downstairs. I know you don't like them, but if this place is attacked, that's your best option."

  Wesley nodded. "Yes, sir."

  * * *

  Tawni sat in a small room with pale green walls and a single metal door. A fluorescent fixture provided bright bluish light. There was a large one-way window, and unfortunately, she was on the wrong side.

  She looked down at her orange shirt and pants. The outfit made her look like a pumpkin. The clothes were cut to fit a man or a woman equally poorly, and she hated them. She despised everything about this place.

  A man wearing a police uniform entered the room and sat across a table from her. He looked old for a cop in uniform. His short black hair was perfectly groomed, and his clothing had crisp creases. He carried a soft leather briefcase.

  "Hello." He smiled. "I'm detective Jake Murphy. I'm in charge of your case."

  He took a white notepad and a pen out of his briefcase. She glared at him.

  "I'll take your official statement now," he said. "You can write it out, or you can dictate to me and just sign it. That would probably be better. I have good handwriting. If you want to call your lawyer first, I can make those arrangements."

  "I don't have a lawyer. I can't afford one."

  "Then let's begin. Describe how the Lake Street Vigilantes was formed." He held the pen above the paper expectantly.

  "What time is it?" She furrowed her brow. "Isn't it late to be taking statements?"

  He shrugged. "I like to work at night. Why? Are you tired?"

  "No."

  "Good. Go ahead."

  She took a deep breath. "I have nothing to say."

  "Ms. Williams, you stand accused of serious crimes. One of your victims lost a kidney, and another may be permanently crippled. Your statement will eventually be read to the jury at your trial. This is your opportunity to explain yourself. I strongly suggest you don't waste it."

  She hadn't known about the injuries but didn't feel guilty. All of her "victims" had victims of their own.

  "What's the point? I'm fucked. My lawyer will be a punk public defender who couldn't get me out of a speeding ticket. A black woman like me never gets justice in Chicago."

  "That's a very poor attitude," the detective said. "I know you're not a regular criminal. You could make a pretty strong case for yourself in court. You'll be convicted, but you have a shot at a light sentence. You're young enough to build a new life after you get out of prison. It all starts with cooperating now."

  Tawni wasn't as optimistic. She had seen the legal system grind up other people from her neighborhood. Minor convictions often turned into long prison terms. The system was stacked against her.

  He put his notepad and pen away. "Your arraignment is tomorrow. I'll be there. You can make your statement to me afterwards if you want. Think about what you want to say." He stood up. "There is another man here to see you. A lawyer from the National Guard. Maybe he can get through to you." He left the room, and the door closed with a metallic clang.

  A moment later, Aaron entered. She instinctively jumped up and tried to slug him in the jaw. He grabbed her arm, twisted her around, and thumped her face against the table. His grip was painfully strong.

  "That was a warning," he whispered in her ear. "If you come at me again, I'll break something you don't want broken. Do you understand?"

  She nodded. Her shoulder felt like it was about to dislocate.

  "Are you calm now? Can we have a polite conversation?"

  "Yes," she said through clenched teeth.

  "Sit." He released her.

  Rubbing her sore cheek, she sat down. "I hate you."

  He wore a sharp gray business suit and a black tie. It looked perfectly tailored for his broad chest and chunky biceps. Polished, black shoes shined under the lights. It was difficult for her to admit, but he was a fine looking man.

  He took a plastic eyepiece out of his pocket. He put it against the one-way window and looked through it, obviously peeking into the room beyond. He examined several locations.

  Tawni cocked her head with puzzlement. "What are you doing?"

  "Just making sure we can talk openly," Aaron said. "This isn't the best location for a sensitive conversation. I had to call in some favors so we could have privacy."

  "What are we going to talk about?"

  "Your future."

  Finally, he sat down. For a long moment, he just stared at her, and she stared back. She refused to be intimidated.

  "You're in a lot of trouble," he said.

  "Thanks to you," she shot back.

  "You were going to get caught regardless. I made a few calls to contacts on both sides of the law. Your short career as a vigilante irritated a lot of dangerous people. Even small-time crooks can have big-time friends. They intend to make an example out of you. A public, messy example. Being in jail won't save you, either. If I were a betting man, I'd say the over-under on your life expectancy is a week, maybe less. Don't worry about standing trial. You won't survive that long. Tell me I'm wrong."

  She desperately wanted to argue with him, but he was correct. She had tried to ignore these inconvenient facts until now, but the reasonable tone in his voice made further denial impossible.

  "Maybe," she muttered weakly.

  "You have two choices. You can continue down the road you're on and hope for a miraculous rescue, or you can let me rescue you now."

  "What the fuck can you do for me?"

  He took out his phone and placed it on the table. It was very thick. The surface was made of a gray metal with a rainbow sheen, and there were no markings.

  "This is a very special phone," he said. "It lets me talk to very special people. I can make your legal problems disappear. In fact, I can wipe out your criminal record entirely."

  She doubted his claim. "What about the guys who want to kill me?"

  "I can protect you from them."

  She narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch?"

  "You have to work for me. You have to follow my orders."

  That was the last thing she wanted to do. This man had shown her nothing but cruelty so far. He was the biggest asshole she had ever met. On the other hand, the alternative wasn't appealing, either. There was no good option.

  "Who are you?" she said.

  "You'll find out in due time. First, you have to prove you can be useful. There is a reason I put you in jail besides teaching you a lesson. I need you to do something while you're in here."

  "What?" She couldn't imagine what he had in mind.

  "There was a huge protest at O'Hare Airport this morning," he said. "It stopped traffic
for hours."

  "I heard about it."

  "Many protestors were arrested and brought here. Talk to them. Get as much information as you can. I specifically want to know when and where the next protest will be."

  She stared at him in confusion. "Why?"

  "Because I'm very concerned."

  "Are you some kind of fucking government agent?"

  "No." He snorted. "But that's a good guess."

  She was desperately trying to figure him out. There was something strange about him that she couldn't quite put into words. The unwavering intensity in his eyes unsettled her. The shadows on his face seemed darker than normal. He wore a peculiar cologne which she found mildly intoxicating, and it reminded her of a funeral service. She still hated his guts, but now she was also very curious about him.

  He stood up. "That's all I came to say. I'll be back tomorrow to hear your report. If it's satisfactory, I'll get you out of jail. If it's not, you'll stay here and probably get killed by one of your many enemies. The choice is yours." He left.

  A few seconds later, two guards entered the interview room. It was time for her to go back to her cell.

  During the long walk through the jail, Tawni fumed with rage. She was angry at Aaron for being such a gigantic jerk, but she was even angrier at herself. This kind of mess was typical for her. She had lost track of how many times she had screwed up her life by acting without thinking about the consequences. Each time, she had promised herself it would be the last, but the pattern had always repeated. She had squandered every golden opportunity. She could almost believe she was cursed.

  This mess was the worst so far. She could work for a mysterious man she despised, or she could die. Normally, she relied on her pretty face and hot body to get out of trouble. She doubted Aaron would be influenced by either. He seemed too disciplined for that.

  She entered her jail cell, and the door slammed closed behind her. She was sharing her cell with three other women. There were four beds, two above and two below. They were just thin mattresses laid over wires and springs, but she had seen worse accommodations in other jails. The other three women were wearing the same hideous orange outfits as Tawni. Two were lying on their beds, and the third was sitting up. Nobody was talking.

  Tawni sighed deeply. She had to make her choice now. When Aaron showed up tomorrow, he would expect a report, and if she didn't have one, he probably wouldn't give her a second chance. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would accept excuses. She needed to learn a lot more about him. She had to find some kind of leverage she could use to get the advantage. It seemed he would become an important figure in her life.

  She climbed onto one of the upper bunks. She let her legs dangle over the edge.

  "Hey," she said, "anybody know about the big protest at O'Hare? I didn't see the news reports, but I heard it was pretty ugly."

  The woman directly across the cell looked over. She was a plump Hispanic woman with long hair. One of her eyes was puffy and red.

  "I was there," she said.

  "What happened?"

  "We were fighting for immigrant rights. Every year thousands of immigrants are held by the government without any kind of due process. It's a violation of basic human rights, and it costs billions of taxpayer dollars. The system has to change. We're going to force it to change."

  There was a lot of anger in the woman's voice. She was actually twitching with rage.

  "What's your name?" Tawni said.

  "Jimena. I'm with the Unified Immigrant Advocacy Group. Did you hear about the case of Alvarez versus the United States? A man who lived and worked in this country for eight years was deported to Brazil without even a trial. He had to leave behind a wife and three young children who can't support themselves. The appeals court upheld the decision. It's awful!"

  Tawni nodded. "How long have you been doing this stuff?"

  "Three months."

  "That's all?"

  "One day I decided I had to do something," Jimena said. "I had to make a difference. Immigrant advocacy seemed like the right choice."

  Tawni studied her. "Why did you shut down O'Hare? That's pretty extreme."

  "We had to force people to pay attention to us. It worked, didn't it? Now we're all over the news."

  Tawni felt like she was looking at a puzzle with missing pieces. Women like Jimena didn't become radical activists on a whim. Advocacy groups didn't start massive riots in major airports. The effects didn't match the causes, and that fact bothered her. Apparently, it bothered Aaron, too.

  "Sounds like a great cause. Can I help somehow?"

  "Yes!" Jimena said with a very eager expression on her face. "Go to our website. Sign up. Start circulating petitions. There are a hundred ways for a volunteer to contribute."

  "When is the next protest?" Tawni said. "I want to be there and participate."

  "I heard something is happening in front of the art museum tomorrow night. My group isn't organizing it, but we're coming to make our voices heard. Can you get out of jail by then?"

  "Maybe. Thanks. You've really inspired me." Tawni smiled.

  "Thanks for joining us."

  Tawni laid down on her bed but she wasn't expecting to sleep. She had too much to think about.

  * * *

  Aaron studied the huge control console in front of him and scratched his head. The layout in the new security booth was still unfamiliar to him. He had helped design the system, but that didn't mean he knew how to use it properly. This was his first full shift in the booth.

  The console was divided into sections with most dedicated to surveillance. The left-most controlled the cameras and sensors outside the hotel. All the roads within a half-mile of the Rosemont Tower Hotel were continuously monitored. Rings of motion sensors and heat sensors provided additional coverage. In theory, it was impossible to approach the hotel without being detected.

  The next section controlled the surveillance within the public areas of the hotel. Every room had at least one camera and one microphone, and the larger rooms had several. Automatic systems tracked the location of every guest and employee. Everybody had to be accounted for at all times. All phone calls, text messages, and internet sessions were recorded. Additional sensors watched for poison, radiation, or anomalous radio transmissions.

  The third section was for surveillance within headquarters and other secret areas. Aaron didn't want any blind spots that might conceal an enemy. Even his private bathroom was monitored.

  The right side of the console controlled the defensive systems. The Chicago cell had a lot of ways to repel an attack. Aaron hoped none of the weapons would ever be needed. He certainly didn't want a hotel full of innocents getting caught in the middle of a deadly battle. It was a nightmare scenario.

  There was far too much surveillance for any one person to watch. The twins had filled the gap by writing special software that automatically detected and highlighted unusual activity. Several other cells were now using the same software and contributing to its development. What had started as a little side project was evolving into a community effort that might eventually span the entire Gray Spear Society. It was yet another feather in the twins' already well-feathered caps.

  Aaron watched the software work its magic. Images popped up frequently on the displays with the interesting parts outlined in red. His job was to decide which images required further investigation. He observed a car getting stolen two blocks away. A couple on the third floor of the hotel was having an increasingly loud and abusive argument. That situation was worth keeping an eye on.

  One of the security monitors was dedicated to Wesley. The boy was sleeping in a guest room in headquarters. He looked small in the big bed, which was ironic considering his importance in the world. His perfect little face was angelic.

  "He's beautiful." The voice sounded like a wind blowing through a desert canyon.

  Aaron almost jumped out of his skin. He looked over and discovered Carlos standing in the security booth.

&nb
sp; Aaron allowed his heart rate to settle down before he responded. "Why are you here? More importantly, how did you get here without being detected?"

  Carlos still wore his black sunglasses even though the security booth was fairly dark. He faced Aaron and said, "I go where I want to go."

  "That didn't answer my question. It's supposed to be impossible for anybody to sneak up here."

  Carlos just turned his attention back to the banks of video monitors and computer displays.

  "Are you planning to stay here all night?" Aaron said.

  "The rest of your team went home. You need my help. It takes more than one man to guard Wesley."

  "I don't agree. This system is designed to be operated by one man." Please go away, Aaron added silently.

  Carlos ignored him. Aaron inhaled deeply as he felt his frustration grow. This was his headquarters. Carlos had no right to come and go as he pleased, but apparently, there was nothing Aaron could do about it.

  Carlos stood as still as a statue. He wasn't even breathing.

  "What does being dead feel like?" Aaron said.

  "Unpleasant. Don't look at me. Watch the monitors. Protect Wesley."

  Aaron turned back to the monitors. Irritation made him scowl. "Are you really hollow inside?"

  "Yes," Carlos said.

  "How do you move around?"

  "The Lord's rage drives me."

  "Do you sleep or eat?" Aaron said.

  "No. I never rest."

  Aaron had to admit he was badly spooked. Even by the standards of the Gray Spear Society, Carlos was a terrifying monster. There was nothing natural about him, but Aaron had no choice but to deal with his unease. He couldn't think of a rational argument for sending Carlos away. Having him in the booth actually did make Wesley safer, and that was the most important consideration.

  "Why do you care so much about protecting Wesley?" Aaron said.

  "I'm trying to earn God's forgiveness," Carlos said.

  "What will that do for you?"

  "An early release from my curse. An end to the pain. True death."

  Aaron decided the conversation was over. He wasn't going to talk to Carlos anymore.