Broken Shield

by Ryan Garner

  “I am not afraid to die Mr. Siegal…are you?”

  Darren glanced over at Kamil who continued to stare at him; a moment later Darren let out a small, but arrogant laugh.

  “Relax...” he said maintaining his haughty smile. “You shall have your money.”

  “Good…” Kamil stated as he stood. “You know how to contact me when it is done.” He said as he turned and walked away leaving Darren alone on the dock still staring out at the river.

  CHAPTER 5

  John leaned his back against the plastic and metal framed chair as he sat quietly in the squad room located inside the District 2 station house. He yawned as he stretched out his arms and legs feeling his equipment belt tighten slightly around his waist. Although fatigued from working nights for several days now, he was more bored than anything else. The rest of the squad, save for Eric Morrisey who was apparently out sick, also sat silently inside of the squad room awaiting Sergeant Gelman’s entrance.

  Roger Faulk was seated in a chair across the room, again playing with his smartphone. He seemed to be slightly annoyed by the prolonged wait that he had to endure before he could get to work. Todd Sorrells was almost asleep. Had it not been for the uncomfortable chairs, he might have actually managed to squeeze in a quick nap before the squad meeting. Clarence Manson’s attention was completely fixated on the flat screen TV sitting on a table several feet away from John.

  The TV, as always, was tuned to a cable news station where a reporter droned on about one seemingly bleak situation after another. The current story that had immediately grabbed Clarence’s attention involved the announcement of a bill that had been drafted by President Jordan that was being prepared to go before his executive council; dubbed the, “Tax Exempt Removal Bill” it would immediately place a 25% tax on all the assets of every religious and some nonprofit organization. President Jordan had informed the viewing public that his reasoning behind the incredibly high and immediate tax hike was necessary since those particular organizations had conducted business for decades with virtually no taxation at all. According to Jordan, the process had allegedly allowed them to amass large sums of money that was now desperately needed for other more important “domestic programs”.

  John, along with many others, suspected that the real purpose of the bill was to provide the federal government with the funds needed to make payments on bonds still held by the Chinese government and on which the US was dangerously close to defaulting on. Due to exorbitant and needless spending the country’s financial situation was in such dire straits that many analysts quietly predicted to lesser known media outlets that had the country been unable to meet its obligations the United States’ credit rating would again be downgraded, this time to “BBB” status or fourth down from “AAA”, a rating that only a select handful of countries in the world could still maintain.

  While “officially” President Jordan’s executive council still needed to sign off on the bill, only a fool (and there were numerous ones in the media) believed that rejection was possible. The council had been handpicked by the president himself after the passage of the National Preservation Act and had yet to turn him down for anything. It was not likely it would do so now. John could tell that Clarence Manson, the assistant pastor at a local church, was visibly angered by this latest situation. Sadly, there was nothing that Clarence or anyone else could do to change anything. People could only hope that once the ten year suspension of the Constitution which had been implemented by the National Preservation Act was lifted that things would begin to take a turn for the better. That was of course if the act itself were lifted. John and his fellow officers had begun to doubt that this would ever happen. Historically men who had managed to obtain virtually limitless power were seldom known to relinquish it willingly.

  The next bit of news to be reported on concerned non Occupy Congress demonstrations that had broken out around several NGP headquarters throughout the country; the protestors were attempting to challenge the validity of the NGP as a governmental organization and to question the right of its officers to operate outside the limits of the Constitution. The blissfully complacent news reporter seemed to be particularly vague about this story omitting many details about the protestors and the outcome of the demonstrations. However, it appeared he was doing his best to try and defend all aspects of the NGP and to paint the protestors in a negative light. John suspected that the story would have had a much different tone if they had been protesting a regular law enforcement agency.

  The next story dealt with several organized protests in Washington by a newly formed political group known as the “Colonial Party”. The small, mostly conservative leaning association had quickly managed to make a name for itself by becoming a consistent thorn in President Jordan’s side for the past few years. Today the “Colonials” had been protesting government medical review boards, or “Death Panels” as the Colonial Party had nicknamed them.

  Shortly after the advent of the federally controlled healthcare system, a massive amount of medical cases were suddenly forced into an ill-prepared system. Review boards had been set up in order to oversee the “necessity” of certain individuals’ medical claims. These review boards were empowered to analyze what might be considered either optional or risky medical procedures that had been requested by certain people. Anyone over the age of fifty-five was automatically deemed risky, but there were numerous other conditions that also caused a person to be forced into this category.

  Due to a backlog of cases, oversight, and sometimes deliberate delay on the part of governmental employees, these medical review boards often took months, sometimes years to rule on numerous cases. The Colonial Party claimed that people had died needlessly waiting for the review board members to rule on their medical procedures. At other times individuals were flat out denied medical care after the review boards concluded that the person was either too old to receive a particular type of medical procedure such as an organ transplant or the medical care was labeled “too risky” for that particular individual. The Colonials argued that the elderly were extraordinarily susceptible to such stereotyping as were the chronically ill. The sad truth of the matter was that it was not uncommon for family members to receive medical care denial letters in the mail months or sometimes years after their loved ones had died. These particularly egregious errors were dismissed by the government as simple mistakes due to an overburdened system.

  The news program shifted to a display of previously recorded images from earlier in the day of the Colonial Party's protest around an office building in Washington. While it was obvious the protestors were upset, it appeared to be a mostly peaceful demonstration. Nevertheless, it was apparent that along with the local police presence that would have been at any political demonstration around the country, the NGP had also taken a heavy interest in the Colonials as well.

  Just then, Sergeant Gelman walked into the squad room and over to his podium. This drew John’s attention away from the television.

  “Okay fella’s…” he said as he flipped through a few notes that he had laid out in front of him. “Not much to report from day shift, couple of B&E’s in the area of Wrightsville Avenue and Oakcrest Drive, and of course we assisted UNCW’s Police Department with an Occupy Congress protest on their school’s campus.”

  Roger Faulk immediately chuckled knowingly when he heard this. Most police intelligence units suspected that many university campuses had become a “breeding ground” for the Occupy Congress movement. Recruitment papers and other such propaganda were often found scattered across the school’s grounds. Frustrating the matter further, many of the school’s administrators displayed a lack of concern for the growing number of protestors that appeared to be inundating their student population. The entire situation was a problem within a problem.

  “Furthermore…” Gelman stated, “Just as a heads up our resident NGP liaison officer is out on patrol tonight.” John and a few of the officers exchanged foreboding glances. None of them reli
shed the idea of someone with near absolute authority looking over their shoulders.

  Sergeant Gelman glanced around the room, “Hesser…” he said looking over at Chris whose eyes perked up when he was addressed by his commanding officer.

  “Morrisey is out sick today, so I’m gonna put you with Lawrence again.”

  John’s eyebrows raised up slightly when he heard his last name mentioned. It wasn’t that he did not like Chris. He had no problem at all with the young rookie; they worked well together in the instances when they had ridden together in the past; it was just that John like many officers preferred to work alone when he could. Although there had been that time when having someone ride with him turned into a rather enjoyable experience. John produced a half smile at that particular memory.

  “Oh lord…” Roger Faulk muttered as he unsuccessfully held back a laugh that completely interrupted John’s train of thought, “…better look out kid.” John’s brow crinkled slightly at the sarcasm in Faulk’s remark. Roger displayed an arrogant smile and shook his head as Chris glanced over at him with a confused look on his face.

  “Just make sure the two of you come back without causing any type of major disasters.” Roger then added as there was a chuckle that ran through the entire squad room. Chris maintained his confused look while John felt himself cringe. Sergeant Gelman displayed little reaction as he watched his men spar with each other. A beep from the flat screen TV that hung on the wall at the front of the room interrupted all of them as the video conference screen flashed on. All the officers instinctively turned to look at it.

  …..

  The first several hours of the night had started out not unlike any other for John and Chris; a few domestic disputes, some suspicious persons calls, disturbance complaints, and a fight at a bar. For the most part nothing unusual or out of the ordinary had occurred, at least not yet. From his previous experiences with him, John had already found that Chris seemed to be a pretty easy going guy if a bit quiet, but that was okay with him. John knew that he was not the most talkative of individuals either. Nevertheless, twelve hours in a patrol car together was a whole lot of quiet for anyone to endure.

  John cruised at a steady pace down the roadway with Chris seated next to him in the passenger seat looking out the side window from time to time for anything “unusual” or for possible vehicular violations that he might observe. John remembered from his time as a rookie that he had always been slightly nervous when he was placed in a vehicle with a new training officer. He had always appreciated it when the officer took the time to at least try and make casual conversation, so he decided that it might be a good idea to do the same.

  “Has Morrisey taken you around to all the different district station houses yet?” John asked trying to pick a relatively neutral subject to discuss.

  “Most of them, yes.” Chris responded as he reached over to the laptop that was affixed to the center console between them by an adjustable mount. He then typed in the tag number of the vehicle that they were currently driving behind. John appreciated the fact that Chris was trying to do something proactive.

  He certainly didn’t learn that from Morrisey. He said to himself with a slight chuckle.

  “What about the evidence control building?” John asked; attempting to find something “training wise” that he may be able to help Chris out with if the night were to ever get slow enough.

  “Yeah…” Chris said nodding at the same time, “…he took me down there last week actually.” John watched out of the corner of his eye as Chris continued to work away at the laptop, quickly reading over the closest vehicle’s registration information making sure that nothing was amiss before copying the registered owner’s ID number from one section and then pasting it into another section of the CJLEADS program, checking to see if the owner’s license was still active or if they may have had any active warrants or anything else that would allow them to conduct a vehicle stop. It was a neat “trick” that John had also learned many years ago and one that he often employed. He was pleased to see that the young rookie was learning and emulating his tactics.

  “Have you been to the communications center yet?”

  “Not yet.” Chris responded as he looked away from the computer screen and towards another vehicle, “Morrisey said he didn’t see much point in it.” John tilted his head slightly to the side, surprised by the statement.

  “He said all they do is talk on the radio and half the time they screw that up, so he didn’t think there was much to train me on.” John was visibly offended by this comment. He was not angry at Chris, but with his training officer. While dispatchers were far from perfect and often times did make mistakes as any human did, having Karina working in the communications center meant that John naturally felt more protective of all of them. He was more than a little put off by having someone like Morrisey dismiss them as insignificant.

  “They do a good deal more than talk on the radio.” John commented, to which Chris nodded his head in agreement.

  “I thought so too, but I also figured it was best not to argue.” John agreed that Chris had made a wise choice in his response to that particular situation. Still, he wanted to impart the importance of the dispatchers to him.

  “For the most part they are a pretty good group of people who try their best. Like us they are understaffed and overworked which is probably what contributes to at least some of their mistakes.” John hesitated briefly as his patrol car slowed to stop for a red light that they had just come upon. Without thinking much about it John continued.

  “One of my closest friends works down there, so I get to hear the flip side of everything from her.” Chris nodded his head again.

  “Do we interact with them a lot; outside of talking to them on the radio that is?” he asked at which point John shrugged his shoulders slightly.

  “Not usually, but having the communications center in the department’s basement does mean we do cross paths from time to time.” he said before continuing, “Karina and I met about two and a half years ago when one of the major’s decided it would be a good idea to have the dispatchers ride along with officers so that they could see firsthand how we worked.” There was another pause as John began to accelerate away from the light which they had stopped at.

  “Some of them enjoyed it and actually learned some things; others didn’t much care for it.” A small smile then danced across John’s face as he spoke in a warmer tone, “Worked out pretty well for me I guess…”

  John knew that he had only told Chris a fraction of the story behind how he and Karina had become so close. The fact was that he hadn’t much cared for her when they first met. She seemed to have a similar feeling towards him as well. At their initial introduction John had, like so many others made the incorrect assumption that she was cold, standoffish, and even a bit smug. He came to later find out that quite a few officers referred to Karina as an “Ice Queen” as well as several other unflattering names that he no longer cared to think about. He now understood that stories about her personal relationships with other women had fueled the macho rumor mill.

  Needless to say, when John’s lieutenant had informed him that Karina Cherry of all people would be riding with him in his patrol car for twelve hours he was not very pleased to say the least. He had considered calling in sick that day just to get out of what he thought would be an incredibly awkward situation, however he was now grateful that he did not.

  The first several hours of their shift together had been spent in almost total silence. A few painful conversations about the weather, and some other extraneous remarks had been exchanged, but for the most part the droning sound of wind from the outside of the police cruiser was all that was heard. Then after responding to one particularly sad domestic dispute involving a fatherless young girl, Karina had mentioned in a seemingly off handed manner that she had grown up without knowing who her own father was and that her mother had been a heroin addict for most of her life. It surprised him that she had suddenly
opened up about this painful part of her life. Even though he had heard similar stories countless times before, with little reaction on his own part, he immediately felt unexpectedly sympathetic towards her; he wondered if the empathy he felt grew out of the trauma of losing his own father at a relatively young age.

  He wasn’t exactly sure why he told her. He normally did not discuss aspects of his past with people he barely knew. That night, however, he haltingly told Karina about the murder of his own father when he was barely 10 years old. The incident was so vivid John nearly felt as if he relived it each time he told someone.

  It had been early on a Tuesday morning. The 911 call he later made was recorded at 2:14 AM. He had awakened to the sound of a violent struggle coming from the living room. The noise had so frightened him that rather than investigate, he had taken refuge under his sheets. The sounds of glass shattering, furniture being broken, the exchange of blows, and cries of pain still echoed in his mind’s ear. The minutes had dragged on for him as he lay frozen in terror. And then he heard the explosive roar of a gunshot followed by only silence. After several minutes passed he mustered the courage to go and explore. He could clearly recall slowly creeping down the hallway, hearing the thudding of his heart and his own rapid breathing.

  The living room had been lit only by the eerie glow of moonlight, but that had been enough to illuminate his father’s body lying in a pool of blood amongst the debris strewn living area. The killer had fled and John was unable to provide the responding police officers with any type of suspect description. His father’s murderer was never apprehended.

  It was a life changing catastrophe that would haunt John for the rest of his days. Deep down, he knew that this tragedy had contributed to his own detached and at times remote personality. He would one day admit to Karina that he blamed himself for failing to go to his father’s aid, that he blamed himself for his own father’s death. It was quite possibly the reason he had become so driven in his career as a police officer. John had concluded that he was too “broken” to fix, but if he could prevent other people from becoming as damaged as he was, then at the end of the day that offered him some solace in his life.