Directive RIP

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Directive RIP Page 50

by Stuart Parker


  *

  Riley was late to the crime scene. There was only blood stains and perimetre tape to be seen. He did not stop to dwell, for there was still a media pack waiting to expand upon an already colourful headline. A cop shooting in an upmarket hotel, a photogenic locale that could just as easily feature in a travel story. And with sunset looming, there were still some nice shots to be had. After all, it was not only wedding photographers who could utilise a little artificial paradise. And in this case a cop would make the perfect subject for the backdrop, especially one from the Rogue Intercept Police.

  Riley, however, made sure all they would get from him was a bowed head and a turned back. Having been here before helped him navigate his way round - it had been for a conference, not a wedding, and he was struggling to recall what the topic had been about. The one thing he did remember clearly was how to get to the roof.

  Furn was there, staring out over the palm trees at Port Philip Bay. It was a nice view, but Furn didn’t seem to be seeing it. He turned sharply to Riley. ‘They didn’t find a gun on him but I’m sure a weapon is there somewhere. A pen pistol or something of that ilk.’

  Riley held up his hand. ‘You’re off the hook. Military Intelligence had claimed him. The Official Secrets Act. They have taken him away to one of their secured medical facilities. They are going to take you to.’ He looked around the flat roof. ‘Where is your new partner, Code Name DC?’

  ‘She’s gone to pack. Check out time is looming.’

  ‘Today she’ll be checking out from the roof: Military Intelligence is sending a helicopter.’

  ‘A helicopter bound for where?’

  ‘That’s a secret.’ Riley looked away. ‘All I can do is see you off.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Military Intelligence wants to claim you and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve become too hot for us to keep.’

  Riley smirked wryly. ‘You’re the kind of cop that does best with an Official Secret’s Act.’

  ‘Look who’s talking.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t always like this. Anyway, I’ve been reassigned. The Rogue Intercept Police have been taken over by the military. You with it.’

  Furn felt his throat tightening with anger. ‘That’s crazy. You built it up from nothing. It’s your baby.’

  ‘And not it’s grown up and leaving home. Your new friend, Colonel Skidmore, has a lot of pull. Not someone to trifle with. He wanted the Rogue Intercept and he has it. Just like that. No one in HQ had the stomach to fight for it.’

  ‘Or me?’

  ‘Why would they?’

  ‘What of the Red Line Files?’

  ‘Skidmore’s people raided my office this morning. Before I knew what was happening, it was all being taken away. Years of work.’

  A helicopter emerged from the distance. Riley looked that way and sighed. ‘I’d say that’s your ride.’

  ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t over,’ assured Furn. ‘I’ll get the Red Line Files back for you.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? I’ve been reassigned. Traffic duty. There’s nothing I can do about the files anymore. But someone should. Your friend, Ralph Lang is just the tip of what’s out there. Rogues of all kind. Unemployed hitmen, retired bank robbers, disillusioned terrorists, bankrupted traders. Putting order to it would be a lifetime’s work, a very short lifetime if you’re not on your toes.’

  The military helicopter hovered overhead, drowning Riley out. He did not try to fight it. He offered out his hand but before Furn could clasp onto it a rope ladder dropped between them. Riley stepped back then and Furn thought that amidst the squinting from the downdraft there was a glint of sadness. Furn wasn’t even going to try to reciprocate it. With the media and internal investigations offices all milling around the hotel foyer, a helicopter rescue seemed too good to be true. Furn pounced onto the rope ladder and energetically began to climb. He noticed as he went DC heading towards the helicopter with a wheelie suitcase in tow. She was wearing a clunky pair of headphones and her head was down at her feet; for some reason, however, Furn stopped to stare at her some more and she instinctively responded by firing a sudden glance: it was gone as quickly as it came, but it packed enough latent energy that Furn felt it reverberate through him even with the rotor blades roaring overhead. He continued his ascent.

 

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