The Genesis Chamber

by Beighton Devlin

  “No, thank you.” She looked him up and down in disgust again. “I need something substantial. Come on, Cooper, let’s get out of here. I need to leave before someone else gets shot.”

  “Call me soon, Randell!” Andy shouted over his shoulder as they got into the car.

  “Can we please go eat now? After a morning of dead and horny Haitians I’ve definitely worked up an appetite.” She glared out of the window at the grinning Haitian as they drove off.

  “Sorry, partner, we’ve got to head back to the PD and give Regan the situation report,” he said, reveling in the moment. “We can go for an early lunch though.”

  “Gee, thanks, pal. At this rate I’m not going to make it to lunch,” she complained.

  “Quit bitching!” he snapped. “This is what it’s like in the world of sobriety. Deal with it.”

  “I think I liked you more when I was hammered,” she sniped back.

  “I’ve got news for you, partner,” he said, as he swung the car into a left turn. “I’ve always been this way. It’s your perception of things that has been distorted for the last ten years.”

  “Just get me to the office so I can at least try one of those Twinkies out of the vending machine,” Maria huffed, as she turned to look out of the window.

  They travelled the rest of the journey in silence.

  The Genesis Chamber

  Chapter 11

  When the detectives entered the station, they were greeted with the usual Monday morning scene of ‘weekend warriors’ being released after spending the night, or nights, in the cells.

  These were the people that held respectable jobs during the week. People from every walk of life. Office workers, manual laborers, even tourists who had intended to go out on a Friday or Saturday night for a few drinks and found themselves having to be bailed out on Monday morning.

  Every cop hated Monday morning for this reason, along with the smell of vomit, urine, and the detergent used to clean up the mess that filled the whole place. It was not the most pleasant place to be at the beginning of the week.

  Andy looked around at the chaos. The desk sergeant, an old friend of his family, Sergeant Simon Percival, was trying his best to organize everything. He seemed to be the only person who wasn’t running around like a headless chicken.

  He was dealing with a man who looked to be in his early thirties and sported a fresh black eye, split lip, and bruised cheek. A woman, who Andy presumed was the man’s wife, kept interrupting to express her anger at her husband as he tried to answer Percival’s questions.

  Andy, a married man himself, felt a little sorry for the poor guy. He knew the cuts and bruises would be long healed before the nagging stopped.

  Percival glanced up from the feuding couple for a brief moment, as if trying to summon a little more patience out of thin air. He saw the detective over the crowd and gave him an acknowledging nod, then rolled his eyes before smiling and returning to deal with the couple.

  The detective smiled to himself; he sometimes missed not wearing the uniform. The respect it brought. The power it gave. The way people would come up to talk to him in the street. He sometimes longed to return to those days, especially when he was working a difficult case; but today was not one of those days.

  He signaled to his partner to follow, and they pushed their way past the booking desk to the door marked ‘authorized personnel only,’ where the female detective punched the code in to unlock the door. Andy, the true gentleman that he was, held it open for her to pass through before taking one last look at the chaotic scene before closing the door. As he followed Maria to their office, he smiled to himself again. Yes, this is definitely not one of those days, he thought. The image of his graduation day at the academy suddenly flashed into his mind. His thoughts had drifted a little far. He didn’t notice that his partner had stopped in front of him until it was too late and he bumped into her.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  “It’s fine.” She steadied herself against the wall. “You okay? You were somewhere else then. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yeah, I was—”

  “Andy, seriously, I need to eat something.” She walked away. “I’m going to go to the cafeteria and risk something from there. Do you want anything?”

  The thought of the omelet he’d had to leave at the diner, coupled with the smell of the booking area had left him feeling a little sick. “No, I’m good. Maybe get me a soda though. I have a funny taste in my mouth.”

  “You should eat breakfast,” she scolded. “It’s the most important meal of the day. I read that somewhere.”

  “Wow, reading and eating? This new guy is really doing a number on you, isn’t he?” he joked.

  “Bite me! You want something or not?” she asked.

  “Just a soda. We’ll get lunch after we’ve briefed Regan,” he answered, and continued towards homicide. “Hurry up. I’ll see you in the office.”

  She watched him walk away, and as soon as he was out of sight she headed away from the cafeteria in the direction of the CACU, the specialized Crimes Against Children Unit. Taking another quick look over her shoulder to make sure he had gone, she scurried around the nearest corner.

  Andy got to the office, but before he had chance to get to his desk, Lieutenant Jack Regan bellowed across the office.

  “Cooper! My office, now!” The detective turned to see the obvious look of anger on his superior’s face. “And where is that partner of yours?”

  “Good morning to you too, sir,” Andy said with a broad smile. But the scowling glare told him not to push his superior too far. “Yes, sir, coming right away, sir.” He briskly made his way to the private office. The lieutenant had already sat behind his desk by the time he entered.

  “Shut the door and sit down, Cooper!” he barked.

  The detective hesitated for a second, then closed the door and sat opposite the lieutenant. He braced himself for the almost certain onslaught of anger.

  “What the fuck is going on in my city?” Regan’s tone was more aggressive.

  “Boss?” He looked puzzled.

  “Gangbangers shooting each other I can stomach, as long as they do it on their own patch and no innocent bystanders get caught in the crossfire. But from what Palmer tells me, this was an execution-style shooting.” The superior frowned, his face getting redder. “This is Orlando, not the fucking Bronx!” he blasted, then took a moment to calm down. “The chief is going to be getting it in the ass from the mayor, which means I’m going to be getting it in the ass from the chief. Now, guess who’s next in line to get it in the ass from me?” Andy looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “This needs to end, and end fast. If the press gets hold of this, tourism will take a dive and we’ll all be sweeping empty streets for a living.”

  “Sir, with respect, this shouldn’t even be our case.” The detective went into defensive mode. “Gang-related issues should go to Organized Crime. Just because there’s a few bodies doesn’t make it Homicide. We haven’t got the resources to deal with this.”

  Andy knew he had a valid point. He also knew the head of the Organized Crime Unit was the chief’s son-in-law, and there was no way they would have an unsolvable crime on their desk.

  “From what I can gather,” he continued before the lieutenant could get a word in, “since Surin’s death, everything has gone crazy down there. My sources tell me there is an internal power struggle to lead the gang, and other gangs are taking advantage of the situation. In short, sir, and using the phrase Hernandez used, it’s a clusterfuck.” He sat back and waited for Regan to respond.

  The lieutenant pondered for a moment to take in as much of the information as possible. “You’re right about it being the Organized Crime Unit’s.” He nodded. “But for whatever reason, we’re stuck with it.” His anger had subsided. “So we need to nip this in the bud. We generally turn a blind eye to most things and give those fuckers plenty of space to do what they want, then this happens. What do you think abo
ut flooding the area with marked units?”

  “I’ve already hinted to my sources that that is exactly what will happen if they don’t sort it out quickly.” The detective gave a reassuring smile. “Maybe just send a few extra units down there over the next couple of days to show we’re serious. Not so much flood the area, but a few more than normal. The Haitians will get the message that we’re not playing around.”

  Andy spoke with a great deal of confidence, so much so that his superior had almost completely calmed down from his agitated state. “I’ll go make a few calls; organize a few extra sweeps of the area. If the bodies continue to pile up, then we go in hard.” Andy looked at Regan for confirmation.

  The lieutenant put his head in his hands and after a moment’s silence he looked up at the detective. “All right.” He sat back in his chair. “Emphasize to your contact I don’t want any more bodies, and I certainly don’t want any more executions.”

  “Done,” Andy confirmed.

  “Make sure they know we’re watching closely, and we will not hesitate to call in the heavy artillery if this continues,” he stressed, then nodded as if dismissing him.

  “Consider it done, sir.” The detective hesitated. “Is there anything else?”

  His questioned was ignored and he sat in an awkward silence for a few seconds, watching the ranking officer, who had buried his head in a large pile of paperwork.

  “Close the door on the way out,” Regan ordered, without looking up.

  Andy slowly rose from his seat and made his way out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked to his desk, sat down, and sighed. Today had turned into a day that he missed the uniform.

  The Genesis Chamber

  Chapter 12

  The late afternoon/early evening rush hour in Orlando seems to last till midnight. It starts around 4:00 p.m. with the white-collar workers finishing work and making their way home as fast as they can before the assorted theme parks prepare to wind down for the day. This is when the second wave of traffic begins. Exhausted parents and tired children making their way back to their temporary homes as quickly as possible to recharge their batteries for the next day.

  Maria sat in a queue of traffic that slowly edged towards a set of lights that didn’t stay on green long enough for more than a dozen cars to go through. She looked at the vehicle next to her; it was obviously a rental car.

  She took comfort in the cold environment she sat in and gently lowered her hand towards the center console, to reassure herself that her service weapon was within easy reach. She always placed her gun in the same place in anticipation of any road rage incidents that might flare up, which became more frequent as the summer heat escalated and the patience of frustrated travelers diminished.

  The light changed to green, and the flow of traffic moved forward with some haste, everyone trying to pass through before it changed back to red. Maria accelerated, getting as close as she could to the vehicle in front. This time she was going to get through the light, and kept an eye on it as they got closer. The car in front began to brake so she slammed her hand on the horn, which made the driver in front look in his rearview mirror. She shooed him on with her hand, and after checking the light was still on go, he accelerated away. The light flicked to red as she passed through and sighed with relief.

  She pulled the vehicle into the parking lot of Coop’s Diner and stopped in the nearest available space. Before getting out, the ever-cautious detective made a quick check by looking around the parking lot. She did this out of habit, checking that there were no possible threats from anybody hanging round. There was always a risk of opportunists waiting for the right moment to strike on an unsuspecting person and relieve them of their valuables. Satisfied there was no such threat, she holstered her weapon, exited the vehicle, and made her way into the diner.

  It was unusually quiet in the diner, considering Coop’s was “the” place to go for her work colleagues. She couldn’t see any cops, just a few civilians having a drink and chatting away.

  Coop was at the end of the counter. She couldn’t decide if he looked frustrated, angry, or completely bored as he tried to make sense of the stack of receipts in front of him, emitting the odd grunt as he peered through the reading glasses that balanced on the end of his nose.

  “Hey, old man.” She grabbed his attention as she approached and joked, “You must be getting old if you need readers.”

  “Oh… hey, Maria.” He looked up, took his glasses off and waved them over the slips. “I’m just going through all this crap. I hate paperwork. Working out what stock I need to order, how much I have to pay the good old IRS, have I got enough left to pay the mortgage. I tell you, it’s a nightmare.”

  “Your son owns a huge software company. Can’t he make a program that does all this for you?” She nodded at all the paper.

  “He did offer,” he sighed. “But I just don’t like computers. Don’t trust them; never have, and never will. Everything is computerized these days. As much as I hate paperwork, I hate computers more.”

  “Now I know where Andy gets it from,” she quipped.

  A look of confusion came over the old man’s face but he didn’t say anything.

  “So, where are we at on our project?” She spoke quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear her.

  “Tell you what.” He pointed to the coffee machine. “Why don’t you pour us some coffee while I put this away? Then we can go over our project.”

  She pushed past him behind the counter and started pouring the coffee while he started gathering all his papers.

  “Don’t you be making a mess out there, young lady!” Beth startled Maria as she popped her head through the serving hatch.

  “Oh… hi, didn’t know you were here. I’ll try not to,” the flustered detective said, and quickly wiped up the coffee she had just spilled.

  Coop had placed all the loose receipts into a folder and slid it under his arm. He stood up and moved behind the counter, grabbed a mug of coffee, and signaled to Maria to follow him.

  “Beth, hold the fort. I’ve got some business to go over with Detective Hernandez here,” he called over his shoulder as they walked through the kitchen to his office.

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll do everything,” the obviously agitated waitress replied with her usual hint of sarcasm. “You need me to stick a broom up my ass so I can sweep up while I work, too?”

  “No.” Coop looked blankly at her as he unlocked the office door and held it open for Maria to enter. “You can do that later. For now, just serve anybody that wants a drink or something to eat.”

  “Gee… thanks,” she huffed, as she threw a cloth onto the nearest worktop and disappeared into the restaurant area.

  The retired cop smiled and followed his young protégé into the office. He closed the door and locked it before depositing the file from under his arm into the top drawer of his desk. He patted his trouser pockets as if looking for something. A puzzled look followed by a ‘eureka’ moment signaled he had remembered where he had put his glasses, and retrieved them from his shirt pocket.

  “Here. Put your coffee down and give me a hand.” He waved her over to a large filing cabinet. “I’ll push, you pull.”

  Maria grabbed one side of the cabinet and pulled as hard as she could while he pushed with one hand. The unit slid along the wall with surprising ease, revealing a hidden door. Coop unlocked and opened it, then reached inside for the light switch and turned it on.

  “Go on in, I’ll get the drinks.” He nodded.

  The female detective slowly edged her way into the room, open-mouthed. The wall opposite the door was covered floor to ceiling with corkboards. Photos from the files she had left with him were pinned to the boards. Names, ages, and addresses were scribbled on notes beneath each picture. Some of the photos were linked with red lines drawn by red marker.

  The other walls in the room were partly hidden behind piles of boxes and folders. A photocopier sat on a small desk next to the door.
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br />   “Fuck me, old man! Are you in the CIA? What the hell is this place?” She was astounded.

  “This is my private, private office.” He grinned. “You like what I’ve done with the place?”

  “You really are a dark horse.” She looked around in amazement. “Who else knows about this room?”

  “Including you and me? Two people, and that’s the way I’d like it to stay if it’s all the same to you.” He winked at her.

  “Hey, my lips are sealed.” She held her hands up. “I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway. And for the record, you’re freaking me out here.” She turned a full three hundred sixty degrees. “This…” She waved her hands around. “This is all a bit much.”

  “Everyone needs their own space. Anyway, shall we?” He walked towards the desk.

  “What’s all this stuff?” She looked closer at the labels on the boxes.

  “They’re old cases.” He handed her coffee to her. “Shall we get down to business?”

  He grabbed a foldaway chair that was leaning against the desk and placed it in the middle of the room, facing the corkboards.

  “Pull up a box.” He nodded.

  “No thanks.” She turned her attention to the photos pinned to the boards. “I’ll stand for this. Here…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few sheets of folded paper, unfolded them and passed them to him. “I went to the CACU earlier and spoke to the guys there.”

  “What’s this?” He took the papers and perched his glasses on the end of his nose.

  “The top sheet is the names of the cops that work in the unit. They only have three guys to deal with all this shit, and one of those is on a secondment to a federal investigation. That leaves the other two stretched thin.” She pointed at one of the names. “This guy seems to know his shit. And, as a side note, he’s kind of cute.”