by White, Gwynn
“Get in, Spector!”
Apparently, someone had called for more backup, after all.
Hank piled into the cruiser and the driver took off, tearing down the city streets at his direction. Within a matter of minutes Hank spotted his people from the bazaar. They had caught up to the bomber, cornering him in a blind alley. For all his determination to get back into the city proper, the bomber sure didn’t seem to have much of a grasp on how to navigate it.
“Stop,” Hank said as the cruiser flew past the alley. The driver hit the brakes and backed them up. They had barely stopped again when Hank opened the door, hopped out of the cruiser and jogged into the alley.
The bomber was backed up against a high wall connecting the buildings creating the alley. The wall had to be at least twenty feet high, with no ladder or other obvious way to scale it in sight. With Hank’s posse of PWD officers surrounding the bomber, plus Hank and the driver now making five, there was well and truly no way out.
“Come on out!” one of the officers shouted.
“Hands up. Keep those hands up!”
“Try to pull any bullshit, and we will drop you!”
The bomber had no choice. Slowly, he stepped out of the shadows.
“That’s it,” one of the officers said, edging in close to take the man into custody. “Nice and easy, now.”
Hank watched as the bomber came forward, face becoming visible. He was human, roughly Hank’s age, with fleshy features and dark, almost hollowed out eyes. Hank had seen that look before. It was the look of a man who knew he was out of options. He didn’t want to do what he was about to do. He simply had no other choice.
“Get back,” Hank shouted as the bomber lifted his hand and pressed the button on the detonator concealed within his palm.
The detonation was fierce but localized. Hank’s timely warning had no doubt saved the lives of the other officers present, but the bomber had been reduced to pulp and gore.
“Son of a bitch,” Hank said, shaking his head as he beheld the smoldering remains of the bomber. Someone had hired the man, but who? They’d likely never know now.
14
The fog was finally lifting.
Ann had spent the last several hours in varying states of drugged-up limbo. While her city was bleeding, she had gone from a slack-jawed, bedridden burden to a reasonably lucid, still-somewhat-bedridden lump waiting for her promised liaison. She had refused any and all medications since Dolan’s visit, much to her nurse’s chagrin, and was gradually pulling herself out of that slippery, ephemeral existence. Slowly but surely, her vision righted itself, no longer pitching and yawing, expanding and contracting at will. Her various other senses followed in short order. The heavy reverb underscoring every sound dissipated by degrees, along with the disorientation accompanying it. Her fingers and toes were once again operating in concert with one another, reclaiming the team dynamic that would allow her to get out of bed and back onto the streets. Last, but most certainly not least, she had regained full and complete control of her bladder, the necessity of which simply could not be overstated on any level, professional or personal.
The time had come to test the extent of her injuries. Slowly, carefully, she braced her elbows at her sides and pushed up in bed. She fell back immediately, a blinding spike of pain shooting through her left side. It felt as if she were being squeezed within some massive fist, all the breath slowly leaking out of her, unable to replace it. She willed herself to relax, focusing past the pain. Setting her jaw in anticipation, she pushed up quickly, slapping her hands down and grasping the thin mattress to avoid toppling over. The pain was so severe she was sure she was about to black out, but she didn’t, remaining stubbornly conscious and upright instead.
Ann sat unmoving in that position for several minutes. Breathing slowly, she was determined to test her injuries, but equally determined not to remake the acquaintance of the mattress. ‘Gingerly’ was the watchword as she explored her wound, teasing and probing at its edges, making the appropriate wincing and hissing noises when it objected to the intrusion of her fingers. The wound was an impressive shade of purplish blue—violet, perhaps? indigo?—covering most of her left side from breast to hip. The pain around the edges was mostly superficial, manageable; it was at its epicenter that she felt the effect of the cracked ribs. Still, Ann Banner was nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
She was in the midst of exploring her limited mobility, her back to the door as she trekked toward the bed, when a familiar voice surprised her.
“Aunt Ann, what are you doing out of bed?”
Risking a glance over her shoulder—and her balance—Ann smiled when she saw Jeanine silhouetted in the doorway. “Jeanine, hey! Just testing my wheels, is all. What brings you all the way out here?”
“No one told you?” Jeanine asked, stepping fully into the room. She shut the door behind her, then dropped her bag onto one of the unused chairs provided for visitors and their lonely vigils.
“Told me what?” Ann turned as she made it back to the bed, then eased back onto it.
Jeanine was practically beaming. “You needed a radio operator,” she said as a matter of fact. “So, here I am.” Stiffening proudly, as if called to attention, she brought her hand to her forehead in salute and added, “Jeanine Gatz, reporting for duty, ma’am.”
Ann blinked, surprised at the news. Pleasantly so, but surprised nonetheless.
“What?” Jeanine dropped her hand back down to her side. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Ann said quickly, reaching out to grasp Jeanine’s wrist reassuringly. “No, not at all. I’m just surprised your uncle signed off on this, is all.”
“I was, too,” Jeanine admitted, smiling again and shrugging. “But Mayor Zobbles asked, and Uncle Ryen said it was okay. As long as I’m not actually in the field. Other than that, I’m here for as long as you need me.”
At that, Ann chuckled. Typical Cato. But also atypical, in some ways. He had always treated his niece as though she were some rare and precious species of exotic bird, afraid to let her spread her wings and fly. Maybe he’d finally come to realize he couldn’t keep her caged all her life. Whatever the case, Ann was pleased. “Outstanding,” she said, and she meant it. “I’m glad you’re here. So, what say we get to work?”
“Ready when you are.”
“Good. No, wait…”
Jeanine raised her brows, clearly wondering what else she needed to do to prove she was capable. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” Ann said, then shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Well, no, not really. It’s just that I need to deputize you before we go any further.”
Jeanine’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? Please tell me you’re not putting me on.”
“Provisionally, of course. But I can’t have a civilian barking orders in my name across police bands. So,” Ann said, then raised her right hand and gestured for Jeanine to do the same.
“Oh! Yeah, okay.” The bottom half of the girl’s face was one huge smile. Even as she lifted her right hand, she plucked at and fixed her hair with her left, as if there were someone nearby to document this moment. “Okay, ready.”
Stifling a proud, solemn smile, Ann said, “Repeat after me: ‘I, Jeanine Gatz, do hereby swear to represent the Police and Welfare Division of Meridia to the best of my ability; to serve and protect the citizens of our fair city, regardless of species, creed, or association; and, if necessary, to sacrifice my life in service of these duties, which I have taken on freely and with no reservations or purposes of mental evasion.”
Jeanine repeated each word proudly, as if she had practiced this speech in her mirror for nights on end throughout her adolescence.
Ann nodded and lowered her hand. “Congratulations, Officer Gatz. Welcome aboard.”
“Officer Gatz,” Jeanine said softly to herself, savoring the way the words felt in her mouth. Then she snapped to, looking to Ann like she was ready to take on the threats to the city single-handedly.
“So, where do we start?”
“Right there.” Ann pointed to the makeshift communications station that had been set up while she was still half out of her gourd on pain meds. “It’s pretty straightforward. All you have to do is tune it to the frequency I tell you and relay my orders or questions into the receiver. I’ll be able to hear what comes back, so you’ll only need to speak for me the one way.”
Jeanine sat down at the radio station, inspecting it. “Okay. I think I can manage that.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
They began with the frequencies reserved for emergency communications. Mercifully, they were free of chatter. From there, they made their way down Ann’s mental checklist of individual frequencies corresponding to her most trusted and important subordinates. First and foremost among them was someone named Nissa Aziani.
“My deputy,” Ann explained. “She’ll be best positioned to give me the heads-up on what’s going on out there.”
“Right, okay.” Jeanine dialed in the frequency Ann fed to her. “Detective Aziani. Come in, Detective Aziani.”
Static.
“Try again.”
“Detective Aziani. Detective—”
The line opened up at a brisk clip, the woman’s hard, sharp voice coming through clearly. “This is Detective Aziani. Who the hell are you, and why are you using Chief Banner’s frequency?”
Ann opened her mouth to speak, only to be silenced when Jeanine shot a finger out and answered, “This is Officer Jeanine Gatz, newly empowered radio operator of Chief of Detectives Ann Banner, badge number 27256. I’m here in her hospital room right now, running operations for her.”
Silence.
Then, “Is that true, Chief Banner?”
Ann gestured for Jeanine to hold the mic out at arm’s length. “That’s an affirmative, Nissa. I’m here, and I’m still in the mix.”
Reeling her arm back, Jeanine said into the mic, “Did you get that, Detective Aziani?”
“I surely did. So good to hear your voice, Chief. And yours as well, Officer Gatz. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, Detective. What’s the situation out there?”
“Surprisingly calm, at the moment. People seem to be taking this mostly in stride.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Even better to say. Will you be listening to the mayor’s speech from Faust’s Bargain?”
Uncertain how to answer, Jeanine looked to Ann, who frowned in confusion and shook her head. “We weren’t aware of any scheduled speech,” Jeanine said into the mic.
“PWD was only informed half an hour ago. It’s my understanding that he and the other major leaders will be issuing a joint call for unity.”
“Well, that should be…”
Again, Jeanine looked to Ann for guidance. This time, Ann made a show of mock-gagging herself with her finger. Jeanine choked back a laugh, then managed to say, “Interesting.”
“Indeed. Your words, I assume. If I had to guess, I would say Chief Banner was pretending to strangle herself?”
“Pretty close,” Jeanine said as Ann laughed in the background. “You two know each other well.”
“Chief Banner may have taught me everything I know, but I know a good deal about her, too,” Aziani said, her voice just shy of cheerful. “I consider her as much a friend as a mentor.”
“So do I. Be sure to let us know if anything changes on your end.”
“Very well. Aziani out.”
“So, who’s next?” Jeanine asked, looking over to the bed where Ann was sitting, grinning. “What?”
“You’re really good at this.”
Jeanine shrugged and dropped her gaze to the floor for a moment. “I’m just glad I can do something to help my city when it’s hurting.”
“Did you mean what you said to Nissa? About seeing me as a mentor?”
“Absolutely. I’ve always wanted to work with you. You’ve kind of been my hero since I was a little girl. I remember, I used to sit and stare at your badge when you’d come by with Uncle Ryen after work. Feeling the weight of it in my hand, tracing the PWD seal with my finger…”
“I remember that, too. That how you knew my badge number off the top of your head?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Ann nodded, eyeing her appraisingly. “Let’s talk more about that once this is all over. For now, here’s the next frequency I want you to check…”
They buzzed through the next few frequencies in quick succession, each of her subordinates reporting that all was well. Strange, how quickly everything had calmed down.
“Switch it to the general frequency,” Ann said when they’d finished. “Let’s hear what the mayor has to say about all this.”
Jeanine tuned into the general frequency as ordered, then leaned back into what looked like an unforgiving chair. Together, she and Ann listened as Dolan gave his address. They agreed that he acquitted himself well—better than they’d expected, even—but both of them doubted that much would actually change.
Then the announcer introduced Gragos Cairn.
The gargoyle governor was not without his own brand of charm, Jeanine thought. He spoke with a quiet, eloquent passion, and his voice was mellifluous, almost hypnotic. Jeanine was hanging on his every word when a sudden, ear-popping blast was transmitted through the radio.
“What was that?” Jeanine asked, her voice pinched with worry. “It sounded like—”
“An explosion.” Ann’s voice was flat, calculating. She’d known what had to be done the moment she’d heard the tinny blast, and a second thought confirmed it. “Well, damn. It’s only a matter of time now.”
“A matter of time until what?”
“Until our idiot mayor declares martial law. We need to get out there.”
“We? Out in the field? But—”
“We,” Ann reiterated. “Congratulations, Officer Gatz—you just got promoted. You’re my new driver. Now, help me get dressed.”
Jeanine did as she was told. It was a bit awkward for Ann at first, having the girl help her into her underthings and onto her feet, then coordinating which limb went where when, but after some initial misfires, she emerged looking more or less presentable.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeanine asked.
“I’ll be fine. As long as I don’t have to run. Or jump. Or twist, or dive, or crouch, shimmy, shake, or grind.” Ann stretched her arms and cracked her back, grimacing only slightly at the resulting pain. “Hand me that bag.”
Jeanine grabbed the bag and passed it over. “Huh. Kinda heavy. What’s in there?”
“Guns,” Ann said. She reached into the bag, examined the weapon she had retrieved, and looked to Jeanine. “When’s the last time you went to the range?”
Jeanine furrowed her brow, working back through the dates in her head. “Uh, about a week or so ago? Uncle Ryen and I went after work.”
“Good enough for me.” She pushed a slender, medium-caliber pistol into Jeanine’s hands. “This is my backup piece. It’s loaded and ready to go as soon as you flip the safety. Don’t let the size fool you; it’s got a pretty solid kick to it.”
Taking the weapon, Jeanine frowned. “But, Uncle Ryen said—”
“You let me worry about your uncle. Now, follow me.”
Office Of The Mayor Of Meridia
The Honorable Dolan Zobbles
PRESS RELEASE (BROADCAST TRANSCRIPT)
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Citizens of Meridia:
A great crime has been committed against you. Tonight, your leaders came together to issue a joint call for unity.
That call was interrupted—thwarted!—by the cowardly actions of an unknown suspect.
I speak to you tonight from a secure location to remind you that we are still united. That we stand as one against the evils that would separate us, tear us apart.
That said, it is with a heavy heart that I must call for the institution of martial law.
Beginning at midnight tonight, officers
from the Police and Welfare Division will take up defensive posts. They will erect roadblocks and checkpoints at major arteries throughout the city. If you are traveling, you will likely be stopped and asked to produce identification. This is a precautionary measure only. With your cooperation, we will persevere and return to the usual rhythms and routines of everyday life.
For those of you who are able, the best thing you can do is shelter in your home. If you are not currently in your home, please seek shelter with family, close friends, or at your place of business.
And to those who stand against us, who would dare to profane a peaceful gathering by setting off an explosive device, I say only that you will be brought to justice. We will find and apprehend you. My people are searching for you, and you will not get far. This much I vow.
This. Much. I. Vow.
Silverbreak Keep Office Of Communications
Kovar Gragos Cairn
PRESS RELEASE (BROADCAST TRANSCRIPT)
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
My people,
I have heard your complaints. Some have called me a fool. Many have said I should bear witness to a permanent sunrise.
I cannot deny that these remarks have affected me personally.
I also cannot deny that I allowed myself to be compromised. As your leader, and as your surrogate.
I allowed myself to believe that we could live side by side with the wights and the strigoi. After the events that have transpired this night, I no longer believe that to be the case.
From this point forward, Silverbreak Keep and its surrounding environs are to be considered an autonomous territory no longer associated with the city of Meridia.
To those who were exiled but remain in reach of this broadcast: you may seek refuge within our numbers once more.
We need you now, as you need us.