by G. O. Grason
“This authorizes you,” Christine said flashing her badge. “Now get your shit together and take us there, now!”
They were rushed into the elevator by the guard. As the two metal doors slid closed, they were suddenly surrounded by a calm silence. The police sirens, the screams, the random pop of gunshots was suddenly gone. Both of them felt transported to another world. All they could hear was the soft yet sharp inhale of their heaving chests.
“As my partner,” Christine began to say, “I need to know that you trust me. I need to know that you trust my impulses, my instinct, and my intuition. If you don’t, maybe it’s time for you to find a partner that suits you better.”
Thompson exhaled. “You had no gun. You had no weapons. All you had is a badge. You were running into a fight with nothing but yourself.” He said handing her one of the confiscated sidearms.
“That’s all I need,” Christine said bitingly.
“That’s all the shooter will need to kill you without thinking twice,” Thompson said. “And then where will you be?”
“I’ll be dead,” Christine said. “But at least I tried to fight rather than waiting for back up.”
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Nothing else was said. Nothing else needed to be said. Christine always had the last word.
Thompson went first, pistol drawn. They pushed to a door that likely lead to the roof. If the sniper was still up there, they would be ready for him. Side by side, Christine and Thompson nodded at one another before kicking the door in. They signalled, ready?
“Hands! Hands! Hands!” Thompson shouted kicking the door in.
The sniper, fully dressed in black leather with the image of a red hour glass on his back, was standing at the edge of the building. At his feet, was the glider he had used to jump from the tower above. Leaning against the ledge was the sniper rifle, a military grade M107 .50 Cal, also solid black. Serving in the military for ten plus years, Thompson recognized it immediately. He knew whoever the shooter was, he most likely had military training as well. He dared not take his pistol off of the targets head.
“You look a little sweaty from just riding in an elevator to catch me,” the sniper said.
His voice was gravelly and rough, but also weirdly electronic, almost like it was coming from a voice box. It sounded static. Sarcasm dripped from every word. Thompson felt a chill even though his body was running hot.
“Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them,” ordered Thompson.
“Where’s the other one?” the sniper asked. “She run out on you already?”
Thompson glanced over his shoulder. Halloway was gone. Thompson backed up, immediately feeling betrayed and utterly alone.
“For a star team, you two sure don’t communicate that well,” joked the sniper. He turned around. “And you know that’s key to any relationship.”
Thompson couldn’t help but gasp. The sniper looked like something out of nightmare. Painted on his black ski mask were shoddily drawn white fangs. They were wearing bright red goggles, resembling the eyes of a demon. Thompson dropped the gun slightly when he saw, between the sniper’s legs, a little boy. His mouth and arms were duck taped.
“Who are you?” Thompson asked the sniper.
“Don’t be so simple-minded Thompson,” laughed the sniper. The sharp electric frequency was haunting. “Who I am is not important. What I’m doing is what matters.”
“And what’s that?” Thompson asked. “What are you doing?”
“If I just told you, that wouldn’t be much fun now would it?” The sniper took a step back so he was on the edge of the building. The little boy writhed in his arms. “You’ll have to keep following the bread crumbs if you want to find out.”
“Let the boy go!” Thompson shouted advancing. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“I can’t believe you don’t recognize your own nephew.” The sniper ripped the tape from the little boys mouth. It was followed by a high-pitched scream.
Thompson’s gun dropped to his side. He couldn’t believe it. There in front of him was his older sister’s son, Harry.
“What the fuck….why?” Thompson stuttered.
“Please Uncle Brian,” Harry pleaded. “Help me.”
“Freeze!” Across from Thompson, from a side door, Halloway exploded. She was stunned to see Harry there. “Wait. Who?”
“Glad you could make it,” the sniper said. “But this party is boring me. Don’t take offense, but you’re just not my crowd.”
“Wait!” Thompson shouted hesitating to raise his gun.
The sniper opened his arms wide and fell backward from the building, taking the little boy Harry with him.
“No!” Halloway screamed diving for him. She grazed the tips of Harry’s soft, tear wet fingers as they both heard his shrieking cries as the two of them plummeted below. “No…”
Halloway and Thompson looked over the edge to cries of terror. Everyone down below had no idea what they were seeing. As the two peeked over the edge, they saw the sniper was wearing a wingsuit and had Harry strapped to his body. They were now gliding down 7th ave. towards the garment district. They watched the sniper as he landed on the roof of a parked, unmarked black van and opened a hatch. The sniper unbuckled Harry and held him over it, but not before looking up at Christine and Thompson.
The sniper gave them a crisp, sardonic salute, then dropped Harry inside.
As the van sped off into a side alley, in the distance, three more sniper rounds boomed.
Chapter 3
The second round of shots roared from Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge. They were so loud Halloway and Thompson could hear it from the top of the building over the traffic and police sirens. Overhead, a helicopter flew past them. They were heading straight for the gun shots. Quickly, Thompson pulled out his cell phone and dialed Lieutenant Baggins. Neither of them knew what else to do. They needed clear direction.
“Jesus Christ where are you two?” Baggins asked. He sounded like he was running.
“One of the bastards has my nephew!” shouted Thompson.
Christine put her hand on his shoulder but he quickly ripped it away.
“I want to know how this bastard has my sister’s kid! Someone in your department is a rat and I want them dead. There’s no other way these guys would know about Harry.”
“Slow down, slow down,” Baggins said. “You can’t go throwing that kind of accusation at me. Remember who you’re talking to.”
Thompson raised his arm to throw the phone to the ground when Halloway caught him.
“Give me the phone,” Halloway said calmly.
Thompson saw a look of kindness and empathy in her eyes, something that he so rarely saw. He couldn’t tell her no. In all the time he knew Christine, he had never seen her look that way at anybody else. In his heart of hearts, Thompson believed that side of Christine was for only him. Thompson gave her the phone.
“Halloway here” Christine said. “Talk to me,” said Baggins.
“We tracked him to the roof of a Chase Bank after he used some sort of portable hand glider from the tower in Union Square. We had no idea he had Thompson’s nephew with him. We lost him after he jumped with a wingsuit and got into a black unmarked van.”
“What is this a goddamn Mission Impossible movie or something? who is he?” Baggins asked.
There was obvious strain in his voice. Christine could tell he knew next to nothing about what was going on and he hated it. Baggins always wanted to know everything, and then make a plan of attack. Without intel, he and the rest of his team were blind.
“No idea,” Christine stated. “He was dressed in black, head to toe. The only distinct thing about him was his face. Well, not his face exactly.”
“What was it? Anything you tell me can help.”
“There were two white fangs, like a snake, drawn on his mask. He was also wearing blood red goggles. The lenses were so dark that I couldn’t see his eyes.”
“I’ll put a call ou
t for that description,” Baggins said. “But who knows what that madman looks like under all that shit.”
“I’m going to Ed Koch bridge,” Thompson shouted over their call. “I can’t wait around here and wait for them to come to me.” He punched a wall with his bare fist, barely even flinching at the pain. Blood splattered on the wall. “That bastard has my sister’s kid!”
“Commandeer a vehicle and get over there Halloway,” Baggins ordered. He cleared his throat and focused. “Do whatever you need to do to get that boy back.”
“Don’t worry,” Halloway said. “We will.”
“I’ll meet you there” Baggins yelled into the phone before hanging up.
Chapter 4
The morning sunlight broke through the clouds as Halloway and Thompson made it onto the street. Sirens could be heard in every direction. The dead bodies the sniper had shot earlier were still on the ground, draped over with a white tarp. It looked like a war zone. There were only a few people on the sidewalk and streets. They spotted an officer stretching out police tape and ordered them to hand over the keys to his vehicle.
“I’m not going to get in trouble, am I?” the officer asked.
“Doubtful,” Christine smiled as they got in and sped off.
They whipped through side streets, avoiding pedestrians, taxis, and bike messengers. Finally, they hit the river and saw more of the same carnage. At least fifty police cars were lined up along the water. Police officers were everywhere with their guns drawn, pointing up at the bridge. At the centre of it, was another sniper, also dressed in all black, pointing their .50 caliber at them. The shooter had a megaphone. They were talking to a negotiator who was on a boat talking to them moored below the bridge.
Christine and Thompson quickly got themselves out on to the boat.
“Good to see you two made it out here” the negotiator said, obviously defeated. “Wish it were under better circumstances.”
“We all do,” Christine said. “What’s the situation?”
“I can’t get to whoever this is. They are just playing with me.”
Thompson went to take the microphone but Christine stepped in.
“Emotion is not something perps like this are going to take to Thompson,” Christine snapped. “They want somebody to fight. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re weak right now.”
Thompson bit his tongue, exhaled sharply through his nose, and stepped back, white knuckling his rage.
“Handle it,” Thompson told her. “Or I will.”
“You have a firearm?” the negotiator asked Halloway.
“Just this useless thing.” Christine said showing him the police issue gun Thompson confiscated
“Take mine. If this bastard tries to make any moves, I want to make sure you’re prepared.” He looked at Thompson. “Stay close.”
“You know I will,” Thompson scoffed.
The negotiator handed Halloway his sidearm and the microphone. “We have snipers on the shore as well as two on the bow. Get what you can out of this lunatic and then get out.”
Halloway nodded. A sudden wrench of anxiety hit the pit of her stomach. The boat lurched from a wave, pushing her forward as there was nowhere else to go. She knew what she needed to do.
“Looks like you got exactly what you wanted!” Halloway shouted over the megaphone to the sniper. “All eyes on you!”
“You think you know what we want?” the sniper laughed. His voice was exactly like the previous snipers: electric, sinister, and mean. “You have no idea what we want!”
“We?” asked Halloway.
“I know that you met my counterpart, as well as his little friend.”
Thompson rushed from the back of the boat but officers held him down.
“Your partner seems to know him too…” the sniper chuckled. “You two have quite a reputation around town of being hot heads, but I never thought you would be this bad.”
“You have no idea,” Halloway said. She rested her hand on the butt of her pistol. “Tell us where you took the boy and maybe we can make a deal.”
“You really think you can hit me with that thing from all the way down there?” the sniper mocked “Besides, that’s not going to get you the boy back is it?”
Halloway ignored him “Tell us where Harry is and we’ll make a deal.”
“Is that what that little snot-nosed kid’s name is?”
The sniper brought up their .50 caliber like it was nothing but a lollipop and aimed it at Thompson. Whoever they were, they were strong. With a full magazine, the gun weighed around 40 pounds. A green laser appeared on Thompsons chest, everyone on the boat took aim at the sniper.
“Touchy, touchy, touchy,” the sniper said. “I was just going to ask Thompson a question.”
Halloway handed him the megaphone.
“I don’t give a shit who you are when I get my hands on you…,” Thompson began to shout.
“You should give a shit,” the sniper interrupted. “You really should.”
“Tell me where he is and I won’t have everyone on this boat blow your head off.”
“You wouldn’t do that. If you did, then little Harry would be lost forever.”
Everyone on the boat lowered their pistols.
“That’s better,” the sniper said. “Tell me, where is little Harry’s favourite place in the world. You must know being his uncle.”
Thompson was suddenly confused. Being as busy as he was, Thompson had not seen Harry in a couple months. He tried to think of the last place they all went together, but all that came to his mind were cliché places like the zoo or the museum or maybe an amusement park. His life had been nothing but dealing with criminals, solving crimes, and Christine. Thompson looked at her, utterly helpless and lost.
“Thompson?” Halloway asked. “Do you know?”
“I…” Thompson stammered. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I’ve been so busy with work. I was going to make the time but something, something always came up.”
“What a tear jerker!” the sniper laughed.
“You shut the hell up and tell us where he is!” Thompson shouted. He ripped a pistol from the hands of one of the officers and aimed.
Instantly, the sniper shot, just missing Thompson’s head. The .50 caliber bullet crashed into the side of the boat, taking a huge chunk of plastic from it. A wave of bullet fire erupted.
“No!” Halloway screamed, but it was too late.
“That’s my cue!!!” the sniper screamed.
The sniper dive bombed for the water.
“He jumped!” the negotiator yelled pointing at the snipers plummeting body.
From behind one of the pillars of the bridge, a jet black speed boat peeled around. A small hatch opened at its roof. The sniper deployed a base jumping parachute and floated down, landing softly on top of the boat. With the .50 cal strapped tightly to their back, the sniper stood up straight and saluted the boat. Everyone gazed at them in shock.
“I don’t think you guys are holding up your side of the bargain,” the sniper said in a mockingly sad tone.
“Wait!” Halloway bellowed.
“I don’t think I will.”
With that, the sniper jumped down into the belly of the boat which immediately sped off away from them.
“After them!” the negotiator yelled. Before they could rev their engines, a gigantic pulse erupted underneath the water. The engine, which had been quietly purring, suddenly went dead.
“What the hell was that?” Thompson screamed. “Get going.”
“Everything’s dead,” Halloway sighed. She checked her watch. The screen was black.
“What are you talking about? How’s that possible? Hey, what are you doing?”
Halloway sulked around the boat opening tiny hatches and lifting up compartment doors. The other policeman and negotiator looked at her quizzically. Finally, she found what she was looking for and took a seat. As she cracked a beer, Christine let her hand hang over the side. She let out a large exh
ale and looked at Thompson.
“With our luck, I thought this bucket of bolts was gonna’ be dry.” Christine tossed him one. “We worked for it this morning Thompson. Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
Chapter 5
Back at the precinct, Christine met up with Baggins in his office while Thompson talks to his sister in his. Through the walls, they can hear the two of them arguing. Baggins has a bottle of bourbon on his desk. It’s barely a minute after twelve o’clock, but hearing that they didn’t get Harry back sends him to a dark place. He’s got three kids of his own. Even the thought of losing one of them is too much. Baggins pours a double for himself and offers Christine one.
“I’m working,” Christine says waving the drink off.
“So am I dammit! Don’t make me drink alone.”
“Ok, you’re the boss but just a shot I need to keep my shit straight.”
Baggins shrugs. “Fair enough. So, you were saying that one of the snipers…” as he pauses to pour. “The sniper on the bridge...” he was the one who had the boy?”
“That was the one in Union Square,” Christine informed Baggins. “The one on the boat was the one that gave us a clue.”
Baggins gulped down half the glass of bourbon and winced. In Thompson’s office, they both could hear him raise his voice and punch his wall. Christine took a drink and sighed.
“Sounds like me and my brother,” said Christine. “We would get in some scuffles.”
“Family is harder than the streets. How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s ok,” said Christine. “Tells me I should see her more.”
“You should,” Baggins advised her. “Or what the hell are we doing here?”
Christine was reminded that there was really nothing else in her life at the moment besides her work. No boyfriend, no friends, no clubs, no sports - nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time she read a book or went to the movies. The way she saw it, all of those superfluous pastimes, all of the things the “normals” did, were for people with another calling. Thompson and Christine understood their roles in society, a society that was being intentionally broken everyday by criminals whose soul aim was to hurt innocent people. If they didn’t fulfill their role, if they didn’t sacrifice themselves and the frivolities of others, who would? No one, that’s who.