METAL SCREECHED AND glass popped. The hydraulics of the car crusher whined as they flattened three cars into a slab of steel.
What a way to go. Nathan Miller recalled Mickey Spagnuolo’s murder. The twilight gloom gave him déjà vu.
“The boss will see you now.”
Nathan glanced at the pair of guards surrounding him. A hand on his shoulder compelled Nathan forward. He followed the bodyguards up the metal staircase. It wobbled under their weight. He was glad he couldn’t hear it groan over the scrapyard noise.
At the top, the two guards stood aside to usher him into an office overlooking the yard.
Police Commissioner Michael Logue greeted him, “Nate, you’re just in time.”
Pointing to the HoloSphere projection opposite the window he asked, “You heard about what happened outside AmeriGEN? A researcher, Antonio Reyes, managed to get the shit kicked out of him by the protestors.” Logue shook his head. “This country has gone to hell. You know, was a time we would’ve dispersed those assholes—with prejudice.”
Nathan looked around the room. A number of smaller projections displayed video blogs of the latest news—each one muted with subtitles running along the bottom.
“Heard about that,” Nathan said, “Poor bastard got himself turned around, went in the wrong way.”
With a wicked grin, Logue turned the HoloSphere off and said, “I’ll say he went in the wrong way.”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “No offense, Commissioner, but you didn’t drag my ass out here to discuss current affairs, did you?”
Again, the grin. “No, Nate, I didn’t.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“I love it here,” Logue said, “This is where I solve problems.”
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, I remember Mickey.”
A whump from outside resonated through the floor and shook the walls. Behind Nathan, the guards slipped into position.
He caught the movement from the corner of his eye. “What are you playing at here, Commissioner?”
“As I said—this is where I solve problems.” He sighed. “And lately, Nate, you’ve become a problem.”
The guards grabbed Nathan after a nod from Logue. Nathan shoved the left guard against the wall. His hand formed a vice around the guard’s throat while the second guard failed to pull Nathan off him.
“Enough.” Logue aimed his revolver at Nathan’s head. “Let him go, Nate. They’re only going to search you.”
“What the fuck is this? You don’t trust me now?”
“Right now, I trust no one.” While keeping the revolver dead center, Logue said, “Arms out, palms up.”
Nathan ground his teeth. He released his hold. The guard dropped to his knees coughing before he rose and readied to lunge at Nathan. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Logue warned the guard.
The guard uncoiled and massaged his throat. Nathan gave him a sarcastic smile.
“Search him.”
The guards patted him down.
“When we first met I knew you’d either become one hell of a cop or die trying.” Logue lowered his gun.
“That a fact?” Nathan said, “How disappointing for you then.”
Logue smiled. “Nah. Way I figure it, you were one hell of a cop before you almost died on that subway trying to be a hero. Lucky for you we could save you.”
Nathan glared at him as the guards continued their pat down. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
Logue made a face. “Still angry about that, huh?”
One of the guards’ hands patted Nathan’s left arm. The man gave Nathan a surprised look. Nathan ignored him and kept his focus on Logue.
“Come on, Nate. You’re better this way,” Logue said, “It’s remarkable. How much of you is cybernetics? The entire left side, was it?”
“You know exactly how much,” Nathan said. “Left eye, cheekbone, jaw, shoulder, arm, hand, six ribs, and the leg from the knee down.”
Logue grinned. “Remarkable.”
“He’s clean.”
“Leave us.”
Once the guards left Logue asked, “Would you like a drink?”
“I’d like to know why I’m here. You really think you can get me into that crusher?”
Logue chuckled. “Can’t blame me for wanting to see if you’ve lost a step.”
Nathan scowled at him. “There a reason you think I have?”
Logue rapped his knuckles on the desk and exhaled. “You really shouldn’t have asked me that. Take a seat.”
Turning his HoloSphere back on, Logue displayed the King’s Ransom—a popular blog site run by Alexis King. After a moment, he loaded the most recent post.
“Recognize this?”
Nathan clenched his jaw. “Yeah,” he said, “we don’t need to watch it.”
“I beg to differ.” Logue started the feed. King’s voice, full of accusation and contempt, filled the room.
“Tomorrow will be a shameful day for Union City when Nathan Miller returns to active duty with the UCPD. A thug with a badge and a gun, this city has lived under his protection for far too long.
“As reported here a month ago, Miller is at the center of an illicit operation of racketeering, extortion, money laundering, obstruction of justice, and a protection ring selling police badges out for hire.
“None of these charges have been disproved, and yet his suspension has been lifted because fear and intimidation have bred silence.
“But no more. He’s a disgrace to the uniform, the police department, and the city at large. The Ransom will not rest until this criminal is brought to justice. I urge my followers to join me in petitioning the mayor’s office to have Nathan Miller jailed for his crimes.”
“Allowing this to go on,” Logue said, “seems like you’ve lost a step to me.”
Dismissive, Nathan said, “She’s nothing.”
“Nothing that got you suspended.”
“Because somebody talked to her.” Nathan narrowed his gaze. “It won’t happen again.”
“You know who talked?”
“I will.”
Logue leaned back with a sigh. “Well, until then, something needs to be done about this. We can’t have her gaining the attention of the AG. It’s not nothing, and it’s a short walk from you to me. She wants to report about fear and intimidation. I say it’s time she experienced it. Shut her up or make her disappear. I don’t care which. We run this city, and she’s not going to change that. Get this done.”
Nathan stood and turned with a nod.
“And one other thing, Nate.” Logue smiled. “Welcome back.”
OUTSIDE JITTERS COFFEEHOUSE, Nathan took a sip of his high-octane brew before he cinched the collar of his trench coat tighter. It wasn’t enough to keep the wind from biting at the flesh underneath as it whipped up Carolina Street.
He stepped to the curb and saw the wall four blocks north. The new American dream.
His melancholy was interrupted when an unmarked cruiser pulled over to the curb next to him. The window slid down, and his partner said, “Time to roll, Miller.”
Nathan downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp and tossed the cup in a wastebasket before lowering into the cruiser.
Quinn Baker gave him a sidelong look from behind dark shades and offered a smile. “Good to see you, partner. You enjoy the time off?”
“What do you think?”
Quinn chuckled as they pulled away from the curb. They took the road south to twenty-seventh then hung a right toward the station ten minutes out on Campbell Avenue.
“I miss anything?”
“Same old shit,” Quinn said, “You know how it is.”
“Any leads on the bastard who squealed?”
“No, not yet.”
They turned onto Stephenson Ave without slowing—to the dismay of pedestrians on the corner.
“Don’t worry though, we’ll find them,” Quinn said.
“Fucking right we will.”
Turning the strobes on, Quinn pushed the accelerator down and ran the light at the corner. They turned a sharp left onto Broadway Ave before a quick right onto Franklin Road. Quinn doused the lights.
“Mind if I ask you something?”
Nathan clenched his left hand and nodded.
“We’ve been riding together for two years and the whole time I’ve been wondering something. Why the hell you live outside the wall? I mean, South Providence? Seriously? You clear more than enough to move on up, so what gives?”
The road rose over the railyard, and they left the grim spectre of the wall behind. As they passed over the two-twenty highway, Nathan said, “I was born in South Providence long before the wall—why should I move?”
Quinn slapped the wheel. “You shitting me? You might sleep better for starters. Fucking animals out here.”
“This is my hood.” Nathan smirked. “I sleep just fine.”
Quinn shook his head. “You gotta be the only guy I know who chooses to live out here, surrounded by the displaced.”
“Let me tell you something about the goddamn wall, Rook,” Nathan said, “It was a bad fucking idea to start with, and it hasn’t improved over the years. Walls like that have choked the life out of decent neighborhoods all across this country. How we ever allowed Americans to become refugees in our own land. . .” Nathan whistled as he trailed off. “Shameful.”
“Rising waters and the big one out west,” Quinn said, “Sixty-five million people is a lot to relocate. The resources just aren’t there.”
“So much for the American dream,” Nathan said, “Forget the tired, poor, huddled masses—every man for himself now, that it?”
They drove in silence until Quinn took a left onto Third Street. “You weren’t home last night?”
“Was getting marching orders from Logue,” Nathan said, “I’ll fill you in.”
Quinn made a face. “Later, Singh wants you in his office first thing.”
“That so?”
“Thought you’d like that,” Quinn said, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“And what does the captain want?”
Quinn swung the cruiser onto the lot and pulled into a spot out front. “Maybe he wants to welcome you back?”
They shared a laugh as Nathan got out.
OMAR SINGH WAITED behind a scratched glass window.
His office looked out at the warren of desks that made up the detective pool known affectionately as the Clubhouse.
He shuffled paperwork as Nathan darkened his doorway. After a moment, he set it aside and said, “Take a seat, and close the door.”
Nathan obliged then waited for him to begin.
Singh steepled his fingers and narrowed his gaze. “Have you anything to say?”
Nathan glanced away and shrugged.
“So, that’s how you want to do it then? Fine.”
He opened a folder on his desk. “This is the official report on your suspension. As you’re no doubt aware, IA found insufficient grounds to uphold it.”
Nathan smirked.
Singh slapped the folder shut. “They may have cleared you, Miller—but I haven’t. You have a history as long as my arm of complaints against you. Allegations of misconduct, excessive force, bribery, you name it. So, why should I reinstate you?”
Nathan stared back at him.
“I could fire you right now, and there isn’t anything you can do about it. Your union is behind me, Miller. They feel you’re more trouble than your worth.”
“You know what, Captain?” Nathan said, “I don’t give a shit what the fucking union thinks.”
“Tough guy, huh?”
Nathan licked his lips. “Fuck you.”
He stood up and turned to leave. “Sit down, Miller. I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
Nathan stared at him with contempt.
“I said sit the fuck down!”
Nathan took his time before he complied.
“Jesus,” Singh lowered his voice as he asked, “Just what the hell happened to you?” Pointing to the window, he said, “You used to be one of the best detectives out there. I’ve read your file—you were exemplary once.”
Nathan didn’t rise to the bait.
“Fine,” Singh tapped the folder and said, “I’m not going to fire you—yet. For some reason, I believe you can be exemplary again, so I’m going to give you that chance. This is it, Miller. Step out of line one more time, and you’re out of here. Are we clear on that? You get so much as a parking ticket, and you’re done. You have no room for error. I know you’ve seen The Ransom—press this department doesn’t need. Even the brass protecting you will agree with that. So be glad I’m on your side. Get out of my sight, and don’t make me regret this.”
“Some reason?” Nathan straightened from his slouch. “Would you like me to tell you the reason you’re keeping me around, Captain? The Commissioner—your boss—has instructed you to do so. Isn’t that right? He wants me on the street. He knows you need me out there. It must really get to you, huh? Wanting me gone so bad but being unable to do a fucking thing about it. Getting the gutless union and IA behind you and still . . . just powerless. So please don’t act like you’re doing me some fucking righteous favor here. You’re not—you’re doing what you’ve been told to do.”
A sinister grin played across his face. “I’m fine with that, Cap. But, just so you know, I’m gonna continue to do what I do out there. I’m not changing a goddamn thing for you.
“You want to fire me?” He removed his badge from his pocket and held it out to him. Singh didn’t take it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Turning his back to Singh, he strutted to the door.
“Don’t think I won’t do it, Miller. I don’t care who has your back.”
On his way out, Nathan added, “The last captain thought like you too. You’ll notice he’s not around anymore.”
