Demon Driven (14 page)

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you need anything…you know…any help
or anything at all, just ask. Okay?” she finished with a shy bob of
her head. We’re a small unit and personal issues are hard to hide,
especially when they involve the freaky part-vampire demon hunter
guy. I’m sure most small units are the same.

“Thanks Olivia, but I’m okay, really,” I
said.

The outer door opened and Roma entered,
followed by two large, dark suited guys. All three looked surprised
to see me and Roma was especially ill at ease. It didn’t take
calculus to figure something sketchy was up.

“Ah Chris, you’re already here. Well, I
didn’t expect you in this soon, but here you are,” he said with an
awkward pause. One of the suits cleared his throat. Roma continued,
“Right, well, come with me, please. These officers want to speak
with you.”

He flashed a strange little glance at Olivia
and then led me through the inner door, the two serious looking
guys careful to follow me. Really large, serious looking guys. A
pit was forming in my stomach. These guys had the air of Internal
Affairs about them and the stares they were directing my way were
not friendly in the least.

We entered Roma’s office and he immediately
settled behind his desk, a most unusual move. Roma always conducted
conversations in the small four-chair sitting area in the front of
his spacious office.

The Inspector indicated I should sit in one
of the two chairs in front of the desk and when I did, large guy
number one moved to stand at the side of the desk, his back against
Roma’s floor-to-ceiling bookcase. I could feel the other one
looming behind me with obvious menace. I arched one eyebrow at
Inspector Roma, who looked back at me apologetically.

He cleared his throat and began, “Chris,
these officers are with Internal Affairs and they are investigating
some allegations. Serious allegations.” He looked at the suit by
the bookshelf, in effect, giving him the floor.

Built like a linebacker, with a bad
comb-over, IA number one started to speak without introducing
himself. “Officer Gordon, you are facing two separate sets of
complaints, all stemming from the last several days. The first is
from a family on Eleventh Street in Brooklyn, alleging that you
broke into their house and assaulted the husband, breaking his
wrist and hand in four places. Dispatcher records indicate a patrol
car was called by Special Situations to the residence in question,
where the officers interviewed a terrified family – the Larouch
family. Eye witnesses place you at that scene.

The second set of charges originate from five
individuals who claim you attacked them in Owls Head Park three
nights ago. All five were hospitalized with serious injuries. All
five have positively identified your photo. Comments?”

I just looked at him for a moment, my mind
reeling. I looked back at Roma, a question on my face. He shrugged
without answering. “Inspector? What’s this all about? The Eleventh
Street call out was documented by the squad. Hell, Detective
Velasquez wrote the report herself.”

In a demon case like that, we invariably
wrote the report as a domestic disturbance. The street patrols knew
damn well that something much stranger would have occurred to bring
out Special Situations and so they help corroborate the reports.
For a complaint to be filed as an unprovoked assault, something
must have been changed. Someone must have changed it.

“Chris, the reports indicate that Mr. Larouch
came in and filed this complaint yesterday afternoon.”

The IA goon spoke again: “The incident report
filed by the patrol car officers doesn’t mention anything about
Detective Velasquez.”

My brain was running in overdrive, trying to
figure out the part of the puzzle I was missing.

“The five
gang members
in the park
attacked
me. I was just defending myself. You really think I
could attack and beat up five guys? They probably got most of those
injuries in a territory squabble.”

“Did you file an assault report,
Officer?”

“Er..no, there wasn’t really time. I had to
be at the Downtown heliport for a joint case with Homeland
Security. Agent Duc …” I petered off, my brain turning the image of
Briana Duclair around Three-D in my head. She was the missing
piece. She was the reason for the complaints and changed reports.
It had to be her!

“Officer Gordon, our investigations have
already turned up enough information that we can press charges
against you. A hearing will be set in the near future. You should
retain legal counsel as these charges are serious felonies if you
are convicted. In the interim, you are hereby suspended without
pay, till this matter is decided either way.”

His voice left no doubt which way he thought
it would go.

“We will take your badge and weapons
now!”

Roma was looking down at his desktop,
unwilling to meet my eyes. He smelled of fear, like he thought I
might explode or something. I was devastated to discover his lack
of backbone.

I stood up, a little fast, enough to startle
all three. I took a deep breath and centered myself, then pulled
out my credential case and threw it on the desk, next drawing both
Glocks and setting them down gently.

I ignored the IA goons, as that's all they
were, but I focused on Roma, who was having a great deal of trouble
meeting my gaze.

“So that's it? The sum total of your
support?” I asked, crossing my arms and waiting.

“Well Chris, there is really nothing I can
do,” he answered, ashamed.

I had no doubt that Duclair was behind this,
but I had expected some fight out of the Inspector.

“Seeing as how the Special Situations squad
doesn't exist as of today...there isn't anything for him to do,”
said the comb-over guy, with an unpleasant smirk.

“Is that true, sir?” I asked Roma, who nodded
unhappily.

“The squad is being shut down? By
Commissioner Kane?” I asked.

I sensed the big guy behind me, moving up and
a meaty hand landed on my shoulder and pulled. I didn't budge, not
even a twitch. Comb-over frowned and the hand behind me pulled
harder, but with no effect.

I snorted, “Let me guess...you two are the
biggest clowns in IA? The Commissioner asked for you special,
didn't he?”

“Yeah, but....Hey listen, fuckface! This can
go hard or harder!” Comb-over was mad that he had slipped up.

Beefy-hand was still tugging and I was still
rooted in place.

“Would you care to tell them just
how
it might really go? Sir?” I asked Roma.

He blanched white.

“Ahh..Detective Khol? I don't believe force
will be productive in this case and I'm sure that Officer Gordon
will leave without trouble. Right, Chris?”

I looked at him for a couple of seconds
longer, disgusted that I had ever considered him worthy of respect.
The hand flew off my shoulder when I spun on my heel. Meaty Hand
was rubbing his suddenly sore hand and standing between me and the
door. I headed out. He put his good hand up to slow me down, but
instead bounced off and flew backwards to the floor. Comb-over...I
mean Khol, jumped forward, grabbing my arm with the obvious intent
of arm-barring me into submission. The fact is, however, that
arm-bars only work if you can actually move the arm in question. My
hands at my side, I continued forward, Khol dragging along like he
had grabbed hold of a tractor. Meaty Hand was trying to get up, but
I was already past him and opening the door, Khol getting brushed
off on the door frame.

Sommers, Takata and Demarco were all
clustered around Gina's office door and they all turned when Roma's
door opened and Khol clattered to the ground.

I was mad and the black beast inside was
rattling its door, but I had my temper well in hand as I stopped by
the huddle. “Looks like we're being disbanded!” I managed to get
out before Khol came charging out of the doorway, his partner
stumbling behind him.

Sommers straightened up, staring hard at
Khol.

“Well, well, if it isn't Submission Khol,
king of the tap-out. What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice
derisive.

Khol was flustered from my brush-off and now
really unhappy to see Sommers.

“Submission?” I asked.

“Yeah, that's the title he's earned himself
in the inter-deparmental mixed martial arts tournaments. Why's he
chasing you, and what's this about getting shut down?” Sommers
asked.

“Shut it, Sommers! Gordon here is officially
suspended for two excessive force charges and now faces assault on
Internal Affairs officer!” Khol said, voice hissing in anger.

Sommers, Takata and Aikens burst out
laughing, Aikens having to lean against the wall to hold himself
up.

“If
he’d
assaulted you there would be
broken bones at the very least,” Sommers said between chuckles.

Gina had moved up to the door.

“Chris, what was that you said about us being
shut down?” she asked.

“The Commissioner has ordered us shut down as
of today, and he ordered these two to suspend me on charges from
the guy on Eleventh Street and some trumped up assault charges from
a group of Dominican gang members that attacked
me
the other
night!”

She didn’t say anything to that, but I could
see the curiosity in her eyes at my last piece of information.

“DDP? They still alive?” asked Chet, which
wasn’t what I wanted Khol to hear.

“Of course! They were barely scratched!” I
answered, but none of my own squad believed me.

“Enough! Gordon, you are leaving now!” Khol
yelled, his hand moving to his holstered pistol. Instantly, all
four of my fellow squad members put their own hands on pistol
butts.

“Easy, guys! I was just leaving. No need for
anything too crazy,” I said, my hands making placating motions at
my friends, my heart in my throat. There had been no hesitation,
zero. They had all moved as one to protect
me
.

Nobody moved for a moment, then I slowly
headed for the door, not even reacting when Khol grabbed my arm.
Meaty Hand was keeping his distance and still had his hand on his
gun, his eyes slightly fearful.

We hadn’t gotten to the outer door when I
sensed Takata and Sommers following along, their postures casual,
their eyes sharp, ensuring my escort would be peaceful.

Chapter 16

Left with nowhere to go and nothing to do, I
ended up at the Museum of Natural History. I wandered the exhibit
halls, spending most of my time in the fossil exhibits and the
animal dioramas. My favorite was obviously the Alaskan Brown bear
exhibit. It’s the closest thing the museum had to my prehistoric
friend, and sitting there looking at the incredible realism, I
could picture his world as it had been when he was top of the food
chain. I felt a gust of cool wind in the otherwise still museum and
knew he was there, following me from exhibit to exhibit. I was
looking at the picture of Pleistocene life, when an image flashed
through my mind. It was as similar to the museum picture, as a High
Def full sound video is to a cartoon.

The western plains swept away from me as far
as I could see, mountains just visible in the distance. An ocean of
tall grasses, dotted with individual windswept trees. A single
ribbon of silver water wove through the gentle hills and swales.
Horses galloped from left to right, in a thundering herd, while a
large group of bison grazed the grasses a quarter mile away.

He was showing me his memory of the world as
he had seen it. It was a fascinating look at the ancient ecosystem,
one that any of the museums curators would have killed to recreate.
Imagine an IMAX movie in the museums theatre, touring the
Pleistocene from the eyes of a giant short-faced bear. That would
sell admission tickets.

* * *

I took the subway back to Brooklyn, eating my
way across the city. My tastes were running to Asian foods, mostly
Thai and sushi. Without much surprise I found myself back in Owls
Head Park, which seems to be my thinking place. My personal breeze,
which had followed me across Manhattan and swirled around the
inside of my subway car (bewildering my fellow riders), now slid
away and spun up a small cyclone of leaves in a copse of maple and
birch trees. My Sight showed the giant green, red and purple form
of my bear, nestling into
his
favorite spot. But now,
instead of herds of bison and horse, he watched groups of children
and nannies, cavorting on the pressure-treated wood playground. It
used to make me nervous, him watching the children, but he had no
predatory interest in them. Okwari never ate food here in our
world. What source of sustenance he consumed in his own dimension,
I’ll probably never know. I was pretty sure he had to leave this
world from time to time to replenish himself, but that was just a
guess. So Okwari watched the children and I watched the sky,
leaning back on the soft spring grass, the odor of damp earth, and
new plants mixing with the human scents.

I had a lot to think about.

The first was that Duclair had just
effectively cut me from the herd, separating me from the agency
that sheltered and protected my freakish self. She had successfully
refrained from a knee jerk reaction in Vermont, one that would have
ended in bloody wreckage.

This approach was much more sophisticated and
therefore, much more effective. No doubt, she had sent her minions
scurrying, seeking out the young family on Eleventh Street and
manipulating them into making a complaint. If the Dominican gang
members had ended up at a local hospital, her spies both human and
computer could have tipped her off. A quick interview might reveal
that the source of their pain had been an average-sized white guy
with freakish eyes and some kind of demonic pet monster. Who would
that sound like? Hmmm.