The Archangel Drones (34 page)

Once it had finished, Marwick looked up at the LT and shrugged.

“Do you have any reason to believe this recording has been tampered with or falsified in any way?”

“No, but I’m not an engineer or expert on such things. I wouldn’t have any way of knowing,” Jim replied coldly.

“Does this recording match your recall of that evening’s events, Sergeant Marwick?”

Again, Jim shrugged. “That was a long time ago, LT. I’ve made half a dozen felony arrests and worked hundreds of shifts since that night. Even if it is 100% genuine, I don’t see what the fuss is about, sir. There’s nothing new on that video.”

Cranfield pulled a small bundle of papers from his jacket pocket, unfolding the documents and flattening them with his hands on the table. “This is your official report from the incident, Sergeant. You claim that the suspect attempted to elude your attempts to execute a legitimate traffic stop for, and I quote, ‘some distance.’ Yet the video indicates the vehicle’s operator, Jacob Chase, pulled to the curb less than two blocks after your squad’s lights were engaged. Do you consider two blocks to be the same as some distance?”

A scowl manipulated Jim’s bushy eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling in disdain. “Did you come all the way down here to split hairs, sir? If so, then I think it’s time for me to call my lawyer. If the boys down at Internal Affairs are looking for a scapegoat… or playing some sort of political game, then I’m through cooperating.”

“That is your right, Officer Marwick,” came the calm reply. “But, as I’m sure you’re aware, filing a falsified report, perjury, misappropriation of department resources, and assault are all serious charges. I’d hardly call our activities splitting hairs.”

“Call it what you will, sir. I won’t be answering any more questions without representation.”

Cranfield tried a few more interrogation angles, working on the timeline before Chip’s video had begun. It was obvious the Honda’s operator hadn’t resisted, let alone displayed any sort of threat to the arresting officer.

Several times during the video’s replay, the IA man asked Jim the same question. “Why didn’t you stop the arrest right there? Why didn’t you hold the other responding officer back? Why did you let this go on and on and on, Sergeant?”

But Jim’s mouth was as good as sewed shut, the savvy cop knowing not to say a word. The two men finally left the room, Marwick’s captain waiting in the hall. “You’re on temporary suspension with pay until further notice, Jim. Go home. Call your lawyer, and wait until you hear from the DA.”

Somehow, Jim managed his cubicle without blowing his top. Thankfully, word had spread around the substation, the news allowing Marwick to maneuver the halls without anyone saying a word.

He called his wife, keeping his tone even and smooth despite the growing pressure of a volcanic-like dome of rage that was building inside. “I need for you to pick me up at the station,” he informed Mrs. Marwick. “I’ve been suspended with pay, but I can’t use my cruiser.”

His mate of 19 years knew better than to seek details. “I’ll be right down, Jim,” she promptly and simply replied.

While he waited, Marwick pretended to be tidying up paperwork, his eyes remaining down and seemingly focused on the task at hand. But it was an act.

Inside, a fury that began as a light breeze was reaching Category 5 hurricane status, his mind contemplating how he could discover the Benedict Arnold who had released the video, and what would become of the turncoat once he was uncovered.

In the 20 minutes it took for his ride to arrive, Jim made several assumptions. The Archangel had shocked and awed the department with his video expertise and willingness to attack the police department. The release of his dash cam video had been the same modus operandi. He was convinced that the same person was responsible for both outings.

In spite of the gale force anger that clouded his thinking, Jim managed to arrive at another astute conclusion. Someone had it in for him personally.

He mentally inventoried the other videos that had been released, noting that none of them had targeted any specific officer. That fact, combined with the operator’s profile that had been circulated throughout the department, led Jim to believe that he had been specifically targeted.

All of the videos to date had been recorded on the north or west side of Houston, the area where he commonly patrolled. The detectives had calculated that the individual responsible for the drones was technically savvy and well versed in police procedures and communications.

It made sense to Marwick that such a person could somehow manage to come up with the video of his dash camera, absolutely logical dots to connect.

But who?

Who would have a vendetta against him personally?

Jacob Chase was the fulcrum, his name a constant that spanned seemingly unrelated events. It had to be one of the other officers who responded that night… some pussy who didn’t have the guts to walk the line required for aggressive police work.

For a moment, Jim had doubts about his hypothesis, considering the alternative of an inter-department rival, waiting to pass him in the law enforcement hierarchy. That option was quickly dismissed. He recognized that as of late, he’d been the black sheep of the precinct. Big Jim’s current, civil lawsuit and several past missteps already removed his name from consideration for job advancement.
No,
he decided.
Nobody is gunning for my position right now.

Furthermore, there couldn’t be any cops walking around with a disciplinary chip on their shoulders. He hadn’t had to take such action in years, the latest crops of rookie officers from the academy having been a competent crew.

No, it had to be related to the kid’s case from so long ago, and that narrowed down the list of suspects.

Jim’s cell rang, the caller ID indicating his wife had arrived. After informing his spouse he’d be right out, Jim cleared out a few personal items and headed for the parking lot. He paused after stepping outside, turning back to peer at the place that defined so much of his life. “I’ll be back,” he stated with confidence.

“Did you hear what happened to Marwick?” Chip’s excited voice came over the cell call.

“No. Did someone finally shoot the SOB?” Gabe speculated.

“I just saw a little news blurb…. He’s been suspended. No doubt, it has to do with that fresh video that magically appeared. How did you do that, by the way?”

Gabe was puzzled, and it bled through in his voice, “Huh? What video? I’ve had my head down trying to build the G-3 unit. What have I been missing?”

It only took a few minutes before Chip had brought his boss up to speed.

“No shit? That’s fantastic! While I wish I could take credit for hacking into the police video management system, honestly, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Damn. And here I was thinking I worked for the smartest guy on the planet,” Chip teased.

“Nope. You work for only the second smartest guy on the planet,” Gabe mused. “Obviously, we have a new ally. Someone with real connections.”

“We have started a movement, man,” the excited protégé beamed. “Any idea who our co-conspirator could be?” Gabe inquired, now moving back to the new mystery.

“No. None. But it has to be somebody on the inside, and he surely has a big pair of ‘nads. It would take some guts to go poking around in the law enforcement system,” Gabe speculated.

“So Marwick finally pissed off the wrong dude. Cool. Can’t think of a nicer guy to get his ass handed to him. Wonder what happens now? Maybe this means somebody has to admit what he did to both of our families,” Chip concluded. 

“Obviously that new video is going to put some additional pressure on the DA to follow up on filing the criminal charges against him. I’d just about given up hope. In the meantime, I think I would try to avoid running into Officer Marwick. That guy was a ticking time bomb before, now I’m sure he’s about ready to split atoms.”

“Should we be watching him? I mean with the drones?”

Gabe had to admit, Chip had an interesting idea. “God… I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure Adam would advise us that such activities would be considered stalking. He’d probably throw in a few dozen FAA violations as well.”

“Shit,” Chip responded, disappointment thick in his tone. “That sounded like fun. We could park a drone on his ass and dare him to do something about it. That would send our friend Big Jim over the edge for sure.”

Gabe’s chuckle drifted through the phone, but then he became serious. “Marwick deserves the benefit of the doubt, just like Jacob did. We have to assume he’s innocent until proven guilty… treat him the same as we would want someone to handle Jacob or Manny. While I’m just as convinced as you are that the guy is a danger to society, until he’s convicted in a court of law, he’s just another badge.”

The response was a grunt, followed by, “Oh yeah? Clearly, you haven’t wrestled with that ‘badge’ in your driveway like I have. I got all the proof I needed, right there. Guilty as charged, asshole. But I suppose you’re right… as usual. Still, I’d love to post an internet video of Marwick trimming his nose hairs or drooling on his pillow at night. Something gross and offensive as hell.”

“Maybe we can hover one of our units outside his prison cell window and record video of his jail house lover and him? Now that would go viral in a heartbeat.”

Chip laughed hard at that one, so deeply in fact, Gabe made a note to keep an eye on all of their drones if Marwick actually ended up behind bars. Finally, after a few moments, Chip was back to business. “Anything you want me to take care of while you’re creating the next airborne Frankenstein?”

“Yes. I want you to take Amanda and Manny out for a nice dinner, and get ready to work some long hours. I think we need to press our advantage while the momentum is on our side. I’ll have the G-3 assembled and tested in another few days.”

“You got it, boss. Call me if you need anything.”

Kirkpatrick pulled into the diner’s parking area, subconsciously scanning the cars scattered around the lot. It didn’t surprise him to find he was the only cop this evening, the rest of the guys having eaten over an hour before while he’d been delayed waiting on a wayward tow truck.

Shrugging, he pulled into a close-in spot and pulled the cruiser out of gear, then radioed the dispatcher with the proper code indicating he was taking his “lunch” break.

He opened the door and stood, some sixth sense making him spin, only to find Sergeant Marwick standing directly behind him. “Shit!” he inhaled sharply. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” the hefty cop replied. “I just walked straight up…. It’s not as if I were stalking you or anything. You extra jumpy for some reason tonight?”

For a moment, he thought Marwick might have figured out who had turned in the video, but then immediately reconsidered. There just wasn’t any way that could have happened so quickly. Deciding their meeting was purely coincidence, Dole answered honestly. “I’ve been jumpy as hell since I almost shot that kid. This is the first night the captain has let me back on duty.”

“I heard about that,” Big Jim replied. “Weird. Just plain weird. But that kind of fits in with what I want to talk to you about. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Kirkpatrick shook his head, “I should buy your coffee. You’ve had a rough couple of days, too… probably worse than mine.”

“Fine by me,” Marwick answered, nodding toward the greasy spoon.