president. She'd thought it from the
beginning, but she'd still signed up. To be incorruptible you
couldn't have anything, or anyone, in your life that the criminals
could reach. You had to have nothing to lose.
What the hell did they think
would happen, rounding up all the people like that and giving them
bigger guns and shinier shields and telling them to clean
house?
Rosa looked at them one by one,
her analytical mind churning out vital statistics, facts and
figures.
Reginald, the book worm. Near
photographic memory and a competition speed reader. In as much as
she was capable of liking anyone, Rosa liked him. Owen said he
couldn't shoot for shit though. That was probably why he'd been
partnered with Cooper. Ex-Navy, the guy could fight like a pirate
and busted up bar brawls for fun.
And then, of course, there was
Grice. He was the social one. He'd always said they should get
together more, be more of a unit. He was always trying to organise
dinner, or drinks. He didn't get that forming friendships would
make them weak. Rosa suspected that that was another factor that
had been taken into account. They hadn't just chosen people without
family and friends, they had chosen people who chose not to have
family or friends. That made Grice the wildcard, and a liability.
Maybe whoever had killed him had known that too. Maybe they wanted
to cut the heart out of the unit, and Grice was the closest thing
they had to that.
"No family," said Owen. "Just
like the rest of us."
"Not for want of trying, I
think," replied Rosa. "He doesn't fit the profile, you know."
"He's dead, Rosa," replied Owen flatly. "You can stop
profiling him now. Somewhere in this god-damn city someone cut him
up into pieces and put him in a bag to deliver to us. You ask
me? I'm glad he
didn't have any family. How
the hell do you explain something like to someone's wife, to
someone's kid?"
"That was the point wasn't it?
No family, no friends means no leverage, sure, no way to get to us.
It also means that if one of us gets killed, well, who's going to
make a fuss?"
"I am," said Cooper, pushing his way in between them. "You
say there's no leverage? That's bullshit. That's your leverage
right there, in a fucking pine box! Someone finally realised that
there's always a way to get to someone. You just get them . I always said we should just go
straight at these guys ourselves."
"You're drunk," said Rosa.
"What if I am?" sneered Cooper.
"What difference does that make? We're paying our respects to a
good soldier today, a man who died on the line."
"We're police, not soldiers,"
interrupted Reginald, pulling his partner away. "Your way works in
a bar fight or on a street corner, but if you want to go to court,
if you want to put these guys away, then you have to think like a
lawyer. You need to make sure you're unimpeachable. And you need to
sober up."
"This town ain't like that,"
said Cooper with a shrug. "This town is like the fucking old west.
The gun is the law here, nothing else. Grice is dead because we all
thought we were bigger than it, thought we were special. Well,
surprise surprise folks... we're not. Like it or not, we are all
soldiers now, because this just got turned into a fucking war!"
Cooper stalked off before any
of them could reply, kicking out at the old gravestones on his way.
Reginald wondering how many of those gravestones told stories just
like theirs, down over the years. Cops who died doing what they
thought was right, cops who couldn't turn a blind eye to what went
on in this cesspit of a city.
"Reg, you want to go after
him?" asked Owen.
"Someone has to," replied the
bookish cop. "But not everything he said is wrong, White. If this
is a war, we all know who fired the first shot."
Owen didn't answer. He just
clenched his fists and held back the part of him that wanted to
punch Reginald right in the face. They couldn't turn on him, not
now. He wouldn't, couldn't let them. He just watched Reginald jog
out of the cemetery in
beginning, but she'd still signed up. To be incorruptible you
couldn't have anything, or anyone, in your life that the criminals
could reach. You had to have nothing to lose.
What the hell did they think
would happen, rounding up all the people like that and giving them
bigger guns and shinier shields and telling them to clean
house?
Rosa looked at them one by one,
her analytical mind churning out vital statistics, facts and
figures.
Reginald, the book worm. Near
photographic memory and a competition speed reader. In as much as
she was capable of liking anyone, Rosa liked him. Owen said he
couldn't shoot for shit though. That was probably why he'd been
partnered with Cooper. Ex-Navy, the guy could fight like a pirate
and busted up bar brawls for fun.
And then, of course, there was
Grice. He was the social one. He'd always said they should get
together more, be more of a unit. He was always trying to organise
dinner, or drinks. He didn't get that forming friendships would
make them weak. Rosa suspected that that was another factor that
had been taken into account. They hadn't just chosen people without
family and friends, they had chosen people who chose not to have
family or friends. That made Grice the wildcard, and a liability.
Maybe whoever had killed him had known that too. Maybe they wanted
to cut the heart out of the unit, and Grice was the closest thing
they had to that.
"No family," said Owen. "Just
like the rest of us."
"Not for want of trying, I
think," replied Rosa. "He doesn't fit the profile, you know."
"He's dead, Rosa," replied Owen flatly. "You can stop
profiling him now. Somewhere in this god-damn city someone cut him
up into pieces and put him in a bag to deliver to us. You ask
me? I'm glad he
didn't have any family. How
the hell do you explain something like to someone's wife, to
someone's kid?"
"That was the point wasn't it?
No family, no friends means no leverage, sure, no way to get to us.
It also means that if one of us gets killed, well, who's going to
make a fuss?"
"I am," said Cooper, pushing his way in between them. "You
say there's no leverage? That's bullshit. That's your leverage
right there, in a fucking pine box! Someone finally realised that
there's always a way to get to someone. You just get them . I always said we should just go
straight at these guys ourselves."
"You're drunk," said Rosa.
"What if I am?" sneered Cooper.
"What difference does that make? We're paying our respects to a
good soldier today, a man who died on the line."
"We're police, not soldiers,"
interrupted Reginald, pulling his partner away. "Your way works in
a bar fight or on a street corner, but if you want to go to court,
if you want to put these guys away, then you have to think like a
lawyer. You need to make sure you're unimpeachable. And you need to
sober up."
"This town ain't like that,"
said Cooper with a shrug. "This town is like the fucking old west.
The gun is the law here, nothing else. Grice is dead because we all
thought we were bigger than it, thought we were special. Well,
surprise surprise folks... we're not. Like it or not, we are all
soldiers now, because this just got turned into a fucking war!"
Cooper stalked off before any
of them could reply, kicking out at the old gravestones on his way.
Reginald wondering how many of those gravestones told stories just
like theirs, down over the years. Cops who died doing what they
thought was right, cops who couldn't turn a blind eye to what went
on in this cesspit of a city.
"Reg, you want to go after
him?" asked Owen.
"Someone has to," replied the
bookish cop. "But not everything he said is wrong, White. If this
is a war, we all know who fired the first shot."
Owen didn't answer. He just
clenched his fists and held back the part of him that wanted to
punch Reginald right in the face. They couldn't turn on him, not
now. He wouldn't, couldn't let them. He just watched Reginald jog
out of the cemetery in
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