Authors: John Conroe
“I don't want to freak them out,” I said.
“Oh, get over it! Just take em off,” was her reply.
So I folded my shades and tucked them into my uniform pocket. Poor Adriana turned to point us at the table and froze in her tracks at the sight of my eyes. I just pretended not to notice and parked myself in the back end of the table, burying my head in a menu. She took our drink orders, getting flustered when she got to me, but again, I ignored her reaction as I asked for a diet Pepsi. The restaurant was tiny, but the smells from the kitchen were amazing and the basket of rolls Carlotta brought to the table was fresh baked and still hot. Sommers, who was sitting on my left, batted at my hand as I reached for a roll. “Senior team members first, Gordon.” he said.
But my hand dodged his swat and snagged it right out from under him. “Damn, you’re a fast little son of perdition!” He said with a laugh.
“Just really hungry.” I replied.
“So are you ready to order…..” Carlotta’s voice trailed off as I looked up and met her gaze. She lost her words for just a second, but then started to take orders.
Adriana came back at that moment with a tray of glasses and ignoring me completely, started to hand out drinks. Her mother had started with Gina at the other end of the table, taking our requests in a clockwise fashion. I had been conscious of Gina’s eyes on me, measuring my reactions, studying me, and I looked up and met her gaze. She surprised me by smiling slightly and nodding assurance, as if my appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. Last time I take off my sunglasses in front of strangers, I decided. Adriana continued to serve our drinks and even put her hand on my shoulder, ostensibly to steady herself as she leaned around me to place Steve’s 7-UP in front of him. No back down in that girl. When Carlotta came to me, I kept my eyes down as I ordered a pepperoni and sausage calzone.
“Gordon, why the hell do you get diet soda when you order fifteen hundred calorie meals?” Fran asked.
“Cause I’m watching my girlish figure,” I replied and everyone laughed.
“Why you are too skinny, Officer Gordon, not enough meat on your bones. But don’t you worry, we will feed you right!” Carlotta said. “You like Italian food?”
“Actually, he likes Russian!” Chet Aikens said from down the table.
The squad laughed, Carlotta looked bewildered, and I threw a roll at Chet as I said, “Yes ma’am, I love Italian food.”
Mother and daughter headed back toward the kitchen, and as they did, the front door opened and a couple of werewolves walked in. I can’t tell you how I knew, I just did. Maybe something about their aggressive stance, the feral gleam in their eyes or the animal grace of their movements, whatever, it was plain as day to me. One was tall, about six feet with sand colored hair, the other was five eight or nine and stocky, with dark brown hair. Adriana met them at the door and led them to a small table in the front by the big window. They both turned and made a point of looking me square in the eye. Adriana took their drink requests and left to get them, glancing at our table as she did. The werewolves were still looking at me and the tall one gave me a deliberate slow nod. I excused myself to go to the men’s room, which was near the front. As I came back from the restroom, they both caught my eye and I headed to their table.
“Officer, our….Leader sends his regards and asks that you accept these replacements in lieu of your originals.”
He handed me a plastic shopping bag as he said this and a quick glance inside showed me two Trac Fones, still in their packages, as well as a couple of Powerbars, a pair of folded ponchos and a plastic water bottle with the logo for
Lupine Sporting Goods
. I looked back at the two weres and nodded.
“These are great. Please thank Brock for me.”
Their eyes widened and then narrowed at hearing their Alpha’s name out loud. Brock’s message was sophisticated on many levels. By having his men drop off this stuff he was telling me he knew who I was, where I worked, and where I was. The cheap phones and other stuff weren’t important, although he was telling me he was aware of my small contribution to his mate and child.
I
, for my part, was telling him, that I knew who I had helped. The tall one nodded and dropped a fifty on the table, then they both left with one parting comment. “Brock is aware that his debt to you remains unpaid. He looks forward to paying it in full.”
I turned to head back to the table and my cell phone lit up with a text from Dr. Singh. I had included my cell number in the email I sent him.
DOC
S: Chris, the picture you sent is of a protein from the blood of my people. Although it is not an accurate copy. Twisted slightly. I’m not certain, but I think it could have bad side
effects if taken by your people.
I typed a thank you and as I put my phone away, a very pregnant Jacobella came out of the kitchen carrying a big tray of salads. She was straining under the weight, listing heavily to her left side and I saw her foot catch a chair leg. I reacted without thinking, dropping my new bag of stuff, while sliding my left hand under the tray as my right arm wrapped around her waist and under her right arm, stopping her from falling. I lifted her upright and made sure she was on her feet, then carried the tray to our table. The others were watching me with varying degrees of disbelief and no one said anything for a moment. I was glad for the excuse to go back and get the bag with the Trac Fones. I slipped into my seat and took a sip of soda, acting casual. Velasquez and Roma exchanged looks before looking back my way. “Receiving deliveries?” he nodded at the bag. My mind had been racing in overdrive with how to explain the bag, let alone Dr. Singh’s info. With Gina watching there wasn’t much I could do but give them most of the truth. I glanced around to be sure no civilians were in earshot.
“They were werewolves, confirming that the woman attacked at the park was a Were protecting her child. The bag is some stuff my were contact owed me.”
“And she was targeted by the Hancers. Why?” Roma asked.
“The text I just received from another contact indicates that the Hance protein is
a
twisted version of a protein found in vampire blood,” I added.
Silence greeted that revelation. “So people drugged with a vampire protein attacked a werewolf female. It sounds like someone is trying to create trouble between the weres and the vampires.” Gina said. “Who?”
“When I scanned the Hancers auras, they had flecks of white which would be explained by the vampire protein,” I said.
“White? Takata asked.
So I explained. “Humans are blue, weres are blue and green, vampires are white, and demons are black, which I also saw flecks of in the Hancer’s auras.”
“Demons? Is that what twisted the protein?” Chet asked.
They all looked at me, like I was some kind of expert or something.
“Look, demons thrive on chaos, despair, anguish and other negative emotions. Spreading a street drug that causes its users to freak out in the most violent ways possible makes a lot of sense, if you’re a demon.”
It was quiet for a few minutes as everyone started in on their salads and pondered the new information I had provided. No one had mentioned my abnormally adroit intervention with Jacobella's near fall, and I certainly wasn't gonna bring it up, but I knew it hadn't been missed. Maybe they would just chalk it up to the rest of my strange nature. I hoped so, because I didn't want them to suspect that the purest form of the protein Hance was based on was circulating through my veins and arteries. Something must have been said in the kitchen though, because the whole family came out to serve our main entrees, and clear our now empty salad plates. I just tried to keep my head down and concentrate on the huge calzone Adriana deposited in front of me. I thanked her without looking up, hoping she would choose to ignore me. Alas, it was not to be, because as I took my first bite, I became aware that that Tony, Carlotta, and Jacobella were all waiting on my reaction.
“Um, this is excellent!” I said.
Apparently, that was the right response because they stopped staring and went back to their other customers. I looked up to find Chet watching me with a grin. “Damn, Gordon, I've been here five times and
they
-- “ he nodded in the direction of the Russo family, “-- never waited on
my
opinion. You are one smooth son of a bitch!” he said. It was just dumb luck on my part that I had helped their daughter in law from falling, but I didn't want to bring that incident back up, so I just grinned at him, shrugged and kept eating. The calzone was really good and I was pretty hungry, although not as bad as I had been the last few days.
The rest of lunch was uneventful, although my soda glass was always full and
nothing would do for Mama Carlotta
, but that I eat a full dessert on the house.
We headed back to One Police Plaza. I was riding with Takata, who was driving, Sommers and Fran, who seemed glued to my side. Apparently, I was providing her first relief from the constant attentions of the dead in years. Sommers got a cell call just before we arrived back at headquarters and turned to Takata.
“Roma wants us to take Gordon straight to the range without going to the office.”
“He say why?” Takata asked.
“Olivia called. Duclair and Adler are waiting for Roma.” Sommers said. “They're all worked up about the Hance raid and shit. You leave your stuff in the office?” he asked me.
“Yeah, I threw my duffel in the copier room, but I have my Glock with me, of course.”
“I'll get it and I'll grab your stuff too, Brian. You take Chris right to the range. Roma doesn't want him anywhere near the Feddies.”
The nice thing about a Glock 18 is that it looks just like its semiautomatic parent model, the 17. The only visible difference is the selector on the left side of the slide. When holstered on the right hip, it is indistinguishable from the standard service piece.
As Brian led me through yet another warren of tunnels, I threw a question at him.
“Who are Duclair and Adler, and why shouldn't I meet them?”
He didn't answer at first and I thought he was going to ignore me, but after a dozen steps he finally spoke.
“Briana Duclair is the head of Homeland Security's Directorate of Anomalous Activity, our federal counterparts. Eric Adler is her second in command.”
He paused to punch in a key
code at a locked door.
“Anyway, she's wicked jealous of the Inspector, always trying to scoop him to prove her importance to her chain of command. They have a huge budget, try to get all the best people and gear. By now she'll have heard rumors about the Hance raid, the Damnedthing, and seen some of the intell that we scored. She's here to sniff out Roma's ace in the hole.”
I thought about that as we trudged along quiet corridors. “What's his ace in the hole or can't you tell me?” I asked.
He looked at me s
idelong without breaking stride
.
“You don't know?” he asked back.
“Brian, this is like my second day on the job. I don't know crap.”
“Well, Chris,
you're
his ace in the hole.”
I hadn't seen that one coming and it left me speechless. After a moment, he spoke again.
“You know, you could pretty much write your own ticket with the feds. Be a real big pay increase, not to mention perks and really cool stuff.” he threw out.
“They are based here in New York?” I asked.
“Yup, but they travel all over the country. They have their own Gulfstream on standby at JFK International. Big league stuff.” He was watching me to gauge my reaction.
“Well, that's out then. Me traveling around the country wouldn't sit well with my girl. She might get...anxious.” I said.
“You ironed out your differences then?” he asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.” I replied. “Besides, their group
’
s letters are D.O.A.A., that's kinda nerdy.”
He laughed. “Yeah, we refer to them as 'Dead on Arrival, Always'!”
Sommers joined us at the simulator range and we changed out of our dress uniforms in favor of tactical khaki's. I started running the scenarios, keeping my gun semi auto. I could tell that Steve and Brian were talking about me, but between the gunfire and hearing protection, I couldn't hear them. Steve was relaxed and friendly when we finished the first one though, so Brian must have relayed our conversation. I ran it again to see it I could get a better time. Finishing the shoot, I headed back to the gun table to reload my mags and noticed the Inspector was there, observing and talking with Takata and Sommers.
“Chris, you shaved about three seconds off your time with that run.” Sommers informed me.
“How was my accuracy score?”
“Fine,” he said without elaborating. “Ready for the last scenario?”
“Sure, bring it!”
The first five scenarios all had human looking pop up targets, some stand alone and some holding hostages. You had to avoid shooting innocents bystanders and correctly take out the thugs, while avoiding getting shot by the computer controlled paintball guns the dummy bad guys carried. The last simulation was designed just for our squad, and the guys would replace many of the pop ups with vampire and were look a likes, taken from a locked closet. They made me sit out in the hallway while they changed it up. Inspector Roma kept me company. “Chris, Brian told me about your conversation regarding the DOAA folks.”