Parrino stewed in the precinct’s workout room. Mak had called in sick for the day. Granted, virtual life models were perfect, down to the simulated need for sleep and the occasional illness if parameters were not strictly adhered to, but this felt too convenient. His partner of the past five years, who had stuck with him and occasionally sanctioned his deviations from standard procedure, had accused him of being “unprofessional.” He failed to understand the reasonings, especially from someone who had spent almost a century dissecting people’s motives and personalities. He was sure he had never once given Mak reason to doubt his judgment. He had never shown anything but a level-headed dedication to the job. The risk of getting a black mark on your record because, while you got the job done, you didn’t do it in the politically convenient way was something Mak had always wholeheartedly supported.
The Division 4 takeover of the case reeked of something shady; Parrino just couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d heard stories about Division 4 that made his hair stand on end. Heck, he’d met a few Division agents in the past that creeped him out. On the two occasions he was invited to apply to Division 4, he’d turned it down for those reasons, instantly regretting taking that moral high ground. Policemen weren’t always perfect, and so-called “bad- cops” dated all the way back to the Sheriff of Nottingham, possibly earlier, but by and large, they were citizens of the neighborhood looking out for citizens of the neighborhood. He desperately wanted to be a Division agent, but he didn’t know where his loyalties would lie if he were to be assigned outside of his neighborhood.
Parrino was on desk duty tonight with no partner. He still hadn’t filed his report from the arco construction site but knew that Mak would have filed one in perfect recall from his own memory almost instantaneously before clocking out for the night, so he wasn’t concerned about that.
The girl still bothered him, however, as it obviously bothered Mak. He understood how it looked. She was attractive, friendly, and obviously up to her neck in whatever the case was. Maybe Mak was right; she wasn’t just a victim, and somehow, she was on the wrong side of all of this. Mak had good instincts for these things, and Parrino had to admit that his partner’s version made much more sense. Maybe he was having a lapse of judgment over a pretty face. This went beyond trying to protect a partner, however. Mak should have at least considered his theories.
Chief Inspector Somerset strode purposefully into the room, hastily acknowledged the others, and immediately sat beside Parrino. Both men glared at each other, neither giving up the satisfaction of making the other be the first to speak. Parrino took small satisfaction from winning that pointless battle.
“Parrino, most people answer the comm when their chief inspector pages them, even if they’re just skulking on an exercise machine,” Somerset said with a sigh.
Parrino winced. “Sorry, chief inspector.”
“And did you really coerce one of the Audreys into working on a case you were removed from? Do you know how much I hate dealing with her neurotic ramblings when she’s guilt-wracked for breaking procedure like that? I spent twenty minutes trying to calm her down and had to give her two days’ leave.”
“Sorry again, chief inspector,” Parrino said without feeling.
“You really think you have something that will help the Feds? This Soranus angle?”
Parrino took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I think the ‘Soranus angle’ has legs. I don’t know what Division 4 already knows. I’m not even sure if their goal is to solve the murder.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The sloppy way they took over. No transition, no explanation. They didn’t even want to debrief us. They just took the notes and scans and sent us on our way. I think they already had their minds made up. It was more important to them that we not be there.”
“You’ll put that in your report?”
“Are you asking me to, sir?”
“Your partner has already handed me his. He doesn’t agree with your assessment, particularly regarding this reporter.”
“I’m not surprised. Look, chief inspector, I can explain–”
“I’m not interested in explanations or excuses. I don’t care if you want to give the Feds a black eye. I don’t even care if you do a little detective work on your own time. What I do care about is that two of my best detectives didn’t even question how two Division agents managed to descend on a murder scene that the investigating officers hadn’t even
Parrino tried to disguise his shock. That was what he was missing and what had bothered him about the whole “hand-over.”
“I should probably knock you down a peg for that, but you had your mind elsewhere, I guess. Still, as long as you’re on my clock, you work the cases I tell you to work.”
“Understood, chief inspector,” Parrino said, deflated.
Somerset paused. “No, no. That’s where you’re supposed to say, ‘Oh yeah? What case is that, chief inspector? You haven’t given me any cases,’ in your usual smart-assed tone.”
Parrino smiled again. “No sir, I don’t think I’ll give you that satisfaction now.”
“Are you sure? Because I think you’re really gonna like this one. Assault and battery. The victim is in recovery in Bay 12 at KC Med. Why don’t you pay him a visit?”
Parrino pulled out a datapad and wrote down the location. Battery was better than desk duty. “Yeah, sure, chief inspector. What’s the victim’s name?”
“Special Agent Nolan Foucan of Division 4. I believe you’re acquainted. Now, get moving.”
The Kensington Chelsea Medical Center was the smallest of three hospitals serving the dome and by far the oldest. In fact, if Parrino had to guess, he would say much of the architecture was original and dated back over a century. This wasn’t the hospital you went to if you needed radical, life-saving surgery; this was the hospital you went to if you needed a low-key patch job – which was why he was surprised to see a Division 4 agent, particularly with the injuries Foucan had sustained, hiding out here.
Following a quick briefing from the floor nurse, Parrino entered Bay 12. Foucan was reclined at 45 degrees in a lifebed. From the neck down, his body was motionless inside a shimmering suspension field. Externally, he didn’t look the worse for wear, with only slight discoloration remaining where large, painful bruises had no doubt been a few hours earlier. His face was still slightly swollen, but not to the point Parrino didn’t recognize him instantly. Various tubes protruded from multiple points on his body, feeding him with whatever drugs or nanobots were needed to repair the unseen internal damage. These were periodically adjusted by robot arms that extended from under the lifebed and carefully monitored by nurses at the station up the hall.
Screw it, Parrino thought. His personal feelings for the man were one thing, but he hated to see anyone, especially a fellow cop, beaten to within an inch of his life and left for dead. He decided that, despite their differences and his opinion of Division 4, he would find the person who did this and bring him in.
Foucan, barely able to turn his head, caught him out of the corner of his eye. “Ah, Sergeant Parrino,” he smiled. “Very good of you to come see me. You will forgive me if I do not get up?” He laughed and immediately winced in pain. Parrino realized this was the first time he’d heard Foucan speak, and the familiarity caught him off guard. After all, the French were known for being very haughty toward the British.
“Special Agent Foucan,” Parrino began, “I’m sorry this happened to you on my watch. I promise you I will—”
“No, no, no, Sergeant,” Foucan said quickly, “I find it is I who owe you an apology, and for that, I will now make amends as best as I can.”
“Amends?” Parrino asked.
“Yes, you see, I have come to learn that my partner and I were not authorized to take over your case.”
“What?!” Parrino’s response showed more anger than he felt. Secretly, he expected as much and was relieved that his instincts were correct. He couldn’t wait to tell Mak.
“I don’t fully understand it myself. You see, we were assigned to shadow an assassin for hire who had just arrived on Earth.”
“Viktor Olzos, AKA: Soranus?” Parrino offered.
Foucan smiled, impressed. “You’d make a good agent, Sergeant. We had intel that he had arrived in France and was visiting and researching a half dozen churches and religious sites. We had assumed that meant his target was a high-ranking religious figure of some sort, and he was scouting locations. Either way, his travel pattern was scattershot, almost random, so we were never able to predict his location, and we always arrived just before he’d moved on to the next site.”
“Why was he targeting religious sites in France if his target was an off-world scientist in London?”
“We never found that part out. One morning, Ducard called me and said that he’d found Soranus. We went straight to a hotel in Paris, where we found him holed up in his room. He was crazed, raving mad, screaming to himself in the corner of the room.”
Parrino nodded. “Where is he now?”
“As far as I know, he’s in a secure holding area at Division 4’s Office in Paris, where they are trying to question him, but that may be a false assumption. I do know that we arrested him without incident. He didn’t even put up a fight.”
“That sounds like a neatly tied-up case. So how did you end up in London?”
Foucan nodded. “That’s where it gets interesting. Ducard told me Soranus had confessed in interrogation that he had allies in London who were carrying out his mission to assassinate a certain Dr. Halferne. We were instructed to go to London, find the Doctor, and bring him back to Paris.”
Parrino was busy taking notes. “That was when?”
“Four days ago. I liaised with security at the starports and transit stations to locate Halferne. Ducard was following up with his connections with the black market and underground.”
“In-Phrame or Root Realm?” Parrino asked.
“I was in-Phrame from the local office. Ducard … was in-Phrame sometimes, but obviously, much of that type of work needs to be done in person. He likes it that way. Anyway, after three days, Ducard had a solid lead, which led us both to the arco construction site, where we met you and your partner. Obviously, we were a couple of days too late to stop the assassin.”
“So, at what point did you realize you were operating off-book then?”
“As soon as I got back to our hotel, I received a message from our director. Your Chief Inspector Somerset called our office to protest the jurisdictional transfer, which was the first anyone at Division knew about it. Ducard had faked the authorization and the initial confirmation from our headquarters. In fact, as far as our bureau knew, we were still at Mont St. Michel in France, still trying to find Soranus.”
“How did Ducard cover up a major bust and fake a jurisdictional transfer?”
“I honestly have no idea. I assure you it would require far more skills with slicing and security protocols than he has.”
“So, he had help. Do you think someone in Division 4 could have been working with Soranus?”
“I do not know.”
“Didn’t you confront him?”
“Of course,” Foucan laughed slightly. “How do you think I ended up here?”
“Ducard did this to you?” Parrino asked incredulously, realizing this should have been his first question.
“He was … not himself. He was panicked. Enraged. Almost like Soranus when we found him. I tried to reason with him and discover why he had done such things. He was wrecked with guilt. Kept blaming that reporter girl, saying she was behind everything and that we needed to stop her. The more I tried to calm him down, the more violent he got. Then he did this.” Foucan tried to gesture at himself. “After that, you understand, things get a little fuzzy for me.” He chuckled and winced in pain once again.
“The reporter, Serah Wyles. How is she involved? What made Ducard think she was the killer?”
“I have no idea. I had never even heard her name until Ducard said it. What he knew about her, he wouldn’t say, but based on his temperament and words, I don’t think his intent is to arrest her. I think he means to do her harm.”
Parrino felt his face flush. “Thank you, Special Agent. I think I have quite enough now. I appreciate your help. You know how to reach me if you can think of anything else.” He was out of the room before he could hear Foucan’s response.
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