about it?’
‘It’s being seized.’
‘That’s understood, sir. And you’ll have it once this incident is over.’
For a moment, the Deputy Chief said nothing. His eyes narrowed. Then: ‘It’s not a request, Detective Striker, it’s an order.’
Striker leaned forward, so that he was towering over the man. Leaned so close he could smell the oily sweetness of Laroche’s hair gel and the cigarette smoke on his breath.
‘Nice speech, sir,’ Striker said. ‘Now it’s my turn. First off, you’ve got my clothes, be happy with that. But you ain’t getting my gun – not until this incident is entirely over. And don’t bother spouting out any of that policy bullshit to me because safety supersedes policy – and what we have here is a legitimate safety concern.’
‘This is hardly—’
‘We don’t know where the gunman is, who he is, or even his motive – and I’ve already been involved in one shootout with him. For all we know he might come back. So the answer is no. No one gets my gun. Not till we got an in-custody or a dead body, preferably the latter.’
The Deputy Chief’s mouth twisted as if he’d eaten something sour. ‘We’ll get you another gun then, Detective Striker.’
‘Negative, sir. My gun is heavily modified. And I’m trained on this one.’
‘Striker—’
‘You’ll get my gun, don’t worry about that, but you’ll get it when the incident is over and not a second before.’ Striker paused. He looked back at Felicia, who stood looking uncomfortable next to Ich. ‘And don’t even think of pulling me off this case. I didn’t get shot at with a shotgun and an AK-47 so that you could come down here and play God. This file is mine. I’m the primary. I’ve had to kill over it, literally.’
The Deputy Chief shook his head. ‘You’re off, Striker. I have already made the decision.’
Striker leaned closer to the man, so close that when he whispered, no one but the two of them could hear. ‘I got video. Of you fixing your hair while the rest of us were hauling children out of the foyer.’
Laroche stared back at him. ‘Is that some form of threat?’
‘And eating sandwiches, too. What was it, anyway – Ham and Swiss? Tuna Delight?’
‘You want to end your career, Striker?’
Striker held up his BlackBerry. ‘Not the greatest video camera I ever had, but it sure gets the job done.’
The Deputy Chief opened his mouth, but no words came out. His neck stiffened. ‘This is insubordination, Striker. The Chief will hear about it. And the Police Board, as well.’
‘Good. Tell them to talk to my union rep. Directly.’ Striker forced his jaw to relax and let a smile break through. ‘I didn’t spend five years on the board for nothing, Laroche. I know my rights better than you know your policies. When you find out where the real authority stands – and ends – come find me. We’ll talk more then.’
Striker turned away and walked down the hall towards the security room. He had barely gotten ten steps when he heard the Deputy Chief barking orders at Felicia.
Striker ignored them. A sense of dark excitement flooded him as he wondered what evidence Ich had uncovered.
The security room was waiting.
Thirteen
Striker walked with Ich down to the school’s security room. As they passed one of the speakers from the PA system, a jittery voice made pleas for all students and teachers to gather in the gymnasium – the one place that had achieved lockdown.
The speaker crackled, then screeched with feedback. It irritated Striker. His hearing – all his senses – felt out of whack, one moment numbed, the next amplified. People’s voices were either too loud or muffled, the hall’s fluorescent bulbs were too bright or too dim, and everything around him smelled of fresh death.
He was drowning in it.
Felicia finally caught up, and they walked on. This was the exact same route they had taken when trying to locate and intercept the gunmen this morning, Striker
‘It’s being seized.’
‘That’s understood, sir. And you’ll have it once this incident is over.’
For a moment, the Deputy Chief said nothing. His eyes narrowed. Then: ‘It’s not a request, Detective Striker, it’s an order.’
Striker leaned forward, so that he was towering over the man. Leaned so close he could smell the oily sweetness of Laroche’s hair gel and the cigarette smoke on his breath.
‘Nice speech, sir,’ Striker said. ‘Now it’s my turn. First off, you’ve got my clothes, be happy with that. But you ain’t getting my gun – not until this incident is entirely over. And don’t bother spouting out any of that policy bullshit to me because safety supersedes policy – and what we have here is a legitimate safety concern.’
‘This is hardly—’
‘We don’t know where the gunman is, who he is, or even his motive – and I’ve already been involved in one shootout with him. For all we know he might come back. So the answer is no. No one gets my gun. Not till we got an in-custody or a dead body, preferably the latter.’
The Deputy Chief’s mouth twisted as if he’d eaten something sour. ‘We’ll get you another gun then, Detective Striker.’
‘Negative, sir. My gun is heavily modified. And I’m trained on this one.’
‘Striker—’
‘You’ll get my gun, don’t worry about that, but you’ll get it when the incident is over and not a second before.’ Striker paused. He looked back at Felicia, who stood looking uncomfortable next to Ich. ‘And don’t even think of pulling me off this case. I didn’t get shot at with a shotgun and an AK-47 so that you could come down here and play God. This file is mine. I’m the primary. I’ve had to kill over it, literally.’
The Deputy Chief shook his head. ‘You’re off, Striker. I have already made the decision.’
Striker leaned closer to the man, so close that when he whispered, no one but the two of them could hear. ‘I got video. Of you fixing your hair while the rest of us were hauling children out of the foyer.’
Laroche stared back at him. ‘Is that some form of threat?’
‘And eating sandwiches, too. What was it, anyway – Ham and Swiss? Tuna Delight?’
‘You want to end your career, Striker?’
Striker held up his BlackBerry. ‘Not the greatest video camera I ever had, but it sure gets the job done.’
The Deputy Chief opened his mouth, but no words came out. His neck stiffened. ‘This is insubordination, Striker. The Chief will hear about it. And the Police Board, as well.’
‘Good. Tell them to talk to my union rep. Directly.’ Striker forced his jaw to relax and let a smile break through. ‘I didn’t spend five years on the board for nothing, Laroche. I know my rights better than you know your policies. When you find out where the real authority stands – and ends – come find me. We’ll talk more then.’
Striker turned away and walked down the hall towards the security room. He had barely gotten ten steps when he heard the Deputy Chief barking orders at Felicia.
Striker ignored them. A sense of dark excitement flooded him as he wondered what evidence Ich had uncovered.
The security room was waiting.
Thirteen
Striker walked with Ich down to the school’s security room. As they passed one of the speakers from the PA system, a jittery voice made pleas for all students and teachers to gather in the gymnasium – the one place that had achieved lockdown.
The speaker crackled, then screeched with feedback. It irritated Striker. His hearing – all his senses – felt out of whack, one moment numbed, the next amplified. People’s voices were either too loud or muffled, the hall’s fluorescent bulbs were too bright or too dim, and everything around him smelled of fresh death.
He was drowning in it.
Felicia finally caught up, and they walked on. This was the exact same route they had taken when trying to locate and intercept the gunmen this morning, Striker
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