Frank Zafiro: And Every Man Has to Die

Kahn shrugged. “I doubt they could figure it out, sir.”

A general rumble of low laughter filled the room. Chisolm smiled himself. He’d had more than his fair share of issues with intelligence units, beginning with the frequently inaccurate ramblings of military intelligence during the war.

Saylor didn’t reply right away. Then he said, “I’m sure they’ll get their cryptologists on it right away. Meanwhile, it actually makes some sense that these animal rights whack jobs might try something funny at the arena while the circus is in town, so let’s give it some frequent drive-bys, huh?”

Kahn nodded.

Saylor moved on. “We have a new member of the graveyard team tonight, over in Adam Sector.” He swept his hand toward that table. “Officer Carson, would you mind standing up?”

Carson’s cheeks blossomed with a tinge of red. She pushed a long lock of hair behind her ear and stood.

“Welcome to the shift, Officer,” Saylor said, putting his hands together in a light clap. The rest of the assembled officers followed suit, resembling a lackluster golf clap after a routine putt. Chisolm also heard a mild, murmuring undercurrent that he recognized as half a dozen male officers making comments on her figure that her police uniform and gear couldn’t hide. Or her initials.

“Thanks,” Carson said, then hurriedly sat down, no doubt aware of the appraisal.

Saylor set the hot board down on the lectern. “That’s it for new announcements. Does anyone have anything for the shift?” Saylor waited a moment, then turned the meeting over to the sergeants at their respective tables.

Sergeant Shen addressed the Adam Sector table. “I’d also like to welcome Officer Carson. She’s going to finish up her probationary year on our team now that she’s finished with the training car. I’m sure you all remember her from when she was assigned to Officer MacLeod.”

“Let’s hope she’s learned something since then,” Battaglia joked.

Carson appeared momentarily stricken, though she tried hard to hide it.

“I’m sure she has,” Shen said with a light smile. “That was her first rotation in the training car, wasn’t it? Fresh out of the academy?”

“Yes, sir,” Carson said. “I was brand new.”

“It didn’t show,” Battaglia said, his voice full of sarcasm. He winked at Carson and smiled. Her features softened once she realized he was teasing her.

And so it begins, Chisolm thought. Every new cop put up with the ruthless teasing, so that was nothing new. But he sensed something more in Battaglia’s jest. Something more along the lines of James Kahn’s barely concealed lust. He filed his concern away, determined to watch and wait.

“How is Katie?” Sully asked.

Chisolm’s ears pricked up.

“She’s out of the hospital,” Shen replied, “and resting at home.”

“Hospital?” Chisolm snapped. “What happened?”

Shen raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t hear?”

“I was off yesterday.”

Shen nodded. “She got into a fight with a guy on a DV call over at the Delilah apartments. They fell down the stairs during his arrest. Her ankle was broken.”

Chisolm scowled. Why was she in there without any backup?

“Ah, tell the story right, Sarge,” Sully said, dropping his faux accent. “She didn’t just get into a fight. She kicked this guy’s ass .”

“Big Russian guy,” Battaglia added.

Sully nodded. “Yeah. Huge guy. And she took care of his business by herself.”

“Where were you two jokers?” Kahn asked snidely.

Sully waved his comment away. “We were upstairs at the apartment. The guy was trying to sneak out of the apartment building when Katie found him. She really-”

“How bad’s the ankle?” Chisolm interrupted.

Shen shrugged. “The doctor said that the swelling would have to go down some more before they could determine whether it would require an operation or not. It was broken in two places.”

“So she’s out for a while,” Chisolm concluded.

“Six to eight weeks, minimum.” Shen motioned at Carson. “That’s why we got Officer Carson here instead of swing shift snagging her.”

“Good trade,” muttered Kahn.

Chisolm shot him a dark look, but the veteran officer ignored him.

“Anyway, that’s all I have tonight,” Shen said. “If no one else has anything, let’s hit the street.”

There was a pause that no one filled. After a few moments, the officers collectively pushed their chairs back and filed out of the room, headed to the basement where swing shift would probably be waiting with their cars.

Chisolm fumed as he picked up his patrol bag in the hallway and swung it onto his shoulder. Maybe Sully and Batts should have been with MacLeod and maybe not, but Kahn’s comment was completely out of line. Making a derisive comment about MacLeod or anyone else in Adam Sector was bad for morale and divisive for the platoon. Moreover, in making that comparison to MacLeod, Kahn put pressure on Carson to somehow measure up to a veteran officer. And he was pretty sure that something about both officers being women was lurking in the undercurrent of Kahn’s comment, though he hadn’t come out and said it. Kahn’s use for a woman diminished to zero if he couldn’t sleep with her.

As far as Chisolm was concerned, Kahn was a complete asshole, even if he was a good cop.

He pushed the thoughts aside as he checked his car into service and rolled out of the basement. Instead he focused his mind on the mission ahead, which was, as Battaglia colorfully put it, beating down crime.

2209 hours

Valeriy pulled his green BMW into the nearly empty elementary school parking lot. He spotted Evgeniy’s Honda Prelude among the few cars in the lot. It was easy enough, since it was the only car with the cherry coal of cigarette glowing inside. Val glided along the driver’s side, stopping once their windows were lined up.

“Is it done?” he asked, getting straight to business.

Evgeniy nodded as he let out a long, steady stream of smoke.

“No trouble?”

“No trouble. Everyone was gone. It was easy as cake.”

“Pie,” Val corrected, reaching for a cigarette of his own. He slid the Marlboro between his lips and struck his Soviet Zippo. “In America, they say ‘easy as pie,’ Evgeniy.”

The other man shrugged. “Maybe I am not so American.”

Val drew in a deep lungful of smoke and let it billow out. “Perhaps not. But everything is ready to go?”

Evgeniy nodded. “As I said. Is all finished.”

“Did you use a remote trigger?”

Evgeniy shook his head. “I put it on a timer.”

Val frowned. “That isn’t as reliable.”

“No, not as much as a manual trigger, but it is safer for us. And I wired two, so there is a contingency in case one fails.” Evgeniy took another drag. He blew the smoke onto the glowing end of his cigarette, contemplating the redness. “Who could imagine it would come to this, my friend?”

Val narrowed his eyes. “What kind of question is that for a soldier to ask?”

Evgeniy shrugged. “I am not the same soldier I once was, Valeriy. And this is a different kind of war.”

“War is war,” Val said dismissively. “And soldiers obey.”

“Yes,” Evgeniy agreed. “And I did obey. I always will. But I am just…”

“Just what?”

Evgeniy sighed, his voice sincere. “I am just unsettled by this, is all.”

“Why?”

“Because it isn’t like the battles we fought in military. Not even like the struggles we had in Kiev against others in this life. This is against our own.” He paused, taking a short drag on his cigarette and letting it out in a wavering breath. When he spoke again, his voice broke with emotion. “This is also children.”