“There’s no way that my Father agrees to this.”
Claude, Samantha, Frankfort and Max had volunteered to visit the police station where Claude’s father worked. The problem was that Captain Victor Wile had an awful lot of work on his plate at the moment. Claude was in no small part concerned about what type of approach Maria would take when faced with an officer of the law.
“I should be able to convince him to help. I’ve worked with him before,” Frankfort said.
“Did he know that you were working with WISA?”
“Of course he did. The police coordinate with the head office all the time. There are some problems that an average policeman on the street can’t handle, and that’s when they called for us. We would also pass urgent intelligence to them when there was an imminent threat to people’s safety.”
The streets were still packed with protestors and disruptors. Many of the city’s factories had been temporarily closed – and the police’s forces were stretched thin between putting out fires, stopping outbreaks of random violence, and fighting requests from the nobility to protect their property above all else.
That didn’t mean the police station was empty of officers. They were running all over the place, carrying stacks of papers or trying to find cells to put bloodied troublemakers into. The complete collapse of Walser’s government wasn’t going to stop them from taking advantage of the chaos after all.
“How are we going to get a meeting with him? He’s going to be busy,” Samantha wondered.
The group hovered at the front door and waited for an opening in the madness, slipping through and moving to the seating area for walk-in complaints from the locals. They were the only people there, as everyone else was too busy protesting or were steering clear due to the low likelihood of being seen to.
None of those people were the Captain’s son though – and it seemed that his sudden appearance at the station caught the eye of one of his trusted advisors. Halfway through hauling a box full of papers, they skidded to a halt in front of him.
“Aren’t you Captain Wile’s lad?”
“Is he here right now?” Claude asked.
“I’ll tell him.”
That didn’t sound good to Samantha. He must have had a good reason to invite him into his office if they were willing to distract him from work. They sat down on the chairs and waited five minutes for him to return.
“I’ll show you to his office.”
Samantha was counting down the seconds until there was some serious trouble in the family. She had made sure to make her excuses to her family through a letter assuring them that she was simply spending some time at a friend’s estate in case they opened the academy again ahead of schedule. It was technically true, and Maria’s attendant was in charge of maintaining the cover story.
Claude was not as forward-thinking, nor did he enjoy the level of independence from family meddling that Max did. She knew in the cockles of her heart that Claude hadn’t even considered the problem of what his family thought he was doing when he decided to come along for the journey.
The penny dropped when they passed through the door and into the oppressive space that Captain Wile used as his office. Samantha, Frankfort and Max stood at the rear of the room and stayed out of the way.
His voice boomed, “Claude! Your mother has been worried sick! Where have you been?”
“What did you do?” Max asked with a knowing tone of voice.
“What? All I said was that we were staying at the academy,” Claude insisted.
“Even though it’s closed.”
“I didn’t want to worry her and it worked, until she found out...”
Victor did his best not to become too angry with his wayward son - for the sake of the overworked officers on the other side of the thin walls that enclosed him. The irritation was obvious to all in the room except the very person it was aimed towards. Claude just smiled and continued, blissfully unaware of how upset his parents were.
“Honestly. I wonder where I went wrong with raising you sometimes! Do you get some kind of enjoyment out of upsetting your mother? She’s going to have problems with her heart at this rate.”
“I’ve not been getting into trouble.”
“Anywhere you can go in this city is nothing but trouble. I don’t need to say that this place is a powder keg at the moment. I want you back at home and out of the way.”
“But this is really bloody important,” Claude pled, “We could use your help with something. Can’t you hear us out first? I’ll go straight back home. I mean it.”
“You’re not going to do that, Claude. You say this all the time – but once you get a silly idea in your head there’s no dissuading you.”
Victor was not blind to the fact that he was partly responsible for Claude’s overly earnest approach to the problems in his life. He was a boy who was always eager to track down injustice and help the downtrodden, often in small but disruptive ways. He was as stubborn as a mule and wasn’t above breaking the rules to get his ‘just’ outcome.
“Okay, maybe it shouldn’t be a trade. It’s about those warehouses that burned down.”
Frankfort finally stepped in, “Allow me. I’ll explain to the Captain.”
Frankfort showed Victor her old badge, emblazoned with her name and rank.
“There’s no need for that. I remember you well enough. You’re with WISA on this case?”
She pocketed it again, “I used to be. If you’re still confused about that gunfight that occurred in the offices a few days ago, that was me and a colleague getting the sharp end of the changes that Welt wanted to make.”
Victor rubbed his eyes, “I knew it had something to do with him. He handed us a variety of excuses about what actually happened but never settled on one story. It stunk to high heaven.”
“Jones thought that we’d be a problem for his new vision of the agency and what it was meant to do. Retirement was not an option.” What was another crime to add to the pile while overthrowing the government?
Victor was weary of saying more, “Listen. I understand that you’re not here to cause any trouble – but I can’t exactly be seen conspiring with an individual who’s been involved in something like that.”
She ploughed on regardless; “I heard from a reliable source that you searched Welt’s safehouse and found your fair share of incriminating evidence about his actions. It’s not my place to pass judgment or insist that you act in a certain way now that he’s deceased, but we are interested in a particular list of addresses that were included in his notes.”
Victor frowned, his weathered brow creasing with fresh stress.
“How did you find out about that? Is someone in here leaking information?”
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“We’ve been looking into Welt ourselves, and one of my agents was specifically assigned to tracking down where he was and how they were distributing weapons to their supporters. Unfortunately, we were stopped before we could get that list.”
“But why do you need it now? Every single one of them was turned into rubble last night. There’s no use for the list now that they’ve been demolished.”
Frankfort shrugged, “She wants to be certain that none of them were missed. We don’t know who launched that attack – perhaps one of the local gangs who had been targeted by Welt originally, but they may have missed some of those weapon stashes. You can never be too safe.”
Victor accepted Frankfort’s explanation for why they wanted the list, not needing to hear the full story about Maria using a timepiece to loop back and organize the ransacking in question. That did not mean he was without his reservations about giving that information to them.
“You’re a civilian now. Claude may trust you enough to bring you here, but I can’t condone any action taken outside of the bounds of the law.”
Frankfort exhaled through flared nostrils, “The bounds of the law are looking awfully weak from where I’m standing. When was the last time one of the federal judges had time to issue a ruling or dispense a warrant? They’re all too tied up protecting their position from Ekkehard’s purge.”
“That’s the last thing I want to hear coming from a former WISA officer. If we don’t respect the rules, then we may as well not exist as a nation.”
“Welt didn’t respect the rules. Ekkehard doesn’t. Nor does the man in charge of those mad killers. You’re happy to hide behind the rule of law when Walser is in crisis because it’s convenient, and allows you to avoid asking serious questions about the morality of it all.”
“If we step out of line then the situation will get worse. The police are here to keep the peace. I’ve been resisting orders from upstairs to respond with violence to these protests for a week now.”
“Because you think it’s distasteful, or because you don’t have the manpower to do it? It’s a lawful order after all.”
Victor’s eyes darted from Frankfort to Claude, overly aware that his son was listening to the debate that was far more complex than he originally envisioned. Victor strived to be the best Father he could, to instil in him the same values that he cared for. A respect for others, a desire to attain just solutions to his problems, and a curiosity that allowed him to become his own man in time.
It caused tension in the house, and his wife always worried about how Claude was internalizing those lessons and expressing them around others. He was a meddlesome boy, a magnet for trouble, who loved sticking his nose into places where it didn’t always belong. Despite being the son of a police captain – he also cared little for the rules if they contradicted his belief in those fair outcomes. In trying to forge a righteous son he had created one who was more than happy to discard the rules.
It was happening right in front of him. Claude had lied to him and his mother to stay away from the house and help with whatever was being done by Frankfort. He was happy to see that he was untouched, but being in the city was a horrible idea. The entire place could go up in flames at any moment.
“Being a police officer doesn’t make us so inflexible, Frankfort. We bend to the winds that blow our way and try to achieve the best outcome. If every one of us strives to do our best and live up to those ideals – then we can make a positive difference.”
“Typical evasive nonsense. There’s no room for shades of grey in our world. Either the laws are dutifully executed, or they are not. What good would the government’s guiding hand be if its agents of force were given so much freedom?”
“Do you think that we should follow orders without question?”
“No. I simply can’t stand hearing a principled man lie to himself.”
Claude stepped up, “Just let me make a copy of the bloody list! I didn’t come here to listen to another philosophy lecture.”
“I can’t give it to you. It’s evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” Claude snapped, “It’s too late to ask questions now. The bloke’s dead! And the judges aren’t going to let any case go forward against the people he was working with.”
“Evidence is evidence. I’d have to risk pulling it out of the case file and bringing it up here.”
“So what’s more important to you? Protecting people who might be killed by those rogue mages? Or just protecting your damn job?”
Those words hurt Victor the most. It was a more incisive and cutting remark than whatever Frankfort could levy against him. He was trying to not let his emotions get the better of him – but the image of what may come to pass should they rampage through the city was always at the forefront of his mind. How many parents would lose their children, and how many children would lose their parents? Families ripped to shreds without a second thought.
The standoff turned into a tense silence. Claude stared his father down with no regard for their familial connection. He was willing to go that far if he felt it was the right course of action. The decision needn’t be made, because events were unfolding that would soon force his hand.
The door opened and one of his subordinates rushed in, “Captain! I’m getting word from near the palace that a group of madmen have opened up with firearms. It’s complete anarchy!”
“What?” Victor scowled, “Do you know who they are?”
“They’re not police officers or WISA, they’re a gang of strangers. Sergeant Williamson thinks they’re the same ones who attacked the Church Street lot a few weeks ago. Pale skin, delirious, violent. They started firing into the crowd with magic and guns. Dozens of protestors are dead at least.”
“And is Williamson down there now?”
“No sir, says he’s not risking his boys for a bunch of protestors.”
Victor was furious, “I’m going to wring his skinny little neck the next time I see him, so you’d better warn him to get out of my sight until I calm down!”
“Yes sir!”
“Get everyone who are willing to do their bloody job and stop them!”
The officer nodded and hurried away to gather some willing men and the firearms they’d need to take care of the shooters. Victory covered his face and sat down at his desk, muttering under his breath. He always knew that it was going to be a problem when someone refused to follow orders – and it happened at the worst possible time.
“Protecting the public doesn’t seem to be the Sergeant’s priority,” Frankfort mused, “And thus the truth is presented. An institution is made of people in the end, and they can always shrug off their responsibilities to enforce their vision of society.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“I was always aware of the limitations of what an organization like WISA could do, and how our government could use it to achieve their aims under the guise of maintaining law and order. The values of the police won’t stop people like him from neglecting their duty.”
The bustling of boot-clad feet and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room were the only sounds being made. A group of officers trained in armed response were being assembled and equipped, but Victor was worried that they wouldn’t be able to stop them without causalities.
Samantha, Max and Claude all knew that Maria wouldn’t sit idly by and let them kill any more people. She’d be out there trying to stop them before the situation could spread and devolve into further violence across the city. After a minute of quiet contemplation, Victor gave in.
“I already dispatched officers to investigate every address we found, and they were all destroyed, but we have no leads on anything beyond that,” he admitted, “The archivist will have typed several copies for the detectives while the real one is kept in the evidence locker. I can get you one of them.”
“Just like that?” Max said sceptically.
“But I’m only giving it to you if Claude promises to stay out of harm’s way. Goddess forbid you give your poor mother any more to lose hair over! I’ll tell her that you’re staying with me.”
Claude, predicting that he could finally contribute to the cause after a week of sitting on the side, happily agreed to the conditions being offered.
“I promise. I’ve been keeping my head down the whole time.”
Victor looked to the others for confirmation, who all nodded in the affirmative. Victor stood back up, moved through the door, and returned five minutes later with a piece of paper in one hand and his service cap in the other.
“Here, don’t make me regret doing this.”
“You know me. I’m as professional as they come,” Frankfort assured him, taking the list and folding it up.
“I’ve got to go and coordinate the response. I’d recommend that you all stay off the streets for a few hours, or at least stay away from the palace. It’s going to be dangerous. I’ll show you back downstairs.”
Claude remained silent during the trip back down. In the lobby, there were dozens of officers donning body armour and checking their weapons, ready to be dispatched to the scene of the crime and to maintain order in response. Victor motioned with his fingers, telling Claude that he was going to be keeping his eyes on him.
Claude rolled his eyes, “I get it. Don’t get shot.”
“Alright. Stay safe, Miss Frankfort, and take care of these kids.”
There was a lot that went unsaid during their conversation, but the urgency of the events that were now unfolding meant there was no time to explain fully. Victor was placing his faith in a group of strangers – and that was rare indeed. It was a better sign than any that the situation was growing dire. He hated relying on others based simply on trust.
“Everyone who’s ready to go, on me!”
He marched through the door, with every armed officer stepping in unison behind him. They hurried down the road and out of sight, parting the crowded streets with verbal warnings.
Frankfort pulled on Claude’s shoulder; “Let’s deliver this list to Maria before anything else goes wrong.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Claude could feel his nerves getting to him. This reminded him of the way he felt when the news broke that Victor had been stabbed during the cultist rampage from a few months earlier. Being a police officer was a dangerous line of work – but he always seemed to make it out the other side with only a few scratches and some interesting tales to tell.
Claude hoped that this would be the same, but he’d also seen the kind of damage Welt’s mutants could cause and how willingly they did so. It was going to be a difficult fight for the officers who rallied to his side.