CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

DEACON WAS STILL looking towards Aukins, but it was clear from the junkie’s expression and the tone in Captain Witcombe’s voice what just happened.

Without turning around, he said, “I’m guessing that’s Detective Morrow behind me. Witcombe... You’ve crossed a line. Until now you might have been able to find a way out of this. But now you’re finished. All of you.”

“No, you’re finished,” Morrow said. “Killed by a junkie who thought you were about to arrest him for his involvement in the TranceTrance operation.”

Deacon slowly turned around, and his face was so close to Morrow’s gun that he could smell it: machine-oil, mixed with the scent of her skin, and a trace of gunpowder that told him the gun had been fired in the past day. The three officers also had their guns drawn. “Five against one,” Deacon said. “Bad odds.”

“Shut up,” Witcombe said, moving around to stand next to Morrow. “Damn you, Deacon. Damn all of you. Not even eight hours in my town and you’ve screwed up everything.”

Still keeping the gun aimed at his face, Morrow took three steps back. “Hoffman, remember you always talked about retiring before you were fifty? You got your wish. The Judges are retiring all of us.”

Deacon said, “Aukins... You might want to turn your back on these former police officers and start to move away, slowly.”

“Turn my back on them? Are you insane? They’re going to kill both of us!”

“Maybe. But we don’t want to make it easy for them to cover it up. Explaining why they shot a suspect in the back is going to be tricky. Do it.” He risked a quick glance back, and saw the junkie reluctantly turning around. To Witcombe, he said, “Even if you kill all of us, more Judges will come. You can’t stop this. Drop your weapons right now and you get to live. That is the only offer I’m going to make, and the only warning. Do we have an understanding?”

Captain Witcombe said, “The junkie pulled out a gun, started shooting. We returned fire, but unfortunately Judge Deacon was caught in the crossfire. That sound feasible to you, Hoffman?”

Officer Hoffman said, “That’s pretty much how I remember it, Judge.”

“Morrow?”

“It’s a tragedy. Honestly, Deacon, it really is. As a Judge, Leandros had the power to open every old case, and if she’d chosen to look into her father’s death, she’d have spotted the holes. We couldn’t let that happen. Locking Harvey up wouldn’t have brought Sergeant Leandros back from the dead, and Farrell Silberman needed to be put away. Best of both worlds. If you hadn’t assigned Charlotte-Jane to this town, none of this would have been necessary.” Morrow paused, then added, “Actually, we can blame old man Rotzler, too. If he hadn’t locked up his dogs last night, they’d have disposed of the body without alerting him. We would have had the time we needed to lay a trail showing Leandros had left town.”

One of the other officers said, “Wait. If we’re going to pretend that the junkie shot him, then where did the junkie get a gun? We have to be consistent about that.”

Hoffman rolled his eyes. “For cryin’ out loud, Turley, we can worry about that later! They—”

From behind Deacon something boomed, and Detective Morrow collapsed backwards.

Deacon threw himself to the side, pulling out his firearm. He hit the ground and fired, four shots.

He rolled to his feet, gun still aimed at the officers, but already knew that there was no need. Half of Morrow’s head was gone, and Witcombe and her three officers were on the ground, clutching chest wounds.

Still watching them, Deacon said, “Aukins... that was you?”

“Yeah, Judge. I never really shot anyone before...”

“Well, it was a good shot for your first. Now, put your gun on the ground and come here.” He unclipped his radio from his belt. “This is Deacon. Rowain, you almost here?”

“We’re three minutes away from you, Judge.”

“Contact Judge Vaughan in Colton, tell her to pick up Harvey Witcombe. Charges are driving under the influence, vehicular manslaughter and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. Forty-five years.” He put away his radio, and dropped a set of handcuffs at Captain Witcombe’s feet. “I can see how bad your wound really is, Witcombe. Don’t make out that it’s worse. Put the cuffs on.”

“This won’t stick, Deacon! I know people. I can get this conviction overturned in a day.”

“Is that so?” He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned Aukins closer, then handed him three more sets of handcuffs and a handful of steri-patches. “Cuff the others, Aukins, and tend to their wounds. Just peel the backing off the patch and press it down firmly.”

Aukins tentatively approached the other police officers. “Oh, man... There’s a lot of blood, Judge.” He crouched next to Hoffman.

“Just be grateful that none of it is ours. So... what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“The TranceTrance factory. I work for the guy behind it. I can give him to you, in exchange for immunity. Uh, Judge? This one’s still got his gun in his hand.”

“I saw that. My bet is he’s not going to use it; he’d rather be in prison than in pine... See? He’s setting it down. So who’s the boss?”

Aukins smiled. With all four of the officers now in handcuffs, he stood up and walked back to the Judge. “You’re the boss, Judge.”

“No, I mean, who is the man you’ve been working for?”

“Oh, right. I get immunity from prosecution? I mean, he has so many people in his pocket—or under his thumb—that I could never go to the cops, or even to a lawyer.”

Deacon nodded as he put away his gun. “On the condition that your statements are full, frank and lead to a successful prosecution of a person that we deem to be a significant producer of illegal narcotics, yes. I promise that you will have full immunity.”

“For this and all past crimes?”

Deacon realised the man was trembling again, this time more from relief than withdrawal. “Yes. And I can put you into a detox programme, help you break your habit. It’s going to be tough, but it’s usually effective.”

“His name’s Romley. I don’t know his first name, or where he lives. But I know he’s waiting for a call from me. He wanted me to kill the cop downstairs, Officer Chaplin. Make it look like he died from his wounds. Then the other cops would be so mad they’d go to war with you Judges, and he’d use that distraction to get his merchandise back. But you can trace his number, right? Find him and pick him up?”

“We can. Show me his number.”

Aukins fished his cell phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, found Romley’s number and held it out to the Judge. Deacon took it with his left hand, and with his right he closed a pair of cuffs over Aukins’ wrist, then grabbed his other arm and did the same.

“Wait, what? You promised immunity!”

“I lied. You’re involved in the manufacture and distribution of a controlled substance, plus you’ve just shot and killed an officer of the law.”

Aukins started to back away. “No! No, that’s not fair! I just saved your life, Deacon!”

“You did. Now save your own and accept your sentence. I promise that by the time the detox programme is done with you, you’ll be clean.” Deacon took out his own phone and dialled a number. The call was answered after a few seconds, then he said, “Marisa... Need you to trace a cell phone for me.” He read out Romley’s number, and said, “Soon as you can. Appreciate it.”

“He’s going to kill me,” Aukins said. “He’ll get someone to do it. Even if he’s locked up, there’ll be a way to get the word out and he’ll find out it’s me and then...” He almost screamed when he collided with someone behind him, and turned to see two more Judges glowering at him.

Deacon said, “Judge Boyd, take Niño Aukins here into custody. Possession of an unlicensed firearm, ten years. Discharging said firearm at an officer of the law with intent to kill or wound, twenty years. And two years in narcotic detox, to be served concurrently.”

“But they were going to shoot me!” Aukins said. “I was just protecting myself!”

Deacon and Rowain watched as Boyd dragged Aukins away, then Rowain looked down at Captain Witcombe and the other officers. “There are paramedics on the way. I told them not to rush. You sentenced them yet?”

“Not yet,” Deacon said. “I’m still adding up their crimes. At the very least, we’re looking at a century of incarceration for Witcombe.”

Rowain nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Deacon walked towards the edge of the roof, looking west over the city, and Rowain followed him.

The sun was touching the horizon, but his visor cut out the glare. “Couple of minutes, I’ll go talk to Leandros’s family.” His cell phone beeped, and he answered the call. “Got it, thanks, Marisa.” As he was putting away his phone, he said to Rowain, “You’re not done yet. Mister Aukins has given us his boss, creep named Romley. You’ll need to pick him up. But before you go...”

Deacon pulled off his helmet, and looked down at Rowain. “So. First full day as a Judge. Any regrets?”

“Not yet.” Lela Rowain also removed her helmet. “But... When I was three years old, you used to carry me everywhere. You basically took care of me for an entire summer, do you remember that? You’d take me to the park, and carry me on your shoulders. They’re my earliest memories. Warm orange evenings in Cunningham Park, with me dripping ice cream on your head and you laughing as it ran down your forehead.”

Deacon smiled. “I remember. I was seventeen, and all the girls in the neighbourhood thought you were adorable. I’m not ashamed to say that I used my baby cousin to get them to talk to me. I’m sure if I’d had a puppy, I’d have ignored you. What made you think of that?”

“I was just thinking... Those days are gone, Francesco. Maybe out here in the small towns, things will carry on as they were for a little while, but in the cities, no one goes to the park any more. No one walks to school because it’s too dangerous. Back home, my mom won’t go to the store on her own, even in the middle of the day.”

“That’s why they need us, Lela. The Judges will bring everything back into balance.”

She shrugged. “I hope you’re right.”

After a moment, Deacon said, “Let’s go find those paramedics, and then you go after Romley. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He turned away, but Judge Lela Rowain lingered for another few moments, watching the sunset.

“Come on,” Deacon said. “It’s getting colder and darker by the second.”

“Yeah. It is.”