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The rising sun infused the smog-covered city with an orange glow by the time we drove up to the Vander Building. Those gargoyles stared down at us from every corner, even the entrance to the underground parking garage, as if trying to warn us off from this course of action. Inside the garage, spaces were filling up as the drones arrived for the daily grind. The old sedan sputtered as we drifted between pedestrians. The rusty old car was as out of place here as we were. It didn’t belong, and its presence was disturbing the order of things.
I pulled it into an open space between two sports cars, which probably never reached their full potential on the congested city streets. Magdela and I got out and headed towards the elevator along with the throng, trying our best to blend in. My pistol nagged at the small of my back as I walked, reminding me there was a good chance things would end badly here. Magdela fidgeted with the holster strapped to her thigh under her dress, probably feeling the same unease from trying to blend into the crowd while packing heat.
We passed between the demon and the angel flanking the elevator. I still wasn’t sure which I was more akin to. I never considered myself a hero. Hell, I never even considered myself a good cop. I just did my job and collected my paycheck. Now here I was on some crusade of justice—or vengeance. Which it was still wasn’t clear.
The security panel in the elevator hadn’t been fixed, and the occupants all muttered with curiosity lacking genuine concern as they punched in their destinations. Magdela reached out and tapped the floor for Talbot’s office, remembering which it was from the night before. The ride up seemed to take forever, stopping every several floors to disgorge more passengers. The number of people in the car fell as we rose, until finally it was just the two of us riding to the very top of the building. There was a soft, inviting chime, then the doors slid open and the final few steps of this crazy night were before us.
Motes of dust danced in horizontal rays of sunlight as the morning light shot through the windows on the east side of the building. The offices on our right were backlit by the sunrise, while those on our left were bathed in shadow. It was still too early for the executives who populated this floor to be here yet, but gruff shouting from the end of the hall revealed one early bird was already biting the head off some worm.
We ambled down the hallway between the rows of empty offices. At the end of it was the door with James Talbot’s name on it, and behind it the yelling continued. I reached out, pushed the door open, and we stepped inside.
A burly man—barrel-chested and almost as broad at the shoulder as he was tall—paced behind the desk screaming into a phone. “I don’t want to hear any excuses, just make it happen.” Spittle flew out of his mouth and coated the clear glass. Then he stabbed at it with his thumb to hang up and dropped the phone on the desk with a loud rattle. He stood there staring at us for a moment, seeming to size us up. “Well, you must be the two who caused all the commotion last night. Harold, is it? And...”
“Nobody,” I said before Magdela could answer. If he didn’t know her name, it was best to keep it that way.
“No matter,” Talbot said as he grabbed a half-smoked, smoldering cigar from a crystal ashtray and clenched it between his teeth. He sat in the chair behind the desk and leaned back, as casual as if this were just another day in the office for him. “So, I can assume you’re the one who shot Sergei?”
“You can assume all you want,” I said as I sat in a chair in front of the desk. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, trying to mask my apprehension and match Talbot’s demeanor. He slid the ashtray across the desk, making a loud scraping noise in the uncomfortable silence.
He puffed at the cigar; his eyes locked on mine. “I want you to know you’ve caused me an inconvenience, and I don’t let slights like that go unanswered. You’re already the most wanted man in the city. Why not just disappear?”
Magdela pulled out her phone and handed it to me. I pulled up an image of the girls being herded into the shipping containers and slid it across the desk. “That’s why.”
Talbot glanced at the screen for a moment, then slid the phone back with a dismissive shove. “So what? Some cunts down at the docks. What’s this got to do with me?”
“They were being loaded onto the Beverly, one of your freighters. We also have the records of payments from the Russians to you, and you to Dreamworks, all coinciding with this and other shipments.”
“Oh, I see,” Talbot nodded and stood. He paced over to the window and looked out over the city, still puffing away at the broad cigar. “So, you think you have it all figured out, and now I’m suddenly going to cave and admit to the whole thing. You think I’m going to clear you of all wrong, admit my own business associates killed my nephew and framed you for it, and then you’re going to go back to work.”
“That’s about it,” Magdela said. “You piece of shit. You think you can just buy and sell people? You think you can just get rid of them when they get in your way? That’s not how things work.”
“That’s exactly how things work!” Talbot yelled as he spun away from the window. A red flush rose in his cheeks and a single vein throbbed in his forehead. Smoke wreathed him from the cigar in his hand as he gesticulated to punctuate his words. “You think you can come into my office and intimidate me? You think you can change anything about what’s happening in my city? I practically built this city. It’s mine. And the cattle inside it are mine to do with as I please.”
“You’re a monster!” Magdela yelled, rising to her feet as well. “Those are people. She was my friend.”
Talbot stopped and met her eyes, realization dawning behind his own. “Is she what this is all about? That little bitch from the flesh bar? If she had been a good little girl and just done her job, she’d still be alive. She asked too many questions, and she got what she had coming to her for it.”
Magdela was about to say something else, but I stood up and laid a hand on her shoulder. Tears streamed down her face. I took a step in front of her and said, “You may think that’s how things work, but there are laws, Mister Talbot. Society can’t operate without them, and nobody is above them.”
“Oh?” Talbot arched an eyebrow. “And what are you, some holy crusader of justice? I read your file, Mister Jacobson. I know all about you. Your rap sheet is as long as any of the scumbags you put away. Police brutality, taking bribes, abusing narcotics...”
“Nobody’s perfect,” I muttered. Having my own record thrown in my face put me off pace.
“Oh? And what about that ex-wife of yours? What about putting her in the hospital missing half her teeth? I’d say that’s quite far from perfect, Mister Jacobson.”
Magdela’s head jerked around, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of confusion and disgust.
“Oh, so the new strumpet doesn’t know you’re a wife beater?” Talbot grinned and took another puff of his cigar. “I guess that’s not something you share on the first date, is it?”
“This isn’t about me,” I growled. I could feel a wave of warmth rising through my scalp. Was it anger or embarrassment? I’d kept that particular skeleton locked in my closet for ten years. I wasn’t prepared to have it dragged out and paraded before me. Not here. Not now.
“Oh, but isn’t it? You’re spouting on about laws. Your little bitch is screeching about how ‘things don’t work this way’. But you’re sitting there on your white horses like a couple of righteous angels while trudging knee-deep in your own shit.”
Talbot walked back over to the desk and picked up the phone with the image of the girls at the docks still displayed on it. “This is how the world works. And people like me are the ones calling the shots. You don’t get to prance in here and demand otherwise. You’re just a couple of nobodies, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” He took another puff on the cigar and put the phone back on the desk. “Well, maybe except for you, Harold. You’re a famous cop killer. At least you’ll be remembered for something.”
“You’re wrong,” Magdela said with a forced calm as she picked up the phone. “Now we have your confession. I’ve been recording you this whole time. Give it up, Talbot. We got you.”
Laughter roared through the office and Talbot’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as a sudden coughing fit overcame him. He bent over double, his hand holding him up by the corner of the desk. “Oh, that’s almost as rich as I am.” He caught his breath, stood up straight, and walked back over to the window.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
Talbot gestured out at the city lying below us. The sun had risen above the mountains, and shadows cast by the city’s towers stretched towards the Vander Building like the arms of beggars reaching out for alms from the icon of wealth lording over them. “You really think any of this matters? You think I can’t bury your so-called evidence, and you along with it? I told you, I own this city.” Spittle flew out of Talbot’s mouth as he shouted the last. “Every cop, every lawyer, and every judge belong to me. Hell, my fucking sister is the mayor. Do you really think this will get past the district attorney’s desk? I’m his daughter’s godfather, for Christ’s sake. I paid her way through college. Go ahead, file your report. You’ll be rotting in prison for killing Kristoff and all of your evidence will be destroyed before they even lock the cell.”
Magdela slumped into a chair, defeated. The spark of hope I saw in her eyes just a few hours ago was extinguished, and all that was left was the deep pit of hopelessness which could be seen in every other pair of eyes in the city.
Something inside of me snapped in the moment. Seeing her light snuffed out tore away the only glimmer of hope I’d seen in over a decade. She looked at me like I was a monster after learning of my past, which eroded any thoughts of happiness returning to my life. There was nothing left then but anger. Anger over Frank’s death. Anger at being framed for it and Kristoff’s murder. Anger about all those women being taken and shipped off to a life of servitude.
And most of all, anger that Talbot was right. I was angry this was how things worked, and there wasn’t anything anybody could do about it.
Talbot must have seen that hope die inside me, because he strode over and poked a finger into my chest. “You see it now, don’t you Harold? You see how stupid you’ve been, chasing some dream of justice in a world where it doesn’t exist. There’s only one true law in the world, and there only ever has been one law. The powerful rule over the weak. The Romans knew it, the British knew it, and now you see the light.”
He walked back over to the window with his back to us. “Once, it was the might of steel that ruled the land. Now, it’s the almighty dollar. Whoever controls the money, controls the world. You’ve known this for a long time, Harold, you just didn’t want to admit it. What have you ever done in life which wasn’t fueled by greed? You didn’t become a cop because of some sense of justice. You did it because it paid a decent wage and had good benefits. Hell, you even beat your wife half to death over money, didn’t you?” He spun on me, a sardonic grin crossing his face. “What was it? Was she buying too many shoes? Spending it all on fancy jewelry? There was enough, though, wasn’t there? You could afford it; you just wanted more for yourself. There were things you wanted—booze, drugs, whatever—but that bitch was spending all your money.” He turned around again and took a puff of the cigar. “We’re a lot like each other, Harold. That’s the tragedy in all this. You might have been somebody if you hadn’t been on the wrong side and start this little war of yours.”
I looked back at Magdela, who still slumped over in the chair. She met my gaze, but what I saw there surprised me. There was a wondering, as if she were considering Talbot might be right about me. But there was also a desire to hear me defend myself. She still wanted to believe there was some good in the world, despite Talbot shattering any idea of it over and over again.
I wanted to tell her there was something pure about me, that Talbot was wrong, but I couldn’t. I knew there had to be some good in the world, but she wouldn’t find it with me. I was as much of a rotten bastard as Talbot was making me out to be, and I had no defense for it.
The little good I’d hoped to find in the world had rested with Magdela, and if she was looking to me for that spark of hope, then we were all truly lost.
“So, go ahead,” Talbot interrupted my thoughts. “Take your evidence to the police. Turn yourself in. I’ll be here. While you’re rotting in prison, I’ll be here building my own Pax Romana. This city needs me, after all. I’m the only thing holding it together. Without me, it would all crumble into chaos. There has to be a wolf to tend the flock, else the sheep will tear themselves apart.”
I looked out over his shoulder at the city as the sun rose above it, and beyond to the mountains. Great swaths of desert stretched out beyond them, and past that the promise of a new life. I could still walk away from all this. Away from Talbot. Away from New Angeles. I could run away from my past and start a new life. I looked back, and Magdela’s eyes still searched my own for some glimmer of hope in a world full of darkness.
I turned back and fixed my gaze squarely on Talbot’s back. He took another puff of his cigar as he looked out over his city. I should just let him have it. I shouldn’t try to change what can’t be changed. Still, the way things were wasn’t the way they had to be. Something in my mind screamed for me to change all of this.
“You’re wrong about one thing, Mister Talbot,” I said as I pulled the pistol from behind my back.
He turned, his grin of contempt still on his face. It slid away as he recognized the glint of steel in my hand. The smile faded, to be replaced by a twisted mask of confusion. Even in this moment, he couldn’t accept the idea of somebody rallying against what he saw to be the natural order of things.
My finger slid over the trigger as I leveled the gun. My hand should have been shaking, but it was as steady as my newfound conviction. I squeezed softly and the silence in the room was broken as the hammer struck down on the primer. The pistol roared as flame and smoke flashed from the barrel. A single round flew out, spinning with the frenzy of the downtrodden masses who simply could not take this anymore. The lead slug drilled into the flesh of Talbot’s forehead, shattered bone, and tore through his brain. Bits of flesh and skull erupted behind him, and blood splattered against the window a moment before the slug continued its journey and shattered the glass. Talbot fell back through the spinning shards as the morning sun reflected off them in a sparkling shower of light. A broken man fell from his ivory tower, limp and helpless as the bits of broken glass falling around him.
I looked out over the precipice and whispered, “There are wolves among the sheep.”