CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

“LOOK, I KNOW we’re asking a lot, but there’s only two of us. Technically, we could order you to do it, but I don’t think either of us wants to go down that path.”

“Oh, now you’re really helping your case,” said Hartigan. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’ll have a word with the captain, but I can’t say he’ll be happy about it. I can’t say I’m happy about it. We didn’t create this mess, and we certainly don’t deserve to be doing the heavy lifting to haul your asses out of the fire. We’re no closer to finding Carrera, and that storm’s getting worse by the second.”

“I know, I know,” said O’Shea. “Once we get this squared away, we can get back to helping you locate him.”

“All right. Give me a minute,” said Hartigan. He sighed, crossed the room, rapped on the captain’s office door, and slipped inside. Pennhouser perched on the edge of his desk, his glower speaking volumes.

They’d come back to the precinct directly from Governor Adams’s office. With narrowing options, and a clear order to have the protests disbanded by that evening, she and Ramos had decided that their only option was to utilise the police. They needed numbers, and people that the civilians would trust. They’d considered reporting back to Pellegrino—after all, she probably wasn’t really expecting them to succeed with Adams where Fargo had already failed—but that felt too much like admitting defeat. Better, surely, that they find an alternative solution.

Ramos was still raging after their encounter with Parks, and was all for heading directly into Captain Flores’s office and giving him a direct order. O’Shea, however, had advised a different approach, working through Hartigan, who she’d felt was becoming something of an ally amongst the otherwise hostile police force. It was better, she argued, that Flores reluctantly agreed to help on behalf of the citizens they were sworn to protect, rather than being forced into it by an order he didn’t want and didn’t respect. Reluctantly, Ramos had agreed, suggesting that if her plan failed, they could still fall back on a direct order.

Around them, the chatter of the station was a constant background hum. Uniformed cops buzzed back and forth, ferrying information. Detectives came and went, checking in for updates before heading back out into the growing storm. While Hartigan and Pennhouser were heading up the Carrera investigation, many of the others had rallied to help, and units all across the city were on high alert for any sightings or reports that might help to break the deadlock.

O’Shea glanced at Pennhouser. “Any word on the cell phone trace?”

Pennhouser pursed his lips. For a moment, she thought he was going to ignore her, then he slowly shook his head. “Nothing. Unless someone turns it on, we’re not going to be able to narrow it down.”

“No GPS tracer?”

“No. Apparently, Carrera didn’t like his PA to have too much of an idea of what he was up to.”

That was it, then. They were out of leads. Carrera could be anywhere, and there was no way of even narrowing it down. He might not even be in the city any more.

Flores’s door opened and O’Shea looked up. The captain made a beeline for her, Hartigan trailing in his wake. Both of them looking sour.

“So, you’ve come asking for my help,” said Flores. “Now isn’t that a turn-up.” Beside her, Ramos straightened.

“I think it’s in the best interest of the citizens that the protests are broken up calmly and safely, don’t you?” she said, trying to remain diplomatic. “Before the storm creates even more of a problem.”

Flores shrugged. “I don’t suppose I can argue with that. We’ll handle it. And you can tell your Chief Fargo that’s what happened too.”

“Of course,” said O’Shea. “We’ll help, of course—”

“No,” said Flores emphatically. “That I won’t abide. The police will handle this, Judge O’Shea. The first sight of a Judge and those protestors will get difficult. I won’t put people at risk. I’ve seen the photographs from Chelsea Market; I know what one of those weapons can do. And how willing you are to deploy them.”

O’Shea bit her tongue, hoping Ramos would do the same. “All right,” she said. “We’ll stay out of your way, and continue with the Carrera situation.”

“You do that,” said Flores. He nodded at Pennhouser. “You and Hartigan are with me.” He turned his back on the Judges and walked away.