The bold headline combined with sensational photos gave away the cover story before he even had a chance to read the article. Leaked surveillance footage of the gas station incident ran down the left hand column of the front page coupled with a small recursive photo of the victim’s family within. A middle-aged man looked mournful and red-eyed as he embraced a lady bearing a similar expression. In the background, a cemetery lined with rows of crosses and a statue of an angel looking up to the heavens. A symbol of the despair and grief they had endured at the hands of the merciless synthetics. Yet through the fine print and imagery, he could smell the sweet stench of dollar bills as the media outlets counted their vast earnings. It was all just one big cycle of greed, manipulation and hypocrisy.
He shook his head whilst scanning the rest of the page. The piece went on to describe the after effects of the murder and how it had destroyed the Booth household. How else were they supposed to feel, he thought? This was nothing more than a ratings war between the major journalistic players of the city. Intent on stirring public hysteria whilst affording themselves the lavish lifestyles they always dreamed of. He felt sick to his stomach at the depths his kind could sink to.
Leafing his way to the following page, he came across a picture of the elusive Mr. Carl Randyll of “Strata” appearing determined and tenacious. A large audience of reporters encircled him as the article went on to quote his address to the masses at large.
“…I urge you, as a people. This is not a time to meet violence with violence. We must use the events that transpired a few days ago to learn and unite in solidarity. We must all be mindful of the fact that these are rogue, criminal synthetics that perpetrated this barbarous act. Not a representation of the majority of peaceful loving, helpful members of society that interact among us on a daily basis. I appeal to you not to lose sight of this. We are better than that and can rise above it together…”
Such a change of heart from the venom he spewed at the synthetics for the past few years. What choice did he have at present, he thought. A sudden change of heart against the principles he once stood for or risk the possibility of an all-out global war. The future was now just a blank sheet waiting to be filled in. Nobody could predict where we were headed as a collective species but that simply added to the already fierce tensions. Though Drucker had problems of his own. Much larger ones from his point of view.
The meeting with Rob was scheduled approximately one hour from now, by the edge of the same forest where he had encountered the white, shrouded sheet concealing his androgynous targets. A cataclysmic moment for his years of service as a respected and highly-regarded law enforcement agent. A reversal of fortune so swift that he had to ask himself if the entire operation had been a setup from the start. A figure of convenience to point the finger of blame at when the tides turn.
His phone rang, clattering upon his desk. The digital display showed it was a private number.
“Yes, Detective Drucker speaking.” he said, resting the receiver between his shoulder and jaw.
”This is Colonel Pactor. Hope you are well.”
His stomach fell as he heard the words crackle out into his ear. The low, formal authoritative tone only worsened his feelings of dread. This time remembering the conversation with Wallace, he erred on the side of caution and treated him with due respect.
”Colonel. How may I be of service to you?” he replied.
”Well, I’m just calling just to give you an update on my investigation. Not a request as such.” Pactor’s calm demeanour sliced through his ego like melted butter. If the purpose of the call was to communicate how incompetent and amateurish Drucker was, he would have received a standing ovation.
”It’s regarding Mr. Haimes.” he continued. ”As of this morning, we have decided to let him go and are dropping all charges.”
Drucker almost fell out of his chair. Having been so close to extracting critical information from the smug son-of-a-bitch, this made him look even worse than before. Something only a few moments ago was considered an impossibility. He gritted his teeth but remained composed on the open line.
”On what grounds?” he murmured.
”Circumstantial evidence. We’ve come to conclude that there were no suspicious dealings concerning Mrs. Dullet and himself. It appears as though it was just a case of unfortunate timing in regards to a private business deal. Nothing more.”
Drucker had dug deep to muster every ounce of strength he could find to stop himself from flaring, but intense emotions prevailed.
”Unfortunate timing for some private business?” he exclaimed. ”Are you seriously expecting me to buy that? I’m telling you. Before you barged into the Interrogation room like that, I had him on the ropes. He was just about to talk and you single-handedly prevented that from happening?”
For a second, there’s was no reply given. Then, a long sigh and Pactor began.
”Would you mind clarifying something for me, Detective Drucker? Is insubordination your specially or just allowing escaped fugitives to run amok in our country? Hmmm? This is the second time you’ve questioned my authority?”
The cold, bleak sound in his voice subdued Drucker at an instant. His off-the-radar investigation had already gone way over Pactor's head and he was not about to draw unnecessary attention at this late stage. There were two heads for the chopping block and the axe was primed and ready. He chose to just bite the bullet and let it go.
”I’m sorry, Colonel.” he mumbled. ”This case meant a lot to me and sometimes I find it hard to forget it was something I once owned.” The timorous words came out easily enough, although his mind was preoccupied with the upcoming liaison with Rob.
”Well, next time that happens, I’m sure I can arrange a special reminder from Capt. Wallace. I had no obligation to ring and inform you of this latest development. However, I may have to reconsider in the future.”
Drucker checked his watch as the verbal lecture came to an end. Doug would be knocking on his door any minute now. ”As I said, I apologise for the outburst. Thank you for letting me know. Would you be requiring any further assistance from me at this time?”
“No. That’ll be all for now, Detective.” he concluded. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some pressing matters to attend to.”
You’re not the only one, thought Drucker. ”No problem, Colonel. Thank you for…” The phone line was cut short before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Though this came as a welcome relief to Drucker. Every ounce of mental fatigue wasted on the man was soul-sucking, at best. No sooner than the receiver been placed back in it’s cradle, the door sounded.
”Come in!” he beckoned as Doug was already seen thumping into the office, holding a large file in between his fat fingers. He looked tense and anxious, which seemed to be the norm at the precinct these days.
”Right on time, Doug. So, you all set for the meet? I’ve just had an earful from our friend, the Colonel and really need the rest of the today to go smoothly.”
”I’m afraid that may be easier said than done.” Doug relied in a sombre tone. Drucker could now see on closer inspection that his friend appeared visibly troubled.
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