The Archangel Drones (41 page)

A voice from the darkness startled the husky cop, causing him to drop the crowbar and reach for his pistol. “What are you doing, Sergeant,” Dole said calmly, staying back in the shadows.

“Kirkpatrick? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dole stepped into the clear, responding with a smirk. “Funny. I was just wondering the same about you.”

“Get your ass over here and help me, son,” Marwick commanded. “I’m 100% certain the Archangel is inside this building, and I’m going in after him.”

“No, you’re not, Marwick,” came Dole’s surprisingly strong voice. “You’ve caused enough damage for one bad cop. Now take that pistol out of your belt very slowly, and lay it on the ground. You’re going to go back to your car, drive straight home, and wait there for the DA to throw your ass in jail.”

“What?” Big Jim barked, spinning to face the younger man. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know you lied about that night Jacob Chase was arrested. I’m the one who leaked the tape because you violated the code…. You are a liar and have no honor. You deserve to be behind bars.”

“Why, you little shit,” Marwick spouted, taking a step toward the smaller officer. “I’m going to kick your…” but then he stopped, seeing Dole’s pistol pointed directly at his head.

“Lay that tool down, and go back to your car. I’m not going to fuck around with this. You’re out of control, Marwick, a mad dog. And tonight, I’m the dogcatcher.”

Jim’s demeanor changed, lifting his hands in surrender. “Whatever, punk. I’ll go, but you’ve not heard the last of me.”

Making to pick up his tire jack, Big Jim managed to half bend when Dole’s command came loud and strong, “Don’t even think about it. Now drop that piece, and get the fuck out of here before I accidently blow your fat head off. Do it!”

With his off hand, Jim reached for his pistol, holding it out by the barrel so Dole could see. He bent deeply, making of show of gently placing the weapon on the sidewalk at his feet.

With a surprisingly swift motion for such a burly man, Jim’s hand scooped and flung the crowbar all in one move.

Dole ducked the whizzing metal projectile, but didn’t recover in time to stop Marwick from gripping his firearm and getting off a shot. The .40 caliber bullet struck the young officer in the chest, the impact to his armor still enough to stagger Kirkpatrick. The second shot hit him in an unprotected shoulder, the third shattering his knee.

The pain surging through Dole’s body was unbelievable, his brain nearly shutting down from the shock and agony. He spotted an image appear above his head, the sneering face of Big Jim Marwick glaring down with hatred and disgust flaming in his eyes.

Dole spied the burly cop’s pistol come up, the round muzzle appearing as big as a dinner plate. “You fucking, punk-ass piece of shit. How dare you question a superior officer’s motives? Who the hell made you the God of police morality? You deserve this for ruining a better man’s life.”

Lying helplessly, Dole thought to close his eyes as Jim’s finger tightened on the trigger, but he couldn’t force himself to look away. For a hundredth of a second, he believed his wounds were causing a ringing in his ears, the distraction quickly dismissed as he watched Marwick lower the barrel so that the weapon lingered just above his forehead, aimed at the fallen officer’s pulsing temple.

“You want to work with angels? Fine. I’m going to send you to them,” hissed the big man.

But he didn’t. The buzzing noise was back, breaking Marwick’s concentration.

Jim looked around, quickly raising the pistol from Dole’s face. There was the G-3, hovering a short distance away from his head.

Kirkpatrick saw the machine as well. Despite the pain resonating through his body, something different about the drone’s configuration drew the wounded man’s attention.

There was a tube… no, a pipe under the main airframe. A plain, grey piece of lead, plumbing pipe. He knew instantly what the gizmo was, and he summoned all his available energy in an effort to turn his body away.

Marwick tilted his head, seeming to forget about the man at his feet, studying the hovering robot with vengeance in his eyes.

Despite outweighing the drone by nearly 300 pounds, the hefty cop seemed to hesitate. There, suspended in mid-air, was the supreme icon of all of society’s problems.

In Big Jim’s mind, the drone represented all that was wrong with the world.
Eyewitnesses aren’t shit
, he considered.
Any good lawyer could trip one up
. Even an occasional camera wasn’t a serious threat. But then came the cell phones, carried by far too many onlookers, their video often leveraged as weapons against those in authority. They hampered law enforcement, restrained those wearing the white hats, and required extra effort to neutralize.

But this… this flying monstrosity of technology… this was the apocalypse of proper policing.

“You’re the epitome of evil,” Jim whispered. “A demon, released from the depths of hell to trouble good men like me.”

Lifting his pistol to point at the drone, Big Jim added, “I’m going to kill you
and
your master tonight.” 

A ball of fire and whizzing lead shrapnel replaced the drone, the tiny pipe bomb attached to the undercarriage exploding with significant force. Only Big Jim’s body prevented Dole from acquiring additional injury.

After the thunderous roar and smoke had cleared, Kirkpatrick managed to open, and then focus his eyes. He found himself looking at Marwick’s lifeless, nearly decapitated body lying just a few feet away.

And then there was a pair of hands checking the wounded cop’s body. “I’ll get you some help,” a voice echoed, its volume made distant and weak by the ringing in Dole’s ears. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, finally giving way to his brain’s desperate desire to shut down and avoid the pain.

Epilogue

Karen left the DA’s offices at her usual late hour, crossing the elevated people-bridge to the parking garage on the other side of the street.

Her Mercedes was in its assigned spot, the secure, well-guarded facility eliminating any safety concerns normally experienced by a single lady working late hours.

She unlocked the expensive sedan with the remote, its plush interior and solid luxury of leather and wood enabling her to temporarily set aside the day’s pressing matters. She sighed in relief after starting the engine, the surroundings reminding her of a comfortable pair of well-worn jeans or a soft spot on the sofa.

Taking a moment to stare across the Houston skyline, she waited for the GPS mapping system to display the least gridlocked route home. The half-height concrete wall bordering the parking garage’s exterior exposed a number of skyscraper office lights, the view making her feel less alone with the burden of her extensive office hours.

The drone appeared out of nowhere, hovering just outside the garage’s outer wall, less than 15 feet from the hood of her car.

She froze for a moment, the unusual sight taking her breath away. Eventually recovering, she studied the machine, trying to determine any hostile intent. The German sedan’s glass and steel provided a barrier of safety. Despite the device’s aggressive shape and unblinking lense-eye, she didn’t feel threatened.

Inhaling a calming breath, she opened the car door, gradually exiting to stand beside her fortress on wheels. She was ready to dive back inside if the buzzing menace displayed the slightest ill will.

“Hello, DA Sanders,” the computer-generated voice attempted to engage in social amenities. “I saw on television where you expressed a desire to speak with me, and thought I would introduce myself.”

Something in the mechanical voice’s statement struck Karen as funny. Notwithstanding the circumstances, late hour, and totally startling encounter, she blurted out a chuckle and then smiled.

“You could have called my assistant and made an appointment like most people,” she grinned. “But I understand why that might be a bit uncomfortable, given the situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you, but the concept of walking into the DA’s office and introducing myself didn’t seem wise. I have similar aversions to phone calls and emails, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand,” Karen nodded, relieved the Archangel seemed to be of a reasonable intellect. Still, she didn’t move from behind her open car door.

“So how can I help you, Ms. Sanders?”

“I think you can help the people of Harris County,” she replied. “I think your drones might be the answer to a systemic problem that has plagued our city for decades, and I would like to work with you. Cooperate. Join forces, if you will.”

“Go on, please. I’m intrigued. This is unexpected.”

“Your activities over the past few months have given my office a much needed out. Before you got started, I couldn’t pursue bad cops without significant risk to both the police and my office’s effectiveness. I’m sure you appreciate why.”

There was a pause, Karen unsure if the drone’s connection had been dropped, or if the device was malfunctioning. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”

“Sorry, Ms. Sanders, I was thinking. At times, I’m not very quick on my feet, as it were. So what do you have in mind?”

“At first, I believe it best that we take baby steps and operate on a clandestine basis. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the sense that your motivation isn’t to destroy our police force, but simply to improve a system that is failing the people. If my analysis is accurate, then couldn’t we do a better job if we worked in concert to accomplish the same goal?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” the machine conceded. “If I trusted you, it could be an effective partnership.”

Again, Karen had to smile. She was beginning to like the Archangel, finding the honesty refreshing. “Trust is earned, sir. It is a two-way street that requires the repetition of honorable responses over a period of time. I’m at risk as well, given that a significant portion of the electorate hasn’t decided if your drones are good or evil. Folks might not vote for a district attorney who harbors the devil.”

Again, another long pause. Then she remembered another question. “By the way, what should I call you?”

The response was immediate, but initially unclear. It took the DA a moment to realize the computer was struggling to translate laughter. “I guess Archangel is as good as anything. Batman has already been taken.”

“And this is not Gotham City, for sure,” Karen replied, joining in the humor. “Okay, Mr. Archangel, is there a chance we can work together?”

“There is always a chance, Ms. Sanders. And if it helps, please call me Gabriel… it’s the only Archangel’s name I know. What do you propose?”

Karen hadn’t really thought that part though, the meeting completely unforeseen. She decided to just blurt out an honest first thought. “I would appreciate seeing any videos recorded by your devices before you released them to the general public. I promise you I will use the evidence appropriately, regardless if it incriminates or supports the police. You’ve got the entire department paranoid as hell now, looking over their shoulders at shadows and frightened of every mid-sized bird flying overhead. If I use your recordings to take care of business quietly, behind the scenes, it will help all involved.”

“And if I give you the recordings, and you don’t take action?”

“Then by all means do what you’ve been doing and release them to the media,” she countered.

“I don’t hate the cops, Ms. Sanders. As a matter of fact, I’ve gained more respect and understanding of the issues facing law enforcement than I had before I started flying little robots all over the city.”

Nodding, Karen acknowledged, “I realized that a short time ago as well. But you’ve caused their department no small amount of controversy and bad blood. A lot of people are convinced that you’re anti-law enforcement.”

The drone-voice didn’t respond right away, the background hum of the propellers and motors the only sound in the empty garage. “I wasn’t the cause of the police department’s grief. No more so than a news reporter can be blamed for covering a natural disaster. I only exposed what was happening. In the end, transparency will put the public on law enforcement’s side. They’ve been a secretive, isolated entity for so long, and now that has to change. I’ll admit that when I started this enterprise, I despised all cops. I’ll also confess to having a single-minded purpose to expose and discredit the police. All cops… every stinking one. Over time, I learned the truth. From above, I watched and learned. Policing doesn’t have to oppose or shun the average citizen; it should embrace and integrate the public. We have to get back to Peel’s Principles, and as long as you are moving in that direction, I will cooperate.”

Karen nodded, the statements coinciding with her beliefs on multiple levels. Before she could respond, the digital voice continued. “I have to ask, ma’am, why don’t you just build and deploy your own drones? They’re not that expensive or difficult to operate. I am sure the city of Houston can afford them.”

The District Attorney was ready for that question, having already explored the possibility. “Because after a time they would simply be absorbed and corrupted by the system. The genius of your actions has been the neutrality of a private citizen controlling the oversight committee. It’s been more potent than citizen review boards, or outside audits. It is simply a high-tech form of what the founders set up as checks and balances… a way to keep any one branch of government from becoming too powerful. We lost those safeguards in law enforcement a long time ago, and now you are providing a chance to get them back into working order.”