Then he cut the VR channel.
The bullpen was in a state of chaos the rest of the day. Ashton stayed holed up in his office, the door uncharacteristically closed. Carter did the same. Gossip flew, rife, among the investigators and the special teams in the top-floor bullpen. Everyone wondered what evidence Ashton had, and if he already knew who the Vigilante Patriot was.
“I bet it’s somebody big,” Brandon Elliot declared. “Somebody important, like Quan, or even Daggert. Hell, Carter himself.”
“I don’t see it being Carter,” Beulah Thomas said. “He dealt with the same shit Ashton did, only for longer. He’s not going to go south now.”
“I don’t think the Vigilante has gone south,” Elliot disagreed. “I think they’re doing what has to be done in wartime.”
“You do shit like that on the battlefield, in the heat of battle,” Johnson Burke countered, “not on a civilized planet.”
“There’s no way to legitimately rationalize taking the law into your own hands,” Richard Honda said. “And once you start, you’re headed for anarchy.”
“Anarchy was once a legitimate political stance,” Elliot argued.
“It was,” Honda agreed. “But have you noticed how nobody actually runs a government that way? It’s because, human nature being what it is, there’s only so far down that road you can go before it turns into chaos.”
“Or a strongman regime steps in and takes over,” Mary Nailly added.
“That, too,” Honda acknowledged.
“Guys,” Winston Peabody came out of the office he shared with Pete Stone, “this isn’t a philosophy or political science department at the University. Pipe down, and sit down and try to figure out what the hell is going on with our people.”
Which put paid to the conversation… for a while.
As Ashton left New Headquarters that day at the end of his shift, headed across the street to the parking garage, a sudden sharp report sounded from close by, and a spray of masonry chips hit him in the cheek. Instinctively he ducked and sprinted just inside the door of the parking garage, pulling his weapon and peeking around the door. Another crack sounded, as a projectile hit the doorframe close by his head. He ducked inside, putting his back against the heavy concrete wall.
The Vigilante’s a good shot… but not quite good enough, he thought. Which is fortunate for me, else I’d be dead by now.
Taking off his jacket, he waved it in the door opening. This time the crack of projectile against masonry occurred inside the garage, along the ramp toward the parked vehicles, and part of his jacket flapped as at least one hole appeared in the fabric.
Ashton to Daggert: Emergency situation! Sniper on one of the buildings! I’m pinned down in the Headquarters parking garage!
Daggert to Ashton: Good thing you stayed inside all day. Sending air support.
Moments later, two Imperial Marine attack ships flew over the area.
Captain James to Inspector Ashton: Are you safe?
Ashton to James: I am, for now. I’m inside the parking garage, under cover. What do you see?
James to Ashton: We have a sniper on the roof of the police headquarters building. Head to toe matte black ninja garb and a scoped rifle of some sort. Probable bulletproof material with shock plates for the garb, judging by shape of ninja suit. Consequently, gender indeterminate.
Ashton to James: What is it doing?
James to Ashton: Running for the rooftop access door. I haven’t got anything that I can use to take the target down without risking damage to the building and those inside.
Ashton to James: Understood. Is the Guard standing by?
James to Ashton: Headed for the headquarters building, but not there yet. This was sooner than we expected a move. It’s not even dark yet.
“Shit,” Ashton grumbled to himself.
Sure enough, by the time the Imperial Guard got there, there was no sign of the black garb among any of the police inside or emerging from New Headquarters.
“Well, who’s the best shot in Ashton’s Gang?” Cally wondered that night. They sat in the spare bedroom of their condo, because it was an inner room, without windows, and they would sleep there; on Nick’s way home, he had sent a message ahead in VR, ordering all curtains and blinds closed in their condo and that of the Ames’, and everyone was to stay away from the windows. He was thankful that the nursery was also an interior room without windows, but that had been by design – though not for this reason.
“Tight call,” Nick admitted. “The entire gang are crack shots, but that’s with handguns. We don’t usually use rifles, let alone scoped rifles. Jim Carson, Pete Stone, Brandon Elliot, Mary Nailly, Johnson Burke... hell, most of ‘em were at or near the top of their Academy classes in the range.”
“It isn’t gonna be Pete,” Cally pointed out. “You’ve known him way the hell too long.”
“Prob’ly true. I’m just sayin’, honey.”
“I know.” She drew a deep breath. “I just wish you weren’t the sitting duck on this one.”
“Do you know anybody else who we know we could trust with it?”
“No. I love Lee and Maia, but even there, we aren’t for sure. As long as we’ve known ‘em, yeah, but things can still go wrong in the noggin.”
“Exactly. Which is why I can’t let Pete off the hook, or Win. Hell, Win could be trying to make up for past mistakes! I’m just glad that Daggert and Kraus have cleared themselves and their people, or this wouldn’t work at all.”
“No
