An Unlikely Phoenix Page 5

  “You are required to answer all questions honestly and completely. Any deceitful answer or a lie of omission will result in your termination from employment and may further result in criminal charges, if appropriate.” Potulny looked up from the form. “Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I can’t have a lawyer here? Since when?”

  Potulny pursed his lips. “You are a federal employee, officer. We all are now. That comes with certain advantages and responsibilities.” He lifted the paper. “This is one of the responsibilities.”

  Ryan glanced down at the paper again. Then he shrugged and set it on the table. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t committed a crime, and he hadn’t violated policies. He could afford to let Potulny be the bureaucrat he was and for Gleeson to flex his ego.

  “I understand,” he said.

  Potulny put a pen on the table and slid it to Ryan’s form. “Sign it, then.”

  Ryan grabbed the pen and scrawled his name on the signature line. Then he dropped the pen with a clatter. “Ask your questions.”

  Gleeson waited until Potulny had collected the form. Then he gave Ryan a withering look. “You should come to one realization right away, officer. Things will go much easier for you if you can manage that.”

  “What realization is that?”

  “You are not in charge.”

  Ryan didn’t answer. That much was obvious.

  “Actually,” Gleeson continued, “you could say that your kind isn’t in charge anymore.”

  “My kind?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what kind is that?”

  Gleeson glanced up at Potulny. “How would you describe people like Officer Derrick, Sergeant? A shamer who refuses to salute his city, his nation, his president? Marries a foreigner? Won’t join the New American Party?”

  “I can think of a lot of things to call people like him,” Potulny replied, his voice dripping with contempt.

  “I’m certain you could.” Gleeson met Ryan’s eyes. “Sergeant Potulny is a true believer. A true American. You, on the other hand, are something less than American, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Ryan felt the anger brewing in the pit of his stomach, threatening to explode. “I’m as American as either of you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re correct,” Gleeson said. “Legally, anyway. At least for now. But if we’re judging a man based on his actions, you...” He wagged his bony finger at him. “You are very suspect, Officer Derrick.”

  “Is that what we’re here to talk about?” Ryan asked. “Politics? I thought we were going to talk about what happened on the job.”

  “We’ll get to that. But you’re making a common error in your thinking, officer.” Gleeson waited a few moments, and when Ryan didn’t respond, he completed his thought. “Everything we do is politics. If you understood that, you wouldn’t be in the situation you’re in.”

  “What are you saying? That if I understood politics better, I wouldn’t have been ambushed? My partner would be alive?” Ryan shook his head, anger welling up. He was so tired of the arrogance of these party members, thinking that in just one short decade, they had completely remade America, changed all its people, and that somehow all of it was valid. “Pardon me for saying so, but go fuck yourself.”

  Gleeson gave him a disappointed scowl. He pointed a bony finger at the cameras behind him. “That sounds like insubordination, officer. Or conducting unbecoming. Perhaps both.”

  “If you’re going to discipline me, I’ll take that union rep now.”

  Gleeson dropped his finger. “We’ll let it pass. This time. You’re still upset about the passing of your partner. And perhaps you are lashing out because you feel some measure of guilt.”

  Ryan’s anger dissipated almost as quickly as it flared up. Gleeson was right on that count. He harbored a great deal of guilt. But it wouldn’t pay to let the investigator see too much of that.

  “Let’s talk about the incident,” Gleeson continued.

  “Fine by me.”

  “Whose decision was it to respond to the call for service?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Who was driving?”

  “Why would you ask me that? You know Marcus was driving.” Not only were there cameras inside the car that were activated by the lights or siren, but each officer’s badge contained a GPS chip. Figuring out who was behind the wheel would take about three minutes of investigation.

  “How about if I ask the questions, officer? Would that be all right?” Gleeson’s silky tone had a light sarcasm to it. “You just concentrate on answering them.”

  “Fine. Play your little game.”

  Gleeson exchanged a glance with Potulny that seemed to be a confirmation of all of Ryan’s shortcomings. Then he asked, “Who was driving?”

  “Officer Washington was driving,” Ryan said, his own tone formal.

  “And so you were handling the mobile data computer system?”

  “I was handling the mobile data computer system,” he parroted.

  “So you decided to answer the call.” Gleeson’s tone had no hint of a question in it.

  “It was a mutual decision,” Ryan said. “An unspoken one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We heard the call come out for a burglary-in-progress. We were close. So we responded.” He gave Gleeson a hard stare. “That’s what cops do. We answer emergency calls.”

  Gleeson ignored the jibe. “Yes, of course,” he persisted. “But let me be clear: you were the one who hit the keys on the computer system dispatching your patrol unit to the call in question?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “And upon arrival, who formed the tactical plan to approach the residence?”

  Ryan shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Oh? You don’t make plans? You just stumble into dangerous situations?”

  “We didn’t need to,” Ryan growled. “Marcus and I have been partners for a few years now. We – ”

  “Were,” Gleeson corrected.

  Ryan stopped. “What?”

  “Were,” Gleeson repeated. “You and Officer Washington were partners. You are not any more. Officer Washington is now deceased.” He squinted at Ryan. “You do understand that, do you not, Officer Derrick?”

  Ryan gritted his teeth. “I do. Is this also a psychological evaluation?”

  “Hardly. We won’t require one of those until the question of your return to duty becomes more immediate, and let’s face it: that is a ways off, isn’t it?”

  “A long, long ways off,” Potulny added.

  Ryan didn’t reply. He suddenly felt weary, worn out, weak. He sat motionless, waiting for Gleeson’s next move.

  The investigator finally gestured with his thin fingers. “You were saying there was no need to formulate a tactical plan.”

  Ryan blinked, collecting himself. Then he continued, “We knew what to expect from each other. We worked as a team.”

  “Who was in charge?”

  “It was a partnership,” Ryan said.

  “But you are the senior officer.”

  Ryan shrugged. “By years of service, yeah. I guess so.”

  “When you reached the door, what did you see?”

  “It was ajar.”

  “How much?”

  “Just a few inches.”

  “What did you make of that?”

  Ryan took a deep breath and considered. What had he made of it? All of his actions had been automatic that night. He hadn’t stopped and broken down each piece of data as he received it, merely reacted based on his training and experience. “I took it as a validation of the original call of a burglary in progress,” he said, trying to recreate his automatic thoughts at the time. “I thought it possible that the burglars had left the door open to escape more easily, or that they had simply forced it open and it swung back but didn’t close entirely.”

  “Which?”
/>   “Which what?”

  “Which possibility did you think had occurred?”

  “I didn’t know. It was possible that either had occurred. It was also possible that neither had, and the door was standing open for another reason entirely. On patrol, we encounter mysteries like this all the time.”

  Gleeson didn’t react. “Who made the tactical plan for entry?”

  Ryan tried to remember, wishing he could consult their badge camera footage. He knew any inconsistencies in his statement could be construed as intentional deception. “I believe Marcus made the decision as to what side of the door each of us stood, though that was a pretty standard tactic for us.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m left-handed. He’s a righty.”

  Gleeson blinked at him, a fleeting confusion seeming to cloud his eyes.

  “That puts us each on our gun side,” he explained. “That way we each expose less of a target when we lean in for a shot.”

  “I know that,” Gleeson said shortly. “I’ve been a cop for twenty-seven years.”

  You’ve been employed by the Metro for twenty-seven years, Ryan thought, but you haven’t been a cop for a long time. You’ve been riding a desk, investigating real cops.

  “What happened next?”

  Ryan closed his eyes, trying to envision the scene. “I pushed the door open wide. We looked inside, but couldn’t see anything. I looked at Marcus, gave a three count, and then we button-hooked through the door.”

  “So it was your decision to go in?”

  “There wasn’t a decision. We had to go in.”

  “Please answer the question, officer.”

  “Yes, goddamnit,” Ryan snapped. “I gave him the head motion, I made the three count, and I went in first.”

  “And then what?”

  Ryan took a deep breath, trying to control his frustration and a cavalcade of other emotions coming right behind it. He let it out, then said, “Nothing, at least for a second. Then Marcus came through the door and the shooting started.”

  “Did you see the shooters?”

  “I saw flashes. Shapes. No one I could identify.”

  “Did you return fire?”

  “You have my gun. You know I did.”

  “How many shots did you fire?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Officer –”

  “I...do...not...know!” Ryan looked at him, exasperated. “As many times as I could. They were trying to kill us.”

  “They did,” Gleeson said, matter-of-factly. “Or one of you, at least.”

  Ryan swallowed, his emotions a mess. His guilt for failing Marcus battled his anger at Gleeson for his transparent tactics and accusations, and the resulting swirling maelstrom seemed to have nowhere to land. An immense weariness settled over him.

  “I think I’m done for today,” he said, quietly.

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “I am not medically fit to continue,” Ryan said, forcing his tone formal.

  Gleeson hesitated. It was a fine line that he was treading, Ryan knew. Despite the prominence of the American Party, and the requirements laid upon Ryan as a police officer, Gleeson still had to play by the rules. Appearances still mattered, and bullying a wounded man had potentially bad optics.

  “We will resume tomorrow morning after breakfast,” Gleeson said.

  “What else do we need to cover?”

  Gleeson gave him a tight smile, but didn’t answer. He reached for the call button on the table, then hesitated. He looked at Potulny. “Sergeant, I believe there is one more piece of business to address? Now is as good a time as any.”

  “I’m tired,” Ryan said. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  “This will only take a moment,” Gleeson insisted. He motioned to Potulny.

  The sergeant stepped forward into Ryan’s field of view. “Your wife isn’t an American citizen, is she, Officer Derrick?”

  “You know she’s not,” Ryan snapped. “What’s with all the ridiculous questions?”

  Poltulny ignored the outburst. “What’s her status?”

  “She’s a resident alien.”

  “Planning to return to Senegal? Or is it Greece? I forget which parent is from where, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Where is she planning to go?”

  “Nowhere. She’s planning on staying here with our daughter and me. She’s applied for citizenship.” He glanced at Gleeson, then back at Potulny. “What’s with this? What do you care about my wife?”

  “It’s my job to care.”

  “Last time I checked, you were St. Louis Metro, just like me. Not Immigration.”

  Potulny shook his head. “I’m federal, remember? The President made us all federal. And I got an agent assist request from Homeland Security and Immigration.”

  “HSI doesn’t have local agents?”

  “They’re busy. So I’m helping out here.”

  “Helping with what?”

  “With your wife.”

  Ryan flexed his fist open and closed. “What about my wife? You want to get to the point, sergeant?”

  “The point is simple. I’ve been asked to update her file for HSI. Make sure she’s still working, isn’t involved in criminal activity, or anything subversive.” He gave Ryan a hard stare. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

  “No,” Ryan said, his mind spinning. He hadn’t considered that Potulny would try to use Nathalie somehow to get to him. He tried to imagine what the sergeant’s play would be. “But she’s complied with everything for almost six years now. She gets her citizenship in just over a year.”

  A slow smile full of malevolent joy spread across Potulny’s face. “Oh, you don’t know yet, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” Potulny shook his head. “That surprises me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “While you were recovering, the President has started rolling out his immigration reform policy. Lots of changes, and most of them long overdue.”

  “Get to the point!”

  “Watch your tone, officer.” Potulny said but his tone remained amiable. “The point is that there was a change that affects you pretty directly. Well, your wife anyway. You see, effective three days ago, any foreigner who marries an American citizen doesn’t have to wait seven years for American citizenship.” His smile broadened. “Now they have to wait twelve.”

  Potulny may have said more, or perhaps it was Gleeson who spoke. But Ryan did not hear their words. He sat, frozen in his wheelchair, staring at the wall, until both the investigator and the sergeant finally left. The silent orderly entered a few moments later and returned Ryan to his room.

  Chapter 5

  It has been said that the core beliefs of any organization – whether a business, a social club, a political movement, or a nation – around which the organization is founded and which drive it to greatness...those same beliefs also ultimately become the reason for its own downfall. This concept of ‘active inertia’ essentially argues that success creates its own set of pitfalls, including strategic blindness and an unwillingness to adapt or change with the evolving external events. This was not necessarily the case, however, with the United States of America. Instead, it is particularly ironic that it was the corruption of one of the founding elements of America – a core belief if you will – rather than adherence to it that became the catalyst for its greatest crisis.

  That fundamental element was immigration.

  — From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  “YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD me,” Ryan said to her that night.

  They sat in his room, an untouched tray of dinner off to the side. Nathalie’s hands were folded in her lap, and she seemed to be waiting to see how Ryan would react. Anger had never been his first approach, but he could sense that emotion lurking around the edges of his mood, the remnant of a grim shadow hanging on from his meeting with Potulny and Gleeson.

 
“It wasn’t important,” Nathalie said quietly.

  “Not important? How can you say that? Nat, this is our family we’re talking about here.”

  “Oui, I know this.” Her tone remained low and non-confrontational. “But you must forgive me. I was more concerned with whether my husband was going to die or not.”

  That stopped him cold. Like any good cop, he understood prioritizing things during an emergency. Her citizenship must have seemed like a minor issue compared to his life and death struggle. Except...

  “It is important, Nat. If I had died, what would you have done?”

  “Mon Dieu, shut up with this talk.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “It is a stupid question.”

  “No, it’s important.”

  “How can it be important? You didn’t...you lived.”

  “But if I hadn’t?”

  “Are you trying to torture me?” A hint of frustration crept into her tone. “Fine, then. If you had died, I would mourn. Melina would be crushed. There, are you happy now?”

  Ryan held out his hand toward her. She hesitated only a moment, then took it. He squeezed softly. “If I die, what happens to your citizenship application? You’d be a resident alien with no means to become a citizen. With a child who is a citizen. Which means that you would eventually have to leave the country, and that she may not be allowed to leave.”

  “They could not keep my child from me.”

  “The Minority Safety Act has a clause in it that precludes a parent from taking a child who is an American citizen out of the country to an unsafe destination.”

  Nathalie snorted. “Greece is not unsafe.”

  “Senegal is. And let’s be honest about Greece...it isn’t the most stable of nations, either.”

  “I don’t see your point.”

  “No, you don’t want to see it. Put your journalist eyes on it. How hard would it be for them to say that the danger of you returning to the land of your mother instead of your father?”

  “There would be no proof.”

  Ryan gave her a look. “They don’t require proof. They can say whatever they want. That is what this government has become.”

  “Why would they do this?”