Trevor Barbour. The name of the contact who was supposed to pay the assassin afterward. Ispio's technology had his records, and even more helpful, he already has a record supplied with DNA sampling. Tracking him with Amelia's IsPup should be easy.
The rain poured hard on the three of us, and I curse not bringing a spare umbrella just in case we lost the first one. "Dammit, Clyde, you should've brought an umbrella too! This is ridiculous!" I wish we could've taken the car all the way, but we didn't want to raise suspicion.
Clyde follows IsPup's trail without a misstep, with me falling behind. "Quit whining, IsPup says he's only a few meters away."
"That's what you said 2 minutes ago! I hate smelling like wet fox."
IsPup turns into an alleyway, taking a sharp turn and zooming across the mud.
"Oh great, now I get to have muddy shoes." Okay, I admit I'm complaining a lot, but wouldn't you?
IsPup slows down, and so does Clyde. "We're close, he's in a building right now. Be ready for anything, Troy, you never know how prepped this guy could be for us."
I shake my head, futilely trying to get dry with rain still crashing down on me. "You don't have to tell me twice, when has anything been easy for us?" It's true, things never come easy for us, but when we finally approach a police station as the mark, my mouth hung open just at the thought of sheer difficulty accompanying a place like this. "He's a police officer!? Clyde, you couldn't have mentioned this when you were reading his file?"
He scratches is head dumbfounded. "I-I don't know. I didn't get that far in the file, I just needed to know the name and face." He shows me IsPup's controller, the face of a tired goat staring back at me.
"This is him?" I ask, "Oh boy, how are we supposed to handle this? We can't assault an officer with everybody watching. We wouldn't be able to explain ourselves." I scroll down on his profile and come across even more enlightening news. "Scratch that: we can't assault the freakin' Chief!"
Clyde's eyes widen, and his deep voice just repeats, "The Chief?"
For a moment, we stood there in the rain rattling our brains for a good plan of action. Before I could form anything, Clyde speaks first.
"You're good with words, great with words, even. Can you smooth talk your way into his office?"
I scoff, "And do what, huh? Extort him about paying an assassin to kill us?" I roll my eyes so hard it hurts my brain, "Great plan there, bud."
He looks at me, and I look at him. His stare is angry, and I can feel his eyes piercing me, weakening me. I don't know what he expects of me, but there's no way I'm going on a suicide mission for him.
*** *** ***
"I have a meeting with Chief Barbour. He said to drop by the station at 10:30 in the morning." I hold my smile at the officer behind the bullet-proof glass. It's a good thing years of fieldwork kept me cool under pressure, otherwise, I'd be sweating like a hog.
The officer gazes at me, getting off the computer and opening up a notebook. "10:30 meeting. Go right ahead."
"Thank you."
Ha, I can't believe it was that easy! I must have taken that assassin's meeting time, I'm just lucky that he scheduled 10:30 to meet. I walk down the corridor calmly, but as I get closer and closer to the office door, I panic on the inside about what I'm supposed to do next. How will I start the conversation? Will he even let me talk when he realizes I'm the target and not the assassin? What am I supposed to do if he decides to attack me, or call his buddies to arrest me?
Too late, I'm already at the door.
I take a deep breath, clench my hand into a fist, and knock politely three times.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Enter," a tired voice calls out from the other side.
I twist the knob slowly, still trying to buy myself time to come up with a reaction for every single situation. The door opens and reveals the chief sitting at his desk, his eyes glued to the paperwork before him, his hand scribbling away with a pen. I walk in entirely, closing the door behind me.
"Is it done?" he asks, never looking up from his papers.
"Not even close," I say.
His feverish writing stops, and his jaw slowly began to drop. When he finally picks up his head to greet me with his own eyes, he says, "Oh no, Archer's not gonna like this."
I step deeper into the room, making my way to the chair facing his desk. I plant my butt on the seat and mentally prepare myself to start asking the right questions. "What Archer doesn't know won't hurt him. For now, I need you to help me."
He puts the pen down and sits up straight. "Help you?"
"I need information, Chief. Anything you have of Archer would be helpful," I lean forward to emphasize my facial expressions of professional desperation, "please."
"Kid, you aren't even supposed to be alive right now. I... I shouldn't be talking to you. You need to die."
"You gonna kill me? I didn't bring weapons, Chief, you won't be able to explain a corpse in your office just like that. Not with that camera rolling anyway," I say while pointing to the stationary camera in the high corner. "So just let me know: where can I find Archer?"
He crosses his arms. "You don't get it, fox. In my eyes, you don't have any rights, especially to know where Archer is. You stay away from him, or so help me-"
"What does he got on you? Blackmail? Holding someone hostage? What's he done to get you under his thumb so deeply? I can promise you that I can protect you from anything he tries."
"Stop," he says, his anger becoming apparent, "stop saying those things. He's not like that, he's a goddamn hero. He would never do any of those things, and I sure don't need protecting from him, he's a good soul if there ever was any!"
I can't believe what I'm hearing. Is he brainwashed? "W-What? Are you sure we're talking about the same Archer?"
He calms down, leaning back into his chair. "Archer Fury, the man that saved my life and my family's. I was on the force, your average beat cop walking 'round the city. Son, I'll tell you right now that as a cop, you get a lot of mixed opinions about you." He pulls a cigar out from his desk and lights it. "Some think you're a hero just for signing up for the job, others though... others don't like you as much."
He takes a puff. "Imagine me, having done nothing wrong to anyone except for putting the bad folks in jail. The thing about that sometimes, is that those bad folks have friends, and those friends have bad intentions too."
He swallows the saliva that's been collecting in his mouth. "Maybe they want revenge on the cop that locked away their buddy, and they're skilled enough to find information on anyone." He takes another puff and blows the smoke above him. "I knew they were coming, and they knew I had a family."
His eye strains, showing what could be oncoming tears. "A little girl, my wife, and me. I asked my own force about my problem, but they could only do so much, spend so many resources on a case. It's like that for everyone, and I should've known that special treatment wasn't a thing. They helped the best they could, bless those boys, but I needed more than that to stay safe. That's when I met Archer."
"Archer," I interrupt, "he offered to sniff out those guys, didn't he?"
"Yeah, and he didn't ask for any payment. One night I come home, my windows are broken, and my door kicked in. I ran inside with my gun, not following any type of protocol. How could I?" He looks at me as if he's waiting for an answer.
I wave my hands in front of me, trying to say that I didn't hold it against him.
He continues. "I didn't need to make it in too far before I saw my wife and kid hugging each other in the middle of the living room. They were crying, but they were safe." He takes another drag. "I was crying too."
His eyes became watery. "I asked them what the hell happened, and they told me some bad men came in and tore up the house. They were gonna take them too, but another man came and stopped them."
"I'm guessing, Archer?" I said.
He nods. "They said he moved like some ninja, taking them all out without being seen even once. Not even my family saw him do it. When they were all down, he said to them to tell me that I don't have to worry anymore. That's when he hauled them all off to jail, and I got to kiss my wife and hug my daughter again."
Oh God, I feel so cruel. Archer started out as a good guy, and Clyde and I just keep forgetting that. "I'm sorry, Chief, I really am. We used to work with Archer, but he's unstable now. He isn't all there anymore, he's lost his head, and he needs to be brought down before he can do more harm."
It took all conversation, but the Chief finally let some tears out. "I know... I know he's crazy now. He has me following you two around the city. He made me cut a man's face off and shove it down his throat." His hand clenched into an angry fist. " He had me burn my friend and his shop down. Believe me, I know what crazy looks like."
"Chief Barbour," I say, using his name for the first time, "let us help. I promise to do everything I can to detain him and keep him alive. But I need to know," I lean closer to him, my eyes tearing up with his, "I need to know where he is. Please, this is your chance to return the favor. Save his life, tell me where he is."
The Chief had already passed the small tears phase and moved on to full-on crying. He tries to keep it in, but he wouldn't stop grunting and moaning. I give him a moment.
After 5 minutes of denial and desperation, he regains his composure. He fishes into his desk and pulls out a piece of paper. He grabs a pen and begins scribbling something on it, then slides the paper to me when he's done. "Here. He's here. Promise me you'll do everything to help him."
I grab the paper and fold it up. "I promise."
"Thank you. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if I hear that he died tonight."
I stay silent, but I do realize the chances of him living tonight. How am I going to convince Clyde to take my side in letting him live? Ispio has already ordered his execution long ago, and Clyde and I have had no trouble following that command, but now things are different. I remember. "I'll try, Chief, I'll try to keep him alive."