The Marshes criminal police department was inaccessible. The Arnavuts had positioned themselves at every passage that led to the building. We had no idea of how many Shortridge police officers there were because they operated undercover. But we knew they were present, they just couldn't openly show themselves in another precinct, especially that of the Marshes. There were two of us against a whole police corps and the mob, and we had to make sure not to run into them. On top of that, there was an automatic fence gate that only opened to visitors after they announced themselves through the intercom.
Smith and I were hiding in a café across the street, observing the watchful hitmen out of the window. In the past hour we had discussed various ways surpassing the watch dogs, ranging from Smith pretending to be a pizza deliverer to me recruiting a car owner for our cause using my badge, in order to hide Smith in the boot, this way smuggling him onto the criminal police property. Smith refuted most of the suggestions. Except for one that I proposed, and that Smith refused even to reconsider.
The concept I had in mind was insane, I admit. But it was the best option we had at that moment. I kept pushing Smith to agree with my idea. My plan had a fifty percent chance of succeeding and Smith, being the gambler he was, would've taken the risk in any other situation. What stopped him was my involvement in it.
"It's dangerous, Alex! You might get hurt or worse! Have you thought about what will happen to you once you get into their hands? Those people are maniacs! Their money and freedom are at stake! They won't stop at anything to protect it!"
"But what do they have against me? I'm a rookie who spends all her days in the office dusting her desk. I minded my own business when one day a big, scary convict abducted me and held me hostage for days. If I couldn't stop him from escaping from prison, how was I supposed to fight him when he threatened me with a gun? The worst that could happen is me being fired."
"But what if the Arnavuts get to you first? They torture and kill people to make them talk, Alex!"
"The Arnavuts are bound to the Shortridge cops, even though I'm not from their precinct, I don't think they would hand me over to the mob. Besides, what could I know of the whole situation? I could say that I was held hostage, and the kidnapper didn't talk to me."
"I can't allow you to risk your life, Alex!" Smith exclaimed desperately.
"Everything will be fine. But you must promise me that no matter what happens you'll deliver the flash drive. Our safety depends on that. I'll talk myself out of things but sooner or later they might find something inconsistent in my story and then they'll start to suspect foul play on my part. You can run and hide. I can't. That's why it's so important for you to take down the Shortridge cops."
For the first time since getting to know him I noticed that Smith avoided looking into my eyes. I knew he struggled with me helping him, but he also realised that even if I would return home and he would try to complete the mission on his own, the cops and the mafia wouldn't get off my back. I couldn't just walk back into the office, pretending like nothing ever happened. Either way I was taking a risk.
"Okay, but first we need to take care of some things!" Smith said in a firm voice.
***
Going along with Smith always resulted in me doing something illegal because I didn't see through his manipulations, in the end regretting it. Like the old Ford we broke into. We needed a car, but it was wrong to take one without informing the owner. So, practically we stole the vehicle. Smith assured me that I didn't have to worry about it because the Ford stood there as long as he could remember, abandoned by the owner. Only when we were inside, I suddenly remembered that Smith lived on the other side of the city and couldn't have known about a deserted car in an underground parking lot somewhere on the other end of the Marshes. I tried to soothe my conscience by telling myself that sacrificing one vehicle for our cause would dismantle corrupt cops.
Before driving the car to the criminal police department, we circled around the district, rehearsing the scenario of our plan. Smith tried to talk me out of it by constantly reminding me of how dangerous that undertaking was and that I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I acted as if his warnings didn't affect me and made it clear that I was determined to execute the operation. Although, the closer the defining hour, the more anxious I got.
Smith checked if the ropes he tied me with to the passenger seat weren't too tight because in case of emergency I had to be able to move my hands. As an extra safety measure, he buckled me up and pushed my seat back so it would be further from the dashboard. Before gagging me, he kissed me long on the mouth. His eyes were gleaming as if he was about to cry.
"You don't have to do this, Alex. Maybe we can wait a few days until I come up with a better plan," he pleaded.
"We don't have that time, Smith. It's okay. We can do this," I smiled and kissed him one more time before he tied the white fabric around my head. Next, he steered the car so that it would run in a straight line towards the criminal police department and placed a brick on the gas pedal. He let go of the wheel and sprinted forward to be at the gate when the car crashed into it. The road ran in a direct line between the point where we started and the building. Smith calculated that the vehicle wouldn't be going at full speed by the time it slammed into the automatic fence.
Smith was wrong.
A sudden, unexplained acceleration sent the car racing through the street. I didn't know much about cars, but I understood that if I touched the wheel the vehicle would topple. I could die in such an accident and even if I survived, I would suffer from serious injuries. I could only sit back and wait for the tremendous collision.
The Arnavuts noticed the car coming their way. They aimed their guns at the Ford. That was something we didn't really expect to happen because we believed they wouldn't want to attract any attention to themselves. Luckily, their reaction was a few seconds too late, so they didn't get to fire as many shots, although several bullets hit the hood and windshield, with one bullet missing my head just by a few inches. The last seconds before the inevitable clash I closed my eyes and prayed to God for Him to spare my life.
***
I was told they were just in time to get me out of the car before it exploded. The Ford crashed into the gate of the criminal police department and completely wrecked it. Two assassins were hit in that accident, but nothing was further known about them or why they shot at the vehicle. Passersby who were witnesses to the accident came to my rescue. They instantly recognised me because my picture was shown on the daily news. I was immediately transferred to a hospital and had been out for a couple of days.
When I woke up, I found myself lying in a hospital bed in a two-patient room. The curtain between me and my neighbour was closed but I knew there was someone behind it. I tried to move and call for help, but my limbs were heavy, and my throat was dry. Nevertheless, the person behind the curtain heard it. The screen was drawn, and I heard someone jumping out of bed on bare feet, tiptoeing my way.
"Hello darling! Relax. You've been out for two days, but you'll be fine. The doctor said that you'll need rehabilitation. How do you feel?" said a female voice. My sight was blurry, so the first couple of seconds I couldn't see the person I was talking to.
"I'd like to drink some water, please. I can't remember what happened. Who are you?" I asked when the friendly lady offered me a glass of water. She pushed a button on a remote control to elevate my headboard and helped me hold the glass as I drank.
"My name is Gala, I'm your neighbour. I had an appendectomy. I was supposed to leave this place yesterday but when I heard that you were my roommate, I decided to fake malaise and stay here a little longer so I could talk to you when you'd wake up," whispered the freckled lady, "you're quite the big deal in this hospital! Do you have any idea how many reporters tried to get inside to receive information about you?"
"Why?" her rambling confused me.
"Don't worry, the nurses and I won't let those sensation fishing bastards get anywhere near you! Don't you remember? A week or so ago, John Smith, some Anglo-Saxon thug, abducted you from your police office where you kept him locked. He held you hostage for several days and then decided to let you go. Well, symbolically speaking. The monster almost killed you! He tied you to the passenger's seat in a car and let it crash into the criminal police department. Witnesses say that there were also two men who shot at you but thankfully you didn't get killed because the vehicle drove right into them. Thank God there were people around who dragged you out before the car exploded," Gala sounded to be extremely invested in my story.
Gradually, my memory came back, and I remembered all my adventures with Smith. My stomach hurt at the thought that something might have happened to him.
"Did they catch John Smith?" I enquired. My voice trembled but Gala didn't seem to notice the concern in it, most likely thinking that as a hostage and police officer I was anxious to know what had happened to my abductor.
"No, darling, they didn't," she replied with regret.
"Is there any other news? Something that occurred while I was out?"
"Oh, there is the scandal with the Shortridge police. It happened at the same time. It was all over the news that day! They're still talking about it. Wait, I'll see if there's something on TV," Gala turned on the television and switched channels until she found the daily news report. They showed the head of the Shortridge police being led into the courthouse handcuffed, chased by reporters. In the next scene they played the footage Smith had recorded on his iPhone of the same man receiving money from an Arnavut drug dealer.
That meant that Smith had succeeded in delivering the flash drive and that he was doing fine. It felt like a weight off my shoulders. Gala noticed that I was smiling.
"You knew something about this case?" she asked, hoping I would share some inside information with her.
"No, I'm just happy that all of this is behind me," I wasn't really lying but neither was I being honest, "has someone visited me while I was here?"
"Yes, your parents come every day, usually in the afternoon. Your boss and your colleagues also came to visit you."
"Anyone else?"
"No, just them," it was naïve of me to believe that Smith could come over and see me in the hospital but somewhere deep down in my heart I wished to see him one more time.
I saw my parents that day. They were worried about me and told me to look for another job. I felt bad for them having to go through all that stress of my abduction and me almost being killed. I agreed that I needed another occupation but until then I'd stay working in the police office, of which I wasn't so sure of.
My boss received the message that I woke up and promised to visit me as soon as he could. Gala, my new friend, was soon forced to leave the hospital because the doctors suspected she was faking her sickness. We exchanged telephone numbers and addresses.
The next day my boss paid me a visit. As usual, he acted indifferent and composed, even when he told me that I'd get a pay raise for showing courage in a perilous situation. The extra money was nice, but I was just happy to know they hadn't fired me for letting a thief escape from our prison. It was hard to read my boss. To me, he seemed an unimaginative, dull man. He didn't stay for too long. He wished me a speedy recovery and said that he expected me back in office once I got better.
Two minutes later, after my boss had left the room, a nurse walked in carrying a large bouquet of red roses. A carrier delivered the flowers. No one knew who the sender was, but the roses came with a card.
Get better soon, Mummy!
From your good boy