“Three floors, as you can tell,” Render said, gesturing to the spiral staircase. “Almost seven thousand square feet, five bedrooms and baths. Another private elevator beside the stairs there, just for these top three floors.” He looked directly at Halladay, wearing a little smirk. “Did ya wanna ride it to my bedroom on the third floor, or have you seen enough?”
He said it nicely but it irritated the big cop anyway, and caught him off guard—so much so that he forgot his newfound manners toward Jon, and awkwardly deflected the attention to the younger man.
“Yeah, this is enough for me,” Halladay said. “But Country Boy here might want to check it out. I don’t think he’s ever been in a building this big.”
“Definitely the nicest view I’ve ever seen,” Jon said, gazing out of one of the tall, transparent walls.
“The only disappointment is,” Render said, gesturing at the dark city skyline, “I’ve never even seen a sunrise or sunset from up here. I sit out on the terrace with that fancy UV light on, pretending it’s daytime and getting some rays. Do you want to go out there?”
“No,” Jon said, “I just have some questions for you.”
“Okay,” Render said. “Have a seat.” They did, on the couches in the center of the big room. Except for the two bodyguards, who stayed standing in strategic spots. “Would you like something to drink?”
“It won’t take that long,” Jon said. “But thanks.”
Halladay leaned back and sprawled out on the plush pillows, but Jon sat up straight on the edge. Render did something in between on his.
“I’m wondering how much you want to be the Mayor of Manhattan,” Jon said.
“I don’t want to be the Mayor,” Render said, seemingly puzzled by the question. “I would prefer the title ‘Protector,’ but we couldn’t legally word the referendum that way. Once I’m elected, I’ll reorganize and give others most of the responsibilities of a Mayor, while I devote myself to making sure the city is safe. Along with my Builders, and any current police officers who can buy into what I’m trying to do.”
He looked meaningfully at the two cops, as if offering them a job—with some major conditions.
“‘Builders’ are what you call the members of the small army you’ve put together,” Jon said. “Right?”
“Right. I initially hired many of them to provide security for our rebuilding projects around the city after the flagger… the first time we hammered impending chaos into lawfulness. The second is about to happen. I decided to keep the same nickname for my employees once the material rebuilding was done, because I realized that we now need a spiritual rebuilding… to provide peace of mind for the people of the city.”
“So that’s how you went from the construction business into the security business.”
“They’re so related,” Render said, leaning forward and getting into it more. “Have you been to our headquarters down the street?” The two officers nodded. “Maybe you noticed the words carved into the marble above the elevator halls?” Now only Jon nodded. “We had our offices there years ago when my father was still alive and running our construction company—one of the reasons I bought the building. But when I worked there, every day I would walk under the word SECURITY into elevator bank D, to get to my office. So every day I was reminded that buildings were about providing security for people, especially in a scary place like Manhattan.
“When the flagger hit,” the GS boss continued, “our company replaced the ruined structures with new ones that could keep the city safe. And now we have to finish the job by replacing the ruined infrastructures of a liberal Mayor and soft law enforcement. What good will it have done to build a place where we can live, if we can’t live in peace and safety?”
“You’re definitely running for Mayor,” Halladay said, with a look of bored dissatisfaction. “You’ve got all the talking points down perfectly. But you’re like all the other Nazis…. You just want to be in charge, plain and simple.”
“You should be grateful, Frank, like most of your fellow officers are.” The big bald man sat back again while he said this, and then directed his next comment toward Jon. “According to the technicalities of the law as it stands now, my men aren’t allowed to work on the streets. They do anyway, of course, because it’s the right thing to do. But they give the credit officially to the MPD officers who arrive at the scene…. It’s good for the city and it’s good for the cops.”
“Yeah, and that’s why you have so many of them in your pocket,” Halladay said. “But I’m my own man… so, sorry if I don’t kiss your Nazi ass like everyone else.”
“I know why you don’t like me,” Render said with a smile. “It’s because you know that when I’m in power, I won’t let you continue your little arrangement down on Lexington.”
Halladay shifted in his seat, but didn’t reply, so Jon redirected the conversation.
“You didn’t answer my original question,” he said to Render. “About how much you want to win the vote on Tuesday.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you just admitted that you break the law to accomplish what you think is best for safety on the streets. Would you be willing to do that to get elected?”
“Within reason, I guess.” The big old man knitted what was left of his brows and sat up again. “What are you suggesting?”
“Well, it seems to me that the murders we’re investigating make people feel unsafe, and if more of them happen tomorrow during Dayfall, that would make people more inclined to vote for someone who says he can keep them safe.”
Render stood when he realized what Jon was implying, and unleashed a stream of profanity that said “construction foreman” much more than “Mayor.” Jon stood, too, responding with “Leave my mother out of this,” and the two bodyguards stepped toward the two men, who were now about a foot apart. Jon was much younger, but he was also much shorter and not built as powerfully as Render… so it wasn’t clear whether the guards would have to intervene on behalf of their boss or not. Halladay didn’t move from his spot on the couch, but his mouth was hanging slightly open.
“My goal in life is to protect life, of any kind, at all costs,” Render said through clenched teeth. “I would never take it or allow my men to take it, unless it was necessary to protect others’ lives.”
“Maybe you think it’s necessary in this case,” Jon said with equal conviction, not backing down from the argument or the staring contest, “so you can get elected and ‘save more lives.’” He put the last three words in quotes with his fingers.
“No,” Render said, actually considering what Jon was saying. “That’s a line I wouldn’t cross. I’ve offered to help the police in any way I can with the Dayfall killings, and that offer stands.”
“Why don’t you guys just sit down?” Halladay said. “You look like two fighters before a boxing match… except from two really different weight classes.”
Jon and Render took his advice, because they both knew any further escalation would do nothing good for either of them.
“I guess it’s more sad than anything,” Render said, genuinely seeming to feel that way now, and obviously thinking about something as he spoke. “That you or anyone would ever think I would be involved in murder. That’s what I’m trying to stop, along with other hurtful crimes that thrive in the city because this Mayor is more concerned about diversity, civil rights, and philanthropy than she is about security. But you can’t have one without the other.” His tone was pleading now, the talking points seeming more personal than the two cops would give him credit for.
“Besides,” the old man continued, regaining his composure quickly, “Dayfall doesn’t need any help to be as dangerous as it can possibly be. Have you talked to Gunther and Carter at NYU about their research into the scientific and psychological effects of it?”