A man bulled through his people to her. He looked familiar to her, and he seemed to recognize Gen as well.
“What the fuck were you doing shooting off those guns?” Gen said to him.
“We’re defending private property here. Since you can’t seem to do it.”
Gen waited a beat, then slowly stepped toward the man. She didn’t stop until she was too close. At that point she was looking down on him. She still had her pistol pointed down at the ground, but it wasn’t that far off his feet. The man’s people stirred behind him. Some shifted their rifles, aiming them away off to the sides or lifting their barrels up, but there were still red laser dots on her vest. She felt like a fucking Christmas tree, a target in a pistol range. No one knew what to do.
“Stand down and get inside your buildings,” Gen said to the man, staring hard at him. “We’re on camera now. All of you are obliged to obey police orders to keep your security licenses.”
No one moved.
“You were the first people to fire guns tonight,” Gen told the man. “That’s already bad, but you’re only going to make it worse if you don’t do what I say. It will be interfering with police during a riot. Pretty soon it will be resisting arrest. The New York Police Department doesn’t like people shooting at it, and the courts don’t either. We’re the ones who police this town. No one else. So get inside. Now. You can defend the rooms in there, if it comes to that. This here is public space.”
“This plaza is private property,” the man said. “Our job is to defend it.”
“It’s public space. Get inside. You’re under arrest now. Don’t make things any worse than you already have, or your employers will not be happy with you. You’ve already cost them millions of dollars in legal fees. The worse you make it now, the worse it’s going to be for you later.”
The man hesitated.
Gen said, “Come on, inside. I’m coming in with you to find out more about what happened to set this all off. You can show me what your cameras got, if anything. Come on.”
She took another step toward the man. Now she was definitely too close. With her police boots on she was six foot four, and now she was helmeted, pistol in hand, a look that could freeze blood. A big scary black woman cop, mad as hell and calm as heaven. Shield in her other hand. Ready to knock the man back with it if needed. He could see she would do it. Another step forward. She wasn’t going to stop when she got to the man, she made that clear. He was about to be in her space, and she had the momentum. There was a water sumo move she was contemplating, a quick shove with the shield, that would knock him on his ass. Staring him right in the eye. It occurred to her there must be blood all over her from the cop with the cut scalp. She was the white male criminal’s worst nightmare, or maybe his dream hero, or both at once. She was trying to hypnotize him now, boring into him with Big Mama Calm. Authority figure. Bloody priestess of this night’s full-moon panic. He wanted to have a way out. Push had come to shove.
The man turned his head. “Inside,” he said.
Once inside, Gen stuck to the man and asked him to sit down in the lobby with her. She was beat and asked for water. Someone brought her a plastic bottle of it and she stared at it curiously. Lobby couches in backless ovals. Big lobby, luxurious, a place to talk and drink. Felt good to get off her feet. Her hands were indeed covered with blood. A good look for what she had to do now.
“Thanks for cooperating,” she said to the man, and gestured at the divan nearest her. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”
The man stayed standing. Six two, bulked, square head, little mouth, black hair. Grim resolve. Gen suddenly recalled where she had seen him before. “You were down in Chelsea last week,” she told him. “On a boat with some employees, working for the Chelsea Town House Association or some such nonsense.”
He was looking worried now, as well he might. He seemed like he barely remembered her from the encounter on the boat, if at all, but he did look like he was puzzled by her. And it also looked like he was considering his options, not as this tower’s security head, but as an individual who could get sued or go to jail. Who had perhaps made mistakes, after being ordered to do an illegal and impossible thing, by bosses who did not care about him. Best options for himself, he was now considering. Having decided not to fight the police while on camera. Which made sense. Now other hard choices, between other bad options, were going to start making sense. It was a time for asking questions.
“Did your people follow orders when they fired?”
“Yes. They were ordered to fire in the air, warning shots only.”
“You got that order recorded?”
“Yes.”
“Your order?”
After a hesitation: “Yes.” It having been recorded.
“Was there incoming?”
“Yes.”
“Like what, rocks?”
“We heard shots too. Those will be recorded too.”
“Incoming shots?”
“We thought so. We saw muzzle blasts aimed our way.”
“That must have been bad. But you were shooting over the crowd.”
“Yes.”
Gen nodded. “That will help. So, who employs you again? Employs you and your people here?”
“RNA. Rapid Noncompliance Abatement.”
“Not rapid enough. And do you know who hired RNA?”
“Someone here in these buildings, we presume.”
“Because this was what you were tasked to defend.”
“Right.”
“Any other information as to who in the building hired RNA?”
“No.”
Now Gen shook her head. She stared at the man, held his gaze. “Usually people know something. They have an idea. Usually they don’t put themselves out there for just any asshole paying for them.”
“Usually.”
“So you’re saying you have no idea who you are working for.”
“I work for Rapid Noncompliance Abatement.”
“Who’s your supervisor there? And where is this person right now?”
“It’s Eric Escher. And I don’t know.”
Gen snorted. “He is going to hang you out to dry. You know that, don’t you?”
“Part of the deal.”
“Spare me, please.” Gen stood back up, looked down at the man. “Spare me your mercenary code, shooting at civilians on a night when you have assault rifles and they have sticks and stones and Fourth of July sparklers. You are fucked now. If you tell me who Escher is working for, I’ll put in a good word for you when you go to trial. Because that’s what’s coming.”
The man looked back at her, more angry than scared.
Gen sighed. “They must pay you a lot. Come out in a few years’ time, you might have some money. Or they might drop you outright, ever thought of that? Ever thought that time is worth more than money? You won’t like doing time. And that’s what you’re facing. Shooting at cops? The courts don’t like that. It’s a felony. So your time could be serious. Severe. But you might still dodge that, play your cards right here. I’m the chief police inspector for lower Manhattan, and I’m the senior officer at the scene here, so I’ll be listened to on this. And I need to know who set you out there tonight.”
She waited, boring in with her gaze. The uncanny: the rule of law as personified by a big black woman. Now that was uncanny. Also the most obvious and natural thing in the world. And inescapable. Inexorable. Extradition treaties with everywhere. She settled in and waited, feeling patience flooding her coterminously with her exhaustion, right down to her sore feet.