05-19-2014, 09:03 PM
Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov had been watching Vladimir and his people for a few days already. A fruitful few days, as they gathered images and video on regular comers-and-goers, learning the pattern of life. When workers would step out for a cigarette, when shifts seemed to begin or end. Knowing who worked there was important, but knowing what they did on a normal day was what made for a successful raid.
The days were relatively uneventful for the most part; just people coming and leaving. Until that day. That day, Vladimir became aware that Peter was missing. And then the messenger dropped dead, and none of Vladimir's men seemed surprised. Worried. But not surprised. This was a known outcome to them.
One of Vladimir's men, one the two officers would eventually identify as Yuri, dragged the body off out of sight and returned a short time later, and they continued to survey the scene until it had quieted down again. And then they left. They had an unusual standing order from one of the most powerful men they knew.
See anything...weird...and report it to Chief Inspector Drayson immediately. They'd heard of other people reporting things in the past, and there had never been any fallout no matter how strange the report had seemed at the time. He accepted them at face value, and whatever he did with the information, there was never any repercussions to fall back on the officer that reported it.
It was a refreshing approach to things, especially in Moscow, the heart of the CCD. Everyone in their line of work ran into something inexplicable at least once in their careers, and in the past, it had been either a career ending move to report on it. A trip to the department shrink usually came hand-in-hand with a posting out of the Dominance or a nice slip of paper thanking you for your work and a boot out the door. But under the Chief Inspector...they were listened to, taken seriously, and given a chance to vent the things they had seen, things that often haunted other officers who kept it to themselves.
They contacted Drayson directly; they were members of his personal network of contacts within the various police departments around the city. They were unorthodox, certainly, but they were trustworthy and dependable.
He arrived at the Golyanovo District precinct in his usual style; a short walk from the subway station. His arrival at the station took the old officer working the front desk by surprise, but it quickly faded; it wasn't the first time he'd shown up unannounced, and it surely wouldn't be the last.
Drayson saw his way through, stopping to chat occasionally with police officers or even suspects and troublemakers, but eventually found his way to that 'forgotten' interrogation room with Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov, and with Peter, who was no longer cuffed, and had been treated...perhaps not well, but with a far less authoritative air then the other inmates at the precinct. He had his own cell, for one, away from and out of sight of the other inmates, in a sort of witness protection.
He spoke with the two officers in the hallway for a few minutes before he entered the interrogation room with two cups of coffee in hand, one of which was set on the table next to Peter with a handful of creamer cups and sugar packets, and a stir stick of course. "Peter, is it? I am Chief Inspector McCullough. I need to know more about this."
He seemed a calm and quiet man. Kind, despite his position and title. A reasonable man, one whom had weathered the storm of the world without bowing or hardening to the point of loosing his connection with the world and the common folks. He dwelt near the top of the food chain in the CCD, or at least as far as one could get without being a politician, or rich (something that all too often came hand in hand), but he lived at the bottom, so to speak, among the police and the civilians. Or as closely as he could.
He set his Wallet on the table and pulled up a video of Vladimir and the sudden death of Ivan, and the lack of surprise of those that witnessed it. "I am aware of the deal my men made with you. That stands. So, how does he do it?"
The days were relatively uneventful for the most part; just people coming and leaving. Until that day. That day, Vladimir became aware that Peter was missing. And then the messenger dropped dead, and none of Vladimir's men seemed surprised. Worried. But not surprised. This was a known outcome to them.
One of Vladimir's men, one the two officers would eventually identify as Yuri, dragged the body off out of sight and returned a short time later, and they continued to survey the scene until it had quieted down again. And then they left. They had an unusual standing order from one of the most powerful men they knew.
See anything...weird...and report it to Chief Inspector Drayson immediately. They'd heard of other people reporting things in the past, and there had never been any fallout no matter how strange the report had seemed at the time. He accepted them at face value, and whatever he did with the information, there was never any repercussions to fall back on the officer that reported it.
It was a refreshing approach to things, especially in Moscow, the heart of the CCD. Everyone in their line of work ran into something inexplicable at least once in their careers, and in the past, it had been either a career ending move to report on it. A trip to the department shrink usually came hand-in-hand with a posting out of the Dominance or a nice slip of paper thanking you for your work and a boot out the door. But under the Chief Inspector...they were listened to, taken seriously, and given a chance to vent the things they had seen, things that often haunted other officers who kept it to themselves.
They contacted Drayson directly; they were members of his personal network of contacts within the various police departments around the city. They were unorthodox, certainly, but they were trustworthy and dependable.
He arrived at the Golyanovo District precinct in his usual style; a short walk from the subway station. His arrival at the station took the old officer working the front desk by surprise, but it quickly faded; it wasn't the first time he'd shown up unannounced, and it surely wouldn't be the last.
Drayson saw his way through, stopping to chat occasionally with police officers or even suspects and troublemakers, but eventually found his way to that 'forgotten' interrogation room with Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov, and with Peter, who was no longer cuffed, and had been treated...perhaps not well, but with a far less authoritative air then the other inmates at the precinct. He had his own cell, for one, away from and out of sight of the other inmates, in a sort of witness protection.
He spoke with the two officers in the hallway for a few minutes before he entered the interrogation room with two cups of coffee in hand, one of which was set on the table next to Peter with a handful of creamer cups and sugar packets, and a stir stick of course. "Peter, is it? I am Chief Inspector McCullough. I need to know more about this."
He seemed a calm and quiet man. Kind, despite his position and title. A reasonable man, one whom had weathered the storm of the world without bowing or hardening to the point of loosing his connection with the world and the common folks. He dwelt near the top of the food chain in the CCD, or at least as far as one could get without being a politician, or rich (something that all too often came hand in hand), but he lived at the bottom, so to speak, among the police and the civilians. Or as closely as he could.
He set his Wallet on the table and pulled up a video of Vladimir and the sudden death of Ivan, and the lack of surprise of those that witnessed it. "I am aware of the deal my men made with you. That stands. So, how does he do it?"