Chapter 11 : This world is full of unreasonable people

Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota 

A phone rang on the corner of a desk in the middle of New York. It emitted a gentle opera tune that immediately caught the attention of the man standing in front of a large window. Most calls were going through his secretary's line, so it was extremely rare for this phone to ring. He locked the door before answering. The number was hidden, and he patiently awaited instructions. After a few moments, a woman's voice was heard :

"The badge has been secured by one of Mr. T's men, but he now wants them to meet their quota before the agreed date."

- Did he specify a particular day in his request?

- He wants them to start in three days.

- Very well."

The person on the other end of the line hung up.

The man unlocked his office door and returned to his view of the skyscrapers. Despite his calm and serene face, a pressing question was in his mind.

'I hope they have enough time to prepare.'

At the same moment, another phone was ringing in a nearby building, this one belonging to Commander Anderson. He was reviewing the file of a certain William Smith when rock music interrupted him. He answered, but the caller spoke first:

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but a person has come asking for the release of the flight attendant.

- Are you referring to Miss Hill?

- Precisely, sir."

Anderson was taken aback.

'I didn't think some people could be so ballsy.'

Even if he hadn't been in his position long, he hadn't even heard of something like this before. Attempting to extract someone suspected of being involved in an airplane heist required both guts and well-placed contacts. Judging by the tone of the officer on the phone, he would need to handle the situation himself. He put on his coat and adjusted it in front of a mirror.

'I need to buy a new coat. I haven't had time with all the paperwork from my promotion this week, but that will be my goal this weekend,' he thought before leaving his office.

He walked down a flight of stairs and approached the cells. Normally, no one loitered in this area, but today seemed to be an exception. There was a young red-haired woman, an old man dressed in a way that spoke of his social status, and the officer who also served as the receptionist at the station. The flight attendant was still waiting inside the cell with William and Omega.

"Good evening, can someone explain to me what's happening here?" asked Anderson upon arriving near the two strangers.

The old man smiled.

"You sure surprise me, Mr. Anderson, because I imagined you to be older. I mean, for someone like you with so few contacts, your promotion surprised some people."

His tone was calm but he had oddly emphasized the word "contacts."

Before Anderson could grasp what he had just heard, the old man continued evenly :

"You need to understand that I have nothing against you, Mr. Anderson, but I know from past experiences that people like you can be unreasonable. You never lose sight of your enemies, but you never see your potential allies. You're so obsessed with following the law that you sometimes prevent yourself from doing people justice."

The old man paused for a few seconds to let the commander digest his words before continuing :

"My experience tells me you'll never accept the deal that I'm about to offer, but I hope you'll prove me wrong. The organization I work for wants you to release Miss Hill, and in exchange, you'll receive crucial information about the robbers. I also wish to clarify that Miss Hill is innocent and my organization's intent is to keep her out of any legal trouble."

Commander Anderson answered before the old man could finish :

"I don't think, good sir, that the police need help from a private entity to catch this morning's robbers. Don't worry, if she's innocent, justice will find her not guilty. If there's nothing else, sir, I remind you that if you have crucial information that could advance the investigation, you're welcome to share it with the police, otherwise, the exit is right over there."

Both men maintained a polite smile. As the old man was leaving with Shirley, he turned back to Anderson :

"I forgot to say, congratulations on your promotion. I wish you well in your career."

With those words, he left the station.

Anderson asked the receptionist :

"Who were that old man and that young woman ?

- The man never shared with me his name, but I know he's the butler of the Johnson family, while the woman is the Johnsons' only daughter. I only know that this family is extremely influential. Every time their daughter ends up in this cell, they find overwhelming evidence against the police within hours to get her released. Now, the police just keep her here for a few hours to preserve its image before letting her go quietly. It's a sort of status quo that has existed for some time, with the police probably not wanting to alienate the Johnson family. That's all I know, Commander.

- Any information on the Johnson family and their business?

- None, Commander. At least, none were shared with me."

Anderson let him return to his work while he went back upstairs.

'These people really think they're above the law,' he thought as he returned to his office.

He powered up his computer. With his clearance, he should encounter no problems in uncovering everything the police knew about the Johnson family.

He typed in the search bar the keyword "Johnson" and waited for the results to appear.

After a few seconds, the system prompted him for his credentials and password to continue. He entered them away from prying eyes, then came across the longest list of files in the world. There must have been millions of people in the United States named Johnson, so Anderson refined his search.

He first tried to find the old man he had just spoken with. He used keywords like "old," "elderly," "wealthy," and even "butler," but without success. There were still over a hundred people just in New York matching those keywords. He couldn't even narrow his search by location either, as he had no idea if the Johnson family was living in Manhattan, or even in New York at all.

This lead seemed to be a dead end.

Anderson closed his eyes to think. The old man had probably left no trace of his visit in the administrative system, but that might not be the case for the woman he was looking for.

He finally opened his eyes and grabbed his phone to call the officer at the reception.

"I'm all ears, commander; he said once the call was answered.

- What was the name of the young woman that the old man was looking for?

- Let me check the records, sir," the officer replied, browsing through a large and old looking book.

A few seconds passed in silence before the officer spoke again.

"Shirley Johnson is the name we have on her arrest record."

Anderson thanked him and ended the call.

He returned to his computer and typed in "Shirley Johnson," only to find a long list of profiles.

The profiles numbered in the thousands, but Anderson skillfully narrowed them down using the most distinctive trait of the woman he had seen : her hair color. With just the keyword "redhead," the list shrank to just a handful, among which he found the woman he was looking for.

Name: Johnson

First Name: Shirley

Age: 27 years

Occupation: No known profession

Residence: 113 Avenue XXXX, Manhattan, New York

Record: Proven innocent in 7 cases of violence against police officers and 3 times for gang-related violence. Repeated warnings for using modified pick-ups and monster-trucks on the road.

Anderson raised his eyebrows at the length of her record. He hadn't even opened the section on speeding offenses, but they seemed numerous.

'Let's look into her parents' professions.'

He opened her mother's profile.

Nothing interesting.

He then opened her father's profile.

Nothing interesting.

Her father seemed to be a wealthy businessman who had made his fortune by investing in a hotel, but nothing more. The man had no criminal record and had not been suspected in any cases. He was even donating a large part of his fortune to charity and to the police department of New York to help them to maintain their proper functioning. He had always paid his taxes and seemed not to be involved in any lobbying.

This file was portraying him as a model citizen, perhaps even excessively so.

Anderson picked up his phone to call someone at the headquarters.

His gut told him something was off with the file, and he trusted his instincts.

A voice answered, the jovial tone of a man ringing through: 

"It's been a while since you called, Thomas. I hit 200 miles per hour with my bike on the freeway the other day. Thought it'd be empty at 1 AM, but the cops chased me down and...

- You know we're both police officers, right?" Thomas cut him off, exasperated.

- Specialist in classified information management. I won't bore you with the story since you must have called for a good reason, but this cop yesterday was crazy ! She chased me down across a few hundred miles and eventually caught up because my bike ran out of fuel. But on the trip back to New York, she ran out of gas too in the middle of the journey and nowhere, so she handcuffed me to a radiator in a motel room nearby while she slept soundly on the bed. You should've seen me coming back home, exhausted, plus my boss yelled at me as soon as I was back to work. All I want now is to get back home, eat a pizza or two and sleep. They also seized my bike last night, need to sort that out this week...

- Can you do me a favor?" Thomas cut in.

- Sure, if you come over Sunday to watch the Giants versus Commanders match with the homies." His tone remained cheerful yet took on a note of seriousness, knowing the information Thomas was about to ask for would definitely exceed his clearance and could cost them both their jobs.

- I'll be there Sunday before the game starts. I need information on someone named Simon Johnson."

A long silence followed.

"Sorry, but I can't help you," was his friend only reply before hanging up.

There was no hesitation in his voice, no room for doubt, no chance of changing his mind.

As Thomas wondered what he had just gotten into, he received another call.

'Why on earth would the New York Police Department Chief want to call me?' he thought before answering.

At the other end of Manhattan, a young woman was making a call in the company of Victor and a semi-automatic assault rifle.

They were standing before an electric gate that opened after she made her call.

A woman in her fifties approached them. She had small almond-shaped eyes and long brown hair. Her face was marked with wrinkles she didn't seem to try to hide, and she wore a warm smile on her lips.

She seemed different from the unreasonable women Victor had met in recent days.

'She didn't react to the rifle, but other than that, everything seems alright,' Victor thought, eyeing her suspiciously.

Surprisingly, she was speaking in native French.

"You shouldn't be coming home so late, Olivia. You know that even with a fake gun, these alleys aren't safe with all those irrational people hanging around," she gently scolded.

'I don't think, madam, that her weapon is fake, nor that she's part of our group of reasonable people,' he muttered, eyeing Olivia.

When she caught his probing gaze, she had only one response. She raised the barrel of her gun towards Victor with a look that said, "You'll see just how unreasonable I can be if you tell her the truth." This earned her another lecture from the woman.

"Since when do you point your gun, even a fake one, at a guest? I'm saying all of this, but I forgot to introduce myself."

She approached Victor to kiss him on both cheeks.

"Pleased to meet you, young man. I am Nathalie Martin, and I run this orphanage."

Victor was puzzled to find himself in front of an orphanage, but Amanda misunderstood.

She repeated her statement, but this time in a broken English.

"**Hello young man, I am Nathalie Martin and I run this place.**"

Olivia stepped in to save the situation.

"He speaks French."

Nathalie turned towards Olivia, who was avoiding her gaze.

"Couldn't you have spoke earlier? He must have heard my terrible English!"

'Yes, madam, I heard it, but I didn't understand a word, so I'm not sure I can mock it.'

She took a deep breath before regaining her welcoming smile. She invited them to follow her inside.

"We were just about to start dinner, so you can join us," she told them once they were inside.

Victor would never say no to a free meal. They entered a small canteen. In the middle of the room, a table was surrounded by about ten young children ranging in age from five to fifteen, each with their own distinct personality. However, they all had the same reaction upon seeing Olivia enter the room.

"Big sister! Big sister!"

The youngest ones even asked eagerly:

"Big sister, can you tell us one of your stories about killing bad guys in the Middle East?"