Interlude - The Proud Uncle
Interlude – The Proud Uncle
Cornelius Graham couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He stood, giddy with anticipation, in the briefing room of Alpha squad. Today was the day that he would arrest Matilda Fairbanks. The woman meant little to him, personally. She was just one more of a long line of terrorist sympathizers. A disloyal citizen, certainly, but not something to get hot and bothered about. The solution to her kind had always been a simple one. A long rope and a longer drop. After a thorough interrogation, of course. It was the latter that was filling Cornelius with such a sense of anticipation.
Anastasia Summers, the Anastasia Summers, had contacted him shortly after he’d brought in Andros Bartholomew. That particular catch had won him a great deal of good will with the local feds. Unfortunately, he’d then burnt most of that good will covering up for his nephew’s reckless friend. Cornelius’s after action report read like an elementary student had written it, so abridged and lacking in detail it was. He’d cited Newman as an anonymous source, using the street name Xiāngcǎo. Hopefully the Chinese moniker would further distance the odd man from these events. Though Bartholomew would likely spill Daniel’s name while under interrogation, the feds would be reluctant to believe that information. Not when it directly contradicted Cornelius’s own story. He was a hero, after all.
Though, his own influence paled in comparison to the girl that had pasted herself to Newman’s side. The man would be fine; he was too connected for the feds to risk poking into. Even if someone believed Bartholomew, they would have to be insane to actually act on it.
The FBI had not been pleased by Cornelius’s caginess, but the prize was too great. Officially, he’d received a verbal reprimand from Captain Gable, for going out without backup, on an unsanctioned mission. Given its success, however, there was little more that the department was willing to do. His captain could neither support nor decry his actions. Cornelius understood the predicament. Encouraging the kind of risky behavior that he often engaged in was foolishness. Not every officer was as capable as he. Not everyone could properly assess a situation, nor form a plan, nor execute said plan. It wouldn’t do to push people beyond their limits. Not when lives were the consequence of failure. That was what training was for. One day, they too might singlehandedly invade a terrorist’s base of operations, dodge hundreds of traps, non-lethally capture a prisoner, and bring him in for interrogation. Until then, his peers would have to leave the heroics to Cornelius (with the occasional assist). He was perfectly happy to act as a walking pinnacle of what properly motivated officers might accomplish.
And what a thing to accomplish. Cornelius had considered simply killing Bartholomew for what he had done to Connor, but that seemed a waste. The man would suffer greatly in the care of feds, before being quietly shuffled off to an unceremonius execution. No more than the man deserved. It stung that Cornelius couldn’t swing a larger win for the APD; no press, no public glory to be had. Even so, he had been satisfied with a net neutral situation. The feds were happy, the department was happy, he was happy, and Newman would remain more or less anonymous. As much as one could be, at least, in this day and age. He could live with that outcome, sub-optimal as it was, and he had. Right up until the former head of the FBI’s black ops program had rang him with words of congratulations.
“You’ve done my granddaughter a service,” Anastasia Summers had told him, “and so I will return the favor.”
The very next day, he’d been called into the Captain’s office. He and his SPEAR team had been assigned as liaisons to the FBI, until operations were concluded. Apparently, Matilda was more than a simple sympathizer, or agent of chance, as Cornelius had assumed. The woman was fully involved with the People, and had been for some time. As a sleeper agent, or something similar. Bartholomew had admitted that he’d only sought her out because his old contact with the People had told him that she could be trusted.
How very exciting. And now, Cornelius would lead the team to take her in. It shouldn’t be anything difficult, as Matilda Fairbanks was a researcher before anything else. A soft, squishy scientist. She should fold like a wet napkin, giving Cornelius and his allies all the information he needed to secure his city. Or, if he was lucky, even more. Better yet, her capture would be announced to the press, and the APD would be given their due credit. Bartholomew as well, as apparently the good Summers matron had convinced the FBI to release their information stranglehold. Normally, they would not announce when a terrorist had been captured, until every bit of useful information had been extracted. It was an unnecessary risk. No need to warn any terrorist allies that they should flee. But Bartholomew was mercenary enough that news of his capture wouldn’t truly affect much. Aside from public perception, that is.
It would be a major boon to his brother’s political career, and a much needed boost to the popularity of the APD. Not that they were unpopular, per say. In general, their favorability couldn’t be higher. There were just no damn recruits. Each year, the number coming out of the Academy shrank, and the quality dropped. Captain Gable refused to spend department money on television ads, feeling that it would somehow lessen them.
“The police department budget will be spent on policing,” the man had said sternly, when Cornelius had implored him to expand outside their normal recruiting avenues.
Well, this would be the kind of advertisement that the Captain could not deny. Cornelius had already planned it all out. That pretty little thing on channel two, with hair that glimmered like the sun and a voice like a choir of angels. She would be the one who he sat down with. He would flash his most dazzling smile, and talk about the thrill and glory of being a police officer. Talk about the pride he felt in saving lives, and the adrenaline rush of taking down evil. He’d be the face of the department. That was something he could do.
There would be questions, of course, about Matilda’s own involvement in the APD. She had consulted with them on occasion, and was a known associate to detective Michael Tawny. He’d… probably be taking some heat over this situation. Once the press got wind of the fact that Matilda had attended several training sessions with Academy students, the poor detective would be in for a bit of a beating. The man was innocent of any wrongdoing, so far as Cornelius knew, and so the department would do its best to shield him. Even so, it would not be pleasant.
The students would likely also come under scrutiny. Cornelius would not be able to stop that. Dan would have deal with a little bit of press attention. He just hoped the younger man wouldn’t say anything particularly suspicious. Cornelius would give him a warning, at least. To the other students as well. Knowing Freya, she would probably turn the press attention into something advantageous.
Cornelius would face the questions as they came. He worked best in the moment. The department would work up a response ahead of time, and he would skate along the edges of the outline. He’d need to make a good showing for his nephew, let the boy know the kind of authority he could bring to bear. The public was the final determinator of all things. Connor wouldn’t be the first Natural in the department to hide under the guise of a mutation. So long as he kept his power under control, nobody would break ranks.
Connor had been coming along nicely in that aspect. His power appeared to be a simple one, though frightening in its applications. The boy seemed to have a complete awareness and mastery of the physical forces affecting his body. Forces like gravity, or a punch. Maybe a bullet, eventually, or an explosion. Connor was hopeful, already coming up with theories and possibilities. They were still testing the exact limitations and trigger conditions, but things were looking up.
That seemed to be the general feeling at hand. Cornelius considered himself a fairly optimistic person, but he was used to having to force it. It felt almost eerie to have this light, floaty feeling surrounding him at all times. Like he’d just climbed into bed with a woman, except all the time, and without the nudity. How curious. How wonderful.
Who would’ve thought that so much good could have come from so much bad? The kidnapping of Connor had started this whole strange spiral, and it would end today with the capture of Matilda. So yes, Cornelius couldn’t stop himself from smiling in anticipation of what the future might hold. He didn’t know, couldn’t know. But things were looking up, and, for now, that was all that mattered.