Appropriate Force Read online

  It didn’t stop him feeling the guilt though. Mastering that might be the hardest part. He’d heard about survivor’s remorse. Never thought it’d hit him quite like it had. Divines knew what it’d be like if she didn’t pull through. Still, it looked good for the time being. She’d made it through the night. All signs looked like she might make it. That was something he had to be thankful for.

  Now, Mallinson. The agent pushed the door open, held it for him and Nick stepped into the room, determined he was going to make it through this with as little difficulty as possible. Not the first. Not the last. Wherever a blaster was fired, there was always someone to check appropriate force applied to the situation. The smell that immediately hit him was a reminder of that.

  The office was little more than four walls, a desk and a window showing out over what Nick guessed might be an exotic dance bar. These undercover locations always did find colourful environments. Several boxes lay at the back of the room, their contents unknown behind the seals on them. Given what went on through this building, could have been anything from spare weapons to seized contraband. Nick decided he was better off not knowing, chose to look at the Inquisitor instead.

  Last time he’d seen Mallinson, he’d had hair, scraggly and balding but hair regardless. In the past months, he’d shaved it completely, his scalp pink and shiny smooth. The morning sun caught the beads of sweat bang on. He looked like he’d been travelling all night. Nick guessed there might be a chance he had. Even with Salawia’s transport networks, it was still a good distance to the next city unless you flew. He still had the scruffy little beard that framed his mouth with eyes that glittered dully in the shadows of his face. He looked heavier than the last time Nick had seen him, packing a few extra pounds around his gut. Maybe life wasn’t treating him so well. His heart might have bled for him under other circumstances.

  “Ah, Agent Roper,” Mallinson said in an all too fake-friendly voice. “So nice of you to join me for this little chat. I am honoured that you brought your presence here today.”

  “Well, an invitation like this with your good self?” Nick couldn’t quite keep the friendly sarcasm out of his voice. If Mallinson wasn’t going to be civil with him, he wasn’t going to bite his tongue. Someone had told him once the best way to deal with him was to not take any shit from him but sure as hells don’t bite either when he laid it on you. “I’m not sure how I could ever consider missing this, are you? Might be the highlight of my week, this.”

  Mallinson smirked, licked his lips and then cleared his throat. “You’ve been busy since you got here, haven’t you?”

  “I’m always busy,” Nick said. “Comes with the territory. I’m sure you know how it is. Crime never sleeps and neither do we.”

  Mallinson smirked, nodded his head at the desk. “Have a seat and we’ll talk, Agent Roper.”

  Reluctantly, he went to sit down across the table from where the Inquisitor lowered himself into his seat, a sigh escaping from his pale lips as he did. Spider-like hands gripped at the arms of his seat and he smiled at Nick.

  “Put everything on the table before we start,” Mallinson said, gesturing down at it with his eyes. “Badge, blaster, summoner, anything in your pockets. I don’t want any surprises.”

  It wasn’t an unusual request. Nick was quick to oblige, placed his official Unisco ID and blaster on the table, after removing the power pack from it. It was the weapon he’d shot Avis with. These inquiries could go any number of ways. He wasn’t surprised that the Inquisitor didn’t want anything unaccounted for in the room. He put his summoner next to it, made sure that there weren’t any crystals locked into it. Unleashing one of his spirits and setting it loose on Mallinson would be as sure a way to kill him as blasting him in the face. Again, a sensible decision on the Inquisitor’s part. He lay the container crystals next to the summoner, all eight of them. His battle spirits. He had a viraknife in his pocket, not as dangerous as the lukonium one that Avis had employed but still handy as a little ace in the hole. Viraknives were normally used in surgery, they’d heat up rapidly to cut through flesh with ease. They burnt out quickly, but longevity wasn’t the point of them.

  Mallinson regarded the knife with a sour look. “It’s disgusting that one of our agents feels the need to carry around a weapon like that.”

  “It wasn’t used on this mission,” Nick said smoothly. “That should have no bearing on your inquiry, you know that.” He finished emptying a handful of credits out next to the other items and gave the Inquisitor a smile. “All done. Unless you want to frisk me.”

  The comment was ignored as Mallinson brought out his own summoner, spent a long minute examining something on the screen that Nick couldn’t see. The silence suited him, it was only when he started to talk that he felt himself losing patience.

  “Nicholas James Roper,” Mallinson said slowly. “Agent of the United International Spiritual Control Organisation. Combat specialist with a secondary specialisation in field investigation and situational-evaluation. A rather grandiose title.”

  That from a man who’d styled himself as Inquisitor, Nick thought. He hid the smirk. It wouldn’t do anyone any favours.

  “Graduate of the academy at Torlis with flying colours. Renowned spirit caller across the kingdoms, winner of several major tournaments… I believe you’ve qualified for the Competitive Centenary Calling Challenge Cup in six months. My congratulations on that. What the public doesn’t know are that you have a remarkable number of commendations on your record from this organisation for jobs done clandestinely for the good of the kingdoms. While those are impressive, you’ve been a part of just as many meetings like this.”

  “Well, one doesn’t like to dwell on the negatives,” Nick smiled. “But if it’s there on my record, then you must be right. I can’t argue with it really, can I?”

  The Inquisitor didn’t look to see the funny side. “I advise you to cease your witticisms, it may amuse those on the spirit calling circuit, but this is a serious matter. Someone died. Your partner nearly died.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Nick said icily, all humour vanishing from his voice. “I spent all night at the hospital with her. Don’t presume to give me a lecture on that. I know what sort of condition she’s in.”

  “Terrible, I know,” Mallinson replied. “I’ve seen her medical reports, courtesy of Agent Aldiss…” Nick momentarily cursed Fank Aldiss in his head. “… and while it’s a tragedy when any agent is injured in the line of duty, I’m not allowing sentiment to rule the roost here. I know what you specialists are like. You think you’re untouchable. You pull a trigger, you feel the power rush through you and you might well be the king of the kingdoms. But you’re not special. You’re just a highly trained thug. All of you are, deep down in your hearts. And you know what I am?”

  He focused a beady glare on him as if daring him to suggest some sort of insulting answer. Years of Unisco-inspired discipline made Nick hold his tongue. Coming out with what he really thought the Inquisitor was wouldn’t help his case. Mallinson had been described as a petty, argumentative bastard more than once but unfortunately one with a little bit of power. Those were the worst kind. They had the power to make your life the living hells and if you gave them the inclination to do it, they would.

  “You’re the Inquisitor,” Nick said politely. “Self-proclaimed. I don’t know if anyone ever gave you the title, but it’s a good one.”

  “Damn right I’m the Inquisitor!” Mallinson hissed. “I’m the last bastion of law and order amongst the lawful and the natural order. I’m the one who stops thugs like you from getting above yourselves. So, tell me about this mission.” The look of venom faded, replaced with a sickly-sweet smile. Somehow, that was worse than the venom. It made Nick want to throw up in his mouth, he could already taste the bile at the back of his throat. “Start from the beginning, leave nothing out. Might I remind you that omissions now that come to light later may seriously harm your defence. Confession is good for the soul.”

&
nbsp; He’d started with the call that had brought him and Lysa to this very building, the meeting with Saldana and Aldiss, the mission preparation and ultimately the commencement of the operation. Credit to Mallinson, he had remained quiet throughout, making notes occasionally. As to what the nature of these might be, Nick didn’t know but he had a feeling they probably weren’t good. He’d worked Mallinson out long ago. When he didn’t have anything to criticise, he was sarcastically vocal. When he did have something to chase down like a rabid dog, he was silent.

  “Bertram Avis, the trafficker, he was based in an old warehouse down by the docks. We did a recon of the area during the day, Agent Montgomery and I, it’s a good location. Very little surveillance. Right on the water. Ten minutes from the city border. Get past that and you’re on your way to Cuvelier. Get there, you really can start to disappear into any of a hundred different directions. It was quiet. Not many people about.”

  He paused, rubbed at his throat. He wished he’d brought some water in with hindsight. “I always think that’s a telling sign when you do a recon on an area if it looks like people are being kept away from it. Or they know something’s going on and they’re too scared to be nearby.”

  “Why did the two of you recon the area?” Mallinson asked. “Agent Saldana says that his men had already done it. They had pictures. He said he showed them to you. Your presence there in addition could have been dangerous to the nature of the mission. If there’s not many people about then the presence of more strangers is anomalous.”

  “I don’t like going into areas on missions I haven’t checked out personally if I can help it,” Nick said. “It’s just a personal quirk. Some might call it a survival trait, you know. Some things you can’t tell from pictures.” He grinned at his interrogator. “You know what they said back at the academy. If you keep doing things that keep you alive, then they’re not wrong, are they?”

  To that, Mallinson had nothing to say other than a curt, “Carry on.”

  “Anyway, with the area checked, we went back that night with Saldana’s team to arrest Avis. Agent Saldana was heavily insistent that we capture rather than kill. And if I’m honest, that was the intention when the mission got underway. That was the order, I meant to stick to it. That’s what we do. The orders are given, we follow them.” He wet his lips with his tongue, glanced around the office. No sign of a water machine. He was going to brazen it out. He had to. Getting up for a drink would make the Inquisitor hunger for blood and his position would weaken. He could do it. He’d been through worse situations.

  “We all know what happens to a plan when the first shots are fired though,” he said dully. He couldn’t muster any more force into his argument. It would have fallen on indifferent ears. It might have sounded like giving up. “It falls apart.” He rose to his feet. “We couldn’t have done anything differently. We did all the prep we could in the time we had, our equipment was the best we had available, Saldana’s assault team were good. Things would have been worse if they hadn’t been there to disable most of Avis’ guards. There’d have been more dead bodies for sure.”

  Mallinson said nothing, just tapped at something on his summoner. His indifference pissed Nick off, it scratched at him big time. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that jumping across the table at him wouldn’t solve anything. Situation. Exacerbate. He counted to ten under his breath. Found some composure. Eventually he sat back down again.

  “Agent Roper, nobody wants to see dead bodies,” the Inquisitor said. “We’re in the business of preserving life. Yet, as you were so quick to act upon, sometimes a life must be taken. More than that, it’s got to be snatched with swift and violent force.” He pursed his lips as if he disagreed with that statement. Not for the first time, Nick wondered why he’d come to work for Unisco if he hated the idea of what they did so much. Maybe he was a patriot. That idea scared him a little. Patriots were the worst sort of people to deal with. They had all sorts of ideas they thought to be solutions, they never wanted to compromise.

  “Sometimes triggers need to be pulled,” he said quietly.

  “Agent Saldana’s report says that Bertram Avis was shot four times,” the Inquisitor said. “That’s an interesting number, to be sure.” He raised a thick eyebrow questioningly.

  Nick shrugged. “Not entirely sure what you want me to say to that. I wanted to be sure he was down.”

  “A man you were ordered to do everything possible to take alive?”

  “A man who’d just stuck a knife in my partner’s stomach!” he said, trying to keep the ire out of his voice. He only partially succeeded. “Twice. She nearly died as it was. I don’t think of it as putting down one trafficker. I don’t. He made his choices in life. He chose to undercut the system, he chose…”

  “It’s not your job to choose who lives and dies,” Mallinson said sternly.

  “It’s exactly my job to do that,” Nick said. “I know the regulations, Inquisitor. I know the constraints with which we need to work in. You know the two words I’m talking about, don’t you? The ones which govern how effectively we’re able to work in the field.”

  Mallinson said nothing. Nick cocked a hand to his ear, couldn’t quite hide the slowest trace of a smile. “Didn’t quite catch that, sorry.”

  “Appropriate force.” Mallinson looked like all his winterpeak celebrations had been taken away from him at once. “Every situation has to be judged that appropriate force to the nature of the threat has been applied.”

  “Right.” Nick said. He had to fight the urge to rub his hands together. “Appropriate force where a shooting is concerned where the offensive party has died.” He leaned forward across the table, not breaking eye contact. Even took a deep sniff, the smell of his cologne hammered at his sinuses. His heart started to hammer, his palms started to sweat, but in that moment Nicholas Roper just gave the Inquisitor the sweetest smile he’d ever given anyone. There’d been lovers in his life who’d never seen such a happy look pass his face. Any hint of nerves in him were lost, pushed away by that sense of self-satisfaction. “If you want to me to remind you of them, let me do just that, Inquisitor.”

  Mallinson went to interrupt him, opened his mouth, but Nick didn’t let him. That sense of pleasure only grew. “Appropriate force, as laid down by the regulations of Unisco in the formation of the agency in the aftermath of the unifications war, is applicable to the judgement as laid down by the agent required at the time of the incident. Where concerned, force should not exceed that which has been brought against the agent in question or the life of any other law enforcement or civilian personnel in danger at that time.”

  He cleared his throat, tried to swirl saliva down his mouth. “You know that rule is one of the first that they teach us in the academy. Someone hits you, you’re allowed to hit them back in self-defence. Never strike the first blow. Someone pulls a knife on you, you can hit them harder. Someone tries to kill you, self-defence still applies. If it’s a choice between them and you…” Nick tailed off. “Do you want me to continue?”

  It was Mallinson’s turn to grin, he leaned back in his seat, put his hands behind his bald head and didn’t break eye contact. The sun shining through the window at his back bathed him in light, framing his outline. “No, I think you’ve summed up the regulations pretty succinctly, Agent Roper. Except, you’ve just forgotten one thing.”

  It was his turn to lean forward across the desk, the legs of his seat snapping to the ground with a clap and his hands thudding to the wood. “I judge what’s appropriate force. Not you. The definition of appropriate force is all well and good, it’s good that you know it, but it doesn’t do a damn thing if I assess that you’ve broken it now, does it? See, there needs to be an investigation. I didn’t come out here for just one damn interview with you. I need to talk to everyone who was involved, you see? That includes Saldana’s attack team. That includes your partner, should she wake up. Hells, I’ll try and resurrect Bertram Avis’ ghost if it’s needed to get to the bottom of this.
”

  It was on the tip of Nick’s tongue to suggest that if he wanted to go with such a ludicrous avenue of investigation, he could do it. He held it, wisely so he felt. Maybe he’d overreached with legally dancing round the Inquisitor. At the very least, Mallinson might want to get every agent he could, he had to be fair. His office wasn’t all-powerful. Any hint of bias ahead of professionalism in his report, it’d be overruled, and he’d be admonished. Maybe even publicly so. Mallinson’s ego wouldn’t let that be the case.

  “You want to investigate it all,” he said. “Then that’s your prerogative. I’m here to answer any questions.”

  “Agent Roper,” the Inquisitor said. “I’m all too aware of that. Just answer me one question. Did you believe that shooting Avis was the right thing to do in that moment?”

  Nick didn’t hesitate. “I believed that if I didn’t do it, Agent Montgomery was going to die. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I hadn’t done something. There was nobody else. The assault team wasn’t there, they were still working the rest of them downstairs. I couldn’t have gotten across the room to Avis in time to take the knife from him. I made a choice. I’d make it again, Inquisitor. I think anyone who’s been out in the field would.”

  A sly dig to go out on, but one that regardless, he felt made his point well enough.

  More questions had followed, he’d answered them the best he could. Following that sly dig about fieldwork, they’d found it in themselves to be civil to each other. That was about the best he could hope for. At the end, Mallinson had stood up and offered him a hand. Nick had shaken it after the slightest of hesitation. Being on better terms wasn’t all a bad thing. And didn’t the first letter in the acronym of Unisco stand for United? He and Mallinson would likely never be friends. Mallinson would run his vendettas. Nick would do what he did best, as painful as it was to admit that being an officially sanctioned killer was what he was good at. He’d never told anyone who didn’t already know. Not even his girlfriend. She didn’t know.