Finally, finally, the two duos meet! Granted, I'm making you wait until the next Reaper update to find out what happens. That isn't the confrontation referred to in the chapter title, however. That confrontation is between James and Thompson, where we see just how far Thompson will go to keep from having to discuss his past, and giving us a pretty good look at his exposed berserk button. We'll hear more about this very soon, I promise. Oh, and there will also be an action scene. We're really overdue for one.
Chapter Eleven
Confrontation, Part Two
Max expected that he and El would again use his powers to borrow space in various northward vehicles, so he was surprised when El suggested something different.
“I’m just saying, it would be easier, and you wouldn’t exhaust yourself,” she insisted.
“I used to go days pushing my body to the limit with my powers,” Max replied as the two of them stood together in the shadows of a wide, low building near the outskirts of town, “before you came along and started encouraging me to be sensible.”
El smirked over at him, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Max told her. “I appreciate your help, and I’m glad to have you around. I might even like you a little bit,” he smirked back at her, “but I used to be willing to make any personal sacrifice to get done what I needed to, and to avoid anyone innocent having to sacrifice anything. You’re asking me to let you commit credit fraud and steal from some random stranger just so we can buy bus tickets.”
El sighed, “It’s not like I’m pilfering someone’s life savings. Not to mention the fact that the charge would be easily disputed if they press the matter. They’ll get the money back, and we’ll be where we need to go. This is how I get everywhere.”
“Not anymore,” Max replied. “Now you have me. And I say no.”
El rolled her eyes, and put her helmet on, “At least it’s oddly comforting to know that we don’t agree on everything.”
She held out her hand, Max took it, and with a flickering of his Soul of Life, the two dissolved into smoke and poured together into the still air. They flew as far north as Max could get them before needing to reform. Their smoky form spiraled down and poured into the trailer of a large truck moving grocery items across the state. The two reformed, and then immediately grabbed hold of the top of a stack of crates so as not to fall over. Once they had steadied themselves, they sat down against the trailer doors and waited. Max reached out with his magic, which he had long since learned could enhance his senses, in case the truck changed direction.
El squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sit and wait out the ride. Eventually she removed her helmet again, letting her red hair fall onto her shoulders, and slouched down, “I could be riding in a bus seat right now, which, granted, wouldn’t be much comfortable than this, but at least I’d have lumbar support.”
Despite himself, Max actually laughed.
Meanwhile, getting further behind Max and El with each passing minute, Thompson and James waited patiently in traffic for their path to become clear, and their northerly quest to continue. James tapped furiously at his phone.
“I’m sorry,” the younger detective said, “but there aren’t any routes that would get us past this block any faster than it would take to wait it out.”
“Provided,” Thompson replied, less than enthusiastically, “that your GPS is giving you correct information.”
“And,” James added, speaking as if he hadn’t picked up on the negativity in his partner’s voice, and the two were simply having an everyday conversation, “provided that the city is on point regarding how long it is going to take to clear the accident. Few things are one hundred percent certain. I’ll defer to you on this one.”
“Like you have a choice,” Thompson told him, frowning. “This is my car, I’m driving, I make all of the decisions.”
He paused for a moment, thinking, and then he sighed, “Aw, Hell, ten minutes or so isn’t going to make any kind of difference with the kind of head start this guy’s got on us. We’ll wait it out.”
He lay his seat back, rested his hands behind his head and said, “Wake me when it starts moving.”
James was momentarily appalled, but he collected himself quickly. He acted as if he didn’t hear Thompson’s scathing and sarcastic comments, but he did. He heard them all. He endured them, however. After all, he had been forced to endure them from his peers for years in high school, and frankly, those had often been worse. He was used to it.
Besides, James thought contemplatively, despite being relatively new at my job, I've heard enough about Thompson to know that he has been through a lot, and that he used to be a better man than this. He still does great work for the department when he is prodded hard enough, so his peers, myself included, are supposed to just put up with his attitude. I just wish I knew more about what happened. I need to know, if he and I are supposed to keep working together for much longer.
This wasn’t the first time that this had come to James’ mind, but each time that he had made like he was going to ask, Thompson had shot him down or walked away.
But here, James realized, he can’t avoid the question. I can ask, and maybe I’ll get an answer.
He only hesitated for a moment. James is a cautious, soft-spoken person, but he knew Thompson well enough by now to at least know that the best way to get a response from him was to be forceful and direct, and he was also quite curious, to the point that his curiosity tended to get the best of his judgment. So he asked the question.
“Detective,” James said.
“Hm,” Thompson responded, sitting up, “we moving?”
“Detective,” James asked, “why do you act the way you do?”
“Shut up,” Thomson replied, lying back again.
James, however pressed him further, “Back at the precinct, new recruits question whether you should be allowed to work anymore, and the older officers and detectives stick up for you, remarking that you used to be this amazing, caring, resourceful cop who did his job gladly and did it well, until something happened. What was it.”
“Listen, Poindexter,” Thompson said, not bothering to open his eyes this time, “I don’t want to talk about this. I won’t talk about this. So sit on it, okay? Forget what they say, and forget that you wanna know anything at all about me.”
“I-I’m sorry,” James replied, stammering a bit in the face of Thompson’s reaction, which was the most scathing that he had ever heard the older man, “but I have to work with you. For an undetermined length of time. I’ve seen you do great detective work. I’ve seen the stuff that makes a good cop in you a few times now. But I’m not sure that I trust you with my life. You don’t have to tell me everything, but you have to tell me enough that I can trust that you’re a good man.”
“I’m not a good man,” Thompson replied, looking up at the car ceiling as if he wasn’t really seeing it. “Maybe I was one once. I am a good cop, though, when I need to be. Focus on that.”
“I’m not sure that’s good enough,” James argued, aware that he should leave well enough alone, but unable to stop pushing the subject further now that he had gotten some kind of response. “Please just tell me anything. What happened that you have trouble doing your job now? Did you fail to save someone?”
Thompson half-laughed, “I’ve failed to save dozens of people. That’s part of the job. I’m on this case, so as far as I’m concerned, I failed to save that Prof guy back there. Don’t get me wrong, the deaths hit me. I’m just used to it. You keep going out into the field, and you’ll get used to it too. Or you’ll quit. Or die. Whichever. No, kid, it isn’t because I failed to save somebody.”
“Then is it something to do with your family?” James wondered. “I hear that you used to be married, but that-.”
“Don’t,” Thompson snapped, darkly, his voice threatening in a way that was completely different from the way he usually sounded, that was somehow softer and calmer, but also much more intense. “Don't ask about them.”
That was it. There was no additional sarcastic comment attached, or even a threat, just an order, one which James found impossible not to obey. He could feel the tension rise in Thompson’s old car, so much so that the temperature seemed to rise with it. James didn’t say another word. Even when the other cars started moving a few minutes later, James didn’t tell his partner. Instead Thompson sat up on his own, put the car into gear, and continued driving. The pair didn’t exchange another word for the rest of the journey.
Meanwhile, Max and El were lucky enough to be able to bypass the traffic jam that had hindered their un-knowing pursuers. The vehicle upon which they had borrowed passage had been caught in the jam, very near to the accident itself, but Max had used his powers to move them to a different vehicle, this time a family’s camper trailer, being pulled by a large extended cab pickup with chrome wheels and rims. El actually folded down one of the compact beds and took a nap as “revenge for making her ride in the last POS”, leaving Max on lookout. It wasn’t long, though, before they had to change vehicles again, riding the next one, a banana truck, far enough north that Max was able to smoke them into town the rest of the way. The entire journey took only a little longer than five hours.
The pair made their way through town, and soon found themselves atop a building overlooking the campus from a generous distance. Students bustled about. It wasn’t likely that they would be able to get in without being seen.
“Our clothes are too conspicuous,” El immediately decided. “We need to change.”
“I’m not entirely comfortable with that,” Max replied.
“Just because people will see your face?” El wondered. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never had to go out and about in your civies with this many people around.”
“I rarely ever go anywhere without my disguise anymore,” Max told her, even as she opened up her pack and removed some regular clothes. He looked down on the crowds of college students below with something close to anxiety or trepidation. Even if no one here would recognize him, Max shuddered at the thought of being so exposed.
Max looked back at El in time to see her slide a lacy pink blouse over her bare frame. He blushed and looked away before El could see him. She pulled another article of clothing from her pack and tossed it at Max, where it fell draped over the back of his head, “Here, it’s that same hoodie from that night in your hideout. I snagged it before we left in case this happened.”
That at least made Max feel better. He’d worn this once-oversized hoodie regularly for several years, hiding the majority of his features from those around him on a daily basis. It wasn’t perfect, but he could hide his features in the shadow of the hood using his magic. His anxiety eased, he removed his cloak, popping the Soul of Life out of the clasp and freeing a cord from behind it, hanging it around his neck. He slid the hoodie on over his usual shirt, pulling it down low enough to conceal his belt and knives.
“Okay,” he said, “incognito it is, but I’m not leaving my weapons behind.”
“And you think I am?” El replied with a wicked little sideways smile, showing her bow fully collapsed in her pack, along with their discarded gear, save for El’s helmet. She zipped the pack up and slung it onto her back. She held up her helmet for Max to see, “Do you think this looks enough like motorcycle helmet, or should I leave it here?”
“Don’t ask me,” Max replied sardonically, “it’s obvious that you’re the brains of this operation.”
El smiled, “Hey, I can live with that.”
She clipped the helmet to her pack, and reached out for Max’s hand. He took it, and the two dissolved once more, spiraling toward the ground below.
Since the two of them had several dozen sharp metal things between them, Max transported them through the ventilation system past the main entrance, in case of security. The two reformed in an empty closet and then stepped out into the main building proper, following prompts leading them to Information, where they hoped to find some lead on Professor Cord’s most recent work here, and, hopefully, the expedition.
“What will we do if this doesn’t work?” Max asked El, talking quietly as they walked briskly along, passing crowds upon crowds of students.
“I guess we’ll have to get creative,” El replied. "I’m not leaving here without something.”
Max nodded. He felt pretty much the same way. At this point, they had just come too far.
They arrived within minutes at the information desk. One of the computers was manned by a young, socially-awkward-looking man. “Stay here,” El said, “and watch me work my magic.” She sauntered over to the young man and struck up a casual conversation with him. It took Max a few moments longer than it should have to realize that she was flirting with him. He was surprised to find that his face felt hot, and it took longer than it should have for him to realize that he was jealous.
Max couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying. Convincing himself that he only wanted to hear in case El missed some important piece of information, Max stepped into a shadow against the wall, and, taking a risk that he was later surprised he was willing to take, used his magic to fade into that shadow in plain view of everyone. No one noticed, thankfully, and he was able to move, unseen, behind the young man and his computer station. He came into earshot just in time to hear the young man say, “I guess I can at least look it up.”
“Thank you,” El replied, overacting relief and batting her eyelashes, “Professor Cord and my dad are old friends. I just want to know if he’s still doing anything for the university. It would be so cool to see him again!”
As she spoke, the young man ran a search for Arlen Cord in the university’s database. Some numbers came up a moment later, but Max couldn’t read them from where he stood.
“It looks like Professor Cord hasn’t been involved with the university in years. The last thing he was involved with was something to do with the archaeology department. All I see it a file number.”
“Any chance I can have that?” El asked, smiling wide.
“Sorry,” the young man replied reluctantly, “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Are you sure?” El pouted.
Hastily the young man replied, “I-I can check! Just wait here for a minute, okay?”
“Sure,” El told him, turning around and leaning back against the desk patiently, while the young man shuffled away. As soon as he was gone, El turned the computer monitor and scanned the list of numbers for the most recent. She hastily stepped back from the desk and scanned the room for Max. Finally Max realized how reckless he’d been. Using the desk as cover, he emerged again from the shadows and stepped up to El’s side.
“We need to find the archaeology department,” El told him. “There are records there related to the dig. And idea where it could be?”
“Why not ask your new friend?” Max wondered under his breath. El didn’t seem to hear, walking briskly over to a cluster of students, asking for directions. A stout girl in the group gave her brief directions, and El rushed off without even a thank you, Max close at her heels. At the soonest opportunity, the two ducked out of sight and dematerialized once again into the ventilation.
It took some trial and error, but eventually El and Max emerged together in a dark file room. There were no windows, and several of the filing cabinets were covered in layers of dust. While El fanned out and searched for the correct cabinet, she handed her pack off to Max, who opened it and removed her bow and arrows. He extended her bow, tossed the objects to El, who caught them deftly, and then he began moving carefully around the room. They couldn’t be sure that the killer hadn’t managed to get any information from Professor Cord, so they couldn’t take the chance that he wasn’t already here waiting for them. They didn’t have to discuss it, they just knew that it was the right thing to do, and they did it. However, where El seemed excited, almost overzealous, Max found it hard to concentrate. He had pushed himself hard, and was near his limit.
Fine, Max thought as he realized this, I’ve pushed myself past my limits before, I’ll do it again. We’re so close to a breakthrough. El can feel it. I can feel it.
“I have it,” El said suddenly, almost in awe. She broke loose the lock on one of the drawers with a well-placed elbow strike, and pulled the drawer open. She leafed through the files inside, until her fingers fell upon one, coming back out with an overstuffed file folder firm in her grasp.
Max stepped up beside her, eager to learn what was inside. El lay it down on top of the cabinet, almost reverently, and reached to leaf it open. However, just before she could, there was a sound of keys in a lock, and the door that acted as the regular entrance to the room clicked open.
Detective Thompson grumbled that he couldn’t believe that the school couldn’t even bother to send someone with them to help find the files they wanted. Max and El turned, just as Thompson and James stepped inside and surveyed the room. El ducked behind a shelf, but Max didn’t react in time. He was spotted. He met Thompson’s eyes, and his fingers went to his belt, even as Thompson, with the reflexes and the practiced hand of a seasoned officer of the law, reached for his holstered gun.
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