ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 25: divide and conquer

      “Akira!” he calls after me.

      “I’m busy trying to not shoot your girlfriend!” I yell, keeping my gaze fixed ahead.

      Helena pauses her teetering run to toss her heels aside in the gutter and shrugs off her black suit jacket. It’s rather amusing to see her ‘get away’ in a tight red dress that’s constricting her legs from moving efficiently. Helena presses her phone to her ear and is trying to frantically call someone in hopes to evade the police once more.

      Being the unfit slob that I am, my heart pumps too hard to keep up with the ingestion of oxygen into my lungs―I do my best to not double over, but when Helena slides passed a cab that’s pulling out of a side-street, I have no hope to dodge it. I hit the hood of the yellow car like a bird flying into a window. There’s no movie-stunt that allows me to glide skilfully across the bonnet and continue my pursuit, I just collapse onto my side and struggle to get up again.

      “Stevens!” Sam catches up to me, gasping for breath as he helps me to my feet. He looks me over with his eyes to see if anything’s broken or bleeding, once he’s satisfied, Sam gives me a confident push forward and we’re on our way again.

      My legs are tingling but I can complain about the agony when I’m sitting across from Helena in the interrogation room. I can’t shoot at her in a sidewalk full of people, which are currently scattering like ants, so I have no choice but to keep up the chase or wait until she tires herself out.

      “Mercer this is Detective Stevens, I need all patrol units to corner off Broome Street. Suspect is attempting to flee into Luther Gulick Playground. I repeat, all patrol units are to corner off Broome Street!” I holler into the walkie-talkie as three of the patrol cars speed past me and Sam who are still trying to tail Helena.

      When Sam and I get onto Broome Street, Helena cuts through back alleys and behind apartment blocks to get to Luther Gulick Playground on 93rd Street. By the time we reach her, Helena’s backed up onto the basketball court with tears streaming down her face, still trying to call her saviour over the phone.

      Somehow, I still have the energy to flip myself over the fence and stumble beneath the plain trees. Helena’s made a last-ditch effort to lock both grate-doors to the basketball court so I slide the gun back into its holster and scale the mesh. My NYPD boots can’t grip into the links so I use all of the upper body strength that I can muster to physically haul myself to the top.

      Poking all five digits through the holes with my left hand, I shrug off my black suit jacket to toss on the jagged metal on the top of the fence so I don’t cut myself. Sweat trickles from my brow along with some of the blue dye that I wasn’t able to wash from my skin in the morning. The descent from the top rung is high, but I push the fear from my mind and (ungracefully) fall to the asphalt below. 

      “You lied to me; you said I would be safe!” Helena screeches into the speaker. “They’ve got me, I’ve been found out,” there’s silence for a while as I shoot the padlock on the grate so Sam can tighten the perimeter. “The NYPD of course…you can’t just leave me here!”

      “The only help you’ll get is in a six by eight foot cell,” I twirl the silver cuffs around my index finger as Sam flanks my left side, pointing the barrel of his gun directly at Helena’s quivering body. I inhale a deep breath through my nostrils and smirk; it’s time to do the honours and recite the Miranda Rights. 

      “You’re under arrest for conspiring against the law and almost having a Detective run over. You have the right to remain silent. If you say or do anything, it can be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to have a lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you by the state,” I have an unyielding grip on Helena’s wrists, enough to leave purple indents from my fingers and weeping crescents from my nails as I tighten the cuffs.