MVUTO

Chapter 62 - must be aliens

"Ludicrous! of course, police involvement in the community couldn't possibly be the cause for the decrease in criminal activity! It must be aliens!" Chief explained to sarge what he felt he should have said to the BOS regarding the second call about dubious stats.

"you might have to prove that..."

"what, aliens?!"

Sarge laughed, "no! the part about police involvement in the community!"

For a scary moment there, the chief thought sarge was hinting that their POI was an alien. Relieved that was not the case, he promptly refocussed on the issue at hand. "police participation in schools is limited to public only. However, we do have ears in various community groups. Furthermore, there are plenty of strategically located cameras and eyes everywhere, but very little to report... except some homeless vagrants in the park, for example. (Chief rolls his eyes). I've also forwarded an email from the mayor praising the precinct for our diligence as some proof the stats are accurate. Hope that satisfies the BOS, bar contracting out to conduct public surveys!"

"it's been pretty quiet out the front too. Most of my days are spent writing up reports and assigning shifts and equipment. Even dispatch used to have only a few moments to chat, now there's not much left to talk about."

"knock on wood!"

"yes, sir"

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"Hey, Susan! Have you noticed Frank has been a lot happier in the last couple of weeks?" an officer eager to gossip whispered.

Susan picked up the ball and ran with it, "yeah, I have! He's not as moody now... chummy with sarge... he wasn't so much before...".

"We should expect invites to his 40th soon."

Susan giggled, "when's that?"

Their babbling voices were shoved aside by the Chief's turbulent speculative thoughts concerning the unseasonal change in the relationship between sarge and Frank. 

"Hey, Chief!"

As per the new norm, Chief nearly springs out of his chair when sarge makes unexpected appearances.

"yes!" he almost squeaked.

"whoa! Sorry, you didn't seem busy. I'll come back..."

"no, no! what did you want?"

"a mod with three passengers was called in cruising schools, including the private one. I've sent out patrols. Its number plate is legit, with no outstanding warrants on the owner. They might just be showing off for now. No one was reported being baited. Not much we can do about it as yet until they take a wrong step."

"remember to bring that topic up for the night shift."

"will do, Chief."

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Chief reread the email from forensics regarding the chemical analysis of the graffiti wall. Particularly the line "unknown element disappears when trying to separate it from other chemicals. In addition, early test results find no residue and no anomalous gaseous traces detected, which in itself is anomalous."

"Hmpf! I'll tell you what's anomalous! The plural of individual!" Chief expressed a random train of thought from his overburdened mind.

"excuse me, Chief", the cadet interrupted, "just a heads-up..."

"yes?"

"The school holidays start at the end of this week."

"thanks. Since that's the case, expect an email invite to a priority meeting Friday evening."

"yes, Chief"

There were no new developments to report on their POI worthy of mention at the meeting. So instead, the topic for discussion was how a confrontation should be handled to ensure police and public safety.

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Once the moon disappeared under the horizon, Mvuto exited his bedroom during the darkest period of the night. With the resolution of incidents of police stalking, Mvuto could move freer around his block of streets. Flicking his speed on and off to elude security cameras as he wandered towards the business district, seeking the usual sites of robberies, shops with a grave-yard shift. Particularly vulnerable are servos. Climbing onto a brick retaining wall down an alleyway, Mvuto was high enough off the ground to leap and catch the wind.

Silently landing on the roof of a servo, Mvuto waited for the mod parked beside a bowser to do a runner after filling up. As expected, the mod and its recalcitrant passengers burst into gear and fled. They had presumed the matt black paint job on the panels and hubs would be perfect camo at night, alas for them not on Mvuto's watch. He waited for the vehicle to turn onto a road with open fields on both sides. The driver planned to let rip in an area empty of suburban housing, but Mvuto made himself known to the occupants.

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If not for the panicked erratic behaviour of the man running towards town in the middle of the street while holding his broken forearm, the police who picked him up would not have bothered to scan the back road he indicated he was running from. The injured punk gave the patrol little info except that a fight was the reason for his injury. Turning into the poorly lit street, the patrol vehicle's headlights shone down the bitumen to what appeared to them to be a black misshaped lump in the middle of the road. From the backseat, the passenger had finally stopped whining about his broken arm. "WTF is that?!"The police officers thought the same.

An hour later, the patrol car had taken its passenger to hospital, officers personally escorting him to treatment and inevitably questioning him later back at the precinct. A towie was shaking his head as the hydraulics struggled to haul onto his tray-bed the sad remains of a black mod. Police grimaced, standing around like a wake at a funeral as the vehicle was interred, screeching and protesting, scraping metal on metal, wheels pretending to be valid.

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The Chief looked at the pile of photos on his desk of the scene, unsure if he should call it a 'crime' scene per se as there were no complainants other than the injured man still in the cell begging for pain killers and little else besides.

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"Strange how at this angle the engine block with the hood wrapped around it like tinfoil looks like a tombstone for a freshly dug grave..." A gaudily decorated pimp pointed out while others around him stared in awe at what they had just witnessed in the final screenshot. Their ex-crew had mms'd with the caption 'redeem yourselves or suffer retribution'. The receiving phone was plugged into a widescreen built into a cinema in a drug lord's mansion basement. The audience witnessed the encounter as the mod's driver video linked the action from his phone.

"Wha... what do we do now, boss?" a whimpered question directed at the pale sweating statue seated amongst his peers, equally stunned by the 'after' photos taken of the wrecked mod.

Self-preservation activated, "we wait and see what the cops make of it... if nothing happens after 2 weeks, we stay the fuck outa there!" 

And so the boss effectively cut his losses. Regrettably, attracting the devil's attention by running from a servo cost him much more than his mod. Losing 3 valuable dealers who were willing to stretch into the newly abandoned patch. Thus word on the street was verified in the cinema for all to see – the devil is in town.