The Improbable (5 page)

S
weat
continued to flow profusely down my face as I dragged in yet another ragged
breath. I concentrated hard on the upper corner of the target located a few
meters in front of me and mentally reminded myself that I needed to hit four
consecutive shots in the upper corner. I took a deep breath once again before
beginning my sprint toward the target. Mid-run, I reached for the gun on my
waist belt while keeping my eyes on the target and let off four rounds at once.
Drawing in heavy breaths, I took off my safety glasses to assess my shots. Just
as I’d wanted, all four had hit in the upper corner. I nodded, proud of myself.

           
I had locked myself in the shooting range in the basement of the police
station, not wanting to be bothered by anyone while I perfected my
run-and-shoot technique. I felt that I had
something
to prove; it was
difficult knowing that I hadn’t put in the work or received the experience like
my grandfathers before me had. If I let my father know what I thought about
being handed the position he would surely go on a rant about how much of a
‘disgrace it would be to the family’ and tell me that I need to ‘take advantage
of my chances because not everyone in life has the long end of the stick’. He
never failed to use those lines when scolding me every time I displayed the
least bit of disinterest in doing what he wanted me to do. As I walked back to
the starting mark, the buzzer went off notifying me that I was no longer in the
shooting range alone. I made my way over to the wall and pulled the dividers
back out.

           
“David O’Neil!” A southern drawl boomed throughout the range.

           
I spun around to see a man older than me, about my height that I didn’t quite
recognize walking toward me, however it was apparent he knew who I was. My
eyebrows furrowed.

           
He held out his hand as he closed the space between us. “Clayton Harris.
My oh
my look at you all grown up! Can’t believe you been
here ‘n this is my first time
seein
’
ya
.”

           
I shook his hand firmly, still unsure of whom he was. “Have we met?”

           
He let out another laugh. “Ha! Boy, everyone knows the Chief’s son is in town.
Now everyone
really
knows you since you done grew up and
especially
after that stunt you pulled
gettin
’ arrested and what
not!” Clayton burst into more laughter.

           
I tensed; he was already slowly grating my nerves. I swallowed back all my
curse words and insults and smiled tightly. “One hell of a night is all I have
to say.” I said, loading my gun.

           
“Alright, everybody gets stuck in a pickle here and there, understandable.”
Clayton nodded and put on his own safety glasses. “Which training academy did
you go to, boy?”

           
I cringed at the belittling effect around the word ‘boy’. “Southern Illinois.”

           
“Did everything just like your daddy, huh? Fancy. I was born down south in
Texas and didn’t start
trainin
’ ‘til I got here.” He
informed me as he loaded his gun. I didn’t remember asking.

           
“What brought you up here?” I questioned, knowing he was just going to continue
talking to me anyways.

           
“Well when I was a teen, I had dropped out of school and traveled North up here
to Chicago with my last few dollars. The training academy took me in and I
began to make somethin’ of my life. I put my heart and soul into this job,
because I had no other choice. But it was your old man that taught me the ropes
once I got in here – like an older brother I never had!” He spoke in
admiration. In the corner of my eye, I could see him eyeing me.

           
I glanced over at him and smiled awkwardly, unsure of what else to do with him
looking at me like that. “Yeah, Pop’s a great man.”

           
“Then he was promoted to Chief and now all of a sudden I hear the ol’ man is
retirin
’.” He continued, shaking his head. “Such a shame,
but
ya
know, it gave me
hope
.”

           
I looked up at him and wondered how anyone could stand a conversation with him.
He talked so much! “Huh.”

           
“I thought, ‘maybe I’m finally
gonna
get what I came
up here for’, hell, maybe I’ll be the next chief!” His tone was saturated with
hope.

           
“Never know,” I shrugged, not wanting to be the one to inform him of who’d
actually be taking the position. I focused on the target in the distance and let
off one round.

           
“Alright! There you go, boy!” Clayton clapped.

           
I chuckled; I didn’t care if they used it frequently in the south or not, I
didn’t like it. “That’s a
man’s
shot right there.”

           
Clayton’s eyes widened and he clapped, “Well, I’ll be! A
man’s
shot!”

           
“Mr. Harris, Mr. O’Neil, Chief wants to see you both in his office, says it’s
important.” The rookie who had arrested me poked his head in and informed us.

           
I gave him a long, icy, over-the-shoulder glare before setting the gun down and
removing the rest of the bullets. “Old folks first,” I held the door open for
Clayton without cracking a smile. When he got closer to me, I raised my
eyebrows, silently daring him to test me. It wasn’t that I wanted problems with
him, I just wanted it to be clear that I wasn’t one to be ran over.

           
“Well you’re alright son, you’re alright.” He chuckled and exited the shooting
range with me following behind.

           
When we arrived in my father’s office he was staring down into the street,
frowning. “Close the door behind you.” He instructed without removing his gaze
from the window.

           
Clayton and I took seats in front of his desk. “What’s going on Po- I mean,
Chief?” I corrected myself instantly.

           
“There’s no hiding it anymore – the city is dying.” Warren announced, still
looking out the window.

           
Clayton shot me a confused look. “I’m not sure I follow
ya
here, Chief.” He admitted.

           
Warren finally broke his gaze from the window and sat in front of us. He tossed
a manila folder across the desk.

           
Inside, the sights were not easy on my eyes; there were photographs of dead
bodies, some who had been shot and others whose cause of death wasn’t clear.
“Christ,” I spat after looking through them and pushed the folder away.

           
Clayton bumped my shoulder. “Oh c’mon boy, don’t tell me a few dead bodies are
gonna
make
ya
woozy!”

           
I nearly decked him right then and there, not in the mood to hear it,
especially in front of my father.

           
“I trust that they won’t,” Warren eyed me warningly.

           
“Of course not,” I sat back and ran my hands through my hair. Honestly, the
bodies were going to take some getting used to. “What happened to them?”

           
My father separated the photos of bodies with gunshot wounds from the ones that
didn’t. “Here you’ve got the dealers,” he put his hand on the pile with the
wounds. “And here you’ve got the heavily addicted buyers,” he placed his hand
on the opposite pile.

           
My stomach was turning, seeing that some of the dead buyers were around my age.

           
“What’re they
dealin
’ and
buyin
’
Chief?” Clayton asked in a much more serious tone.

           
“Trioxytin, as they’ve been for the past thirteen years.” My father began.
“Street name is ‘trio’, it’s a powerful drug and highly addictive. The longest
a person has gone using it is about five years, however lately people have been
getting so addicted they’ve been dropping like flies within two years of using
it regularly, our doctors say.”

           
“It’s lethal,” I mumbled in disbelief.

           
“You’re damn right it’s lethal. It’s goddamn expensive, too.” Warren stated in
a matter-of-fact tone. “One fella we locked up for using told us the rocks sell
for at least hundred each.”

           
“
Ouuu-ee
!” Clayton blurted. “That’s a hell of a lot
of money right there, a rich man’s drug.”

           
I looked at the photos of the bodies once more, puzzled. “If the buyers are
overdosing, what’s happening to the dealers?”

           
“Now you’re thinking, son.” Warren nodded at me in approval. “The dealers grew
so addicted to their supply, they started using what they were meant to sell.”

           
Clayton leaned forward. “And when you use your supply, you
ain’t
makin
’ no money.”

           
All the pieces came together in my head. “When you make no money, the supplier
comes after you.”

           
“Now we’re on the same page, boys!” My father exclaimed. “This supplier is
killing my city and I’ll be damned if I let that happen while I’m chief.”

           
“No sir, not on our watch.” Clayton chirped up.

           
“That’s why I called you both here today on this fine afternoon.” Warren
smiled. “I needed to know if you two would be willing to take on this case. I’d
be honored to have my son work with one of my best officers.”

           
“Count me in,” I slammed my hand on the desk. I was entirely determined to bust
the case to show my father that I could do it.

           
“Me too Chief.” Clayton nodded.

           
My father clapped, impressed by our enthusiasm. “You’ll be undercover; you will
be investigating who’s using this drug and where they’re getting it. You are to
operate under different last names and different occupations with no ties to
the station whatsoever, you understand me? We’re getting this drug off the
street and taking that bastard of a supplier down.”

           
“Yeah!” Clayton pumped his fist. “We’re
gonna
get
this done, I’m ready to show you what I’ve got Chief!”

           
“That’s what I like to hear.” Warren nodded with a satisfied smile. “David?”

           
I looked up from the nauseating photographs that had caught my attention again
and nodded quickly. “I’m ready, sir.”

           
“Alright, I have faith in you both.” Warren eyed us.

           
Clayton rose and reached across the desk to shake my father’s hand. “We won’t
let you down chief, thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

           
I was following Clayton out of the office when my father called me back.

           
“You listen to me,” he said in a serious, hushed tone. “I wanted to give you
the opportunity to prove not only to me and the station that you have what it
takes but also to yourself. I could see the uncertainty when you laid eyes on
those bodies, don’t let it get to you because I know you’ve got what it takes.
You crack this case and the position is as good as yours. You understand me?”

           
“Yes sir,” I answered looking him dead in the eye.

           
“That’s what I like to hear.” He reached over and shook my hand.

           
I was in desperate need for some fresh air after seeing the bodies; I spun on
my heel and headed out of his office. Was I really going to be able to handle
this job or was I lying to myself? Judging by the way the photos of the
slaughtered bodies affected me, I found myself second-guessing my decision to
take the case. I ran my hands through my hair as I strode through the busy lobby.
A nice, cool summer breeze grazed over my face when I exited out onto the
sidewalk.

           
“Aye, Chief! Get in!” I heard Timmy’s strong jersey accent yell from somewhere.

           
I searched around and spotted my best friend across the street in his red
convertible with Chris in tow. “What’s
shakin
’
fellas?” I greeted them, slapping both their hands and sliding in the passenger
seat.

           
“We’ve been waiting out here for you, brother. Haven’t seen you since the
party!” Timmy exclaimed as he pulled off, entering the traffic.

           
“Yeah, what ever happened to you? You just disappeared.” Chris asked.

           
“
Gahh
,” I groaned, running my hands over my face.
“It’s a fucking long story boys.”

           
They both let out frustrated sighs. “Aw come on man, that was your first night
back with us and we saw you for all of maybe 4 hours!” Chris cried.

           
“You don’t even know these people, brother. What could you possibly have a
story about?” Timmy wondered.

           
“We’ve been buddies for years now and you can’t tell us?” Chris asked in
disbelief.

           
“You guys didn’t give me a chance,” I answered.