The Invictus, page 3
Finally, Craig thought. Maybe she’s willing to explore this with me.
“As for why none of these things have happened lately, which might give you a chance to understand them better, it could be because your condition has been displaced by happier circumstances.”
“My ‘condition’? That’s an interesting term for it.”
Dr. Burris seemed intent on underscoring a point. “You’ve told me about everything that has been going well for you lately. Think about it: have any of these phenomena manifested since your life has gotten easier?”
“No,” Craig conceded. He did feel good; there was no denying that. Things had been going well. He was optimistic about his relationship with Lauren. He had also recently learned that his father had set up a fund that he could access. This provided financial security. All of this should make him feel good, but he still couldn’t shake a vague sense of emptiness. After years of unanswered questions, he had received some answers when they confronted the Tourist. His powers had evolved, and the words he heard from his father in the church spoke to a purpose and legacy to his abilities. Not pursuing this further felt like a waste.
Craig had recently started to remember more details of that early winter evening. The Tourist mentioned there were others who sought to destroy people like Craig and Danny. If that were the case, Craig felt he should at least be able to access his powers for self-defense. Were all of the positive turns in his life keeping him from exploring this? What did his powers mean and what sort of obligations were attached to them? All these questions had been troubling him, but he hadn’t realized how much so until this moment. This must be why I’m giving Dr. Burris another try, he thought. But have I grown too content to where I can’t connect the dots?
“Maybe the negative feelings you felt when you were younger have been replaced by positive feelings and life circumstances,” Dr. Burris said. “So you could look to the positive side. Hidden secrets were revealed and explained to you, and you were able to save your cousin and yourself and escape from the church before the killer was himself killed by, the paper said, an explosive harness he was wearing.”
Craig remained grateful that the public understood that the Tourist died from suicide.
“Now that things are good for you, and everything related to that encounter has been resolved for the better, you could put it behind you and see what a happier future has in store for you.”
“Or?” Craig anticipated.
“Well, the fact that you’re back here tells me you’re still searching for something.”
Craig felt suddenly vulnerable. She seemed to be zeroing in on the feelings that had just passed through him. He tried to calm himself by pushing his bubbling anxiety to the side. Don’t let it get to you. This is her job, and this is what she does.
“Yes, maybe life’s finally looking up for me, and I shouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth.”
“Maybe. But why did you come back?” she countered. For the first time, Craig sensed the dynamics between them shifting. He’d always tried to convince her that the things he could do were real, but now she seemed to be challenging him about them, even urging him to examine them more closely.
Dr. Burris pushed ahead. “It would seem that something incredibly powerful and enlightening was revealed to you in Iowa. Maybe you should ask why. For what purpose?”
“Yeah, I guess there are still some things to think about.” This was uncomfortable, and Craig felt like retreating.
She pointed to his chest. “You will want to find out what’s in there and why.” Then she paused and looked at him. “Craig, have you heard the Mark Twain quote about the two most important days of your life? The first is when you were born—”
“And the second is the day you understand why,” Craig finished. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure Lauren has teased me with that one.”
“Lauren . . . your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, she’s one of the things in my life that is going well right now.”
Anchoring back to that, Craig wondered why he would want to risk his current good fortune. There hadn’t been any need for his powers recently, so why should he seek to explore them more with the doctor? He felt satisfied with their session today; he had been heard—a big step. She was finally coming around to believing him. That was enough for now.
“For once, I think it’s my turn to say that our time is up. There’s a bunch of stuff I’ve got to get done today to support those positive turns we talked about. Registering for classes, for starters, and a bunch of other stuff. Thank you. Really. This has been helpful. And we will do it again,” Craig said.
But the doctor wasn’t quite ready to end their session. “Maybe something in your thoughts, or at your core, has manifested in the form of your special abilities,” she suggested. “There definitely seems to be an extraordinary type of energy to them. Being trained as a clinician, it’s not easy for me to conclude that. But as I said, I’ve been reading up.”
But Craig had already checked out. He wasn’t upset by her continued probing, just resolved to finish the session and get on with his day.
“Yeah, maybe. Listen, I truly appreciate your trying to meet me halfway on all this craziness.”
“It’s not crazy if it’s had such a foundational impact on you,” she replied.
As he got up to leave, she stood up and extended her hand to shake. He clasped it warmly in both of his. “Thank you. I appreciate your listening and trying to understand and help me make sense of everything.”
She smiled slightly, seeming embarrassed. Craig felt a current of electricity pass between his palms just as he let go of her hand. Dr. Burris’s eyes widened, but she said nothing as she returned her hand to her side.
“You will see me again soon. I promise,” Craig said. He turned to leave.
“Wait,” Dr. Burris said. Craig turned to face her. “You have a chance,” she said, “a window during which you might be able to understand what happened that evening. I know it’s been difficult to talk about, but I believe you’ve been given a chance to more deeply understand what lies at the heart of your experiences. Don’t waste it.”
Craig wasn’t sure what she meant and was about to ask when the phone in his pocket buzzed. “And I will explore it with you. Next time. For sure,” he said. He mouthed a silent “thank you” to Dr. Burris and slipped out into the hallway. He picked up the phone.
“Hey, Mr. Unemployed,” the voice on the phone said. It was Danny. “I called your apartment and Lauren said you were giving the shrink another try.”
“I gave it a shot,” Craig said. “Just finished up with her.”
“Any new insights?” Danny asked.
“Nah, same old stuff.”
Then Craig remembered Danny had a big day coming up very soon. “Hey, are you going to talk to that new lieutenant tomorrow?”
Danny had made strides since rejoining the force, but the injuries he sustained during the attack had left their mark. His leg had been broken so severely that he still needed a cane to walk, and his forearm had been amputated and was replaced with an advanced prosthetic. As a result, he hadn’t been cleared to return full-time as a detective. That was a hurdle in his career he sought to clear soon.
“Maybe,” Danny downplayed. “I’m gonna try and corner him and see where it goes from there. He’s been a tough read. Not at all like Hammond.”
As Craig descended the stairwell and exited the building, he thought about Danny’s old boss. Hammond had been extremely helpful in smoothing over the unexplained aspects of their encounter with the serial killer. He also seemed to have some tacit awareness of the strange powers Craig had used to help Danny, although he had made it clear he didn’t want to get involved in trying to understand them.
“Well, you’ve got to let me know how it goes,” he told Danny. “This is your time, man, I can feel it. The city is about to get the full Detective Walsh experience again!”
“Slow down, pal,” Danny said. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”
“Call me tomorrow if that’s when it goes down,” Craig said. Then he had an idea. “Or, better yet, let’s get together. Dinner. You and me and Lauren. This time we’ll be dining with my lady friend—”
Craig wanted to swallow the words as they were leaving his lips. Emma had been killed by the Tourist. She and Danny had been romantically involved. Craig felt like an ass for bringing it up.
“Hey, listen, man. I’m sorry . . .”
Danny jumped in. “Dude, let it go. No worries. For sure we can do dinner. It’ll be good to see Lauren again. Let me just see how the next couple of days go and I’ll reach out.”
“Of course,” Craig said, relieved.
“Let me know how the grad school thing starts. Gotta go. Talk to you soon, Craig.”
Craig’s heart was heavy as he hung up the phone; he knew he had chilled the moment. He’d wanted more time to talk with his cousin, but Danny was always in a hurry. And now Craig realized that Danny didn’t get a chance to say what he had called about. Craig stuck the phone back into his jeans and proceeded down the street toward the bus stop.
“All this 9/11 shit keeps us jumping through hoops, you know?” Detective Ramirez complained about an all too familiar situation as they made their way toward an auditorium in Chicago’s Seventh Precinct.
“Maybe they’re changing the color of the threat level again,” Danny piled on, faking trepidation. “Hopefully, it hasn’t reached hot pink!”
It was midmorning, and Detective Danny Walsh and his colleague were being called in to yet another impromptu briefing. Ramirez, a detective in narcotics, was wearing a T-shirt and jeans—his usual daily attire—with his shield and identification on a lanyard around his neck. Danny wore a sport coat and slacks and used a plain fiberglass cane to assist with walking.
As they neared the auditorium, Danny continued to vent. “With all our resources getting pulled in every potential threat related to 9/11, you’d think the city would be ready to take any help they could get with the normal bullshit: the trafficking rings, homicides, the mob, and everything else in the stew.”
“For real,” Ramirez agreed. “You itching to get back at it, my man?”
“You know it. Homicide was always good for me, but now I’d even settle for something in Organized Crime.”
“Walsh, you know that none of those wise guys wants a piece of you.” Ramirez spoke of Danny’s reputation.
“Sure. Something like that.” Danny knew Ramirez didn’t mean it. He would have meant it in the past, but things were different now, and they both knew it. Danny’s injuries had left him less than intimating compared to his old self. He still talked a good game, but the nagging doubts echoed in his mind.
As the officers gathered for the meeting, Danny couldn’t help but feel invisible. Before the attack, his commanding presence and gregarious nature would have generated buzz and banter in the room. He’d always been the center of attention. But consciously or subconsciously, his colleagues were treating him differently. The novelty of his return to the force after a dramatic, life-threatening experience had worn off. Now, with each passing day, he felt less like a cop and more like a walking publicity stunt. Devalued, marginalized.
In the year that had passed since the ceremony that reintroduced him to the force, he had become resigned to covering cursory duties that left him feeling frustrated: desk work, research, and an occasional investigation. The attack occurred at the end of 2000, and he hadn’t made enough progress to rejoin the force in limited capacity until the spring of 2002. While he had gone through a lot of changes to get to that point, there had also been changes in the law enforcement landscape during that time. The Chicago Police Department’s attention and resources were being pulled into preparing for, assessing, and investigating real or suspected threats from Al Qaeda and other potential terrorist cells in the city.
The seats in the auditorium were small and cramped, and Danny had some difficulty settling in with his cane. At the front of the auditorium, Jack Mason, his new lieutenant, stood beside a woman who was preparing to get the meeting started. Danny saw that the lieutenant had noticed how he’d settled into his seat. Danny caught his eye and gave a nod and a half smile in a gesture of respect.
Mason reminded Danny much of the way he used to be; if he were being honest, he’d admit that Mason was probably a more impressive version. Mason had been a Green Beret and had left the military unexpectedly several years ago. The departure was rumored to have been about a family issue, and Danny had been wary about asking about it.
Danny’s main focus was on his own continuing convalescence, sharpening his physical fitness, and his policing skills. He’d been working up to a conversation with the new lieutenant in the hopes of gaining his confidence enough to the point where he could once again be assigned the more demanding types of investigative action where he felt most useful. A parade of lieutenants had passed through the precinct since Danny’s old boss, Eric Hammond, opted for an administrative role at headquarters several months ago. But, despite the turnover, it appeared that Jack Mason was there to stay. And because of that, Danny had taken time to ready himself for the conversation.
The briefing started with an overview of a new Office of Emergency Management and Communications, as well as “Alert Chicago,” a website designed to keep citizens aware and connected to the actions of the Department of Homeland Security.
After reviewing and sharing more perfunctory information, Mason zeroed in on a discussion of terrorist threats. “We know the Willis Tower was on the original list of the 9/11 hijackers. So, we know the city was and probably remains a target. I’m gonna ask for your coordination with Homeland. But at the same time, be as vigilant as you can behind the scenes. Learn more, connect the dots, but do it quietly. We can’t let the public feel like they’re trapped between an increasing police state and fear of imminent attack,” he said. His face flushed red, and his voice rose. “We can’t let these bastards disrupt our way of life and how we operate as a country!”
Danny wasn’t the only one taken aback by Mason’s passion. And warning a bunch of cops about a police state? That struck Danny as especially odd, and he believed it probably did a number on the other officers too.
Mason’s posture and tone seemed to ease as he wrapped up his comments, touching on several investigative efforts underway related to suspected terrorist activities. Then he shifted emotional gears, becoming more guarded as he prepared to hand the discussion over to the woman who had joined him.
“And as we come across potential suspects in these cells, the force has decided to draw on some additional psychological resources to help us in these efforts.” He turned to the woman, clearly unenthusiastic about her presence. “Deborah Wood is from Homeland. She’s going to walk us through the resources they’re making available to us.”
Wood told the assembled officers that Homeland would be sending military experts to various large city police departments, including Chicago, for use in tactics for dealing with potential enemy combatants, including interrogations. Given Mason’s military background, Danny wondered if he was skeptical of the military assistance.
As Wood continued her briefing, Danny’s mind wandered, mulling over how to approach Mason. He was tied to the administrative work he had been relegated to since returning to work, wanting instead to return to the detective work where he excelled. Today would be the day. Danny was eager to get back into action, both for himself and to show those close to him that despite his obvious physical limitations, he was otherwise fully recovered.
As Wood droned on, Danny’s colleague, who was seated behind him, leaned forward and said, “Hey, Walsh. Munitions has something waiting for you. A special duty weapon that Hammond arranged.”
This was news to Danny. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. The quartermaster wanted me to make sure you swing by and get it soon. ’Cause he doesn’t want to keep hiding it on the down-low.” Danny was opened his mouth to ask for clarification when Mason’s stern voice boomed from the front of the room.
“Hey, guys, we’re trying to have a meeting here,” the lieutenant admonished.
Shit. thought Danny. This was not the impression he wanted to make today.
Danny made an effort to refocus his attention on the woman from Homeland. What she was saying now was thought provoking. “The gentleman we have identified to assist the CPD is someone who served time as a POW in Vietnam. Specifically, he has skills and experience in dealing with the guerrilla tactics of enemy combatants. To be honest, Colonel Bishop tends to be reclusive, but we’ve convinced him to spend some time with your investigators.”
Reclusive? Now Danny was intrigued.
Wood wrapped up the discussion by laying out a general timetable for when the colonel might visit the precinct. Then Mason closed the meeting with several reminders and general updates.
As the group filed out, Danny held back. He wanted to let the room clear so he could talk to Mason in private. He caught the lieutenant as he started to head for the door. “Chief, can I get a minute?”
Mason appeared unwilling to engage, responding over his shoulder, “Walsh, I got a lot lined up for today. Is this something that can wait?”
“No, not really.”
Mason turned to face him, eyebrows raised.
“I wanted to let you know . . . I know it’s been a long road back. It’s taken time and a lot of work. But I’m ready now.”
“Ready for what exactly?” Mason said, his tone dismissive.
Danny was caught off balance by a curt response right out of the gate. Mason appeared to sense this and adjusted his tone.
“Listen, let’s rewind a second, all right? There’s nothing personal here. The city’s got things jumping off in all directions: coordinating with DHS on this terrorist stuff, homicides left and right, racketeering, the mob.”
