Chapter 7 - The Interrogation in the Foyer
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I walked out of the manager’s office holding Caldwell’s handwritten ledger securely under my arm.
The lobby was now filled with senior brass from the Chicago Police Department who had arrived in unmarked sedans.
Commander Thomas Hayes, a veteran of thirty years on the force and an old acquaintance of mine, was standing near the elevators.
Beside him stood Officer Derek Channing, stripped of his duty belt, staring at the floor with absolute, soul-crushing humiliation.
When Commander Hayes saw me approaching, he immediately stepped forward, extending his hand with deep respect.
“Arthur, I cannot begin to apologize for this catastrophe,” Hayes said, his voice loud enough to carry across the marble room.
I shook his hand firmly, acknowledging his professionalism while keeping my expression stone-cold.
“Your patrolman decided to play hero for an audience of socialites, Thomas,” I replied evenly.
“He threw my credentials on the floor, mocked my authority, and placed me in cuffs while our primary target slipped away.”
Commander Hayes turned toward Channing, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson.
“Did you run his badge number through dispatch, Officer?” Hayes barked, his voice cutting like a whip.
Channing could barely lift his head, his shoulders slumped in utter defeat.
“No, Commander... Mr. Caldwell insisted the credentials were purchased online... I didn't think someone of the Director's rank would sit alone in a lobby...”
“You didn't think at all!” Hayes roared, stepping directly into Channing’s personal space.
“You violated standard operating procedures, you failed to verify federal identification, and you compromised a multi-agency sting operation!”
Several hotel guests who had previously filmed my arrest were now pointing their phone cameras directly at Channing.
The irony of the digital age was swift and merciless; the very crowd he tried to impress was now broadcasting his professional demise.
“Director Pendleton,” Channing choked out, looking at me with genuine terror in his eyes.
“Please... my career... I spent four years trying to make detective... my family depends on my pension...”
I looked at the young officer, seeing the raw consequence of unchecked arrogance and blind ambition.
“You were willing to destroy my dignity and my career without a second thought, Officer Channing,” I said softly.
“You laughed in my face when I told you who I was, and you physically assaulted me against that marble desk.”
“I was wrong, sir! I swear to God I was completely wrong!” Channing cried out, tears streaming freely down his cheeks now.
“Being wrong has consequences in law enforcement, son,” Commander Hayes intervened sternly.
“You are officially suspended without pay pending a full review by the Internal Affairs Division and the Civilian Office of Police Accountability.”
“Furthermore,” Hayes added, looking at me for approval, “CPD will fully cooperate with any federal obstruction charges Director Pendleton chooses to file.”
Channing looked as if the earth had opened beneath his boots and swallowed him whole.
“Take him out through the side entrance and lock him in the back of a squad car,” Hayes ordered two accompanying sergeants.
The sergeants grabbed Channing’s arms, escorting the weeping officer out of the opulent lobby he had strutted through thirty minutes earlier.
I turned back toward Commander Hayes, checking my watch.
“We don't have time to celebrate his discipline yet, Thomas,” I said, adjusting the radio on my lapel.
“Viktor Vance is trapped in the subterranean executive garage, and he’s armed with an automatic weapon.”
“My tactical units are holding the exits, but Vance has nothing left to lose.”
May you like
Hayes nodded grimly, drawing his service weapon and thumbing off the safety.
“Then let’s go finish this together, Arthur.”
