The Coward's Way of War Read Online Free
Author: Christopher Nuttall
strong dark coffee and the chance to relax, even in their patrol car. It was a warm evening in New York and that always brought out the crazies. “You did well this evening.”
Tom Pearson looked relieved. It was his first night on patrol since graduating and becoming an NYPD officer and, to the older and far more experienced Sergeant, he still looked wet behind the ears. They’d found themselves chasing a car driven by a group of drunken students from college and it had been a minor miracle that no one was hurt. The driver had managed to crash the car into a lamppost and, when the passengers had staggered out, they’d found themselves under arrest. They’d been taken away to holding cells and the two officers had resumed their patrol. It could have been a great deal worse.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said, as he sipped his own coffee. “Is it always that exciting?”
Al laughed. “No, Rook,” he said, with genuine affection. “This is a quiet night, believe it or not.”
He sensed the younger man’s disbelief and smiled to himself. New York was the city that never slept, which meant that the New York Police Department couldn’t afford to sleep either. Night duty tore at families and other relationships, yet it had to be done and the more devoted officers welcomed it as a chance to prove what they could do under pressure. Al had sometimes considered trying to transfer to one of the other departments within the NYPD, but the truth was that he loved the streets. A good patrol officer could head off trouble before it even began, or so his first partner had told him, back when he'd joined the NYPD. Serving in the Marines hadn’t prepared him for serving as a police officer, yet in some ways the principles of police work and counter-insurgency were identical. Maintaining a strong presence on the streets helped to deter trouble.
“There’s a big protest scheduled for two weeks from today,” he added, mischievously. Al’s devotion to the principles of peaceful protest was real, yet all police officers dreaded protests. They had a nasty habit of turning into riots, which meant that people would be injured and the NYPD would come out looking like bullies. “If you survive that, you’ll survive anything.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Pearson said. He didn’t sound insufferably confident, much to Al’s private relief. He’d seen too many rookies who thought that graduating and becoming an officer meant that they knew everything they needed to know. The good ones learned rapidly; the bad ones got people hurt before they either shaped up or were transferred into less vital departments. “What are they protesting about this time?”
Al shrugged. “Believe me, Rook,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it is our duty to try to stop it from getting out of hand.”
The radio buzzed before Pearson could say anything else. “Al, we have an alert for you,” the dispatcher said, as the small computer monitor in the car blinked into life. “The neighbours are reporting screams from a small apartment and want someone to investigate.”
“Acknowledged,” Al said, as he gunned the car into life. They’d been parked near the coffee shop, only a few minutes from the location on the display. He keyed a switch and the siren howled into life. Traffic should start getting out of their way at once. “Are there any other details?”
“Nothing important,” the dispatcher said. “Good luck.”
Al frowned as he drove onto the streets and started to zip past traffic that hastily tried to get out of the way. Someone screaming was sufficient evidence to force entry into a building if necessary, yet it wouldn’t be the first time that an NYPD officer had broken into someone’s home, only to discover that it was perfectly innocent. The precinct’s wags were still teasing an officer who had broken
Tom Pearson looked relieved. It was his first night on patrol since graduating and becoming an NYPD officer and, to the older and far more experienced Sergeant, he still looked wet behind the ears. They’d found themselves chasing a car driven by a group of drunken students from college and it had been a minor miracle that no one was hurt. The driver had managed to crash the car into a lamppost and, when the passengers had staggered out, they’d found themselves under arrest. They’d been taken away to holding cells and the two officers had resumed their patrol. It could have been a great deal worse.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said, as he sipped his own coffee. “Is it always that exciting?”
Al laughed. “No, Rook,” he said, with genuine affection. “This is a quiet night, believe it or not.”
He sensed the younger man’s disbelief and smiled to himself. New York was the city that never slept, which meant that the New York Police Department couldn’t afford to sleep either. Night duty tore at families and other relationships, yet it had to be done and the more devoted officers welcomed it as a chance to prove what they could do under pressure. Al had sometimes considered trying to transfer to one of the other departments within the NYPD, but the truth was that he loved the streets. A good patrol officer could head off trouble before it even began, or so his first partner had told him, back when he'd joined the NYPD. Serving in the Marines hadn’t prepared him for serving as a police officer, yet in some ways the principles of police work and counter-insurgency were identical. Maintaining a strong presence on the streets helped to deter trouble.
“There’s a big protest scheduled for two weeks from today,” he added, mischievously. Al’s devotion to the principles of peaceful protest was real, yet all police officers dreaded protests. They had a nasty habit of turning into riots, which meant that people would be injured and the NYPD would come out looking like bullies. “If you survive that, you’ll survive anything.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Pearson said. He didn’t sound insufferably confident, much to Al’s private relief. He’d seen too many rookies who thought that graduating and becoming an officer meant that they knew everything they needed to know. The good ones learned rapidly; the bad ones got people hurt before they either shaped up or were transferred into less vital departments. “What are they protesting about this time?”
Al shrugged. “Believe me, Rook,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it is our duty to try to stop it from getting out of hand.”
The radio buzzed before Pearson could say anything else. “Al, we have an alert for you,” the dispatcher said, as the small computer monitor in the car blinked into life. “The neighbours are reporting screams from a small apartment and want someone to investigate.”
“Acknowledged,” Al said, as he gunned the car into life. They’d been parked near the coffee shop, only a few minutes from the location on the display. He keyed a switch and the siren howled into life. Traffic should start getting out of their way at once. “Are there any other details?”
“Nothing important,” the dispatcher said. “Good luck.”
Al frowned as he drove onto the streets and started to zip past traffic that hastily tried to get out of the way. Someone screaming was sufficient evidence to force entry into a building if necessary, yet it wouldn’t be the first time that an NYPD officer had broken into someone’s home, only to discover that it was perfectly innocent. The precinct’s wags were still teasing an officer who had broken
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