Chapter Text
Jo quirked an eyebrow at Hansen, ‘You have any idea what this meeting is about?’ she asked.
‘Not a clue,’ he shook his head, ‘but the Lieutenant was adamant that we be on time.’ Whatever it was, it was very important and very secret. It had taken both Jo and Mike weeks to organize all the paperwork necessary to get ‘cleared’ for whatever this assignment happened to be. Jo had never had an assignment before that required not one, but two polygraphs, a psychological evaluation and an in-person interview along with an extensive background check. Someone had even called her mother, which led to a frantic evening phone call from her family worried that she was in some kind of trouble.
She and Hansen continued to walk down 116th Avenue toward the address that they had been given by the Lieutenant last night. She had handed it off to them as she left the precinct with a meaningful look and the obtuse statement that ‘They told me they wanted our best, and that’s you.’
Jo and Mike found themselves in front of an imposing but largely non-descript building which squatted in the centre of the block. There was no indication on the door as to what the building’s purpose was, and it looked like one of the many for-rent temporary office spaces that dotted this part of the city.
They cautiously entered and found themselves in an unused foyer. There was a man dressed in a cheap suit standing by the elevators with a clipboard. As they walked over to him Jo noted the subtle bulge under his suit jacket indicating that he was armed, and his even more subtle government-issues earpiece. Ah, so they were dealing with the Feds.
‘Good morning,’ the man intoned, clearly waiting for them to introduce themselves.
‘Morning,’ Hansen gamely replied, ‘Detective’s Hansen and Martinez from the 11th Precinct.’
The man scanned his clipboard, and nodded when he found their names. Much to her surprise, he then checked both of their badges and confirmed their invitation via his radio. Jo was impressed, whatever it was, they were taking it very seriously.
After their identities had been confirmed, they were directed to take the elevator to the 6th floor. The door opened onto what Jo could only describe as a commend centre. True to her guess, the space was obviously rented out and had been filled with heavy desks pushed together in pairs and wired with multi-monitored computers and phones. Desks were labelled by precinct. Jo and Mike made their way over to the 11th precinct and found two manila envelopes with their respective names on each desk. They also found that each desk was equipped with a nameplate, an ID Badge with their photographs, and a large packet of paperwork.
‘Huh,’ Mike murmured while examining the badge, ‘Looks like we will be working here for a while.’
Jo nodded numbly, that the hell was going on?
Leaving their desks behind, Jo and Mike made their way over to a large briefing room. It was already half-filled with people, some of whom Jo recognized from other precincts. More people continued to arrive and the room was full by the time 9 a.m. rolled around.
On the dot, a broad-shouldered man entered and strode up to the podium. He took a moment to plug in his computer and turn on the overhead projector.
‘Let me get straight to the point,’ he said in a clear and powerful voice, ‘I am Agent Marquez from the Department of Citizen Monitoring – A sub-branch of the Department of Homeland Security, and I am here to talk to you about immortals.’
The room was totally silent, and after a brief pause Marquez continued, ‘The United States Government has been aware of the existence of immortals for almost 200 years….’
Agent Marquez’s presentation lasted almost two hours, but no one seemed inclined to take a break. To say that he was well-informed and persuasive was an understatement. Those who were not convinced by his words were going to have a hard time disputing the video clips he had presented showing a man, whose face was blurred out, being shot in the chest only to disappear and suddenly re-appear in a nearby tank of water. Alive and un-harmed.
This clip was followed by others and additional evidence and documentation. The most striking thing was the video interview of a man who discussed his immortality, what it was like, and how long he had been alive. 205 years. The video ended.
The room was silent except for someone muttering a ‘Jesus’ in the back of the room.
‘Now that you are aware of what we are dealing with, I bet you are wondering what this has to do with you and the NYPD,’ Marquez stated. A few heads nodded in agreement.
‘Given the growing threat of terrorism, particularly that of an immortal suicide bomber, the US government has decided to identify and catalogue all immortals on US soil, citizen or not. Our number one priority is the security of the United States.’ He paused to make eye contact with the room.
‘This is not to say that all immortals are dangerous, in fact, the majority of the ones we are aware of take pains to say out of the spotlight. The secondary goal of this initiative is to contact these immortals and determine their usefulness.’ Marquez noticed uncomfortable shifting in the crowd and he smoothly continued. ‘Their assistance, if valuable, will be voluntary.’
He paused again and drew a deep breath, ‘Given today’s technology it is surprising that the secret of immortality is not already public. It is only a matter of time before these people are exposed and the third goal of this initiative is to document these people and keep them out of sight. We want them to stay under the radar as long as possible. The last thing we want is a public panic.’
‘Wait a moment,’ interjected a spikey haired man in the third row. Jo recognized him as a detective from the 3rd Precinct. ‘Exactly how common are these immortals? How many people are we looking at?’
Marquez’s response was quick, ‘Rare,’ he said, ‘Very rare.’
‘There are currently three in the employ of the US government, and historical evidence of at least two more in the past. We have documentation from our allies of a potential half-dozen others. Most of these are also in governmental employ or confined to institutions.’
‘What do you mean confined to institutions?’ questioned the detective.
Marquez took a long time answering, ‘Prisons or mental institutions.’
Agent Marquez put up his hands to forestall additional questions, ‘Let’s take a 15 minute break,’ he said, ‘the rest of the day will be devoted to signing non-disclosure agreement and a crash course on how to identify these people.’
By lunchtime Jo was exhausted, bewildered, and more than a little freaked out.
After signing a mountain of paperwork the room had been informed that their assignment would last four weeks. In that time they were to investigate all people within their jurisdiction who could be immortals and if they were to locate a potential ‘target,’ they were to bring them in for questioning. Should this confirm the presence of immortality then this person would be ‘processed’ at a governmental facility. This so-called ‘processing’ seemed to involve a medical exam, an extensive background check, a psychological evaluation, and formal registration with the US government. What would happen after that was left unclear. Unsaid but understood was that if this individual was considered an asset they would be offered a job, if they were considered a threat they would disappear. After four weeks the office would close and relocate to the next major city to perform the same process.
All of this made sense to Jo, though she was still having a problem wrapping her head around the idea of immortality, and that immortals walked among them. Given the likelihood of actually finding one of these people she was slightly annoyed at being pulled off of homicide to go chasing unicorns.
However, her irritation turned to alarm later in the afternoon. It was clear that the government has been conducting a lot of research. A weedy little man she had automatically started referring to as the professor spent several hours droning on about how various immortals had been identified. Along with the flukes (such as deaths and subsequent disappearance captured on tape), other immortals had been identified via a rubric of characteristics. As the Professor when through these, Jo became more and more alarmed.
She looked over at Hansen, who also appeared to be growing increasingly uncomfortable. Perhaps sharing her thoughts, he glanced in her direction and grimaced. Yeah, they were both thinking the same thing. The similarities were alarming: widely travelled, a bit odd, anachronistic, seemingly first-hand knowledge of other time periods, questionable documentation, multi-lingual, difficulties with technology, very private, lack of a sense of self-preservation. The most damning piece was the one causing Hansen to wince. Skinny-dipping. Though the revelation that this ‘skinny-dipping’ only happened after they died was eye-opening.
They were dismissed at 5 p.m. sharp and told to report at 9a.m. the next morning. They were assured that they would all be provided with lists of ‘potentials’ that had been identified using a complex set of algorithms that Jo didn’t understand. From there they were to start their investigations. Jo didn’t need an algorithm, she already knew who she was looking into tomorrow. She and Hansen were silent as they left the building. They were already halfway back to the 11th when she finally turned to Hansen.
‘Mike,’ she started, ‘Are you thinking what I am thinking.’
He nodded slowly, ‘Yeah,’ he replied, ‘I think I am. And I think tomorrow we need to do a little digging. It could be nothing...Its likely nothing.’ He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
‘Yeah,’ Jo replied, ‘Could be.’ Even to her own ears she didn’t sound convincing.
‘Do we tell the Lieutenant?’ She asked.
Hansen paused before shaking his head, ‘We can’t. The agreement we signed said that we keep this to ourselves until we have confirmation. Plus, there is no reason to until we have something more concrete than ‘Henry is a bit weird’.’ A pause, ‘she knows that already.’
That comment got a snort out of Jo. ‘Yeah, you are right.’