Arrest

Cor never imagined that he would encounter the very man he was supposed to surveil on this day – the flippant-looking man who turned out to be one of the bank robbers. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, but fortunately, it was a hot day, and sweating was the norm.

Thankfully, the man didn't suspect Cor. After a brief exchange and purchasing five newspapers, he left. Cor didn't immediately race to report the incident, fearing it would alarm the man. Instead, he continued selling papers at the corner for another hour before he nonchalantly packed up his stand and took the public carriage to the port division.

Elyon couldn't help but smile at the sight of the boy rushing in, panting and struggling to piece together his words. Elyon handed him a cool glass of water.

"Take a sip, then tell us what happened," he said gently.

Cor gulped down the water and quickly relayed his encounter.

"Uncle Elyon, the man you asked me to watch went into that house today. I think he's the one you're looking for."

"What did this man look like?"

"Pale, a bit taller than average, didn't speak with a local accent – in his twenties, I'd say."

"He was alone? You didn't see anyone else enter?"

"Just him, around three o'clock. No one else."

"Alright, don't go near North Street in the coming days. I'll inform the captain – we might have caught our rat."

After hearing Elyon's report, Captain Kappa snapped his fingers, then scribbled something on a piece of paper, stamped it, and handed it to Elyon.

"Take this to the armory and get some special grenades from Comms. Pick up a lever-action rifle too – I'll call Cook."

"A lever-action rifle?"

"The Treaty Model 1886, .44 caliber. Cook's the best shot we've got in the division."

Elyon took the note, which listed special Type 2 grenades, special Type 4 grenades, one lever-action rifle, and 20 rounds of .44 caliber rifle ammunition.

Down in the armory, Elyon found the weapons custodian, Comms, who was enjoying a smoke. He passed the note through the bars, and Comms's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Playing with the big toys this time, huh?" Comms unlocked the gate and handed Elyon a well-maintained rifle and ammunition.

"This one's kept in top shape – must be for Cook."

"How'd you know?"

"Regular police aren't usually armed with firearms, and only in massive incidents do they get .22 revolvers. You and the other clerks stick to your personal sidearms. The captain has his own gear, and the other officers have their preferences. Cook's the only one who'd choose a rifle for precision shooting. Let me check if we've got those special grenades in stock."

Comms rummaged through the stock, eventually pulling out a sack filled with cylindrical metal devices that resembled corn cobs and handed them to Elyon, who felt their weighty promise.

"The white ones are Type 2s, and the red ones are Type 4s. The Type 2 will blind you with a bright flash, and the Type 4 emits a nauseating stench – don't use that one indoors unless you want the smell to linger for a week."

Elyon, clutching the non-lethal weapons, shouldered the rifle and cautiously made his way back upstairs. At the entrance, Cook, in civilian clothes, was waiting with the captain. Handing the rifle to Cook, he pulled out a black wooden case and placed the rifle inside.

"What's the case for?"

"We can't drive up in a police car – we'd spook our man. This is a custom case I had made when ordering a trombone case for my son."

Cook slung the case over his shoulder, looking every bit the musician.

"Hand me those grenades, and take off your jacket if you're not wearing another one underneath."

The three of them hailed a private carriage – more luxurious than usual, with a covered top and windows.

"Where to?" the coachman asked, eyeing them suspiciously. They hardly looked like the sort who could afford such extravagance.

"We've hired you for the afternoon. Head to North Street, by the Church of the Craftsman and Technologist," Captain Kappa instructed, handing the coachman a pound note.

The coachman's demeanor improved significantly upon receiving the sterling currency. He set down the carriage steps, and the trio boarded. Once inside, he closed the door and set off at a leisurely pace.

"Don't worry, gentlemen. I've been driving for over twenty years – you won't feel a bump," the coachman assured them after pocketing the pound note.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at North Street. Elyon checked his watch – it was around 3:40 PM. Across from the church was a stone bridge, and diagonally opposite was a café.

"I'll take the high ground ahead. Captain, keep an eye on things. When it's time to act, signal me from outside," Cook said, stepping off the carriage with his case and heading into the café.

"Where next?" the coachman asked, circling the church.

"Just keep circling the church, nice and slow," Kappa ordered.

The captain peered through the carriage curtains, monitoring the church and the suspect's residence. After about ten minutes, they had circled the block.

"When do we strike?"

"No rush. We need to check for back exits from the church and the apartment. If our man runs out the back, we'll lose him."

After confirming no back exits, the pair were about to disembark and approach the apartment to apprehend David when they saw the Wolff brothers heading towards his residence.

"This complicates things. Looks like we'll need these after all," the captain muttered, nudging the bag of grenades. "They've seen you before, right?"

"I believe so."

"Then we'll sit tight until they make their move."

The captain stepped out at the corner and pretended to be a door-to-door insurance salesman, knocking on the apartment building's front door. After a seemingly tense exchange, the door was slammed shut, and the captain walked back, feigning disappointment like any salesman who had been turned away.

"Go report a rogue sighting on North Street to the Gonia Police Department. We'll keep watch from the café," Kappa instructed, taking a grenade and flashing his badge at the coachman.

"And after I report?"

"Your job's done for the day. But if you think you can pocket my pound and bail, you might find yourself cooling your heels in the station."

The coachman raced off towards the Gonia Police Department. Kappa and Elyon slowly made their way towards the café. That's when the door to the robbers' apartment swung open, and the quartet emerged, dashing towards the bridge.

"Damn it," the usually composed captain cursed and drew his gun, sprinting after them. Elyon, startled, followed suit.

The robbers, realizing they were being pursued, picked up the pace. The eldest Wolff brother grabbed a passing woman, holding her hostage at gunpoint, threatening the advancing officers.

"You come any closer, and I blow her brains out," he yelled, his hostages trembling.

"Stay calm. She's innocent, and from the looks of it, she's your kinswoman from Dunland," Captain Kappa reasoned.

"Drop your guns and get inside the café," the robber demanded, his comrades already across the bridge.

"If we drop our guns, you'll just shoot us. That's playing right into your hands."

"I don't care. Back off, or I shoot." The Wolff brother cocked the hammer of his revolver.

"Alright, we'll retreat to the café facing you. This distance will give you enough time to escape. Let the woman go—she'll only slow you down," Kappa reasoned as they backed towards the café, guns still trained on the hostage-taker. Onlookers ducked into the buildings lining the street to avoid the stand-off.

As Kappa and Elyon entered the café, the patrons inside looked up curiously. Elyon noticed that Cook was no longer there. The eldest Wolff saw them enter the café and shouted to the others.

"Get the carriage here quick. They're gone."

As the brothers hastened across the bridge to pick him up, a thunderous gunshot rang out. The eldest Wolff brother's back erupted in a spray of blood; he staggered and fell to the street.

"Big brother!" The remaining Wolffs, tears in their eyes, prepared to carry their leader into the carriage.

"Go! Forget about me, there's an ambush. I'm not going to make it, David, what are you waiting for? Drive and get these idiots out of here."

Another shot pierced the air, narrowly missing David, who was driving the carriage. Hearing the shots, Kappa and Elyon rushed out of the café. The Wolff brothers, grief-stricken, leaped onto the carriage and fled the scene in a wild escape down North Street.

Captain Kappa and Elyon approached the fallen Wolff, who was losing consciousness from blood loss. Cook emerged from the café, rifle in hand.