May 2017 — 3:42 PM — Mid-Wilshire
The May sun reflected brightly on the asphalt, creating that undulating sheen that made Los Angeles seem always in motion, even when everything was still.
7-Adam-21 moved slowly down the avenue, windows down, radio low.
Talia Bishop drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door.
Her gaze was attentive, experienced, scanning rearview mirrors, sidewalks, intersections.
Harry Potter, in the passenger seat, observed the flow with the same silent attention as always.
He didn’t seem bored.
He never seemed.
“Funny…” Talia commented, breaking the silence.
“Ever since you officially became a ‘strategic asset,’ it seems like the world has gotten quieter.”
Harry smiled slightly.
“Normal,” he replied.
“When we prepare for the worst, everyday life tries to pretend nothing will happen.”
“It doesn’t work for very long.” — she said.
As if it were a direct provocation, the radio crackled.
— Nearby units, attention.
— announced the dispatch center.
— Vehicle stolen moments ago, black sedan, partial license plate 7-K-3.
Last seen: corner of Wilshire and Fairfax.
Male suspect, alone.
Talia straightened up immediately.
— Copy.
— she replied, already slowing down and looking to the left.
— We’re two blocks away.
Harry already had his gaze fixed on the traffic ahead.
— Black sedan… — he murmured.
— Very common.
— Yes, but a hurried thief usually makes a quick mistake.
— Talia replied.
The radio crackled again.
— Update: the vehicle has just run a red light on Wilshire, eastbound.
— We have a visual.
— Harry said suddenly.
Talia followed his gaze.
The car appeared at the next intersection, a black sedan with a crumpled rear end, accelerating erratically, weaving between lanes.
“It’s him,” Talia confirmed.
“Central, 7-Adam-21, matching the stolen vehicle’s appearance.
Initiating pursuit.”
“Authorized.
Maintain distance, await backup.”
Talia took a deep breath.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Always,” Harry replied, adjusting his seatbelt and turning on the portable radio.
The patrol car accelerated, maintaining a safe distance.
The sedan ahead zigzagged, nearly hitting a bus.
“He doesn’t know how to drive under pressure,” Harry commented.
“Great,” Talia replied.
“The worst are the ones who do.”
The suspect turned sharply to the right, entering a narrow residential street.
“Damn,” Talia murmured.
“Too many houses, too many children.”
“Keep your distance,” Harry said.
— He’s going to mess up again.
As if confirmed, the sedan scraped against a parked car, tearing off the rearview mirror.
— Central, — Talia said on the radio — suspect entered residential area, high speed.
Requesting additional support.
— Support on the way.
The stolen car sped off again, ignoring speed bumps, making the suspension squeal.
— He’s getting nervous.
— Harry said, watching closely.
— This is going to end badly if we keep pushing.
— Do you suggest backing off?
— Talia asked.
— I suggest controlling the pace.
— Harry replied.
— He thinks he’s getting away.
Let’s let him think that.
Talia slightly reduced the pressure, keeping the suspect in her line of sight, but without sirens.
— You’ve done this before.
— she commented.
— Many times.
— Harry replied.
— Thieves hate silence more than sirens.
The suspect looked in the rearview mirror — visible even from that distance — and accelerated even more.
“—There he is,” Harry said.
“Panic.”
The sedan turned sharply onto a dead-end street.
“—He doesn’t know the neighborhood,” Talia smiled.
“Perfect.”
“—Central,” Harry said on the radio, “suspect entered a dead-end street.
Preparing containment.”
“—Recognized.”
The stolen car braked hard at the end of the street.
It tried to reverse, but Talia’s patrol car was already partially blocking the exit.
“—Hands up!” Talia shouted over the loudspeaker.
“Turn off the vehicle!”
The suspect hesitated… and then opened the door and ran out.
“—On foot!” Talia shouted.
Harry was already out of the patrol car before the sentence was even finished.
“—Right!” Harry warned.
“He’s going to jump the wall!”
The suspect ran, desperate, jumping a low fence and falling into the yard of a house.
Harry followed, leaping with surprising fluidity for someone in uniform.
Talia came right behind, radio in hand.
“Police!” Harry shouted.
“Stop now!”
The suspect stumbled, turned, and pulled something from his waistband.
“Gun!” Talia yelled.
Harry didn’t fire.
He advanced sideways, using a tree trunk as cover.
“Don’t shoot!” he shouted again.
“Drop it!”
The object fell: a screwdriver.
“Fake!” Talia warned.
The suspect tried to run again.
Harry closed the distance quickly, catching him in three steps.
A clean, precise movement: arm control, imbalance, fall to the ground.
“Don’t resist!” Harry ordered.
“I didn’t do anything!” the man shouted.
“You stole a car and almost killed someone driving like that,” Harry replied calmly, handcuffing him.
Talia approached, breathless.
“Any weapons?”
“Negative,” Harry replied.
“Just desperation.”
She took a deep breath, turning on the radio.
“Central, suspect detained.
Code four.”
“Retrieved.”
The yard fell silent again.
The suspect was led back to the street, handcuffed, head down.
While they waited for the police van, Talia leaned on the hood, looking at Harry.
“You didn’t fire,” she commented.
“Even when it looked like a weapon.”
“There was no lethal intent,” Harry replied.
“Just fear.”
“A lot of people would have shot,” she said.
“A lot of people don’t stop to observe,” he replied.
Talia was silent for a few seconds.
“You know…” she said, “after everything you’ve been through, you still treat a car thief like someone who can be saved.”
Harry looked at the suspect, now sitting on the sidewalk.
“Because he can,” he replied.
— Not every mistake has to end in tragedy.
The backup car arrived.
The suspect was taken away.
Talia returned to 7-Adam-21, sitting in the driver’s seat.
— Good chase.
— she said.
— Good decision.
— Harry replied.
She started the car.
— Funny… — she commented as they pulled off the street — after sniper, SAS, Victoria Cross… you’re still chasing stolen cars like it’s the most important thing in the world.
Harry looked out the window, watching the neighborhood return to normal.
— Because for someone who almost lost everything on that street… — he said — it was.
Talia nodded slowly.
— Welcome back to regular patrol.
— she said.
Harry smiled slightly.
— Where I always wanted to be.
The patrol car drove off, blending into the Los Angeles traffic.
No medals.
No records.
Just another day where nobody died.
And for Harry Potter, this remained the greatest victory possible.
pat/SHADOWGHOST07
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