"Any arrests made?" he asked her, glaring at the jeering crowd of Martians.
"Nope," she said. "Nobody saw anything. At least that's their story."
"Somebody saw it happen," he said, taking an angry step towards her. "Some piece of shit greenie can't throw a goddamn chunk of concrete and an incendiary device through the window of one of my vans in broad daylight without someone seeing it. I want some witnesses and I want them now!"
Duran stared at him levelly. "I'll thank you to take a step back from me and lower your tone," she told him sternly. "I don't give a shit who you are, I will not be addressed in that manner."
"Ten of my men are dead!" he yelled, not stepping back. "How dare you..."
Four of the Eden police officers stepped forward, their hands resting on their tanners. "The lieutenant said to step back," one of them told Mitchell menacingly.
"I'd advise you to do as they say," Duran said lightly. "As you've noted, tempers are a little short among us greenies lately, especially when feds are involved."
"Are you threatening me?" he asked her, his face turning red beneath his helmet.
"Take it for what you will," she told him. "But step back and lower your voice when you address me and we'll get along a lot better."
He took a step backwards, to the delight of the crowd watching. He did not, however, lower his voice much. "My men are taking over this investigation," he said. "We're assuming federal authority under the WestHem code."
Duran smiled. "Static," she said. "It's all yours." She keyed her radio up. "All units on the 34th street incident, turn your reports over to me and resume patrol. Our federal friends are going to handle this investigation by themselves."
Mitchell was somewhat taken aback by how easily she gave it up. "What is this?" he asked her.
"You think we want to stand around here smelling dead fed if we don't have to?" Duran asked him. "Have fun with the investigation. I know you folks have lots of experience with this sort of thing, don't you?"
The sarcasm in her voice was quite evident. Mitchell knew, as well as Duran and all of the other cops, that the federal officers were real good at tracking down copyright violators and computer hackers but despite the Internet shows lauding them, were a little short on actual crime experience. "Well," he said slowly, backpedaling a bit, "we will need to use your forensics unit of course."
"Put your request in through Chief Daniel's office," Duran told him. "But until he tells me otherwise, the forensic unit pulls out as well. And I have a pretty good idea what the chief is going to say."
"Now wait a minute," Mitchell said. "Maybe we're getting off on the wrong foot here..."
"We'll turn over everything we've gathered to this point to you," she said. "Have fun. Hope you find your man."
Five minutes later all of the information was downloaded to the FLEB investigation computers and the Eden police officers, every last one of them, cleared the scene and went about their routine duties. When Chief Daniels was asked to dispatch a forensics team to assist in the investigation thirty minutes later, the request was denied without explanation.
Three hours later, in Denver, FLEB director Stanley Clinton was briefing executive council member Loretta Williams on the firebomb attack on Mars. Word had reached Earth via the big three Internet news stations long before it arrived through official channels. TRAGEDY ON MARS, it was being called, a name which was certainly not the catchiest the media had ever come up with, but which did convey the emotion that the Earthlings were feeling about the loss of ten FLEB agents quite well. The briefing was not a face-to-face one, as it were. Instead, they were accomplishing their meeting via secure Internet transmission from his office to hers.
"We have nothing," he told her, shaking his head angrily. "The Eden police chief has refused to allow our agents the use of their forensics unit or their manpower and the greenies... well, I don't think I have to tell you how much cooperation we're getting out of them. Hayes told me that three of the agents trying to question the crowd outside of that building were physically attacked."
"Why didn't they haul some of those greenies in for questioning anyway?" Williams demanded. "If nothing else, it would've at least shown those savages a thing or two about cooperation."
Clinton carefully kept his expression neutral, despite the disgust he felt at having to explain the basics to this high-browed politician. "Things are already quite volatile on that planet," he said slowly. "I believe that the commander on scene was afraid of forcing another confrontation."
"Forcing another confrontation?" she asked. "What is he, a coward? Did you not just tell me that there were thirty armed agents on the scene? Surely thirty agents could handle any trouble that a crowd of greenies could throw at them."
"Yes," he agreed, letting his composure slip just a bit. "They could have handled it the way they did in New Pittsburgh during the riot."
Williams did not seem to catch his drift however. "Exactly," she said. "That's what we need more of on that planet. It's brutal, that's true, but by God, those agents firing into the crowd dispersed them, did it not?"
"It did," he said quietly. "And I've also had more than ten requests for psychological counseling as a result of it too. That's not to mention that the shooting in New Pittsburgh is probably what precipitated the firebombing of our agents this morning."
"Common terrorists," Williams almost spat. "If you can't catch the ones directly responsible, you simply need to crack down harder on everyone else. You, as a career law enforcement officer, should know that, Clinton. Why do I have to call you up and tell you your job?"
He tried once again. "With all due respect, ma'am," he said. "I will continue to follow your orders of course, but it is my belief that this process of cracking down on the common Martians is causing much more trouble than it's preventing. Every arrest that we make adds fuel to Laura Whiting's fire. Every confrontation between our agents and the greenies infuriates them more and makes them bolder. We've lost the support of the local police departments and the local criminal justice system. My people are not able to walk the streets there anymore."
"They're not paid to walk the streets," she said firmly. "They're paid to keep that planet under control and to protect our business interests. The crackdowns will continue."
"Yes ma'am," he said dejectedly.
"Now let's discuss Laura Whiting herself, shall we? Have you made any progress in her removal?"
"Not exactly," he said, casting his eyes downward.
"Not exactly?" she said. "Clinton, that is not an acceptable answer."
"Ma'am," he explained, "you have to understand that we've looked into every aspect of her life over the past two months. There is simply nothing that we can legally use to file criminal charges against her. We've leaked everything that we've been doing to the big three of course, and they've done a marvelous job of spreading innuendo and half-truths about her all over the screens, but when it comes down to legalities, Whiting has covered herself very well."
"Then make something up," Williams said.
"Ma'am?" he said, genuinely shocked at the suggestion.
"You heard me," she said. "Make up some charges. Get a grand jury here on Earth to indict her on them and issue an arrest warrant. Extradite her back here to Denver for trial. I assure you that the attorney general will cooperate with you."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am," he said. "But I don't think that's a very good idea."