Chapter 25 #2
“Don’t.” His voice is quiet but firm. “You’ll only make it worse for him.”
“They’re treating him like he’s one of them.” I struggle against his grip, watching as they zip-tie Yefrem’s hands behind his back alongside Agent Torres, who’s bleeding from a shoulder wound but still alive. “He saved her life.”
“Ma’am, we need you to step back.” One of the tactical agents addresses me while keeping his weapon ready. “This is an active crime scene.”
“Crime scene? These men risked their lives to warn Assistant Director Hendricks about threats to her safety.” My voice cracks with frustration as Leonid maintains his hold on my arm. “You’re arresting the wrong people.”
Yefrem doesn’t resist as they secure him but meets my gaze across the chaotic room. There’s something in his expression that tells me to stay calm and trust that this will work out, but I can’t feel anything except the crushing weight of injustice.
“Let me go.” I try again to break free from Leonid’s grip. “Patricia, tell them what really happened.”
But Patricia is being treated for her injuries, and the tactical team is more focused on securing potential threats than listening to witness testimony.
She looks between me and the agents securing Yefrem, her face showing the kind of confusion that comes from processing traumatic events.
Blood still trickles from cuts on her cheek, and she keeps touching her ribs where Yefrem’s body weight pressed against her when he shielded her from the gunfire.
“Rufus, we need to talk. There’s more to this situation than it appears. ”
“After we secure all subjects and process the scene.” Lipsey’s response is automatic and clearly procedural. “We have multiple fatalities and weapons discharges involving federal personnel.”
“These people saved my life.” Patricia’s voice lacks the conviction I need to hear. She sounds uncertain, like someone trying to make sense of events that happened too quickly to fully process.
“Ma’am, with respect, you’ve just survived a traumatic incident. Your perceptions might not be entirely reliable right now.”
I watch her face as the agents’ dismissal of her account seems to plant seeds of doubt. Did she really see what she thinks she saw? Was Yefrem protecting her, or was he part of the threat?
“I know what happened.” Her voice carries less certainty than before. “But maybe we should examine all the evidence before drawing conclusions.”
The shift in her tone sends panic through my chest. She’s wavering, backing away from supporting Yefrem as the tactical team treats him like just another criminal who happened to be present during a violent federal incident.
“Patricia?” I strain against Leonid’s grip, desperation making my voice crack. “He threw himself on top of you when the shooting started. He saved your life!”
She touches the cuts on her face again, and for a moment, something flickers in her expression. Recognition, maybe, or the beginning of clarity about what happened in those crucial seconds.
“I... yes. Someone did shield me from the gunfire.” Her voice carries the hesitancy of someone trying to separate traumatic memories from shock-induced confusion. “But everything happened so fast…”
“It was him.” I point toward Yefrem, who’s being led toward the door with his hands secured behind his back. “He covered you with his own body. If he wanted you dead, he would have let Torres kill you.”
Patricia watches Yefrem’s calm demeanor as the agents escort him away. “Why would he do that? Risk his own life for someone he doesn’t know?”
“Because he’s not the criminal you’ve been told he is.”
But I can see the doubt in her eyes, the way trauma and official procedure are combining to make her question her own memories of what happened.
The tactical team’s treatment of Yefrem as just another suspect is influencing how she interprets the events she witnessed.
“We’ll sort this out properly.” Her words sound more like something she’s telling herself than a promise to me. “When we have all the facts.”
Leonid finally releases my arm as they finish removing Yefrem from the apartment. “She’s in shock. Give her time to process what happened.”
“We don’t have time.” I watch through the destroyed doorway as they load Yefrem into a federal transport vehicle. “Every minute he spends in custody is another minute they can use to build a case against him.”
Lipsey holds up a hand to quiet the debate. “We’ll sort this out at the office. For now, we secure everyone involved and document the scene.”
“This is wrong.” I follow the group toward the hallway. “You’re arresting the wrong man,” I say again.
Leonid catches my arm gently. “Let them go through their procedures. The truth will come out.”
“What if it doesn’t? What if they decide he’s guilty regardless of the evidence?” I blink back tears.
“Then we deal with that problem when it happens. Right now, cooperation is our best strategy.”
I want to argue, to demand they release Yefrem immediately, to force them to see the truth that seems so obvious to me, but Leonid’s calm pragmatism reminds me that emotional outbursts won’t help our situation. “Where are they taking him?”
“A federal detention facility probably. That’s standard procedure for suspects in federal crimes.”
The word ‘suspects’ sits wrong in my ears. Yefrem isn’t a suspect in the crimes we’re trying to expose. He’s a victim of them, but the federal agents see only his criminal background and assume guilt regardless of current circumstances.
Patricia approaches me while the tactical team continues processing the scene, her movements careful and deliberate. “I need you to understand something. What happened here tonight changes everything, but it doesn’t erase the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your partner may have saved my life, but he’s still admitted to killing federal agents. That’s not something I can ignore, regardless of the circumstances.”
The words hit like cold water. “Those agents were corrupt. They were trying to kill you.”
“That’s what you’re telling me, but I have to verify that independently.” Her tone is professional and aloof. “I can’t just take your word for it because someone acted heroically in one moment.”
I glare at her. “So you’re going to let them prosecute him?”
Her expression doesn’t falter, remaining cool and distant, though she still appears slightly shocked. “I’m going to follow the evidence wherever it leads. If he’s innocent of the charges against him, that will come out in the investigation.”
“And if the investigation is corrupted by the same people who tried to kill you tonight?” Frustration bleeds through my tone.
She’s quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with that possibility. “Then I’ll have to decide whether to trust the system I’ve served for twenty years or trust the word of people I met a few hours ago.”
The uncertainty in her voice tells me everything I need to know. Patricia wants to do the right thing, but she’s not sure what that is. The trauma of nearly being murdered, combined with years of training to trust official procedures, is creating a conflict she can’t easily resolve.
“I understand your position.” I keep my voice calm despite the fear clawing at my chest, because I don’t really understand how she can react this way, contrary to what she witnessed, but antagonizing her won’t help Yefrem.
“I hope you’ll consider that sometimes the system fails, and sometimes, the right thing exists outside official procedures. ”
“I’ll consider everything, but I can’t make promises about outcomes I don’t control.”
“There’s more evidence.” I lower my voice so the other agents can’t hear. “Much more. Everything you need to prove the conspiracy.”
“Where?”
I tilt my chin, aware of Leonid stiffening beside me. “It’s all safe in a secure location, but I’m not revealing it until I know Yefrem won’t be prosecuted for crimes he didn’t commit.”
Patricia nods in understanding. “Fair enough, but you should know that even if he’s innocent of conspiracy charges, he’s still admitted to killing federal agents.”
“In self-defense. To protect innocent people.”
She shakes her head. “That’s a legal determination that prosecutors and juries make, not us.”
The reminder of legal realities cuts through my emotional response to the situation.
Regardless of circumstances or justifications, Yefrem has killed federal agents.
Even if those agents were corrupt, even if he was protecting innocent lives, the legal system doesn’t automatically excuse vigilante justice.
It’s ridiculously unfair. “What happens now?”
“We investigate all the evidence, all the claims and counterclaims.” Patricia gestures toward the destroyed apartment. “This scene tells a story, and we need to make sure we understand that story correctly.”
I’m not ready to give up yet. “The story is that corrupt federal agents tried to murder you, and Yefrem prevented it.”
She doesn’t appear affected by my passionate words. “That’s your version of the story. Other people might interpret the evidence differently.”
The possibility that they might twist tonight’s events to support charges against Yefrem makes me furious and scared.
I can already imagine how skilled prosecutors might present the facts—a known criminal lures a federal law enforcement officer to an isolated location, violence ensues, and agents die in the crossfire.
“I need to see him.”
She looks vaguely regretful. “That might not be possible immediately. Federal detention facilities have strict procedures for visitor access.”
“I’m pregnant with his child.” The words come out before I can stop them, desperation overriding discretion. “I have rights as the mother of his unborn baby.”
Patricia’s expression softens slightly. “It doesn’t work that way, but how far along?”
“Seven weeks. Still early, but...” I place my hand protectively over my stomach. “This stress isn’t good for either of us.”
She nods. “I’ll see what I can do, but you should understand pregnancy doesn’t override security protocols in federal facilities.”
I’m almost sorry we saved her for a moment, hating how unaffected she is by my trauma. “Please. I just need to know he’s safe.”
“He’ll be safe. Whatever else happens, he’ll be treated according to federal standards for detention and processing.”
That does nothing to eliminate my fears about what those standards might include.
“Because your people have been so upstanding and law-abiding so far,” I say with heavy irony.
Federal detention isn’t known for comfort or consideration, especially for suspects in violent crimes against law enforcement officers.
Her mouth tightens, but she doesn’t offer a counterargument as Lipsey approaches us while the tactical team finishes securing the scene. “Assistant Director, I need a full debrief on how this meeting was arranged, and who knew about the location.”
“Of course.” She surprises me by saying, “I want it on record that the Russian man in custody saved my life tonight.”
“Noted, but I also need it on record that multiple federal agents are dead, and we need to understand how that happened.”
I listen to their conversation with growing dread.
The focus seems to be shifting toward Yefrem’s culpability rather than the corruption that created this situation.
Every official response treats him as the criminal rather than recognizing him as someone who risked everything to expose the real crimes.
“Where’s the evidence you mentioned to the assistant director?” Lipsey addresses me directly for the first time.
I square my shoulders. “Safe, and it stays safe until I know Yefrem won’t be prosecuted for protecting innocent people.”
He scowls at me. “That’s not how federal investigations work. You don’t get to negotiate the terms of evidence disclosure.”
I cross my arms over my chest, returning his glower. “Then I guess you don’t get the evidence that proves federal agents were planning to murder Assistant Director Hendricks.”
The standoff feels dangerous, but I’m not backing down. Yefrem risked his life to save Patricia and expose corruption. I won’t let that sacrifice be twisted into justification for prosecuting him as a criminal.
“We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow.” Lipsey hands me his business card and looks at Leonid. “Explain to your friend that obstruction of a federal investigation is itself a federal crime.”
Before he can speak, I say, “I’m not obstructing anything. I’m protecting evidence until I can be sure it won’t be misused.”
As they eventually let me and Leonid leave the destroyed apartment, I look back at the bullet holes in the walls and the blood on the floor.
The evidence of what really happened here is clear to anyone willing to see it objectively.
The question is whether objectivity will survive the collision with federal bureaucracy and prosecutorial ambition.