As soon as my plane landed, I headed to the SEB’s office. There, I met Ellen, a tall, broad-shouldered black woman. She introduced me to one of the assistant district attorneys for LA County. He checked my arrest warrant and extradition request. In fact, he seemed to read every word twice.
My nervousness increased steadily. What if he found a mistake that held everything up? I knew from talking to Ellen that they wanted to execute the warrant as early as possible. An LASD mole within the Crips gang had told her everybody at the hangout had partied ‘til dawn. Time was wasting away.
Finally, the prosecutor said, “Everything looks to be in order. You’re authorized to proceed.”
Ellen gave me a thumbs up and motioned for me to follow her as she strode down a hallway to a large conference room filled with three dozen burly officers. She nodded at a white-haired cop at the front of the room. They were all dressed in full body armor and holding their helmets.
“We’re good to go,” the man up front said. “Remember, this is our primary target, Denzel Lomax.” He pointed at a picture of a tall, heavyset black man with long dreadlocks. “We get in, grab him, and take off. If we do this right, everybody comes back in one piece. And for no extra charge, we’ll be ridding the streets of one of the worst monsters in the world. Any questions?”
I’d obviously missed most of the briefing, but I wanted to be sure they knew we were also looking for communication devices. I raised my hand, and he pointed at me.
“Hi, thanks everyone for your help. I’m Hank Morgan, a Pitkin County deputy. I just wanted to confirm you obtained a search warrant for communications devices, yes? If so, could you grab every one you see? Thanks!”
The guy up front nodded. “I’m Captain Reynolds. Yes, ma’am, we have a search warrant. The thing is, this gang has several hundred members. God willing, most of them won’t be at their hangout this morning, but we know Lomax is sleeping there now. We need to execute our mission and disappear before most of the gang’s members figure out what’s going on. We’ll take every communications device in plain sight, but we’ve got no time for a real search.”
I wasn’t about to tell him how to fight street gangs. “Of course. Perfect!”
The truth was, I’d be ninety-five percent thrilled if we just got Lomax off the streets. Anything else would be gravy.
The officers filed out, and a couple smiled at me as they left.
Ellen said, “We need to get suited up. Is everybody in Aspen so goddamned polite?”
I didn’t know how to answer that and didn’t try.
-o-o-o-
Ellen was kind enough to provide me with a full set of body armor. She also offered me a choice of an assault rifle or a shotgun. It being broad daylight, I took the rifle, an AR-15. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fully automatic. Why did the crooks have better weapons than law enforcement?
This was a battle between good and evil, the worst of the worst. Blood would be spilled, for sure, maybe some of it blue. As I watched everyone going through the process of accepting that truth, I choked up. Three dozen officers I’d never seen or talked to before were about to risk their lives to provide justice for Colorado and China.
LASD loaded up their armored vehicle, and so did LAPD’s SWAT team. Five sheriff’s SUVs followed. I rode with Ellen and three of her compatriots in the last vehicle in the caravan.
She showed me a photograph of a two-story stucco building. Looked like a small apartment building. Not impressive.
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” I said, “but I thought such a famous gang would have a fancier headquarters.”
A couple of the cops in our SUV snickered. One of them said, “Compton might be a bit of a letdown, Hank. It’s a poor city south of LA. The houses tend to be small and spread out. Definitely doesn’t look like a big city slum.”
“Don’t let that fool you,” Ellen said. “Their building will be crammed with stone-cold killers and tons of guns.”
She pointed out a city limit sign when we reached Compton. The town reminded me a lot of Five Points in Denver. Most of these houses seemed to be in good repair, although small and old. The nervous laughter in our vehicle reminded me that we were deep within enemy territory.
As we approached our goal, the vehicles in front of us hit their lights. So did our driver. From that point onward, we stopped for nothing. All the chatter in our SUV ended. Time to focus.
Ellen said, “Remember our job is to secure the back. The two SUVs right in front of us will take the west and east side. If people do try to escape from the rear, don’t shoot at them unless they’re armed. We want to grab Lomax with a minimum of bloodshed and get the hell out before any reinforcements show up.”
“You betcha,” I said. My mouth was dry, and my stomach churned. This was nothing like I’d experienced as a cop before. Even in the Marines, I was not a member of a combat squad. No women were. That didn’t keep some of us from being blown up, but my job had been as a military police officer, not infantry.
The armored vehicles in front of us pulled to the curb in front of the building Ellen had shown me. The SUVs moved into the positions assigned to them. We circled around back where a six-foot chain-link fence surrounded a weedy backyard that ended at an alley strewn with trash and broken bottles.
All five officers in our SUV piled out and took cover behind the SUV. Our rifles were pointed at the hangout’s two rear exits.
Yelling and gunfire erupted in front. Someone was obviously not happy to see us. Smoke poured from open windows in the back. I recognized the stench of teargas.
Several people with automatic rifles shot at us from the second story. I stayed hunkered down behind the SUVs engine compartment, kneeling next to Ellen. She began shooting at the closest upper level window. So did I.
The return fire was constant. Several bullets ricocheted off the hood in front of me. The SUV’s windows facing the hangout got shot at but didn’t shatter. They had to have been made from bulletproof glass.
“Damn,” Ellen said. “We’re getting a lot more resistance than we’d hoped for.”
While I kept firing, I said, “Lomax has probably realized his mission last night failed. His people didn’t call him to brag about killing me.”
I glanced around to make sure no one was sneaking up on us. Sure enough, I spotted a guy with a rifle as he ran behind an old van a hundred yards away. “Somebody packing a rifle is hiding behind the white van south of us.”
Ellen spun around. “I’ll deal with him. Everybody else, keep focused on the hangout.”
Despite her best efforts, sporadic gunfire began coming at us from all directions. We didn’t have any protection, except our armor. I had to trust her to suppress the fire as much as possible. My job was to worry about the people escaping from the Crips’ hangout.
Ellen’s radio erupted. “Look out in the back! A dozen coming your way, including Lomax. They expected us!”
Both back doors burst open at the same time. Big men poured out wearing body armor at least as good as ours. They sprayed bullets in our direction. We were outnumbered more than two to one.
I fired at the center mass of a giant man heading straight for me. He kept coming. As he charged, he let loose with a submachine gun. I ducked, but one bullet ricocheted off the top of my helmet. The impact slammed my head back hard, wrenching my spine. Numbed my whole body for a few seconds.
We had to fight or die. I fought.
Long dreadlocks flowed below the helmet of the giant, now only seventy feet away. Had to be Lomax. I’d wanted him alive so he could identify his favorite rapper, but this was life or death. No middle ground.
His entire body was protected, like mine, except for our faces. One of us was going to die here today. Not me.
When he was only fifty feet away, I aimed at his face and fired. Missed.
He’d put his head down and kept charging, firing in bursts as he ran. The dozen gangsters with him blasted at us, too.<
br />
Another round ricocheted off my helmet, but I was ready this time. I was the smallest cop in our group, but I was the most motivated to bring him down. Totally fed up with his assholes shooting at me.
He let loose with another burst and kept getting closer. As soon as the firing stopped, I peeked up and aimed at his nose. He kept coming at me. I fired twice. Only thirty feet away.
A bullet flew into his open mouth, snapping his head back.
Blood flowed out of his mouth. He dropped to his knees then collapsed on the weedy ground, face down. His submachine gun clattered on the sidewalk next to him. Didn’t move.
Someone on his side yelled, “Denzel! He’s down!”
Everybody froze for an instant and stared at the man with dreadlocks, motionless on the ground.
The giant bastard didn’t even twitch. The bullet must’ve severed his spinal cord. Killed him instantly.
The Crips took a few seconds to react, but instead of firing at us, or attacking again, they zoomed left and right, trying to get away. Each jumped the fence and ran.
We let them go. Had what we’d come for. The Wicked Witch of the West was dead.
Ellen said, “Fantastic, guys. Let’s grab him and get the hell out of here.”
All of us cops ran through a gate in the fence and surrounded Lomax. Ellen pulled off his helmet and rolled him over.
“Definitely him,” she said.
Based on the photo I’d seen, I agreed.
A few gunshots whizzed toward us from our right. Somebody didn’t realize the battle was over. While Ellen checked the gangster’s pulse, I fired back at the shooter in a neighboring building. He ducked and didn’t fire anymore.
Ellen said, “He’s done.” She motioned to the two biggest officers. “Cram him in the back of our SUV, and let’s go.”
The two guys grabbed the body and dragged him away. One of the other officers opened a tarp in the back to keep Lomax from bleeding all over. I grabbed the dead man’s gun and helmet.
“We’ve got him,” Ellen said into her radio. “Head back.”
We piled into our SUV and took off back the way we’d come. The others quickly caught up with us and zoomed past. We followed them out of harm’s way.
When we were sure we weren’t being followed, Ellen asked, “Who was shooting at Lomax when he dropped?”
“Me,” I said.
No one else spoke up.
“Ballistics will confirm,” Ellen said, “but pending a final assessment, congrats on a great shot. Right in the mouth. I hated listening to that motherfucker. He loved to brag about how tough he was.”
One of the other cops laughed. “He’s not so tough now.”
I didn’t tell them I was aiming for his nose.
Chapter 28
Back at the office for LASD’s Special Enforcement Bureau, Captain Reynolds took me and Ellen into his office and closed the door. She told him what’d happened behind the hangout while he and his teams were fighting inside the building.
When Ellen finished, he said, “The press is going to go nuts over this. Thank God, we’ve got body cams out the wazoo. We can prove they came at us hard. A lot of reporters liked Lomax because he loved to bullshit them.”
The captain paused for a moment, I assumed to collect his thoughts. “Hank, I don’t have authority to take your pistol. Otherwise, you should consider yourself on administrative leave until we’ve completed our internal affairs investigation. All standard.”
“Yes, sir. Did you guys find any phones? Now that he’s dead, there’s no chance he’ll tell us who’s working with him in Aspen.”
“He wouldn’t have told you anyway,” the captain said. “We did collect four cellphones and a tablet. Our lab folks will check each device for communications with Colorado. They’re top notch. They’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”
Hot damn! Four phones. We still had a chance to find the rapper connected to the Crips. “Fantastic! Thank you, sir. Thank you both. LASD has been an incredible partner.”
The captain nodded. “Good work, both of you. Another asshole’s burning in the fires of hell.”
After we left his office, Ellen said, “Been a pleasure working with you, Hank. I don’t know how long you plan to stick around, but I’d be happy to take you out to dinner tonight. There’s a great Jamaican place real close by.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I probably should head back home as soon as I can. No good reason to stay.”
“Makes sense.” She gave me a hug, and I returned it. Then her cellphone rang. She waved goodbye and hurried off.
I stepped into an empty office and called Randy to update him on what’d happened.
“You really are doing your best to get yourself killed before the election,” he said. “I do appreciate that, believe me, but some of your friends might be upset.”
I burst out laughing, a bit hysterically. His comment had come out of left field, and all my emotions were out of whack. “Hopefully, I won’t get shot at again for a very long time. Unless you need me to stick around for some reason, I’m planning on finding a flight home.”
“Yeah,” he said, “get back as soon as you can. Jenkins is anxious to hold a press conference to celebrate our great victory.”
That was one thing I would’ve preferred to avoid. “Tell him he’s welcome to go ahead without me. To be honest, I’m frazzled, and I probably look like hell, too. My uniform is dirty, and I’m sure he won’t want to wait for me to go home and get cleaned up.”
“Jesus, you really are a horrible politician, Hank. That’s just between you and me. And the worst part is, I’m going to lose the election to a horrible politician. I don’t know what that says about me, but it ain’t good. I’ll send Skip out to your cabin to grab a clean uniform. You can shower here before the presser. Your attendance is mandatory because we don’t know most of the details. Can’t have the shitshow without you.”
-o-o-o-
I used my phone to check flights back to Aspen, and the fastest way sent me through Phoenix. Booked the flight and texted Randy.
The layover in Phoenix gave me time to update Willow. She didn’t get any of the gory details. Didn’t want to worry her. All’s well that ends well.
Next, I called Tyrone. “Listen, I can give you some good news, but you have to promise me to keep it to yourself until tomorrow.”
“Sure, it’s the bad news that I have to bitch to everybody about.”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure the guy who ordered Splendid’s murder is dead. He was Denzel Lomax, the Crips boss in Compton.”
“Fantastic!” he said. “Incredible! You just saved me and Naomi twenty-seven million bucks!”
“You can tell her, but don’t mention it to anybody at the B&B. Also, there’s sure to be a lot of publicity. I’m counting on you to make sure all radios and TVs stay off. And make sure nobody comes or goes, except the security guys. Keeping this news quiet should help me ferret out the rapper who’s benefitted from all of this carnage.”
“No problem,” he said. “You could ask for anything, and I’d say yes. Those things are easy. Believe me, I want you to catch whoever’s helped cause all this trouble. Lock them up and throw away the key.”
That was my plan. With a final, “I’m counting on you,” I signed off.
We got into Aspen a little bit late because of falling snow. Winter seemed to be coming early this year.
At the office, I took a quick shower and dressed in clean clothes. That put me even further behind.
I ended up being only ten minutes late for the press conference. It was held in the county commissioner’s main chamber, next to our office. I snuck in behind the lectern because Jenkins was already bragging his ass off. He turned and gave me the stink eye. Nothing new about that.
Randy, Skip, Sarah, and the district attorney for our county and two others stood in a row behind the sheriff. Randy motioned for me to stand next to
him.
After I did, he whispered, “Apparently, we’re live on CNN, Fox, and MSNBC. For hours, I’ve been plastered with questions I can’t answer, including who killed Lomax. The LA County Sheriff told me privately you did, but publicly, they’re not saying.”
“Fog of war, and all that,” I whispered back. “They’re running ballistics. Bullets were zinging everywhere. Nobody really knows.”
I listened as Jenkins basked in the glory of closing a major case. It was probably his last hurrah, and he was making the most of it. According to his telling of the tale, he led a valiant effort to ensure justice was done for Splendiferous Wang. My only quibble was that Randy had done all of the critical supervising and support, not Jenkins.
As I continued listening, I realized, in the sheriff’s version of the story, he made all the crucial decisions, and Randy implemented them. My name didn’t come up at all. Although I was surprised at first, it worked out for the best. I’d gotten too much press recently, and Randy would have to deal with the questions from reporters, not me.
As Jenkins was winding up his spiel, I whispered to the chief deputy, “Sounds like you’ve been damned busy lately. You must be exhausted.”
He turned red. “Had no idea he was going to make this up. Don’t worry, I won’t take credit for your great effort.”
I couldn’t fight a grin. “I like his version just fine, and you don’t want to piss him off by contradicting him. I don’t need my face plastered all over TV and newspapers again. Prefer a quiet life.”
“Too bad, kiddo,” he whispered back. “Won’t accept false glory.”
When Jenkins finished, he asked Randy to step up to the lectern and say a few words. I was sure the sheriff’s scheme was to boost his chosen successor as much as possible, but Randy was too decent to play along.
The first words out of his mouth were, “Although this investigation truly was a team effort, one person deserves most of the credit for our success. Deputy Hank Morgan worked incredible hours in pursuing the monsters who killed two promising young musicians, Wang Chao and Dinah White.”
His Song Silenced Page 19
