Bonafino drove a parallel street away and tried to see Pincher. Houses were in the way. He got out of the Range Rover and jogged back to where he could see crack alley. He had to run right past the black men loitering in the area and acted oblivious like he was just out for a jog. He felt them staring but continued to the corner and saw the abandoned crack house just as Pincher circled it on foot and was again out of view. He stopped jogging and acted like he was checking his pulse and then started stretching his hamstrings one at a time. He heard Pincher knock on the door and stretched each triceps without looking toward the crack house. He acted like he was checking his pulse again and heard the commotion inside the crack house and as he looked for a second he saw a black man running away toward the back end of crack alley. He stopped any pretense of exercise and saw Pincher chasing from a distance and realized he’d better get back to the Rover. He sprinted past the loiterers and heard, “Fuck the CRIPS I’m the head honcho!”
Just as he entered the Rover he heard Pincher gunning the engine of the Challenger.
Bonafino raced around the corner in the Rover to crack alley just as the gun fire erupted at Pincher. Bonafino aimed his vehicle at the slightly turned gun firing loiterer. The black gun toting teen jumped out of the way and dove to the ground.
Bonafino was so intent on saving Pincher’s life that he drove the Rover at an impossible angle to make the turn into crack alley so the vehicle would reach the man firing at Pincher in time. As the gun firing loiterer dove out of the way Bonafino slammed on the brakes and had to back up in a rush to negotiate the room to follow Pincher. At the end of crack alley the back windshield of the Rover exploded inward from a fusillade of gun fire. Pincher’s Challenger was a couple hundred yards ahead turning a corner and his tail light looked like an eye blinking. Bonafino caught up and made the turn and saw another red blink of the Challenger’s tail light as he skidded around another corner. At that corner, an empty street, the Challenger was gone.
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CHAPTER—39
I ran through one foot high sage scrub deeper into the canyon making my own trail into obscurity. I felt splinters poking my legs and ankles through my socks and kept on until the foothill offered shelter from the Laguna Canyon traffic. I threw off my backpack and tucked into a crouch and picked the thorns out of my socks. Then I opened the backpack just as the sound of helicopters reached my ears.
Rifling through the backpack I laughed, that this time I’d be running toward the helicopters. Damon had packed an extra cell phone, what looked like two bundled changes of clothes and a myriad of other necessities, my favorite and first noticed being a pair of high powered binoculars. I pulled them to my eyes and zeroed in on the helicopters. Even with the helicopters over a mile away I could see the occupants. I didn’t even have to focus. As I put them to my eyes the binoculars self-focused. Excitedly I pulled them from my eyes and looked at them. They were heavy at almost 2 pounds. They were camouflaged and I found the model. Swarovski EL 42 Swarovision. I pulled them to my eyes again and was shocked by the immediacy of the self-focus and the gem bright detail. Briefly, I saw one of the helicopters turning hard over the ocean water and the intent faces of the pilot and copilot were clearly visible as was their tan and green Orange County Sheriff uniforms until a foothill impeded the view. The other helicopter chasing the first had its tail facing me and I could see the overhead blades narrowly missing the tail blades with the Sheriff insignia stamped on the frame and then it was out of view.
I ran up the Coastal Hill further and could see the traffic on the canyon road at times, depending on the angle. Mostly there were too many bends and slopes in the way. I found a dirt path for hikers and made it to the top. I sat down and scoped the hills for paths to get to Annette. Through the binoculars I looked for paths and areas of protection to hide under from the sky and land. I felt like a Pakistan man. I was forced into cave dwelling. The 800 foot hill I was perched on gave me an excellent view of the hill across the Laguna Canyon Road. It sloped even higher than my hill and I realized I was going to have to use all the hilltops as my vantage points. I was going to get to know this canyon intimately and make it my friend to deal with the chaos outside of it. The hillside was gorgeous. Purple needle grass, wildflowers in hues of pink, red, yellow and white flowed through the terrain with an occasional cactus. In other places, imbedded into the hillside boulders the size of houses sat like they had been washed smooth and shaped by the ocean. Long ago trails became less obscure through the binoculars and led to crevasses that cut through bends leading to the top. I saw a house with an ancient metal water pump over a well. Off the property 50 feet away a rock that wasn’t quite so embedded into the ground looked exactly like a wave at pipeline in Hawaii. There was room for a family of 4 to sit in its hollowed center, out of sight, with both ends of the boulder opening up just like a tubular wave. The majesty of the hill had a calming effect. But it was short lived. My thoughts kept going to Annette. We were forced into separation. How were we going to sleep together tonight? These urges overwhelmed my spirit and I began running toward downtown Laguna where I’d fled.
I passed an electricity zone in between myself and the Canyon Road from heights reaching 400 feet as the hills tapered lower. The buzzing sound of electricity somehow interrupted my thoughts and I felt the chaos creeping in with less obscure hills to hide in. Up ahead I saw the Canyon Road pour out into the first part of downtown Laguna. I stopped and crouched to view things through the binoculars. On the side of the Canyon Road I was on, beneath me 400 hundred yards away, the main art attraction of Laguna, The Sawdust Festival, poured out along the road for almost 200 yards. In front, sculptures of bronzed ballerinas were in the air twirling with legs pointing perfectly and held by a herculean man’s hand underneath looking perfect with every muscle tendon rippling. I couldn’t see past the Festivals ground’s but knew what came next. A liquor store, boutiques and then the Chevron gas station the detectives had mounted from to arrest me. Then a crosswalk to the beach side where a basketball court offered fun exercise and 200 feet to the south was where I’d left Annette and the anti-prison protest. I wished I could get to our rock, where the almost perfect view of Laguna was. Houses were in the way. I’d have to walk the streets and possibly get noticed and couldn’t take the risk of the open fire path to our rock.
It was getting late. There were only a couple hours till dusk. The helicopters were gone. They had given up. I looked through the binoculars directly across from me. The Canyon Road offered another hillside with more protection and height to see farther. It rose to well over a 1000 feet and I knew it sat above the Laguna Beach Police Department, then the Chamber Of Commerce, then the bars and restaurants and then the board walk where Annette could still be.
I only had to cross the Canyon Road. It was an ideal spot to cross. The bend in the road before the Sawdust Festival allowed only a handful of vehicles to see where I’d cross from Laguna going into the Canyon so I stared at the traffic the other way. It was still packed. Stop and go traffic typical for the rest of summer. I couldn’t see any undercover type vehicles or plain wrap police vehicles and picked my spot to sprint across. On the other side a crevasse barely allowed me to run up the steep hillside and I was crawling at times. The crevasse allowed protection from view during sloping turns but not for my body. My arms and legs were getting shredded by the land. Stickers, burrows and dried brush were my purchase to climb. My pants were the color of the dirt and peppered with attached sage. My tank top was soaking in sweat and also camouflaged in dirt and sage. I finally made it to the top of the steep peak and tore off my useless tank top.
I crouched with chest heaving and straining for oxygen and took an inventory of my arms. The undersides of my forearms were bleeding and I made it worse by rubbing my balled up tank top against them. The stinging pain forced me to breathe properly. I held deep breaths for a count of 5 and then exhaled even deeper through my d
iaphragm by squeezing my stomach muscles. The pain resided to a milder tingling but I realized I was exhausted. My back hurt. I went from a crouch to a thump as I dropped on my butt. After a few seconds I got up and took a few steps to the ledge to look below. Forest Street ran underneath me and the Police station was even further directly beneath. I saw where they parked their own cars and studied them for future reference. While studying, I realized it must be shift change because plain wrap police vehicles and motorcycle police pulled up in droves. I differentiated the undercover vehicles also pulling up in Crown Vic types. I could hear their conversations.
“Quite a protest today.”
“This is why I love Laguna.”
“How do you think B.J got away?”
“I don’t think he did. I think he’s still here. Julie the Shelter administrator does too.”
“I hope he makes it.”
I smiled. I felt the adrenaline rush through my veins being this close to the Law. I knew they had a job to do and realized something else. On this peak everything below was so clear and far reaching but it was also an echo chamber. I forced my breathing to quiet and noted that any noise I made with my feet might be heard below. I looked toward the protest without binoculars. It was done.
I put the binoculars to my eyes and scanned the boardwalk. Annette was still there! She was still under her sign—JESUS SAVES AND LOVES YOU. No other signs were there. I looked to her left and just saw walkers and beach people bringing it in for the day. Then I noticed something. A couple hundred yards away a couple obvious detectives. Maltobano and the other one. The other one was scanning the perimeter through his own binoculars back and forth around Annette. I scanned my binoculars the other way and up the hill the protesters from L.A came down and found more detectives perched. They were discreetly stashed behind the Laguna Inn just below the art Galleries and Las Brisas Mexican restaurant on a railing overlooking the ocean. These detectives were scanning the beach behind Annette as if I might have blended in with the beach goers. There was no way I could get to her. I started to panic and react on impulse. I found myself powering up my phone and waited for it impatiently. My brain partially kicked in and I realized I was too close to the cliff and the echo chamber. I didn’t want to announce myself to Laguna’s finest so I backed up and grabbed my backpack. I ran away from the cliff and found a long ago trail that wove around the backside of the hill at a steep angle and found a tuck that leveled. I clapped my hands quietly to see what kind of echo it made. Nothing, the surrounding hills swallowed it. I spoke quietly and then a little louder. Satisfied, I punched Annette’s number.
“Oh my God baby the cops are all over me! They are using me for bait! Where are you?”
“I’m close. I can see you through binoculars. Thanks for waiting. How are we going to sleep together tonight?”
“Baby it’s impossible.”
I felt my frustration overwhelm and cut her off, “Nothing is impossible!”
“Baby they are on both sides of me!”
“I know I’ve already spotted them…”
I tried to think. How could I problem solve this?
“Baby the man in the Mercedes is detective Maltobano and he gave me his card and told me I could sleep at a house for women called The Ashland Angels. It’s right next to the Laguna Canyon Alcoholics Anonymous Club.”
Right where Damon made it through the checkpoint where I’d started my hike back. I wondered how I could sneak in at night to cuddle my beautiful. Was there a window I could climb through at 3am? She broke my thoughts.
“Baby what are we going to do?”
My brain kicked in even further. I was using my phone. Damon packed an extra phone for a reason. They could triangulate exactly where I was if they knew my number! I asked, “Did they mess with your phone?”
“Yes they took it from me and I watched them hook it to something and it zapped.”
I thought quickly, “Baby go to that Angel House and ditch that phone for another one. I’m on the steepest hill above the police station. I will call you from another number so get me another number for you!”
I hung up the phone and ran back to the cliff. I scanned to where Maltobano was and my fears were right. They were very busy coordinating something on their cells. I scanned the other way at the detectives posted on the railing. They weren’t looking at the beach goers. They were both busy on their cells. They were aware of my call. They were about to find out where I called from. I saw them start running.
I powered my phone off and leaned back to throw it as far as I could. At the last moment I realized something and held it tight. I ran with all my might. The long ago trail wasn’t much of one but I followed it in obscurity around the back side of the hill almost sprinting sideways. I needed to put distance behind me.
The sound of helicopters sped me up even faster and I had to dive to the ground on instinct as sight of the first one appeared. I rolled off the narrow trail into some sage scrub and knew I wasn’t covered enough because I could see the helicopter too clearly. It passed me at an angle heading toward the police station hopefully to shine light toward nearby streets. I got up just as the second one came and had no choice but to run the trail hoping they didn’t see me. The trail started bending back up the hillside and I got over the top of it just as the first helicopter made its turn over the police station almost a mile away. This side of the hill offered more boulders and deeper brush to hide in but it was almost too dark to see. I could barely make out the house with the old well and found the tubular boulder. I watched the helicopter shine his light like a beacon. It lit up the hillside I was going to have to traverse through to that boulder and I crawled into a 4 foot bush and waited for the second one. It didn’t come. That meant it hadn’t seen me running. It had to be studying the streets near the Police Department. I waited for the helicopter above to turn at an angle and knew the centrifugal force was too great for the occupants to turn against and timed my decent. Each time the helicopter reached the same circle above I ran about 50 yards and hid. Eventually I made it to the boulder.
From inside the massive boulder I called Veto from the other phone. “Our phones are compromised but don’t throw it away. Just keep it powered off. I have an idea to ruminate over...”
I rifled my hands through the back pack and found a flashlight. Exhausted, I searched more of the contents. The first bundle of clothes shocked me. Damon had somehow blessed me with a Laguna Beach Police uniform. He must have ordered it online. The second bundle was a green Prison guard uniform. Each outfit had a white tee shirt. I found a pair of boots, then some $100 gift cards, power bars, vitamins, amino acids and glutamine. What a friend. With the sound of the helicopter hovering I went to sleep inside the rock.
Sawyer stood next to Maltobano in front of the Laguna Police Station looking around. Two helicopters circled above and the sound was magnified by the echo. One went into the hills and the other searched the perimeter surrounding the station.
A receptionist inside looked out the window and noticed the two detectives and didn’t recognize them. She made a call to the senior on duty and then called the Watch Commander at home.
Sawyer couldn’t figure it out. He walked around the Police station looking for a sign of B.J. He looked straight up at the 1,400 hundred foot cliff above and shook his head, no way, impossible. He must have escaped the protest with the help of the Laguna Law. It’s the only way.
Maltobano followed Sawyer’s gaze skyward to the cliff above. There must be a way up there from the Canyon Road. It must have an excellent view of Laguna. I wonder if he could see Annette from there.
The senior detective on duty for Laguna came outside and was met by the two other detectives and stared hard at the outside agencies. “So you are telling me with all the money your agencies waste the best you can come up with is our Police helped B.J escape the protest?”
Maltobano laughed at Sawyer with the Laguna Police and mirrored their same stances and looks toward Sawyer beseeching
him for a response.
Sawyer looked at Maltobano and caught on. He had to be playing good cop bad cop to incorporate a working relationship with the Laguna Law. But what are his motives and will he share info with the L.A Sheriffs?
Right then from the Canyon road and onto Forest Avenue a caravan of Orange County Sheriff vehicles raced into the parking lot. The undercover vehicles were first arriving 3 deep. Then 5 other plain wrap Orange County Sheriff vehicles with lights blazing without sirens screeched to a halt. The lead detective, a Gang Task Force/Narcotic deputy leaped from the Crown Vic and queried, “Have you found any of B.J’s belongings for a scent?”
Maltobano looked at the vehicles and found 2 with Canines. Both German Shepherds were barking excitedly and ready for direction. Then his attention went back to the Laguna Deputy who took charge. He was shaking his head no.
“I don’t care if we do find anything with his scent. We are not letting dogs go in this Canyon for anything less than a murder suspect!”
As if they didn’t hear what was said, the detectives let the dogs jump from the vehicles. They ran on leashes pulling the detectives along the back side of the police station and alongside their parked cars barking ferociously.
Upon Release From Prison Page 17
