On the Grind (2009)

by Stephen - Scully 08 Cannell

"Que es?" a young vato wearing a wife-beater tec said. He was only about seventeen, but was holding a blue steel .45. His skin was crawling with 18th Street gang tats.

  "No es nacla," Carmen said as we hurried past.

  Rocky was next to the window, watching the street for Alonzo. The people in the corridor started to pick up on the fact that a celebrity was in their midst.

  "El Alborotador," an old man said.

  "Hey, it's Rocky Chacon," somebody else exclaimed.

  Then my shoulder rover squawked. "One-L-Nine and all available units in the vicinity of Vista Street and Park. You have a four-fifteen with shots fired in the Garden Apartments, seven hundred block of Vista Street, apartment four-five-six. L-Nine, your call is code three."

  I triggered my shoulder rover. "This is One-L-Thirteen. I'm in front of the location right now and will handle. Notify L-Nine that I'm in the building."

  "Roger that. L-Nine, your call is now code two. L-Thirteen is inside the location."

  A cacophony of radio calls followed. I grabbed Rocky and Carmen by the arm and led them to the fire door.

  As we entered the stairwell, I glanced down to make sure Horace Velario was still cuffed to the railing. We hurried up to the roof.

  My rover lit up again. Alonzo Bell calling the dispatcher.

  "This is Sergeant Bell. I'm just pulling up to the Wilcox location now. All responding units and L-Thirteen, I've got my gun out and am in plainclothes wearing a green short-sleeved shirt and tan pants."

  "Roger that. All units. All frequencies. The shift sergeant is on the location in plainclothes, green over tan."

  Then I heard Roulon Green roger the call and announce his arrival. In another minute we were going to have enough cops out front to put on a police fundraiser.

  I threw open the roof door and ran across the top of the building, with Rocky and Carmen a few steps behind. I didn't want to be a moonlit silhouette, so I stayed toward the center of the roof and kept low. Only once did I veer to the edge, crouching down to survey the activity in the street below. I could see four squad cars at the curb and one more boiling in a block away about thirty seconds out. The front of the apartment building was now lit by a strobing cherry orchard of red and blue Mars lights.

  I spotted the white Escalade with the driver's-sidc door open. No sign of Alonzo. T hat meant he was in the lobby and would probably find Horace any minute. I wanted to stay up here just long enough to get the majority of the cops into the building. I had to time it just right.

  I checked my watch and let fifty seconds tick off the dial. Then I nodded at Rocky and Carmen. We ran to the far end of the building, where the rooftop fire-escape ladder was located. Rocky went down first. I helped Carmen over the edge and then followed. As I clambered down, I heard Alonzos voice come over my rover.

  "All units, all frequencies, be advised --we have an attempted murder of a police officer by our own patrolman, Officer Shane Scully. He and two armed Hispanics, male and female, are in the building. Set up a perimeter. I'm authorizing deadly force." Then Alonzo was talking directly to me. "Scully, you won't make this. I he only way you can save your ass is for you and the two beaners to give yourselves up."

  I didn't respond, just kept descending the fire ladder, finally dropping to the ground on the north side of the building.

  When I hit the pavement, I could hear at least five or six police radios blaring calls from two overlapping frequencies. The lights from the patrol units wigwagged furiously, strobing the neighborhood. Three fresh units arrived.

  We took off running, trying to keep close to the buildings so we wouldn't be spotted. It didn't work.

  "Over there!" someone veiled.

  Carmen's red Mustang convertible was parked at the curb half a block from the front entrance. I glanced back and saw a wall of blue uniforms running toward us, all with guns drawn.

  "Freeze! Police," somebody shouted.

  "I'm driving," I said to Carmen, grabbing the keys from her hand. I triggered the door remote and slid in behind the wheel. Rocky and Carmen jumped in the back.

  I jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine just as the first shots rang out. A bullet slammed into the trunk. The next one careened off the pavement under the car, hitting the asphalt, bouncing like a skipped stone before whining away into the night.

  I floored the Mustang and left half a pound of rubber at the curb.

  "Mama mia!" Rocky exclaimed.

  We roared down Vista and made a hard right.

  I heard a flurry of pursuit calls over my shoulder rover. "All units, One-L-Seven reports the fugitive vehicle is now westbound," one said. "The suspect vehicle is red 2007 Mustang convertible."

  "Requesting air support. We need a chopper!" another voice chimed in.

  Then Alonzo's unmistakable growl: "All units. The shoot-on-sight authorization is still in place. Don't let these scumbags out of Fleetwood!"

  "Keep going straight!" Rocky yelled. "This street takes us into Monterey Park!"

  I was doing almost eighty by the time we passed Pacific Boulevard. I got lucky and caught the green. At Lincoln, I had to break a red light. I almost hit a produce truck and swung the wheel frantically, fishtailing wildly, barely missing the rear end before flooring it again and continuing on.

  "Only six more blocks to go!" Rocky yelled. "We're almost there!"

  We didn't even come close to making it.

  Chapter 46

  "Scully! Give yourselves up," Alonzo screamed over the shoulder rover. "Don't die for these shit-stains!"

  I didn't answer, and lowered the volume instead.

  "You've committed an attempted murder on a police officer," Bell continued. "I've got a full police response. Air One on the way and a shoot-on-sight order. I'll cancel it now if you pull over, throw down your guns and give up!"

  "Maybe we should stop," Carmen veiled over the screaming engine. "What are they going to do, shoot us all?"

  "That's exactly what they'll do," I answered. "He'll say we initiated a gunfight and then just execute all three of us. They'll haw ten cops to swear witness."

  "He's right," Rocky shouted. "In this town, they do what they want."

  I had my foot to the floor and within a block the little red Mustang was again going almost ninety. The engine was wound tight.

  screaming. We flashed past Pacific going south heading out of Fleetwood a block from Monterey Park.

  Just then I saw two Haven Park black-and-whites make smoking turns into the intersection ahead, braking to a tire-shredding stop, blocking both lanes.

  "You can't get through!" Rocky veiled.

  I slammed on the foot brake, pulled the hand brake to lock the tires, and threw the Mustang into a heart-stopping 180-dcgrec bootlegger s skid. All four tortured tires screamed as I completed the maneuver, burning rubber, bouncing onto the curb but finally getting the vehicle turned around, speeding through my own tire smoke, heading north back into Fleetwood.

  "Go right! Try to make it into Vernon," Rocky yelled.

  I hung a quick right. Sirens blared all around us, closing in from every direction.

  Then I heard a cop screaming at the dispatcher through my shoulder mike. "This is One-L-Nine! I have the suspects vehicle in sight. He's southbound on Otis Avenue heading into Vernon."

  "Scully, you'll never make it," Alonzo's voice came over my shoulder rover. "The air unit will be over you in a minute. Be smart, man. Don't die over this. We can still work something out."

  I triggered my shoulder mike with my right hand as I drove.

  "This is One-L-Nine," I screamed, trying to mimic the frantic sound of the pursuing cop. "The fugitive vehicle just turned onto Huntington Park Drive passing Bristol heading west."

  As I put out the phony call I heard Alonzo's voice immediately step on it. "Cancel that! He's still westbound on Otis."

  "One-L-Six has the suspect vehicle in sight," Roulon Green said.

  I glanced in the rearview and saw a second set of pursuing headligh
ts about two blocks back.

  We didn't make it into Vernon either. Just as we were about four blocks from the city boundary, two Haven Park squad cars turned onto the street ahead, blocking our way.

  I pulled another smoking one-eighty and reversed course, passing between the two trailing black-and-whites, splitting them, knocking off side mirrors, going almost eighty. I caught a glimpse of Roulon Greens startled expression as we flashed past. Both patrol cars made screeching turns and came after us.

  Rocky yelled, "You're heading toward the river. They'll have all those bridges blocked. Go left here. Try for Monterey Park again."

  I took a thirty-mile-an-hour left on the next street and almost flipped the Mustang as the right-side tires slammed hard against the far curb. But we stayed upright as I hit the gas and headed west again.

  We had gone almost six miles, but had gotten nowhere. Alonzo and the Haven Park cops had managed to herd us in a big useless circle.

  Over the noise of the sirens, I heard the chopper moving in. Carmen cursed in Spanish under her breath.

  "Almost there!" Rocky shouted. "Two more blocks!"

  We drove through the underpass that bordered Fleetwood and Monterey Park. For a minute I thought we'd made it. We were out of Fleetwood and that meant we were out of Haven Park PD's jurisdiction. I didn't think Alonzo would shoot us down in county sheriff territory because the sheriffs would be in charge of the investigation, putting another controlling authority into the mix. T hen Alonzo's voice came over the rover.

  "All units. All frequencies. We have just been given hot pursuit authorization by Monterey Park Sheriffs. Do not break off. I repeat, do not break off at the city line. Continue into Monterey Park, lake this guy down."

  Just then, two Haven Park PD squad cars rounded the corner ahead and skidded to a stop, blocking the road. I had no choice but to make another smoking, tire-shredding U and retreat again into Fleetwood. As I came out of the underpass, the xenon sun in the belly of the police chopper suddenly lit us in a halo of white light.

  "I've gotta lose this chopper," I shouted. "Well never get away with him on top of us!"

  "How about Live Oak Street?" Carmen suggested.

  "What s on Live Oak?" I shouted.

  "Oak trees," she said.

  Chapter 47

  As soon as I turned onto the street I knew Carmen's suggestion was a good one. It was lined with massive hundred-year-old oaks. Huge branches completely overhung the street. I shut off the headlights as we streaked under the sheltering canopy. I was looking for an open garage or deep driveway where I could ditch the Mustang. The night sun from the chopper was shooting hot streaks of white light through pinholes in the leafy overhead. They shifted and moved, dancing on the asphalt as the chopper changed position above, trying to spot.

  "I have an aunt who lives on this street," Carmen shouted over the din of the lowering helicopter.

  A few blocks back, two Haven Park patrol cars, going almost fifty, were smoking turns onto the street.

  "Which one is your aunt s?" I shouted.

  Carmen pointed to a brightly painted stucco house with barred windows in the middle of the block.

  "I'm turning at the next corner," I shouted. "Once I've stopped -- everybody out. Get behind the bushes in front of the corner house, then we'll make our way back up the street to your aunts."

  "They're too close!" Rocky shouted.

  "I've got a plan for that," I told him.

  I floored the car, picking up speed. The two squad cars also sped up and were now only a block and a half back. I made a quick right at the corner, then immediately slewed the Mustang sideways to a stop, blocking the narrow street. I set the emergency brake and the three of us jumped out, abandoning the car. We sprinted for the shrubs and dove behind them, flattening out in the dirt. A few seconds later two cop cars rounded the corner with lights and sirens blaring. The lead unit T-boned Carmen's car, slamming into the passenger door. The second shop immediately pounded into the back of him.

  While the cops were busy getting out of their busted units with guns drawn and advancing cautiously on the Mustang to clear it, we rose up and sprinted across the lawn in the dark, keeping low, working our way toward Carmen's aunt's painted stucco.

  "I know where she keeps the hide-a-key," Carmen shouted and dug it out of a nearby pot. We ran for the back porch and Carmen slipped the key into the lock, then swung the door wide.

  "Auntie Anna, it's Carmenita," she called out as we entered the house. I closed and locked the door behind us.

  "Keep the lights off," I instructed.

  "I'll check her bedroom," Carmen said and headed down a dark hallway.

  Overhead, Air One was coming lower, working back and forth above the street. I could hear its rotor pitch whine and buzz as the pilot worked the chopper's collective and cyclic controls to circle overhead.

  A few minutes later Carmen exited the back hallway with a short, middle-aged Hispanic woman who was belting her robe and pushing a sleep-ruined hairdo back up into place.

  She was looking up at her ceiling, where, above the roof, the helicopter was making a racket.

  "Auntie, it's the police. They're trying to kill Rocky."

  "Aye, aye, aye," Carmen's Aunt Anna said, but asked no further questions. She knew how justice was delivered in Haven Park.

  "Carmen, get out of those clothes," Rocky said. "Put on one of your aunt's nightgowns and wrap your head in a scarf or something. Maybe if they come in here they won't recognize you."

  Then he turned to me. "If we stay, we could get them both killed!"

  "I agree." I turned to Carmen. "Rocky and I are gonna take off. There's an FBI agent named Ophelia Love. Get in touch with her through the Homeland Security office on Wilshire. Tell her what's going down."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked Rocky.

  "I'm not that far along with my plan yet," Rocky said.

  "We've got a better shot if we split up. I've got a tracker in my belt. If they're using it, maybe I can lead them off you," I told him. "One of us has to be alive to testify against these guys."

  "Querido," Carmen said, putting her hands up to Rocky's face. "I love you. I couldn't stand to lose you."

  He leaned forward, kissing her, putting his arms around her waist. "I couldn't stand to lose me either. Te amo. Soy tuyo."

  "This is a really nice moment," I whispered. "But can we please get the hell out of here?"

  Just then there was a heavy knock at the front door.

  "Police! Open up!" somebody shouted.

  Chapter 48

  Rocky and I waited until we heard Carmen's aunt open the front door, then I slipped out the back. The helicopter's belly light was blasting through the dense tree cover, dappling the backyard from overhead. We ran across the grass and both dove for cover under a huge leafy oak.

  "I'm going east," Rocky said. "You should go north. There's a bunch of old decommissioned water runoff drains all over this part of town. They're big underground pipes from the fifties, almost five feet in diameter. They've been sealed up with big metal plates, but it's possible to pull them off. If you can find one, get inside and follow the drain down into the L. A. River."

  "Okay, thanks. Good luck, Rocky."

  "You too, amigo. Adios."

  As soon as he took off, I turned and leaped over the low fence bordering Aunt Anna's property and promptly landed in her neighbor's trash area, setting up a loud clatter as I knocked over metal cans, spewing garbage. Lights were going on in houses all over the neighborhood as police radios blared from the street out front. Late-arriving squad cars growled their sirens as they pulled in. The helicopter continued its loud, low hover.

  I stayed close to the house next door, creeping along under the eaves, working my way carefully forward toward the street so I could get a better look at what was going on out front. Once I got to the corner of the house, I saw about ten cops and squad cars parked randomly on Live Oak. Almost the entire mid-watch.

  Residen
ts of the neighborhood were beginning to come out of their houses and stand on front lawns to watch. A few Haven Park patrol officers were going up and down the block with bullhorns, ordering them to get back inside. The rest of the blues were fanning out, searching the block, knocking on doors and pushing their way into houses. Most of the residents were frightened illegals, so the officers sure weren't bothering with warrants.

  Fd been involved in enough helicopter-assisted searches in my career to know that it was next to impossible to get away once they put that night sun on you.

  I was trying to figure out how to get some distance between me and this mess. My immediate plan was to lead them away from Rocky. Then I would ditch the belt by throwing it in the back of a moving car so it would lead them farther away from both of us while I made it to freedom. My police uniform was both a blessing and a curse. They were looking for a cop, so my blues made me instantly vulnerable. But the uniform also gave me immediate authority over these immigrant residents. Most would do whatever a policeman ordered. I had to make a choice.

  I decided that because of my dark hair, if I lost the uniform blouse and wore only my white undershirt and pants, I had a decent chance of looking like one of the Mexican neighbors. I dumped my uniform shirt in a neighbor's trash bin, but held on to my rover unit and the rest of my police equipment, including the DCST transmitter I'd gotten from Agent Love. I also kept my .38 and jammed all of this equipment in my belt.

  I found a white dishrag on a clothesline and wrapped my head. My best shot was to try to blend in and then mingle my way out of range, into the next block. I went out into the yard and stood with everybody else, in plain sight, squinting at the night sky, shading my eyes from the helicopter light.

  Then a police speaker blared.

  "Back inside your houses! Get inside or you will be arrested." A moment later the same voice announced, "Regresa a su casas inmediatamente o quedan detenido.'"

  I moved along with the flow of people back toward the sidewalk, then ducked into a space between two houses and ran into somebody else's backyard. I found the rear gate and went out into a narrow alley.

  The helicopter had moved a block to the east, so I started running down the alley. I didn't know where I was going. I saw the lights of a strip mall with a big Vons market up ahead and ran in that direction. Just then the helicopter turned and started back.