by Riley Moreno
He acknowledges. She can’t really tell who’s behind that helmet right now, so she leaves out the name. She makes a speedy dash on her hind legs, covering her ears as she waits to break across the small gap that leads to the next skip. The cop at the left corner spots that she wants to pass... it’s Linda. Has to be. And she gives Lee cover by raising her lower back up and aiming for the window that is consistently trying to target her.
Linda does this successfully and Lee moves as she does, making her way to the cop on the right and the even bigger gap: 10 paces, with no clean way across to the skip that lays there. “Lotan!?” Her voice is still drowned out by the machine gun war that is happening.
The sparks and bursts trigger, but no man had fallen yet. Nobody has been hit on her side and that’s a good thing. They’re still in the lead. “Lotan!?” It’s another attempt, and this time it connects as one cop hears and taps him on the shoulder to inform him.
Lotan waits for that cover-fire when he reaches the end of his skip to get to the others. His swiftness is like a well-oiled bicycle wheel. He’s there in no time: the gap being the only separation as he keeps himself covered enough to avoid detection. “What’s the problem, Lee!?”
“The problem is, we need a plan! I know this guy.” She strains her larynx to its highest peak and still, Lotan can barely hear her. “He’ll make a...” Boom! “You hear that!?” A few of the cops turn to Lotan, but it was Lee who asked him the question. “We have to act... now!”
“What was that!?” It seems self-explanatory to Lee what that was. And when the men from the upstairs building start leaving through the windows with the fire abruptly stopping them, it becomes clear to Lotan what that was.
“It’s going to fall!” And it so rightly does. Another explosion causes that story to collapse like a game of Jenga. It’s a slow delay, but the building eventually gives way. As yells and fits of panic from the rubble come to Lee’s ears, a horrifying reality of those inside being crushed to death by the collapse that must’ve come with no warning for them hits Lee. Lee has no pity for them but it’s still a cruel way to exit.
The remaining sound of the detonation is still pounding away in the night sky; tinnitus in the ears and the dust is now becoming a sandstorm that even with the protected helmets on cannot stop her urge to cough-up her lungs. Lee and Linda cough, whilst others still keep themselves low on the ground with nobody moving an inch. But Lee hears the engine of a car that is starting when the tinnitus tunes itself out and her normal hearing returns. Her constitution tells her to run back to the way she came and head them off. “I could possibly stop them!”
Lee knows acting without command is forbidden. But when her brain ticks, there’s only one way to settle it, and that’s to hear her own chime indicate that she reacted in the right manner at that particular hour. Lee legs it with Lotan yelling after her, “Lee, leave it be!” It’s too late as she leaps over the knocked-out body in the pathway and then bursts through the door that she used a key to open.
Her machine gun is at the ready, changing the clip whilst nearly stumbling, tripping-up, and then has to briefly stop to lock it in place. She slams it firmly with her palm and then runs for cover when a dead Eric drops onto the ground, exiting the van with a bullet to his head from the man who pulled the trigger on him. A whole heap of flesh splattered like a cracked egg in a frying pan.
The casually dressed man shoots with his semi-automatic as he runs to the gray Peugeot that pulls up to pick him up. Lee pops up from the low wall that she’s crouched behind, but has to duck when all the members of that car shoot to kill. She tries the machine gun in the air and blindly lets it rip kind of style. But she doubts it makes any fatal connections.
Lee hears the wheels spinning into action. The reversing. Then she hears the tires screech against the asphalt road and the frustrated engine that is trying it’s best to roll on out of there is having a hard time in doing so.
Lee can’t chance it, so she continues to blindly pelt the Peugeot with the hopes that Lotan will come to her rescue as they are struggling to make a departure. But even after a minute of them trying to get away, he doesn’t show any sign of coming through that door. That’s not a shocker- punch. She didn’t expect it to be any different.
Her head lifts itself and a bullet just misses her. A second life, she thinks. The vehicle has had enough time and it now reels itself in a lighting flash escape and there’s nothing more that can be done to stop them. It’s game over! Even when she runs into the middle of the road as they drive off, its still mission terminated and round two must commence. No point in wasting any more ammo.
Chapter 2
“You sure are a cowboy, Lee. Yeee bloody haaaaar. Did you have a point to prove tonight? Or were you just letting everybody know that you hate my guts as much as you don’t hide?” Lotan packs his gear into the back of the van, alongside a few others who are doing the same; removing their vest, helmets, batons, paddings, guns, and leaving them lightweight and able to freely move.
Lee keeps her vest on, watching her van that is being inspected by the forensic examiners as the body of Eric lays covered by a larger sheet that had to be required as the ones that were obtainable were too small to cover his whole body. The spare they found was a cover for an entire car and it did the trick.
Lotan slides the van-door shut and this gets Lee’s attention back to him. She looks at his hands; stabilized, but he begins to press down on his fingers and massages them profoundly. That’s what she wants to see, it’s what she always looks out for when they do a bust together.
Then she looks at his face, and the signs are there to strain; ‘a worn down and thankful for making it through the night’ type of tension. His brows droop, but he regains his energy when he sees that Lee is staring at him. He makes himself larger than life again. “You going to answer me?” He grows in height before her. “You defy the orders of the night and think that staring me down will intimidate me into not questioning your continuous reckless behavior on the force. You see all this madness?”
Lee sees it. Smells it. Tastes it. And hears it from the mouth of various departments: bomb unit, CSI, forensic, the lead lieutenant. They seal it all off and it’s now a dead zone. No civilian can pass or enter, or they’ll suspect you of being involved as it’s a no man location on the grid. A hot zone for criminality if you have the guts to set up camp here.
A dirty polluted river is located a mile down, and possibly a sewer as the smell leads to an indication of stinking socks and feces extracted from the bowls. It’s an area where a dead body could be dumped and would mingle in with the foul smell of waste.
The building used to be an abandoned office 20-years ago. Rent wasn’t paid, and it ended up being forgotten and unused. There was even some legal issue with regards to the employees’ health, as the air they were inhaling was causing some to catch symptoms of gastroenteritis and severe fevers.
Many complained and found that the building was not safe to stand where it was. A few councils tried their luck, but the smell was off-putting, and nobody could counter-attack the negative effects that it spread.
But these guys ... they were gutter-trash, and the business they were in would not deter them from continuing under life-threatening conditions. Lee looks to the plummeted rubble and the months of evidence that was in there. She knows it’s a blow up the veggie, and in Lotan’s case, a chopped and wrinkled sausage.
Neither have a good result here. She’s pushing for the gold, and Lotan’s tuning into the highest piece of ass that he can kiss goodnight and wake up with a blow in the right direction. She’s sure he would kneel and open wide. The scene is a jumbled disorder and stories will need to put into order.
Stories. Lee thinks of what hers will be. The team is depleted, but none are injured or in need of any medical attention. There’s a reckoning stillness though, with slight footsteps treading carefully around the other. Some questions that need to be answered, and a few dead bodies that can’t speak a wo
rd in the court of the fake-ass law.
Lee hates the aftermath of a case and how everybody acts. It’s a tatted-stigmata left upon you if it all goes pear-shaped and cold gravy. Lotan can’t read what Lee is thinking; although he would like to know it all. It’s the opposite for her though, as she can read him to his grave and back alive again.
“You tell me I disobey orders. And yet, a chance permitted itself and I took the initiative to try and salvage something from wreckage. The car was detained and unable to properly start for 2 minutes. And you didn’t show. I think that says more about you than me. There was a gamble there.”
“My way is the right way.” Lotan is self-assured in the way he says this. “We both know that gambling is your way and it’s never a 50/50 finish. You gamble with the odds against you and that’s what holds you back, Lee. It’s what stops you from being a great cop.”
“You think you know what it takes to make a great cop?” Lee scoffs sarcastically. “You and the whole damn unit would know, wouldn’t you?”
Lotan sizes Lee up; taking the eye contact away and replacing it with a glance to the lieutenant. A large U appears at the rims of his lips and it outspreads to a sinking in his eyes and a compressed mockery that he knows Lee often gets the butt-end of.
“Do you ever have the guts to say that to Henny? The one man who may actually consider you worthy to be considered fit for promotion.” The snigger he gives lacks respect. It comes across as a shove back into the puddle of murky water. “Why don’t you ask him what it takes to be a good cop?”
Lee knows what she has stuffed down on the side of her boot. It would be quite handy to draw out that pen knife and hold it to his balls with a catchy phrase to end what she would do to him. A line like a balls-up, or balls today, sliced tomorrow would suffice and ease the tension within herself.
Too many witnesses and not enough who would be on her side. It’s a busy enough morning: bright skies try to burn up into a pleasant sunrise, but it’s darker than tar in her mind and maybe she could get away with it before the full light comes aboard?
Lotan leaves her to decide if it’s worth it. He goes to speak with the team who are spread out and drinking bottles of water and waiting for the ‘all clear’ command to head home as in a few hours a few have to return back to work. No rest. No sleep. But plenty of caffeinated coffee will be on the order for the little assistant who wants his work experience in the force so badly that he’s willing to fetch it for them.
Lee leans against the van, her dreads now becoming an extra piece of weight that usually feels liberating when tied in a bun. It’s all part of the package now: deciphering her dreads as the long drops of patience and endurance that she has to cope with. They become her problem-hanger as she lets them loose and gives them a moment of freedom that dangles with every other area of stress that is shaken off like dandruff that she never has.
A few of the team watch her, and judge her, wondering why on this earth does she have dreads on the force? It usually isn’t allowed, but for some reason, she is casually broadcasting those dreads with an outspoken pride and it doesn’t have to interfere with the job at hand. Lee responds by confronting the naysayers and dreadlock haters. They turn back to the huddle and communicate with each other, a loner she is, but that suits her fine when they get the silent message to shut it.
Lee searches for a friendly face as she walks around to inspect the scene. There’s no point in talking to the bomb unit who’re all dressed up in obscure padded suits that are not as thick as an astronaut’s gear or the actual bomb disposal suit, but still, offer protection in case anything else might set off.
A lighter suit was commissioned and has gone down a treat with the army and tactical police defense units. She wanted to be one of them once. But now, she figures they might be a bunch of cut-throat tacticians who bring politics into the system and derail information.
Lee doesn’t want to go there just yet. She has to stay put and deal with the echo in the back of her eardrums. The boom-ba-da-boom. The explosion that still rings and the delayed concussion to chase after the culprit who wanted to bury his immoralities.
Lee has an excuse to not talk to the bomb disposal chaps, they’ll come for her later anyway; wanting to know what she knew and found out about the man.
One bomb examiner has located a few fragments of the bomb that didn’t detonate correctly. Not all of it. But enough for him to walk away and examine how it was made and so forth. It’s going to take them a whole day to clean and find what they need from that mess. There are others scrounging through the rubble, some magically finding pieces of shrapnel and other scraps on top.
Henny walks awkwardly in his suit: an uncomfortable fit that gives him a more macho exterior. One that he would never have when out of it.
Henny’s a squirrel of a man with his narrowly squared jaw and thick forehead. A plain faced man with a gray tash and army box-cut hairstyle that offers some insight into his navy past. His suits are as plain and simple as he is. The only complication he offers is having a few other scents to sniff. There’s always a feeling that Henny only looks out for his own God that equals to himself.
Lee keeps her distance from the debris. The proximity set is for her safety and for the team’s well-being as she accepts that as a homemade truth. She wants to speak with Henny, converse on what she knows and what doesn’t add up. But there will be plenty of time to submit her summary to the man upstate. A lot of urges to act, and yet, nobody wants to deal with her.
They’ll just wonder who this young woman is? Even those who know her name consider her nameless; out the loop and hardly the type to fear. Lee turns from the guarded debris with the lieutenant hearing the detailed deduction being the last visualization that she witnesses. He’d prefer there briefing compared to hers.
A few bodies will also show up and he’ll be asking Lee to do this, and do that, and clean up the mess to tie this case down and send it via a messenger bottle. Lotan waits patiently by the van, eyes fixed on Henny to the point where all else around him is painted black.
A grapple truck pulls in and Lee moves politely out of the way to let the drive move closer to the debris. Henny comes out to welcome the vehicle and spots Lee; giving her a friendly wave but not waiting for her to return it as he is called back instantly.
“I know nobody else will tell you this, but you did well tonight?” Lee rotates to her left to see Saul sitting on the low wall with a plastic cup in his hand. He never fails to have a somber and relaxed attitude, even after being shot at. His tidy jet-black hair and razor thin eyebrows succumb to the ruggedness of his prickly stubble and sharp brown eyes that harbor an elevated relaxation with a glossy appeal.
Lee has her hands in her pockets as she calmly makes her way to sit down next to Saul. The one man who congratulates all else, even if the result wasn’t maple pancakes and scrambled eggs. But she stops, thinks about the feeling of being watched, and then turns back to Lotan who is observing her intensely. He then walks to join an examiner who is looking at the skid mark prints of the tires that were left.
Lee re-routes to get there first, wondering what he’s up to? She’s the closest and arrives before Lotan. The pair stare downs at the prints with neither saying anything. Saul comes over and joins the semi-circle of curiosity that peeps down at tire marks. He speaks, “You saw the vehicle, right Lee? Why aren’t they asking you what you saw? Who you saw? And what license registration plate they had? I don’t get it. Lot- “
Lotan casually tapes the examiner who gets up and walks away with him. Lotan has that 2nd in command authority. They wouldn’t do the same for Lee as she can’t omit that level of a decree. “It’s like you don’t even exist.” Saul walks away from the prints and Lee has a good mind to join him. “We should get out of here. Get a drink or something to wash away that old baby blue bye-bye music.” He still walks away like he’s seen enough for one early morning.
Lee stares off after Lotan. She knows he’s heading towards Henny and
feels she should assert herself as he chaotically tries to direct who does what over there. But what’s the point when the clock strikes dung! And all your hard work is being packaged for the leftover meal that might only be relevant if they feel hungry later.
Lotan waits for the ‘all clear’ to don on a suit as he waits patiently for Henny to acknowledge that he wants a quick word. A few moments later, and Lee has seen enough when Henny gives him the all clear and a spare suit. She thinks it’s best to vacate the premises even if permission to do so wasn’t granted.
She walks away, not with a huff, but with a carefree manner to not let anybody else know the reason for her leaving. They’ll be analyzing the defeat with no grain unchecked. They’ll count 100 and not miss one flaw, reason or incident that will incriminate her badly in the eyes of Henny and Co.
Nobody stops her. No effort for her to stay is there. Only Linda, who outstretches her neck to establish some sort of gesture of support leaps up and gives her a shiner of a grin and an expression of why she is leaving?
Lee brashly shrugs, and Linda nods like she understands but is truthfully confused. It’s been a long morning that’s only just begun.
...
They shoot some pool. Well, Saul shoots some pool and Lee observes with the snooker cue in her hand and an ice-cold magnum beer at the side of her on a small table that needs some dusting. It’s an outdoor bar that operates only when the sun wants to show some shaved legs.
There are 4 outdoor colored tables: Billiards, Pool, Snooker, and if a cop feels like becoming a Freshman again then the beer-billiard would be right up their mainstream street. The clientele that comes here are cops: off-duty uniforms with no badges and no need to let it be known that they work in the service. It’s a place where business can go down if you're hard-boiled enough to cheat the system that you work for.
Lee hates the place as it crawls with names who know better than to mingle with her. She only comes for the beer. It’s fresher than the draws that most of these 40-year old men must be wearing. They’re all older than she is. Saul might be the youngest in the room. Only 30, but smarter than those who claim to play the game.
