“That’s cute,” she said.
“What?”
She smiled and pointed at his glasses. “The way you popped those back on your nose with just the one finger, it’s cute. Anyway, the problem is who the old boyfriend is. His name is Barney Marko.”
“The Barney Marko? Chicago Barney Marko?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Interesting. What exactly was your relationship with him?”
“I was his mistress for several months, but after I came to realize what he was capable of… I… well let’s just say I couldn’t accept his business dealings.”
“Business dealings,” he echoed.
She nodded. “Yes that and his wife. I liked her a lot.”
Blond hair flowed over her delicate shoulders and back; her skin darkly tanned, a real tan, not the fake orange of sprays and booths. Her face, chest, arms, and legs — every inch of visible flesh — perfect—without blemish.
“And you think he’s dangerous?”
“Well, I know he’s dangerous. I’m just not sure if he’s dangerous to me.”
“Does he have a reason to be?”
She paused and tapped a long red nail against her front teeth, exactly as he’d imagined over the phone. He felt a strange excitement building within him.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I mean, not unless he’s upset over my leaving him. He seemed okay at the time, but he’s a very passionate man and he doesn’t like to lose anything that he thinks of as his. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, of course. Did he ever abuse you?”
“Oh no — no — never. He was wonderful. Really. Kind and loving and generous. But I know he has that other side — that business side.” She crossed her legs at the knees.
“Okay. May I see the e-mail?”
“Of course,” she said. “Let me get it for you.”
Sammy stood as she did and watched her walk to a long cherry wood dining table in an adjoining room. Her hips swayed as she walked, but only a little, not like a put on. The dress dipped down in the back; everything about her screamed super model, except for her size. She picked up the iPad and walked back to the big couch. Sammy caught a whiff of cinnamon as she sat next to him. She opened her e-mail and handed over the iPad.
“All I see is that there’s no name on it. I don’t know much about computers really, or how to find that addressy thing you were asking about.”
Sammy smiled. For some reason, despite her incredible beauty, she made him feel less shy. He called up the keyboard and let his hands fly over the letters and numbers. Within a few seconds he had the IP address. “There it is.”
“Really? That was fast. You have fast hands.” She looked into his eyes, let her tongue slide slowly along her lower lip and leaned a little into him. “So who’s it from?”
“I don’t know. Whoever sent it is clever. He used a public library computer, or at least he routed through one.” Sammy snapped out several more commands. The library is in Nevada, does that ring any bells?”
Cinnamon held a hand to her lips. A tear slid down her cheek. “That’s where my friend, Mary Cochran, was murdered. Her obituary’s in the e-mail.” She leaned further into him and buried her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry; it’s just that this is all so frightening. I don’t know what to do.”
Without even realizing it Sammy found his arm slipping around her, pulling her close. “I understand,” he said, “but don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He could feel her tears wetting his jacket and shirt. He felt the warmth of her hot breath. She felt light and fragile, as though she weighed nothing at all. One hand curled around her shoulder, pulling her into him, the other balled into a tight fist. “No one.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wet and blue.
“Thank you,” she said. “Oh I got your suite all wet. I’m sorry. I’m acting so silly. I’m sorry, really.”
She pulled away and he let her go, but it was hard.
“Can you really find who sent this? Find him and protect me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I will.”
23
Dominic Elkins
* * *
Practice
* * *
“Tonight we practice traffic stops,” said Sarah.
Dominic felt tired, he’d had a bad night; the dream again. “That sounds like fun,” he said as he finished loading their equipment into the trunk.
“It is,” said Sarah. “I’ll drive for now, so I can show you how it’s done.”
“Great,” said Dominic, closing the trunk and moving over to the passenger side. Sarah seemed less stern tonight. He watched her as she settled in behind the wheel, adjusting the seat and mirrors. She looked different, a little thinner maybe, but more than that — she wore makeup. Not a lot; a touch of lipstick, a couple smudges of rouge and a dash of eye shadow. It sort of — softened her. He liked it.
“So what’s first?” he asked as he climbed into the cruiser. There wasn’t a lot of room, what with the radio, lights and siren controls, computer stand and computer. Also conventional seats were definitely not suited for police gun belts. They curved in at the sides, pushing the bulky belts and their gear into the wearer’s body at odd and painful angles.
“We’ll start at the beginning,” she said. “I know you’re probably familiar with most of the equipment in here, but I have a rule about not yelling at rookies for them screwing up something they should know, until I’m sure they do.”
“That sounds fair,” said Dominic. “Scary, but fair.”
“I’ll remember you said that.” She pointed at the radio. “That’s the radio. Channel one is primary, two is data — for warrant clearances, driver’s license checks through DMV, criminal history, phone numbers, stuff like that. Channel three is for special operations, drug busts, special events like protests or VIPs, that sort of thing. Channel five is what we call car to car which means it’s for us to talk to each other without clogging up channel one. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can just say anything. All of the channels are recorded and all are subject to discovery if a defense attorney subpoenas them. So no cussing, racial slurs, dirty jokes, comments about the chief, the, mayor, or your FTO. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am,” said Dominic.
“Okay, the other channels are for fancy stuff we’ll get into later, mostly dealing with other agencies.” She indicated the lights and siren controls. “The far left position for the light controls activates the back flashers, middle position the front strobes and far right toggles everything on; front back, side — everything. They aren’t really lights anymore, now it’s all LED technology and they’re so strong that at night they’ll practically blind you, definitely ruin your night vision, and act like a beacon for every drunk driver in a thirty mile radius to come smash into you. In the daytime they don’t do squat because no one pays attention anymore anyway. They’re all listening to iTunes, or watching DVDs, or talking on cell phones, or gabbing it up with their BFFs, or whatever. Not that it really matters because since they stopped teaching driver’s education in the public schools as a mandatory course, no one knows what they’re supposed to do when a cop pulls up behind them with lights and siren. They either pull over to the left, or stop right in front of you.” She stopped and looked hard at Dominic. “You do know what you’re supposed to do, right?”
Dominic laughed. “Duh.” He laughed again.
Sarah didn’t laugh. She just kept looking at him. “Well?”
“Oh come on, of course I know.” Her eyebrows drew down a notch, and he almost burst out laughing. “You pull to the right as quickly as is safely possible and then stop.”
The eyebrows softened. “I thought I was going to have to flunk your young butt right out of the car.”
Dominic let his eyes roll and hung his front teeth over his lower lip. “Duhhh, which way did he go, George, which way did he go?”
Sarah laughed. “Don’t do that, you look stupi
d.”
“I’ve looked worse. Stupid’s not so bad.”
“Out here, stupid gets you killed.”
“I’ve been in places where you can get killed even looking smart.” The dream floated somewhere in his frontal lobe “Am I my brother’s keeper?” He shook the image away and concentrated on Sarah.
“The siren is self-explanatory since each setting is written next to the dial. There’s P.A., wail, yelp, and air-horn. You use the P.A. setting when you’re doing a felony car stop and you have to order people out of the car from a ways back. You can also use it to tell idiots to pull up or to turn a corner when they leave you stuck out in traffic during a stop.” She nudged the two weapons, snuggled barrels up between the front seats. “That’s an AR-15, the other one’s a twelve gage shotgun. They’re both loaded. You don’t touch them unless I say so. Got it?”
“The AR-15’s just a baby M-16,” said Dominic. “And we used shotguns a lot on house-to-house missions. I was in the war, remember?”
“Oh I remember. I just don’t want you going all post traumatic on me until I see you on the range with them. Once I see, with my own eyes, that you check out on them, then we’ll talk, but until then — you no touchy.”
“Did you say you wanted to check me out?”
“I already did, baby cheeks and I wasn’t that impressed.”
“Wow, you’re fast. You said you weren’t that impressed. Does that mean…”
“It means,” she interrupted, “that we’ve been in this car for ten minutes and you haven’t learned the first thing about making a traffic stop. So I suggest that if you want to make it out of the FTO Program you stop goofing off and start learning. Now your basic traffic stop seems easy enough when you’re just watching, but in actual practice you’ll find that it incorporates and utilizes virtually every police discipline and skill in your arsenal except, hopefully, major use of force practices.”
“Really?” asked Dominic. “I didn’t think it looked that complicated.”
“That’s because I make it look so easy,” she said. “Okay let’s go over it. On a traffic stop the first thing you have to do is observe a violation, or at least what might be a violation. For instance, someone blows a red light. You have to utilize your knowledge of criminal law and procedure combined with your decision making process as to whether you are going to stop the violator or not. Once you decide you are going to stop him, you utilize your driving skills under stress conditions. Why stress conditions? Because as a rook, you don’t have the vaguest idea of what you’re doing or if I’m going to chew you out about how you did this or that, combined with all the other thoughts running through your little rat cage, like; is he going to stop? Is this going to turn into a pursuit? What’s our policy on pursuits? Where am I? Is my voice going to break like a prepubescent boy on his first date when I talk on the radio? So believe me, there is stress.
“Now you’ve decided to stop him for blowing the light. What’s next? You have to use the radio, right? But not only do you have to use the radio, you have to use it correctly, starting with your designator which tonight happens to be Charley Three, Charley designating you as a graveyard shift car and Three showing that your main focus is district three tonight. But that’s only the beginning because now you have to remember what order you have to use in calling out the plate information and your location, which happen to be in the exact order I just gave them. But even that’s not all, because you have to use phonetics when calling out the plate, and of course the phonetics we use here at the Gunwood Police Department are completely different than the ones you used in the Marine Corps. For instance; ‘e’ in the Marines is ‘echo’, here it’s ‘Edward’. So you’ll have to be careful not to confuse them. As for your location, well, you have to know where you are. You have to know the hundred block for one coordinate, and the actual street name for the second one. That of course is only after you have decided where you want them to stop, preferably somewhere that will get you at least part way out of traffic so you don’t get clipped by an eighteen-wheeler or rear ended by a teenager texting on her cell phone. So after you’ve decided where you want the car to stop, and you’ve given the plate information and location to dispatch; now you actually have to pull the car over. That requires that you activate your emergency lights, very aware of the traffic around you as well as what that car in front of you is going to do.
“What if the guy just slams on his brakes? What if he swerves to the left, or jerks to the right. What if he doesn’t react at all? What if he just keeps driving — not speeding up or slowing down. What then, and why isn’t he stopping? Is he drunk, old, Asian? Is he be-bopping to Sniff-Doggy-Do with his headphones on? Or has he got the pieces of his wife’s corpse in a bag on the back seat, just looking for the right spot to pull over so he can blow you away?
“If he doesn’t stop, your next logical action is to activate your siren — does that work? Let’s say it does and he pulls over slowly and safely to the right just like he’s supposed to, and comes to a nice gentle stop. Now you have to position your car correctly behind him, using your car to act as a shield for both him and you. You have to stop the correct distance behind him, offsetting by about half a vehicle so the center of your hood is in line with the driver’s side edge of his car. You have to crank your wheels far to the right, hit him with your brights, your takedown lights, and your spots, blinding all his mirrors.
“What then? Well, now you have to contact the driver, which requires you to first get out of your car without getting jellied by traffic that refuses to scoot into the next lane. You have to remember to take your nightstick and pull out your flashlight. You have to be watching the driver and any passengers that might be in the vehicle. You have to approach in such a way that he can’t back up and crush you between both cars, while still staying close enough to the cars where you don’t give him an easy shot if he decides to try and take you out. Once you reach the car, you have to physically make sure the trunk is secured, since gang-bangers have started hiding their guys in the trunks so they can kill you once you pass on by. Then you have to check the back seat with your flashlight, being sure to keep it in your weak hand so your gun hand stays free, while still keeping track of the driver. You have to position yourself obliquely and behind the driver’s side window so that he has to look back over his shoulder to see you. This makes it harder for him to kill you, and offers you a good view of his hands. Now you have to talk with him, all of which helps establish your command presence, which can often make the difference between whether someone is going to comply or get really nasty. You have to remember to introduce yourself, tell him the reason for the stop, ask for his driver’s license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance. You have to maintain officer safety while he gropes around in the glove box, under the visor, between the seats. You have to listen to his story; see if what he is saying makes sense. You have to utilize all your senses. Is he acting nervous? Do you smell pot, alcohol? Is he tweaking? How about his pupils? Meth scabs on his face or arms? Is he a puffer, does he have silver or gold paint around the insides of his nostrils? What about glue? Do you see evidence of other crimes? Burglary tools, masks, weapons, car stereos, ten GPSs, a pile of cell phones, purses, cash drawer? Is the car his? Is he a terrorist? Are there bomb making materials in the car? A couple of tons of fertilizer? Does he have missing fingers, acid burn scars or discoloration? And once he gives you his information you have to make it safely back to your car so you can check him out through CCIC/NCIC and DMV, which allows you to show off your computer skills. Any warrants? Is his driver’s license suspended? Does he have aliases? Is he on any government watch lists?
“When you’re done with all that are you going to give him a ticket or a warning? Are you going to ask to search the car? Do you want K9 to sniff for drugs? Do you need a cover car? And what if he does have a warrant, or he’s suspended, or possibly DUI? Will he do roadside maneuvers? Is it safe for him to do them where you have him stopped? Is it flat
enough, the weather clear enough? What if he refuses roadsides, do you have enough to arrest him? If not what’s your next option? Let him go and have him crash into a family coming home from dinner? Call him a ride? What if he refuses a ride? And if you do decide to arrest him what if he fights?”
She smiled. “All for a simple traffic stop. We call it opening a can of worms because you never know what you’ll be getting into. What you do know is that anything and everything can happen on the seemingly easiest of calls, especially traffic stops. And like I said, all of your police skills, your talents, your intellect, your reasoning, your judgment, your abilities, come into play on traffic stops.”
Dominic realized his jaw was hanging open. He closed it. “Whew, I’ve been on combat patrols that required less tactical expertise.” He looked at the controls for the lights and siren and radio and computer. The release catch for the rifles. The posse box that carried three different kinds of tickets, as well as half a hundred different forms for various situations. His Boulder Blue Book, a condensed version of Colorado statues that stretched about eight inches thick. His head spun.
“The good news is,” said Sarah, “that once you’ve mastered the traffic stop, the rest is easy.”
“Really?” he asked, a light of hope sparking to semi-life.
She grinned and the makeup did nothing to hide the devilish curve of her lips. “No. But it’s a good start. Let’s go play.”
24
Sarah Hampton
* * *
The Chase
* * *
The first three traffic stops were relatively easy and straightforward. That was after they practiced for half an hour on empty parked cars in parking lots. The traffic violations were minor; no driver’s side headlight on one, a badly cracked windshield on the second and a roll through stop sign violation on the third. Sarah didn’t want him worrying about tickets tonight so he could focus on officer safety, radio traffic, vehicle positioning, observation and dealing with the public — in other words — drivers.
Gil Mason/Gunwood USA Box Set Page 79
