On the Grind (2009) (24 page)

"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 sa
y
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, the
y
do what the
y
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
H
aven Park black-and-whit
e
s 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 headlights 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'v
e s
topped -- 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 ove
r m
etal 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.

Residents 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.