by Ryan Stygar
“I’m sorry you’re in pain,” one of the police officers said to Niko.
Standing at a striking six feet, four inches tall, Officer Brett Li’s frame cast a long shadow that mercifully provided some relief from the hot sun. The Chinese-American police officer was a gifted athlete who had turned down several Division One football scholarships to pursue a career in law enforcement. With broad shoulders and thick, powerful legs, Brett Li was a daunting physical presence. Despite his intimidating build, Li preferred a gentle approach to law enforcement whenever possible.
“Once the Sergeant gets here we’ll make sure you get all the pain medicine you need. You’ll still be under police custody, but you won’t suffer,” Li patted the wounded gangster on the arm and walked over to the blonde female officer who was cataloguing evidence from the Russians’ SUV. When Li left, taking his long shadow with him, the sun’s harsh rays stung Sergei’s reddened face with renewed vigor.
Officer Janet Kinsey looked up when Li approached. Tightening the utilitarian bun in her hair, she gestured down the road with a nod. A black, unmarked Dodge Charger, the standard vehicle for sergeants working in the Gangs and Narcotics Bureau, was revving up to the scene.
“Looks like Sergeant Ramirez is here,” she said.
“Not a moment too soon; hopefully he dismisses us from the scene. I don’t know what we stepped into here, but there’s about to be way too much brass hanging around for my liking,” Li said.
“Agreed,” Kinsey said, waving Sergeant Ramirez down as he pulled behind her police cruiser. “If Sheriff Wyatt is getting involved then you know it’s something bad.”
“I just hope Captain America is in a good mood today,” Li quipped. He and Ramirez had always gotten along well, he’d even go as far as to say that they were friends, but that didn’t make him immune to the Sergeant’s notoriously harsh mannerisms.
Both Kinsey and Li stepped aside as a pair of white Range Rover SUVs rolled past the scene and parked a few dozen yards down the road.
Ramirez stood from his vehicle and informed dispatch that he had arrived. With a confident stride, but without a smile, he greeted Janet Kinsey and Brett Li. The red-headed rookie, Thomas Garrison trailed behind him like a puppy.
“Well done officers,” Ramirez said. He pulled a notepad from his uniform pocket to take notes. “How’d you find them?”
Kinsey spoke first. “The vehicle and the plates matched the description Officer Garrison put out on the radio. We spotted them swerving all over the road and when we pulled up behind them they gunned it and hit the pole. That pretty much took whatever fight they had left right out of them.”
“Is that what happened to the guy with the bandages on his face?” Ramirez asked.
Kinsey shook her head. “That happened before the accident; someone gouged his eyes out.”
“Yikes,” Garrison said.
“I’ll say,” Kinsey agreed.
Ramirez strolled around the SUV to survey the damage. “Anything suspicious in the vehicle?” he asked as the others followed.
“Big time,” Li said with a sense of awe in his voice. “Two unregistered Berretta M9s and a little less than three million dollars, we were told to hold on to it until Sheriff Wyatt arrives.”
Officer Kinsey nervously asked why the Sheriff was interested in the suspects.
“Two reasons,” Ramirez began. “First, we have witness statements that put these men at the scene of a double homicide that occurred last night. Second, and this is just conjecture until we can sit them down for a proper interrogation, we think they may be connected with a known opium smuggler in the city.”
Li crossed his arms. “Well, with all that cash it definitely seems like your second reason might have some weight to it.”
Ramirez nodded. “Wyatt was involved in our first attempt to bring the Petrov Crime Family to justice. Since we never got our convictions I’m sure he wants to see if there’s a chance for us to finally bring them in.”
He looked over to Officer Garrison and gave him a nudge. “Why don’t you and Officer Kinsey get the suspects into the back of the cruiser – out of the heat.”
“Yes Sir,” the young man replied.
Kinsey and Garrison moved to pick up the Russians. Right as they were about to walk into the street, a third white Range Rover barreled past the scene, forcing them to jump behind the police cruisers to avoid being run over.
“What the hell?!” Garrison yelled.
He stormed out into the street to get a plate number, but his jaw dropped when he saw the row of white SUVs ahead of him. The speeding Range Rover screeched a halt between two identical looking vehicles and then, at once, the doors of all three SUVs flew open and deployed no less than twelve armed men.
Garrison ran to take cover behind the Dodge Charger.
“Ambush!” he yelled.
Right on cue three more Range Rover SUVs charged toward them from behind to complete the trap. Their doors flew open and men armed with MAC-10 submachine guns, and silver 1911s took aim at the officers. The road was blocked on both ends; it was a kill-box.
The LVMPD officers reacted instantly – throwing open the bullet-resistant doors of their vehicles and taking cover.
“Don’t be stupid!” Jacob Cartwright yelled from behind his squad of thugs. “Drop your guns and no one will get hurt.”
Ramirez reached behind the driver’s seat of his Dodge Charger where he kept a fully loaded M4 rifle ready for action. He wasn’t about to throw himself at the mercy of a bunch of gangsters without giving them something to think about first.
“I suggest you turn around now,” Sergeant Ramirez called from behind his open door. He racked the slide of his M4 rifle. Officer Garrison hurried to a spot behind him and aimed his service pistol at the swarm of gangsters slowly closing in from behind.
Janet Kinsey and Brett Li fortified themselves behind the doors of their police interceptor. Kinsey was making a careful move for her M4 rifle while Li aimed his pistol at the gangsters coming in from ahead.
“Not one more step!” Ramirez yelled. “If you do not stand down we will have no choice but to defend ourselves.”
Jacob stopped his slow approach, then laughed. The others laughed with him. They howled as if Ramirez was a world-class comedian. In the quiet seclusion of the old industrial zone their laughter echoed like a pack of coyotes.
“Surely you’re not serious?” Jacob taunted. “You are surrounded and outnumbered. Stand aside and let us take what we came for,”
While Ramirez and his police officers were staring down the army of gangsters, Niko and Sergei became immediately aware that they were dead men if they fell into Dimitri Jordan’s hands. Looking at the overwhelming numbers, Sergei decided he was better off making a run for it.
“Niet!” Niko screamed at him, but it was too late. Sergei scurried to his feet in a desperate attempt to get away. Niko panicked and tried to run with him, but his blindness caused him to run right into the open road. Six shots blasted across the street from Jacob’s men. Two direct hits sent Niko barreling into the asphalt head first. Sergei was also hit and he stumbled and fell to his knees. A final shot sent a red halo around his head and he collapsed.
It all happened in less than four seconds. The shots spooked Garrison, who squeezed off three rounds into the mass of Jacob’s men ahead of him. The gunfire killed one man and provoked a hailstorm of bullets that shattered the police officer’s windshields and shredded their tires. Ramirez tried to return fire with his M4 but was forced down when his window exploded from the dozens of bullets being hurled at him.
“Take cover!” he ordered, but the red-headed rookie was too brave for his own good. Not wanting to duck without fighting back, Garrison fired one-too-many rounds, giving Jacob’s thugs just enough time to place three well aimed shots right into the young police officer’s chest.
“No!” Kinsey screamed. She tried to run back to pull Garrison to safety but Officer Brett Li seized her by the vest. Against her p
rotests he pulled her behind cover right as another volley of bullets slammed into their cruiser. It sounded like a hundred hammers beating into the body of their car. Li hissed at her to stay down and then keyed his mic to declare a mayday.
“Patrol 318 to Command – critical! Shots fired with officers down! I repeat, shots fired with officers dow–
Jacob aimed a MAC-10 submachine gun right at Li’s vehicle and sprayed an entire thirty round magazine at him – destroying the dashboard and the radio in a shower of sparks.
“It’s over!” Jacob shouted, dropping the empty magazine and ramming a fresh one into his gun. “Throw down your weapons and I promise no more harm will come to you!”
“Bullshit!” Ramirez yelled. “You just shot one of my officers!”
Ramirez stood from behind his bullet-resistant door and aimed his M4 rifle. He managed to squeeze off five rounds before Jacob’s men sprayed him with automatic fire and forced him down, but the former Marine made his shots count. A mere arms’ length away from Jacob, one of the thugs shrieked in pain as three bloody roses formed on his chest. Jacob hardly flinched as the man collapsed beside him.
“I’ve had enough of this!” Jacob roared to his men. “Close in!”
Bullets tore into the officers cars, reducing them to Swiss cheese as hundreds of nine millimeter rounds punched gaping holes through their aluminum bodies.
“Ramirez!” Li yelled over the noise. “Now is not the time for a heroic stand!”
“You’d trust them with our lives?”
“Do you think fighting them is any better?”
A bullet slammed into Janet Kinsey’s vest, punching the air from her lungs knocking her on her back. “I’m hit!” she coughed.
Ramirez saw the writing on the wall; resistance was suicidal. With a curse he threw his weapon to the ground. Li followed, and Kinsey (with a wince) managed to toss hers aside as well. Garrison appeared to be wheezing from where he lay, but he hadn’t moved in almost a minute.
“Alright!” Ramirez called over. “Alright you win. No more killing!”
“Kick your weapons away and put your hands up!” Jacob ordered. They police obeyed, and then a dozen armed men swept inward, grabbing the officers by the arms and pulling them away from the vehicles. Garrison was hauled up to his feet and dragged with the others.
“Garrison!” Ramirez called.
Officer Thomas Garrison swiveled his head up dizzily. With a trembling hand he gave a thumbs up to indicate that he was okay. He was struggling to breathe and he was sure that some of his ribs were cracked, but the bullet-proof vest he wore had done its job. Ramirez was pushed down to his knees and forced to sit with his fellow officers while a squad of gangsters watched over them, guns drawn.
By the Mercedes G500, two men walked up to the Russian bodies and pumped three or four rounds into each corpse for good measure. Others retrieved the bags of cash and promptly returned to Jacob’s Range Rover with the spoils. While all this was happening, another group of men holstered their weapons and collected the casualties from their side. If they had any sense of attachment or comradery with the fallen gangsters, they didn’t show it. Without a word, the dead were heaved into the back of one of the white SUVs. The car then drove away from the scene to dispose of the men somewhere far from the city limits.
Jacob searched the bags. After a few seconds he stormed angrily toward the police. “Where is it?” he demanded.
“Where’s what? You already have the money,” Officer Brett Li growled.
“I’ve got you by the balls and you’re choosing this moment to piss me off? Where’s the metal binder?!” he threw a kick into Li’s chest, knocking him flat on his back.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Li coughed. “Everything we found is in those bags.”
Jacob drew the silver 1911 from his coat and pointed it a mere two feet from Li’s chest. “Tell me, Officer, do your bullet-proof vests work at this range? Unless you want to find out I suggest you tell me where to find that binder…”
“You can’t just assault police like this, have you lost your mind?!” Li shouted.
Jacob raised his gun to Li’s head. “If you won’t talk…”
“There’s nothing else!” Ramirez yelled. He tried to stand but was kicked down by one of Jacob’s gangsters. By now the officers were encircled by over twenty men from the Sumatra gang and entirely at their mercy. Ramirez realized that no amount of bravery could salvage the situation and he returned to his knees with his hands on his head.
“Search anywhere you like,” he added calmly. “There’s nothing else. Whatever you’re looking for, we don’t have it. You should stop and think about what you’re doing, this is insane.”
Jacob turned angrily and pressed the barrel of his silver pistol into Ramirez’s cheek. “Do you know who I work for?” he hissed, pressing the muzzle harder. “I can do whatever I want to you. You don’t own Las Vegas, he does. You’re not special … you’ll rot in the desert like every other pig that’s come before you. Now, I am going to ask one more time. Where is the binder?”
The Marine glared up at Jacob. With his frosty stare and his rugged scar he looked monstrous enough to cause Jacob to feel uneasy. Ramirez defiantly pushed his head against the muzzle to show he wasn’t afraid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever you’re looking for, you already killed the only two guys that could have helped you find it.”
Jacob scowled and ordered his men to make another sweep of all the vehicles. When they returned empty handed he unleashed a torrent of obscenities.
One of the senior gangsters, a black man wearing a light gray suit and a black tie, tapped his shoulder. “We’ll tell the others to sweep the city,” he said quietly. “Whoever has it can’t have gotten far.”
At that moment, a man who was keeping watch several yards down the road called for Jacob’s attention. “We have company!”
With a MAC-10 tucked under his arm he pointed down the road where three LVMPD vehicles were rapidly approaching them with lights and sirens blaring. Jacob spit on the street. “We’ve had enough trouble for one day. Sumatra! Roll out!”
Sergeant Adrian Ramirez chaffed at the humiliation of having a pack of thugs overpower his officers.
“This isn’t over!” he shouted to Jacob.
Jacob laughed. “You’re right; it’s not,” he answered with more than a hint of malice. He didn’t even bother to look back at the vanquished police.
A door was opened for Jacob and he scooted into the passenger seat of his Range Rover, then he rolled down his window to speak to the men in the vehicle next to his.
“Watson,” he called to the Lieutenant in the other white SUV. Dimitri Jordan’s third in command, Watson Lafayette, was an African-American man with long, tightly braided dreadlocks that ran down to his shoulders. Watson leaned out his window.
“What’s up, boss?”
“I want you to find out where that scar-faced Sergeant lives.”
Watson grinned devilishly. “It will be my pleasure.”
The White Fleet sped north and scattered into half a dozen different directions.
A minute later, the trio of Wyatt’s LVMPD Suburbans screeched to a stop at the scene. Six LVMPD officers formed a perimeter and, once the area was declared safe, they set to work assisting Ramirez and his subordinate officers.
“That was some serious bullshit,” Kinsey grumbled, accepting an ice pack from Brett Li with a wince.
Garrison was leaning against Ramirez’s destroyed Dodge Charger and heaving with each breath. Ramirez helped him peel off the vest that had saved his life and then activated several ice packs from his first aid kit.
“Who were those guys?” Garrison asked.
“Sumatra gang,” Ramirez answered as he examined Officer Garrison’s injuries. “Shit … looks like one of the bullets went through. Brett! Toss me some gauze.”
Brett Li threw a roll of sterile gauze like a softball. Ramirez caught it and set to work bandagi
ng the bloody wound on Garrison’s torso.
“Dammit that hurts!” Garrison coughed. “Is it bad?”
Ramirez wiped away some blood to examine the injury more closely. “Quarter-inch penetration. Looks like some fat and muscle-tissue got ripped up. You’ll need some stitches, but you’ll be fine. It’s just gonna hurt like a bitch for a few days.”
“Well that’s a relief,” Garrison wheezed. “They aren’t gonna get away with this are they? I mean… they just shot us! What was that guy talking about when he said ‘you don’t own Las Vegas, he does’?”
Ramirez pressed the gauze against Garrison’s wound.
“You’ve heard the stories about the Sumatra before, right? I hate to say it, but there’s a chance that guy wasn’t bluffing.”
Garrison clenched his jaw. In the academy, the official doctrine was that no man was above the law; that officers should enforce the law with righteous might. But off the books, in whispers outside the academy grounds, there was one glaring exception. Thomas Garrison had just witnessed first-hand the notorious power that sent fear rippling through the LVMPD, now he had two purple bruises and a bloody bullet wound to remember it by.
“How do you feel?” Ramirez asked, changing the subject. Garrison insisted that he was fine – just shaken up.
“Getting shot at is a scary thing” Ramirez said, putting a hand on Garrison’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re ok,” He looked up toward Li and Kinsey. “Officer Kinsey! How’re you holding up?”
Janet Kinsey gave a weak smile and gave him a thumbs up. Ramirez let out a long sigh to dissipate the anxiety in his belly. That was too close, he thought with a shudder, much, much too close.
“Is everyone alright?” a voice boomed from behind. Turning around, the officers were surprised to see the Sheriff of Clark County waddling toward the scene. He adjusted the frames of his sunglasses at let out a low whistle at the sight of the carnage. “What the hell happened here? Ramirez! What’s gotten into you? Shooting at the Sumatras like that… you could have gotten your people killed!”