The Emperor of Vegas

by Ryan Stygar

  Ramirez shook his head. “We watched them drive the other way… are you sure it’s the same guys?”

  “The Sumatra gang has twelve Lieutenants with twelve SUVs. Those could be others that Watson called for help,”

  Watson’s brake lights flashed red and his car slowed to a stop. “Adrian…” Li said with fear in his voice “I don’t like this.”

  The two Range Rovers behind them picked up speed.

  “We need to bail!” Li yelled. He drew his gun and got ready to fight.

  “Yeah…” Ramirez said as he threw the Charger into reverse. “I think you’re right!”

  The Dodge’s supercharged V8 engine roared to life as Sergeant Ramirez stomped on the gas. Tires screamed against the asphalt as he cranked the wheel and spun the muscle car one hundred and eighty degrees to face the approaching pair of Range Rovers head on. The white SUVs were charging side by side. Li tugged at Ramirez’s sleeve when he saw the passenger windows were rolled down.

  “Take cover!” Li shouted. Not a whole second later, bright orange muzzle-flashes lit up the night as bullets peppered the police car. Ramirez threw the Charger into gear and mashed down the accelerator.

  “You’re crazy!” Li screamed.

  “Only a little, hold on!”

  With one hand on the wheel, Ramirez used the other to aim his Glock out his window. The police and the gangsters closed in on each other like knights competing in a joust. As the distance rapidly closed, the white SUV’s split apart to make a gap.

  “They want us to drive between them so they can hit us from both sides!” Li yelled as he returned fire.

  “They’re not gonna get the chance,” Ramirez growled. He fired three or four more shots before gripping the steering wheel with two hands. “Don’t stop shooting,” Ramirez ordered. Li fired at the charging Range Rovers until his gun was empty. Bright headlights blinded them, guns blasted louder and closer. Li could hear the engines from the other vehicles.

  “Shiiiiiitttttt!!” Li screamed and braced himself to be shot from both sides.

  At the last second Ramirez threw the Charger into a hard left turn and swerved in front of one of the barreling Range Rovers. Two tires screeched against the asphalt as the weight of the car was thrown violently to one side. Ramirez then cranked the wheel to slam the wheels back down and swerve around the gangsters’ cars. He was now right behind them.

  The Lieutenants hit the brakes, but not in time. The shooters who were spraying the police with automatic pistols reacted too slowly to the sudden change in trajectory. Their streams of gunfire converged at the center and they tore each other apart. Glass windows exploded into a thousand glittering diamonds and men shrieked in pain. One SUV swerved to a stop in the middle of the street and the other, whose driver had been hit, flew off the road and slammed into a fire hydrant.

  “Holy shit!” Li yelled.

  Ramirez stomped on the brakes and threw his door open.

  “Let’ move!”

  In a flash the ex-Marine had his pistol drawn and was running out to engage Watson Lafayette. Ramirez sprinted right up to the Range Rover which was pinned against the ruined fire hydrant. Using the wrecked SUV as cover, he took aim at the driver’s side of Watson’s Range Rover and pulled the trigger. Watson reacted by ducking low behind his dashboard and accelerating toward the Dodge Charger.

  Ramirez gasped, “Brett! Get out of there!”

  Brett Li was halfway out his door when the white SUV slammed into the Charger like a comet – crushing and killing him instantly.

  “Noooo!” Ramirez roared. Watson’s engine stalled and the ruined cars settled into a steaming mass of twisted metal on the road. Ramirez wasted no time sprinting back to the wreckage with his gun aimed at Watson’s door. The heavy SUV protected its driver during impact and Watson emerged unharmed with a MAC-10 submachine gun in his hand.

  “This one’s for you, pig!”

  Watson sprayed wildly at Ramirez and forced him to duck and roll behind one of the other stalled Range Rovers on the road. The Lieutenant who was at the wheel of the wrecked car threw open his door and aimed his silver .45 at Ramirez, but the highly trained policeman spun on a dime and put two bullets right through the man’s skull. Watson watched all this unfold from across the street. With renewed fury, he slammed a fresh magazine into his submachine gun and charged at Ramirez to finish him off.

  Watson squeezed the trigger all the way back, spraying a lead swarm at Ramirez until the automatic weapon was empty. He then threw the spent weapon to the ground, drew his Sig Sauer and ran behind the wrecked Range Rover to finish Ramirez off. He fired two shots before he realized the policeman wasn’t there.

  “What the…?”

  Ramirez rolled out from behind him with his baton drawn. Before Watson could react, Ramirez whacked him hard across the knees.

  Watson yelped in pain as he stumbled back from the surprise attack. The scar-faced Marine never looked so terrifying; Ramirez had just watched his partner get crushed to death; now he wanted to get bloody. The sergeant whipped out a K-Bar tactical knife and lunged at Watson with murder in his eyes.

  “Aaarrrgh!” Watson screamed as the serrated blade sliced into the meat of his shoulder. He threw a punch into the side of Ramirez’s skull then grabbed the policeman’s wrist with both hands. They struggled for a few seconds before tumbling to the ground with Watson flat on his back and Ramirez on top of him. Ramirez bared his teeth like a hungry tiger and forced his sharp blade down toward Watson’s throat.

  As the pointed end slowly bit into Watson’s flesh, Ramirez pushed even harder, but Watson kicked up his leg and rolled over just in time. The blade sliced a thin red line across Watson’s neck, but it was a superficial cut. As the sharp end of the knife slammed harmlessly into the road, Watson punched Ramirez in the face and rolled away. Ramirez fell back, giving Watson just enough room to scramble back to his feet.

  Watson wiped a hand across his neck and looked at the bloody stain on his fingers.

  “You’ll have to do better than that!”

  He drew a razor-sharp switch-blade and lunged at Ramirez.

  “Gah!” Ramirez cried as Watson’s knife sliced into his forearm. He reeled back and then slashed at Watson to drive him back.

  The two men circled each other like a pair of Apache knife-fighters as Ramirez tossed the K-Bar from hand to hand.

  “You just killed my friend. Now I’m going to slice you apart piece by piece,” Ramirez growled. “Any last words?”

  Gunfire rattled across the street and interrupted the two modern-day gladiators. Watson looked up and grinned wickedly at the sight of three more white SUVs racing to his rescue.

  “Time to die!” Watson taunted.

  “For you it is!” Ramirez yelled. He quickly adjusted his grip on the knife and threw it at Watson’s face. The handle-side struck the gangster right in the temple and knocked him off his feet. Ramirez cursed himself for the wasted opportunity, but he didn’t stick around to try again.

  By the time Watson came to, Ramirez was gone.

  34

  Meanwhile, LVMPD Headquarters

  A dam was left by himself in the blue and white tiled room for so long that he dozed off in his chair. When he woke he found he was still alone in the ten by ten cube. Across the table in front of him, he could see his reflection in the one-way mirror on the wall. He had some cuts and some gauze wrapped around his head, but other than that he felt alright for a guy who was just T-boned by a two-ton SUV. His head throbbed but the cuffs around his wrists prevented him from massaging his temples.

  “Shit,” he sighed. He figured that avoiding police would be a pressing problem, but the Russians and the Sumatra guys had him so busy running around trying to stay alive that he never really considered the law to be a priority. Yet there he was; cuffed up.

  There was a soft beep followed by a sharp metal clang as the lock on the steel door disengaged from the outside. Adam looked up and saw two men; one who was fat and about as pretty
as a warthog, and another who was an all-American looking blonde in his early forties. The blonde set a dossier down on the table and pulled out chairs for himself and his companion.

  “Adam Friend, welcome to the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department,” said the warthog. “My name is Sheriff Wyatt, with me here is Captain Williams. You’ve been busy these past few days, haven’t you?”

  Adam said nothing.

  Captain Williams opened the dossier and fanned out several pictures of the wreckage from the Sunset View Motel. He paused at a photograph of two burned corpses.

  “Either of these look familiar to you?” Williams asked. “Each of these men was bludgeoned to death before they were burned. Funny thing… we found your nametag at the scene. Any idea how it got there?”

  Adam looked down at his hands. “I think I should speak with a lawyer.”

  Wyatt scoffed. “I know the state of your finances son – all you’ll get is a public defender. My DA graduated top of her class at Yale. If this goes to court she’ll tear you and whatever polyester-wearing hack you have defending you to shreds. She eats scum like you for breakfast, you understand? And you better believe I’ll be seeking the death penalty for something as barbaric as this,” He tapped on the picture of the charred bodies. “Judgement day has come. I’m afraid there’s no help for you, son.”

  Adam slumped in his seat. “So why am I here?”

  Wyatt made a crooked grin. “Because I’m in the mood to make a deal.”

  He turned to Captain Williams. “Will you get us some coffee please?”

  The captain nodded and stepped outside. Wyatt leaned in close. “You see Adam, if I take you in for this, I’ll make sure you get a fast-pass right to the front of the line in death row. But I think I have a deal that can benefit both of us. I’m giving you a choice today; death row or twenty five years in prison. What’ll it be?

  “Excuse me?” Adam said. “I don’t under –

  Wyatt smacked the table hard. “It’s not that complicated you simple fuck! Lethal injection or twenty five years. What will it be?”

  “Seriously?” Adam said. He could see another outburst brewing behind the Sheriff’s cold gray eyes. “Alright, alright! Obviously I’d rather do time than get executed.”

  “Very good,” Wyatt said with a smile. “Here’s the deal. You’re going away for murder, but not the one you committed. There was a shooting on Las Vegas Boulevard you’re gonna take the fall. A woman was killed in the crossfire and I need a confession that says you did it.”

  Adam’s memory flashed with images of Jacob emerging from his Range Rover and opening fire at him and Lukas Petrov. He recalled the lifeless body of the woman lying in the street as they sped away.

  “You want me to lie?”

  Wyatt shook a finger. “You’re still a killer. Only difference is which death you go away for. A woman was hit during that shooting and I need that case closed as soon as possible. Consider it one last good deed before you get locked up. You’ll give the girl’s family some much-needed closure and you’ll get me out of a bind.”

  “I… uh, can I get any of this in writing? What’s to stop you from seeking the death penalty either way?”

  “All of this is off the record, so you’ll just have to trust me. If you take the fall for the woman’s death, then I’ll be sure that the murder you actually committed goes unsolved. You’re trading one crime that would get you executed for another that gets you twenty five years. That’s the deal,”

  Adam’s eyes watered but he managed not to cry. How could this happen? He was so desperate to survive that he got himself wrapped up in a murder-for-hire plot. Now his life was all over. He’d be in his sixties when he finally stepped out of prison. Too old to find a woman to love, too poor to do anything but work a cash register to cover his bills until he died. Lily would grow up without ever really knowing him. If he was lucky she might visit him, but he would never get to be a part of her life like he wanted. Adam sniffled. He had just lost everything; his youth, his future, and his daughter.

  The captain arrived and tapped at the steel door.

  “Excuse me,” Wyatt said. He stood and let Captain Williams in. The captain entered with two cups of coffee in his hands and a concerned look on his face.

  “What happened?” Wyatt asked after the steel door closed behind him.

  The captain shook his head. “Problem. We can’t use the kid.”

  “The hell are you talking about?”

  “We were too late to fix the witness statements.”

  “I thought you got those cleaned up?”

  “Not for the Las Vegas Boulevard Incident; that one’s out of our hands.”

  “Shit,” Wyatt hissed. “Where does it stand?”

  “Four witnesses saw a black male in a white SUV open fire on the Strip. It’s been documented.”

  Wyatt shook his head and stated the obvious. “Descriptions don’t match, we can’t get a conviction. You’re certain we can’t get to those statements?”

  The captain shook his head. “Too many people outside our payroll are working on it. It would make too much noise if we tried to catch it now.”

  Wyatt frowned, then took a sideways look at Adam. “Well the cat’s out of the bag with this one. I already offered him the deal,”

  “Shit,” the captain sighed. “What do we do now?”

  “Well we can’t let him talk! You need to take him outside of Clark County lines and put him in the ground,”

  Adam nearly jumped from his seat. “Wait! Wait you can’t just kill me!”

  He pulled at the cuffs but it was no use. Wyatt stomped across the room and kicked the chair out from under him. Adam fell awkwardly with his wrists still chained to the table.

  “You shut your mouth!” Wyatt barked. “Captain! Pick up this sniveling little shit and dispose of him.”

  “Wait!” Adam yelled as Williams manhandled him to his feet. “I can help! I know people in Dimitri Jordan’s gang – I can help you! Please don’t do this!”

  Wyatt stopped in his tracks. He gave Adam a suspicious look.

  “What do you mean?”

  Adam was catching his breath. He tried to make a bargain before the Sheriff changed his mind. “The shooting, you said you need a fall guy… a black male with a white SUV? That’s a Lieutenant right? Let me go and I can get you a Lieutenant to convict,”

  Wyatt raised an eyebrow at the captain. He nodded a bit and then gently picked up Adam’s chair. He then held out a hand to indicate that Adam should take a seat.

  “Jordan mentioned that he had you working for him… that doesn’t mean you have any pull though. Convince me,”

  “He has me working for one of his Lieutenants; a guy named Ty Marcus. If I can bring him to you, will you let me go?”

  “Ty Marcus isn’t a Lieutenant,” Captain Williams scoffed.

  “He is now!” Adam reacted. “Jordan chose him to replace Jacob after he was executed. Ty is a Lieutenant. Please, don’t kill me. I can get him for you,”

  Sheriff Wyatt looked at Captain Williams with a twinkle in his eye. “That will help keep the Feds at arm’s length,” he mused. “And with a real Lieutenant behind bars, we’ll finally have some leverage to keep Dimitri Jordan’s ego under control…” He stroked his chin. “Okay Adam… I think we can work something out,”

  “He could be lying,” Williams warned.

  “I’m not!” Adam protested.

  “He’s telling the truth about working with Jordan, we know that much,” Wyatt said. “The only question is whether you can really deliver Ty Marcus to me alive. If you’re lying we’ll kill you, if you’re telling the truth we’ll let you go. Simple as that,”

  “No prison, no death penalty, nothing. You get Ty Marcus and I get away with a fresh start. That’s the deal,”

  “That’s the deal,” Wyatt conceded without breaking eye contact. He then pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and clicked on a pen. “Let’s make a plan to bring him in. I want him t
omorrow night,”

  “I need more time than that,” Adam said.

  “You don’t have it,” Wyatt snapped. “Tell me everything you know about Ty Marcus,”

  Captain Williams sipped his coffee and looked Adam up and down. “We don’t have all night, start talking kid,”

  “Okay, okay,” Adam said.

  He was about to start describing his experiences with Sumatra gang when frantic knocking at the steel door interrupted him.

  Wyatt threw up his hands. “Goddammit! Can’t I get five minutes without some new emergency popping up? What the hell happened now?”

  Wyatt cracked open the door to speak with whoever was on the other side. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

  There was a moment of muffled chatter before Adam heard Wyatt shouting in the hallway.

  “What? When?!”

  Seconds later, Sheriff Wyatt exploded into the interrogation room.

  “Ramirez got into it with the Sumatras again,”

  “Son of a bitch!” Williams yelled.

  “You’re telling me! Two of Jordan’s guys are critical and one is dead. Officer Brett Li was killed in action. It’s a total cluster out there!”

  “What do we do?”

  “You finish up with the kid – I’m going to personally wipe that asshole Marine off the face of the Earth!”

  

  Sergeant Adrian Ramirez was in the sick bay with a half-dozen LVMPD officers. Ramirez was about as downtrodden-looking as anyone had ever seen him. He and Brett Li were friends, everyone knew that, and poor Ramirez had just watched the man die. Adrian’s fellow police officers were doing their best to comfort him when Sheriff Wyatt came barreling down the stairs. One of the officers, a woman with a black pony-tail and a grave look of concern on her face, was bandaging up Ramirez’s arm.

  “Sheriff!” she called when Wyatt stomped toward them “Did you hear what happened? Sergeant Ramirez and Officer Li were ambushed!”

  “I’m aware…” Wyatt said as he locked eyes with the ex-Marine. “Everyone out, all of you, now!”