by Jon Mills
He looked over to the crib where his little girl was sleeping peacefully. Aaliyah would say to him every day: How long are you going to keep this up? You’ve done what you can do for this city. It’s time to turn in the badge. Move on to something safe. You have a child to think about, Deon.
He didn’t argue with her. She was right.
There would always be a new cop to fill his shoes. Someone with the same passion he carried. But he couldn’t think of what he would do if he handed in his badge. He wasn’t old, he still had a lot of good years in him. But perhaps it was time to move on to a safer position. A sergeant. He’d always wondered what it might be like to work his way up through the ranks.
Before leaving the room, he leaned across to a side table and picked up a cross. His grandmother had given it to him when he was a child. Rarely ever did he go out without it on. He draped it around his neck and fastened it.
Downstairs he poured himself a stiff, bold cup of coffee and checked that he had everything for the day. He took a few more sips then poured the rest into a metallic flask to take with him. There wouldn’t be much time for small talk when he arrived, or coffee runs.
He cocked his head from side to side to work out the aches and checked his phone for text messages from the others. Outside it was still dark, except for a streak of orange. It was going to be another hot day, with temperatures hovering in the low eighties.
One final check and he said a silent prayer before leaving. It had become habit. Something that made him feel confident. A sense that no matter what the day brought, he was in the hands of something greater than himself.
He had a thirty-minute drive into work, most of the guys did. It was one of the first things they taught you when you went through the academy. Never live in the area that you work. When going out for a meal, sit with your back away from windows. Always remain vigilant. He’d seen guys become paranoid over the years. Being a cop wasn’t easy. It could destroy you if you let it. He’d seen numerous marriages fail, and even more cops become suicidal. What most didn’t realize was there was no off button when you came home. You brought your work home with you. As much as he tried to forget the faces of death, violence, and human depravity, it was tough. There were many nights he couldn’t speak to his wife. After the first year, she stopped asking him how his day was.
The job wasn’t all darkness but being as he only ever saw the underbelly of society, it often seemed that way. On the journey to the department he thought about the incident down at the mission. He chewed over what Jack Winchester had told him. There was something about the man that seemed out of place. He had a sense that regardless of what he’d said, he was likely to see him again. He only hoped this time it wasn’t under a dark cloud of violence.
In the walled parking lot of the department, it was a hive of activity. SWAT guys were loading up the trucks while the captain had several of the detectives and narcotics officers in a room going over the plan of action that morning.
“Deon, glad to see the old ball and chain didn’t hold you back this morning,” Alex Riley, a fellow officer, said. It had been an ongoing joke that Aaliyah wore the pants in the family. The truth was none of these guys had been married. They were single, younger than him, and would eventually learn what it meant to listen instead of charge headfirst without anyone else to think about.
He grinned, and patted Alex on the back. “Oh, just you give it a few years. That lady of yours is going to whip your ass real good.”
“I doubt it. I already have lady love number two in my crosshairs.”
“You old dog,” Brent said loading up a Remington 870 Express Tactical Magpul.
The team members started loading themselves into two trucks. They were going to hit two of Sheng’s restaurants just as they were opening and getting ready for the morning. INS believed the places would be crawling with illegals preparing food. They needed to catch them off-guard.
“I’m telling ya, man, this is bullshit. So what, they have immigrants working for them? What store in this country doesn’t? Legal or illegal. The whole damn country is full of them clogging up streets. This is a waste of taxpayers’ dollars,” Alex said.
“It’s not about who’s working. It’s about the conditions these people are working under, Alex. They have them working from morning until night. They have young girls being prostituted just to pay off a debt that they are never going to be able to pay back. It’s a sick cycle and someone has to put a dent in their enterprise.”
“And let me guess, you think you’re the guy?” He let out a laugh and patted Brent on the back. “Listen to old Deon. You’ve been drinking too much of the communion juice down at the mission. What next? You are going tell us they all need to be converted.”
Somewhere in his small brain, Alex had always equated Deon’s extracurricular work with the mission to mean that he believed the same as the folks who ran the place. But it wasn’t that at all. It was nothing to do with religion and everything to do with human rights. Making sure that folks had their needs met.
“You don’t need religion to help people, Alex. But hey, God forbid we actually help the prostitutes you are screwing.”
“What the hell did you say?” He slammed Deon against the truck. Deon smirked and let out a laugh. “Oh, I hit a sore point, did I?”
It wasn’t common knowledge but rumors had been circulating that Alex knew where to get his dick wet. It was a pity, really, Deon thought. He was a good cop when he wasn’t taking money under the table. Deon had seen it once but not mentioned it to his sergeant. Ratting out another cop was frowned upon, no matter if it was right. Being an officer was like being part of a brotherhood. You had your good and your bad. Unfortunately, there was more bad than good in his department.
“Load up, boys, we’re moving out,” the captain said, charging out of the building.
Alex released his grip and glared at Deon.
Chapter Fifteen
At 6:07 that morning, the SWAT truck bumped its way towards the Red Dragon. Two blocks over another vehicle would be moving into position outside the Green Bamboo. Across from Deon were four other officers. Thankfully, Alex was in the other truck. He’d had about enough of his mood swings. At the rate he was going they would kick him out of the department before the end of the year. Beneath the black balaclava sweat trickled down his face. The air was thick with moisture making it hard to breathe. He reached under and wiped his brow.
“Can’t wait to see the look on the face of those slit-eyed asswipes.”
“That’s enough, Banks,” the captain said.
Racism was still alive and well. As a black man he’d encountered his fair share of it inside the department. It was hard to imagine that people could be so narrow-minded. Deon’s adrenaline had kicked in. He could feel the blood pumping in his ears and his pulse beginning to race. It was always the same. It was part of the reason why he signed up. These kind of moments came far and few between. The job usually was hours of boredom and seconds of sheer terror.
“Alright, get ready to roll out,” he heard his captain say in his ear-hugger earpiece.
They shifted in their seats as the truck came to a halt. The two guys by the open back door jumped out and Deon moved with them in a line towards the back of the restaurant, keeping his weapon low. Another group would go around the front.
“Police department, search warrant,” one officer said in Chinese as he banged against the glass door. The door must have been locked, because one of the officers stepped forward and used a battering ram to break the glass.
“Get down. Get on the ground!”
A flash bang was tossed in and one by one they shuffled into the kitchen. There was a look of shock and surprise on faces as each of them grabbed someone and pushed them to the ground. They moved with laser precision clearing each of the rooms. Several girls were found but all of them looked to be of legal age.
“Hands on top of your head!”
Everything occurred so fast. Within a mat
ter of three minutes. Some of the girls screamed, but most just looked shocked. Fire alarms started beeping from the smoke that came from the flash bangs. Nothing could be heard but the sound of boots thudding against the ground, and other cops announcing if they had found someone.
“Where is Sheng Ping?”
“He’s not here,” a Chinese woman said in very fluent English. The guy was as slippery as a snake. Something about the whole operation felt wrong. Deon overheard another officer asking for papers on each of their employees. INS agents came in a few minutes later and began their investigation.
After a lengthy amount of time, Gavin Westbury appeared in the door way.
“So?” Deon asked.
He shook his head. “All the girls have legal status and are legal age. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, it does. We’re just not seeing the full picture. You think someone tipped them off?”
Gavin frowned as he looked around. “If they did, it would have to be someone in INS or the department.”
It wouldn’t have been the first time. The L.A.P.D. had come under investigation numerous times for illegally shooting suspects, framing people, falsifying evidence, covering up misconduct, and stolen drugs. But the INS? Deon scoffed at the thought of it. With the amount of money that was being gained each year in human smuggling, it wouldn’t have been a far stretch of the imagination to think that Sheng had managed to pay off someone on the inside to leak out information.
“No weapons. No drugs. No illegal immigrants. It just doesn’t add up. Why would a local businessman place himself at risk telling the department that Sheng was illegally smuggling in humans if there were none?” Gavin said before making a call to his boss. Deon went back inside and swept the place for a second time. He tapped the walls to see if there was anywhere they could be hiding them but no amount of searching turned up anything.
“You have no right. We will sue you,” the Chinese woman said.
Another officer held up a warrant. “Best of luck with that.”
Back outside the captain was waiting to hear back from the other team. Most of the guys were looking despondent, except for Alex who just thought the whole thing was a real hoot. Another royal fuckup by the L.A.P.D.
“Hey captain,” Brent shook his head, indicating that B team over at the Green Bamboo had turned up nothing as well. “No sign of Sheng either.”
“Alright, let’s move out.”
As Deon shuffled back to the truck, he thought about the boy. Perhaps, they were going about this the wrong way.
Chapter Sixteen
Cheap or not, Jack was considering checking out. The bed was swarming with bedbugs. He had barely managed to get a few hours’ sleep. Scratching his legs, he saw small red welts that had formed overnight. He took a quick shower, slipped into jeans, and tossed on a wrinkled shirt before heading out.
In the lobby police were talking with the clerk about a fight that had occurred in the night. They glanced at Jack. He slipped by hoping they wouldn’t notice and ask him questions. He was desperate for coffee. Ducking into the first café he came across, he bought a double espresso and Americano. The espresso was like an adrenaline shot to his heart. It was what he always reached for when he needed to clear head fog.
It was a short walk to the mission. Tossing and turning last night, he couldn’t get the face of that kid out of his head. How could any parent in their right mind send their child to a strange country? Poverty or not, it was just plain wrong.
Upon his arrival, a crowd of homeless were lining up in droves to get a hot breakfast. Whether a person was religious or not, what these people were doing was admirable. In many ways they were filling a need for what government should have done. Of course there would always be folks who would disagree and say that they could get a job, and maybe that was so but in the meantime someone had to help.
He slid past the noisy rabble. A few of them scowled, thinking that he was jumping the line. He had to reassure them that he’d already eaten. He worked there.
Honest employment. The thought seemed almost surreal. He fully expected that John would tell him that his services weren’t required when he showed up. That it was all a ruse, and he’d changed his mind. But he sounded sincere that the job was his if he wanted it.
“I thought you wouldn’t show.”
“Why?” Jack replied.
“Not many people want to deal with the crap that Skid Row serves up.”
“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”
A few bums, crack addicts, and loudmouths were nothing compared to the men he had run-ins with on the streets of New Jersey. They wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet in your head.
“So what’s on the agenda?” Jack asked.
“Pretty simple, you just—”
Janice poked her head in the door. “John, you’ll never guess who’s in the lineup for breakfast.”
She smiled at Jack and he greeted her.
They both waited for her to finish. “Zhang.”
“Oh, um, Jack, a uniform is in the metal cabinet over there. I’m just going to be a minute. I told Deon I would get in touch if he showed up.”
“You think I could have a word with him first?”
John paused.
“Who, Deon?”
“No, the boy.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
He looked surprised. “I guess. Sure. Just don’t let him wander off.” He paused. “Oh Janice…”
She tossed up a hand to reassure him that she would direct Jack to the boy.
John went into the office to make the phone call. Jack knew that it wouldn’t be long before they carted him off to an INS detention center. If anyone might know about what was going on with the men that had shown up, it would be him.
He decided to hold off putting the security outfit on, it would probably only scare the boy off. As Janice led him down the long corridor towards the serving area, he could tell she was biting at the bit to ask him a question.
“What is it?”
“What you did yesterday. Didn’t you worry about getting shot?”
His lip curled up at the corner. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t, now wouldn’t I?”
“Yeah,” she nodded.
People always had a strange fascination with his line of work. Local teens who’d heard the rumors would approach him in New York asking how they could get involved in the mob. Some would ask how many people he’d killed. Back then, he answered them the way he wished someone might have done before he got in knee-deep.
“It’s not a life for anyone.”
And that was the harsh reality. While it was glamorized on TV, being paid to take care of those who owed money wasn’t a career that anyone could be proud of, and you sure as hell couldn’t tack that title on your social profile. No matter how hard they tried to keep what he did from getting out, it always found its way around. That’s how he’d become infamous. Crime bosses knew what he did, their sons and in turn their families.
When they entered the cafeteria, the clinking of glass and cutlery almost drowned out the sound of chatter. The aroma of sausage, beans, hash browns and coffee made his stomach grumble. Faces void of emotion glanced up as they furiously shoveled away food. A few of the men said hello to Janice and one of them came up and gave her a big hug.
“Bernie, you are looking well.”
“Yeah, I just signed up for the program. I’m really going to do it this time.”
“Good for you,” she said holding his shoulders like a mother encouraging a young child.
They threaded their way around the tables heading towards the back part of the large cafeteria. As they got closer they could see the boy seated at a table, tucking into his breakfast.
“What type of program has he joined?”
“Besides emergency services that cater to physical needs, we have a life-transformation one-year program.”
“Religious, is it?”
She glanced at him.
“Why do I note a sense of distaste? Are you a religious man, Mr. Winchester?”
“Can’t say I am. Not that I don’t think there is something out there but I guess I’ve just seen enough of the underbelly of life that has left me in doubt about anything good existing.”
“You don’t think your life has a higher purpose?”
Jack was about to answer that when the boy spotted them approaching and bolted. He was a like a jackrabbit. Jack didn’t wait a second. He shot across the room to cut him off before he reached the exit.
The boy yelled something in Chinese as Jack scooped him up. He was wriggling like mad when Jack placed him on the ground.
“It’s okay. No one is going to harm you.”
He continued yelling in Chinese.
“Do you speak English?”
By now Janice had made her way over and a small crowd had gathered. Some were supportive and were trying to convince the kid that they would help him. Others told Jack to let him go. For a second he thought a fight was going to erupt between him and a man who didn’t seem to have all his marbles.
“I just want a word with you about who those men were.”
When that didn’t seem to convince him, he remembered what John had said about the boy having a sister.
“I want to help you get your sister back.”
That’s when he knew the kid must have known some English as he stopped fighting to get away. His eyes studied Jack’s face.
“Evie,” the boy mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“Her name is Evie,” he said in broken English.
Chapter Seventeen
Isabel told Cooper she was running an errand and would meet up with him for lunch. It was a lie of course but the guy felt like a dead weight around her ankles. His constant barrage of questions and shifts in mood were starting to give her whiplash. The conversation with Dana Grant had been eye-opening to say the least. Using the safety of a child as leverage to gain more details never failed to work.