“And how do you know that?” Castillo replied, waiving the uniforms back.
“Because I’d guess it was the same people who just tried to have me killed. By my own partner.”
“Someone tried to have you killed?”
“We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not safe.” Stern looked at Nikki. “This has to do with Alex Luthecker. I need you to tell me everything you know about him.”
“We’re perfectly safe here. And you need to tell me everything you know about him.” Castillo cut in.
“Where is he?” Nikki asked.
“My guess is he’s still where I delivered him. The Coalition Properties Complex five blocks from here. But they may move him now, because I’m on the loose, and I know he’s there.” He turned to Castillo. “And no. We’re not safe here. I know these guys, and they’re going to come for her. They don’t leave remainders. We’ve got minutes, maybe.”
“You’re not the one calling the shots here.”
“You knew something was wrong with that cat the minute we brought him here. The way he was handled, the hush-hush about turning him over to a private company, none of this was by the book, and everyone just turned the other way because there was money behind it. It all stinks, admit it. And aren’t you tired of it?”
Castillo wavered.
Stern took a step closer to him.
“They killed your partner, man. And the guy who did it had equipment and a set up you’ve never seen before, didn’t he? Look how they strong-armed Luthecker through here, like the L.AP.D. didn’t even exist. Put the pieces together. It’s all connected, I’m telling you. And it’s all about Alex Luthecker.”
Nikki looked at Castillo.
“He’s right. This is all wrong and you know it. And if I’m not under arrest, I’m leaving, right now.”
Castillo looked at Stern. He saw that he was disheveled and unshaven, and not the perfectly manicured bounty hunter from two days previous. He could see in the man’s eyes that he was genuinely upset about something.
“Take his weapon.” Castillo said to one of the uniforms.
Stern and Castillo locked eyes as one of the uniforms pulled the 9mm from Stern’s waste band, and the other padded Stern down.
The uniform with the 9mm handed it to Castillo.
Castillo popped the clip, cranked back the slide and caught the ejected round that had been chambered. He pocketed the clip and the round, handed the gun back to Stern.
“You say you know where Luthecker is?”
“Yes.” Stern answered.
“Take me to him.”
Castillo looked at the two uniforms.
“I’ll be back within the hour.”
“Follow me.” He said to Stern and Nikki before leading them between desks and offices, and towards a fire exit door on the far wall.
He put his hand on the metal release bar that spanned the width of the door. He paused before opening the door. He turned back, and looked Stern in the eye.
“You better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not. You’ll see that soon enough.”
Castillo stared at him a moment longer, before pushing on the release bar, and opening the door into the alley.
“Hold up.” Stern said, putting an arm in front of Castillo and Nikki, as they stepped into the alley.
Something caught his eye, a small cluster of birds flying in a random but noticeably uniform formation at the far end of the alley, near the entrance.
“Get low. Now.” He commanded, as he grabbed Nikki’s hand, and crouched low behind an unmarked police sedan.
“What’s the problem?” Castillo asked, as he joined them in hiding.
Stern put a finger to his lips.
“See those birds?” He whispered.
Castillo nodded.
“They’re not birds. They’re humming bird drones.”
Nikki’s jaw dropped.
“What the hell are hummingbird drones?” She asked.
“Spy birds. They’ve just begun using them in the field.” Stern answered.
Castillo watched the movement of the electronic devices, noting the eerily perfect pattern formation of their movements.
“I’ll be damned.” He thought out loud. He turned to Stern. “Who’s just begun using them?”
“Coalition Properties. The people behind your partner’s murder. It means they’re here. We have to get out without those things seeing us.”
“How about the car?”
Stern looked at Castillo. Castillo held out keys.
“It’s mine.”
Stern nodded, and Castillo stayed low in his crouch, moving along the side of the car, Stern and Nikki behind him. He carefully opened up the driver’s side door and climbed inside while Stern and Nikki crawled inside the passenger door behind him. They closed the doors behind them with a simultaneous clunk.
The drones hovering outside the alley reacted in eerie unison to the noise. They raced into the alley, doubling back and circling the car, flying over, around and under the vehicle like a swarm of bees.
“Stay low, and cover your face.” Stern said to Nikki as they huddled down in the back seat of the Detective’s sedan.
“Go.” He said to Castillo, just as the engine roared to life. Castillo put the car in gear, pulled from the curb, and accelerated hard towards the alley exit. He turned right and onto the street just as he saw a black Chevy Suburban turn hard into his lane and towards them head on from the other direction.
“Shit. Stay down.” Castillo said, as he hit the accelerator instead of the brakes, and drove up onto the sidewalk. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw the large SUV had stopped, and men armed with AR-15 rifles, were now exiting the rear of the vehicle. He watched, as a rifle barrel was suddenly pointed straight at them.
“Shit.” He yelled as he himself ducked low, the rear window of his car shattered as Castillo took another hard right, onto a side street, that led to an entrance ramp onto the 10 Freeway East.
Stern popped up from the back seat as Nikki stayed low.
“My clip.” He said to Castillo, as he pulled his empty 9mm from his waistband. Castillo pulled the clip from his pocket, tossed it back to Stern, who caught it, and slammed it home, racking a round in the chamber before looking out the rear window.
Castillo quickly merged onto the freeway. He could see that traffic slowed to a stop less than a quarter mile ahead of him, and cars were quickly beginning to slow to a crawl behind him. About fifteen car lengths behind them, he saw the Suburban swerving between the vehicles trying to gain on them before the sea of vehicles got too thick.
“This isn’t going to end well if we stay on the freeway.” Stern voiced.
“I know.” Castillo replied, as he worked his way between the increasingly dense traffic.
“Helicopter’s are going to be up in five. Then we’re fucked.”
“What do we do?” Nikki asked, finally sitting up from the seat.
Castillo searched his experience for an answer. He had always been on the law enforcement side of this equation, and never the fugitive.
“We gotta ditch the car.” He finally replied. “Next exit, the cross street runs under the freeway. We get off, ditch the car beneath the overpass, jack an oncoming ride, dump that one in a parking garage, jack a parked one, head to East L.A. I got confidential informants there, that owe me, and we can wait it out.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” Stern replied.
“No, I’ve had it done to me. By the one fucker that got away.” Castillo replied. The traffic had now ground to a complete halt, the next exit visible in the distance. Castillo whipped the sedan onto the shoulder, bypassing the stopped traffic and pulling onto the freeway exit, accelerating hard down the ramp. He quickly turned left off the exit cross street intersection, screeching tires and blowing through a red light in the process. He was suddenly under the freeway overpass. He slammed on the brakes
and pulled over to the side of the road, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. He got out of the car, Nikki and Stern following. They watched as Castillo pulled his badge, and his firearm, and marched into the middle of the road, pointing his weapon and badge at an approaching black Mercedes Sedan, which held only the driver, a man in his late fifties. The man pulled to a stop and took his hands off the wheel, holding them up in the air. Castillo circled to driver’s side door, as Stern got in sync to what he was doing and moved to the passenger side, his weapon also at the ready.
“Don’t hurt me. Please. Just take the car.” The driver said, as Castillo yanked open his door.
“I’m not going to hurt you. This is police business. I’m going to need to impound the vehicle. Right now.” Castillo said, firm and clear, keeping both his badge and his gun pointed at the driver. The driver opened the door and began to get out of the car. Castillo stopped him.
“No, you’re coming with. Scoot over. Now. It’ll be a short ride, I promise, and then you can go back about your day.”
The driver did as he was told, and climbed over to the passenger seat. Castillo nodded to Stern, who opened the rear passenger door, keeping his gun on the car owner. He waited for Nikki to get in the car before following her inside and taking a seat directly behind the car owner.
Castillo got behind the wheel, and immediately merging back into traffic as seamlessly as he could.
He checked the rear view just as the pursuing Coalition Properties Suburban screeched around the corner, and pulled to a stop behind his now abandoned sedan. He watched as men with AR-15 rifles quickly surrounded the car. He turned his attention to the sky ahead of him, and saw a police helicopter fast approaching. He held his breath, careful to drive the speed limit, as he watched it get closer and closer, letting out a sigh of relief after it finally roared by overhead.
He checked on Stern and Nikki through the rearview mirror.
He caught Stern smiling at him. “Not bad, Detective. Not bad at all.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
DELIVERY
“How’s everybody doing back there?” Yaw asked, as he looked at his passengers through the rearview mirror of the van. The four Vietnamese women and three men nodded and smiled, not understanding the words, but clear on their intent.
Camila turned back from the passenger seat to see them as well, and they seemed relatively comfortable, sitting next to one another on the two opposing bench seats. A cooler with food and water lay between them, and one of the young women reached into it for a bottle of water. Camila smiled at her and nodded, then turned back to Yaw.
“Chris still behind us?” She asked.
“Yeah.” Yaw answered, after a quick check in the van’s side view mirror.
Once they left New York with their passengers, they had driven straight through in shifts, working a rotation where one person slept as the other two drove the van and the Honda Prelude back to Los Angeles. It had been relatively trouble-free, the only non-scheduled stop had been a flat tire on the van in Arizona. It was four-thirty in the afternoon when they pulled onto 108th street in Watts.
“Looks different.” Camila remarked, noting the lack of gang tagging on the building sides, as Yaw pulled the van up in front of the two-story apartment complex on the corner.
“They cleaned it up.” Yaw remarked.
Yaw shut the engine of the van off. His hands still tingled from the vibration of being on the road for so many hours, and he realized his back and legs were stiff and sore from the journey across the country. He finally turned to Camila.
“We made it.” He said to her.
“How’re your ribs?” She asked.
“How’s your wrist?”
“Fool.” She said with tired smile.
Yaw turned to see Chris standing at his window. He rolled the window down.
“Why don’t you guys sit tight with the package a minute, I’ll make sure everything’s cool.” Chris told him.
“Sounds good.” Yaw replied, his voice cracking with fatigue.
Chris nodded, and turned away from the van.
“Hey.” Yaw called out.
Chris turned back.
“Good job.”
Chris gave a quick smile, and headed towards the apartment entrance.
Yaw turned back to Camila.
“Man, I just want to take a shower.” She said, as she arched her back and stretched.
“Yeah.” Yaw replied. “Then we got to go find Alex.” He added.
“Word. We’ll rescue our boy. Somehow.” Camila trailed off as she sat there, thinking. Something dawned on her and she turned to Yaw.
“Esa chica. From the club. She’s connected to all this somehow. I’m telling you. I can feel it.”
There was a knock at her window. It was Chris. She rolled down the glass.
“We’re cool. They’re waiting.” He said, and she immediately got out of the van. Yaw followed suit as Chris pulled back the side door, and began helping the passengers out of the van. They walked tentatively on stiff legs, shielding themselves from the sun, as they tried to get their bearing on where they were.
“You’re safe here.” Yaw said to them, the women smiling and nodding to him in response.
Joey Nguyen exited the apartment building, spotted them, and approached. He began speaking to the new arrivals in Vietnamese, and they began firing questions back at him, talking over one another, smiling and excited to have someone to speaking in their own language, someone who could explain to them what was going to happen next.
They watched as Nguyen tried to field their questions while carefully leading them inside the building, to their new home. As they reached the entrance, one of the Vietnamese men turned back, the one who had stood foremost guard over the woman back in the storage facility. He looked at Yaw, Camila, and Chris. He slowly nodded in respect and thanks, before turning back to the others, and entering the building.
Chris, Yaw, and Camila, three of Winn’s top four students stood a moment on the sidewalk, looking over 108th street. It seemed quiet, oddly quiet, as barely a person was seen walking along the streets.
Yaw turned and smiled as he saw Master Winn exit the apartment building. Winn smiled back and approached, exchanging hugs with all three of his pupils.
“Well done.” He told them.
“So what’s next for them?” Camila asked him.
“They’ll settle in, and Joey will introduce them to the community. They will be fine.”
“How are you doing?” Yaw asked the old Asian.
“I’m concerned.”
“I’ve noticed, seems awful quiet around here.” Chris added, a hint of wariness in his voice.
“There’s something in the air, and everyone senses it. Rooker has honored his word, but suspects’ war is on its way here. I fear he may be right. I’ve called in everyone.”
They all stood in silence a moment. Yaw took note that there wasn’t a single person in sight on the street, anywhere.
“Where are they?”
“Waiting.”
Yaw turned to Winn.
“What about Alex?”
“Focus on what’s in front of you, for the time being.” Winn commented, as he nodded towards the end of 108th street.
For the moment the street lay empty. And then they all watched as a Black Chevy Suburban turned the corner towards them, and headed their way.
TWENTY-NINE
STAKES
Brown sat at his desk reviewing the drone footage on his computer screen. He examined video dated from two days previous, taken in New York, of Luthecker’s three accomplices, Yaw Chinomso, Camila Ramirez, and Chris Aldrich. He chuckled as he watched the overhead video from the tiny drones, zooming in and around their position, capturing the trio’s movements as they fought off amateur gangsters in a parking lot, and pulled a small group of Vietnamese peasants from a storage facility before loading them into the back of a van. He found their naivety and small-minded futile desire to “save” these ref
ugees amusing.
The Vietnamese were part of a human slave ring run by a low-level element of the Russian mob, the existence of which Brown was vaguely aware, and could easily put a stop to if he chose to actually allocate resources to the problem. The reality of the matter was, in his mind, it wasn’t a problem at all; it was simply the normal flow of human currency.
Since the dawn of organized human behavior, savages had always traded among the savages, and often with the only thing that they had, which was their blood. This was something that even the most rudimentarily educated student of history would see as obvious, Brown believed, and he scoffed at the ignorance of those who would champion human rights on a cultural scale, not allowing the social free market system to decide what type of exchange for labor and order any given tribe or society would find acceptable. The fact of the matter was that most of the great architecture in the world, including the U.S. infrastructure, was built on slave labor. This had been true for the Egyptians, the Romans, and now, the Americans. To enjoy the benefits of a great society that was built on the backs of others while criticizing the mechanics of how it all came to be was intellectually dishonest and morally bankrupt, in his opinion.
If the Russians wanted their merchandise back, they would come and get it. Whether they succeeded or not didn’t concern Brown in the least, and he certainly wouldn’t waste resources trying to combat the inevitable. And human slavery would always be inevitable, as long as there was a demand. He had much bigger problems with the Russian ruling class that he had to deal with anyway.
He moved on to drone footage of the trio and their merchandise’s arrival back in Los Angeles. Brown’s whole reason for letting them go in the first place was to find out the extent of Luthecker’s terrorist ring, and identify any potential leaders. The ring itself was ultimately proving to be pretty small, and from what he saw from the drone reconnaissance, he believed that he had just found the man in charge.
He watched as the three greeted a middle-aged Asian man, in front of an apartment
building on 108th Street, in the City of Watts. His name was Winn Germaine, and he was a mix of Chinese, Filipino, Mexican and German lineage. Brief research led to his background, that he had grown up in Torrance California, and was thought to have connections with the local gangs in the community in his youth, but his involvement could never be verified with the police. Although he had graduated from high school and subsequently a small trade college, from the file Brown had, it seemed as if Martial Arts had been his true craft. He had studied various forms since he was a young boy, and it was that influence that had molded his future. He at least gave the appearance of being law-abiding, paying his taxes and having no debts of record. Beyond that, his existence was primarily off of the grid.
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