Chief Murphy finally hung up the phone. He’d made several calls to his men at Parker Center and now had a pretty good idea what was going on. And he liked it. Damn if he didn’t approve, despite the vigilante nature of the whole thing. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look. “You want the story? I got it.”
He leaned up against the mayor’s expensive desk, ignoring the flash of anger in Villagrana’s eyes.
“Well, Chief,” Sanders asked anxiously, “Is the city burning down?”
Murphy shook his head. “Not fires. Just smoke. Well, there’s one fire at a warehouse, but somebody called it in, and trucks’re on the way.”
“Then what’s going on out there, Chief?” Villagrana practically screamed. What was going on, he knew, might be the end of his political career.
The Chief cleared his throat again. “It seems our King Arthur and his kids have smoke bombed a bunch of crack houses and meth labs throughout the city.”
“What?” Sandra Gale exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment.
The chief nodded. “Yep, bagged the cookers and left ’em in fishnets for us to pick up and book. Actually, these kids are turning the netted cooks over to the locals and letting them decide to call us or not. That’s the 911 calls—citizens who want us to finish what Arthur and his kids started. They even videoed everything and left the evidence for us to use.”
“Anybody get hurt?” Ryan asked.
Murphy shrugged. “Too early to tell. I think some cooks got shot with arrows, but that’s still unconfirmed.”
“Shit!” Villagrana cursed, glaring at the Chief as if the whole evening was his fault. “Do you know how bad we’ll look in the media, Chief, when a bunch of kids can do better police work than the LAPD? We’ll be the laughing stock of the country.”
“Is that all you care about, Mr. Mayor?” Sandra Gale asked incredulously. “I, for one, think this King Arthur has done us a tremendous favor. Chief, how would he know where to find these drug houses when your men didn’t?”
“If I may answer that, Chief,” Ryan piped up, and the Chief just shrugged. “The kids know everything that goes down in their neighborhoods, Ms. Gale, that’s why we try to befriend them. Unfortunately we stab them in the back way too often, so they don’t trust us. They do trust Arthur.”
“You’re out of line, Sergeant!” Murphy barked, his temper rising.
“Yeah, Ry,” Gibson added. “When do we stab ’em in the back?”
Ryan shook his head sadly. “Every time we arrest ’em and tell ’em if they help us, we’ll help them. We help ’em all right, right straight to prison.”
Gibson opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind.
The mayor felt fit to be tied. This night couldn’t get any worse. “So, Mr. Police Chief, what do we do, huh?”
Murphy shrugged again. “I got my men responding to the calls, including that warehouse downtown. Seems that was a major drop and manufacture point too. Didn’t you say Arthur wanted us here in your office?”
The mayor nodded.
“Then I guess we wait for him,” Sanders added before returning to the window. Below, smoke billowed above the city lights, and flashing sirens cast everything in strobing shades of blue and red.
Villagrana glared out a different window, wondering what had happened to R. as he watched his political future go literally up in smoke.
AT THE first sound of approaching sirens, Arthur nodded to Justin.
“Thank you, Sir Justin,” he said, placing one hand on the tall boy’s shoulder. “Ye have done a great deed this night for the people of thy city. Your father would be proud of thee.”
Justin basked in the compliment but lowered his gaze at the mention of his father. “I don’t think so,” he said with a sigh. “Probably just think I’m some kinda pyro or somethin’.” What would his dad think?
Arthur waited, never taking his eyes from the boy’s face until Justin raised his head again sheepishly. “I take great pride in thee, Sir Justin, and I thank thee for thy loyalty.” He offered a small smile, patted the boy on the back, and turned to the others. “Now, my brave and noble young knights, we have a rendezvous with the mayor.”
He exchanged a look with Jenny and then glanced down at Chris, who gazed at the burning building in wonder. The top floors were completely engulfed in flames, and the number of people beating against the locked garage gate had nearly doubled.
Arthur slipped quickly up into Llamrei’s saddle, knowing the approaching sirens would arrive in time to save those who were trapped. Hopefully, they would acknowledge the note he’d had Justin attach to the padlock and then arrest them all.
But that decision would be theirs to make.
He reached down for Chris’s upraised hand and easily hefted the small boy up into the saddle, adjusting Chris’s helm and noting the long blond hair flowing from beneath it. Was I once so small and young, he mused as Jenny deftly climbed up behind him?
He turned and cast her as reassuring a look as he could muster before flicking the reins and starting down the street, his team of knights flanking and following. Since they weren’t far from City Hall they were all on foot, Justin’s mom’s SUV left behind for the time being.
LANCE and Jack remained untied but held at gunpoint by the two Asians flanking them. They knew if either of them made a move, any move, it would be their last. So they sat stiffly against one another, glancing about the unabashed opulence of the limo and awaiting an opportunity to put their plan into action.
Ramirez observed them with amusement. The look in his eyes frightened Lance and Jack in equal measure, because they knew this man had no conscience. Whatever he was planning had to be stopped.
Frustrated by his predicament, Lance looked down at the floor, hoping to appear humble, while his mind raced for a solution. He almost sucked in a startled breath, but held it back. Tucked under Ramirez’s seat, right behind his feet, was Lance’s skateboard. He figured it must’ve been tossed under there when he and Jack had been kidnapped and then forgotten. Could that be of use, he wondered?
But his thoughts were interrupted by movement from Ramirez. He flicked his eyes up and onto the man’s face nervously. Ramirez laughed.
“So jumpy, Pretty Boy,” the man mocked, making a big show of reaching into his pocket.
Lance and Jack held their breath, certain a gun would be produced. But Ramirez merely pulled out a cell phone.
Lance’s cell phone.
The boy’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Hey, that’s my phone—”
A hard, bony elbow to the ribs cut him off, and he coughed and spluttered to catch his breath.
Ramirez looked at him smugly. “I do believe that children should be seen, but not heard. Isn’t that the adage?” He chuckled as Lance struggled to regain his composure, and Jack glared furiously. “Whatever, it applies to pretty boys, as well.”
Jack had to fight the urge to jump the man then and there. But he knew he’d likely not even land one punch before he’d have a bullet in the back. So he sat and simmered, regarding Lance with sympathy. The smaller boy met his eye and nodded, as if to say, “I’m okay.”
Ramirez thumbed in the number. He’d memorized it before deleting Arthur’s messages. Oddly enough, the name that came up was “Reyna,” not “Arthur,” but he surmised the king must’ve borrowed someone else’s phone.
“I think it’s high time I had a little chat with your so-called King Arthur, don’t you?”
Neither boy answered as Ramirez pressed “Send.”
Chapter 14
ARTHUR and his team had made good progress. They’d proceeded straight up Temple from the warehouse and had acquired quite an entourage along the way. Some of Arthur’s other knights, who had completed their own raids, folded into the parade, as had been planned. But what hadn’t been planned were the people, local residents, many of them children and their parents, who spotted the march from their windows and had spilled out onto the sidewalk to follow. Seeing Arthur
and his knights in the flesh was a thrill, and seeing them on the march meant something was going on, probably something good, and they wanted a front-row seat.
Jenny was amazed as the number of followers kept increasing. She’d known Arthur was popular, especially with children. But many of the new marchers were adults who didn’t have any kids with them. She marveled at the power this man seemed to have over the populace. Within a few blocks the procession had outgrown the width of the sidewalk, and people were spilling out into the street, causing drivers to slow down and gawk at the impromptu parade.
Arthur had just passed the intersection with Los Angeles Street when the phone in his pocket began vibrating.
He frowned. Since all of his teams knew to meet at City Hall upon completion of their raids, and there was no need for communication, he felt a sudden chill run up his back. He slipped out the phone and glanced at the name—Lance. But rather than elation, fear seized him, and he hesitantly placed the phone to his ear.
“Yes, this is Arthur.”
A stony, heartless voice came out of the phone, and the words pierced his heart like a knife. “I have your pretty boy, and you want him back.”
Arthur sucked in a loud breath of shock, drawing Jenny’s attention.
“Arthur, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, his heart thumping frantically, that shadow of doom closing in on him from all sides. He said into the phone, “Who are you?”
LANCE observed Ramirez settle more comfortably into his seat, crossing his legs and smirking like a predator about to strike. Lee, as always, remained unreadable.
“Who I am isn’t terribly important,” Ramirez began smugly. “Let’s just say I’m the true ruler of this city. It’s belonged to me for years, and I intend to keep it. Your pathetic attempt to return it to the people ends tonight.”
ARTHUR continued guiding Llamrei up the street as he listened but allowed the mare to move at her own pace. His focus was on Lance. “Is Lance all right? Do you have Sir Jack, as well?”
At Lance’s name, both Chris and Jenny leaned in closer. Jenny opened her mouth but then shut it, breathlessly awaiting whatever came next.
RAMIREZ let out a snort of disgust. “If you mean the faggot, yes, he’s here too.”
Lance bristled at the word, but Jack took it in stride. He remained alert to any possibility to put their plan into action and had no intention of letting this asshole rattle him any further.
“You could really do so much better in your selection of knights, King Arthur,” Ramirez went on tauntingly. “I mean, really, faggots? And wanna-be faggots? I’m certain you’ll be disappointed to learn that your pretty boy son is probably a fagboy too. Doesn’t that just disgust you?”
Lance burned with equal parts humiliation and hatred. Jack lightly elbowed him, a signal to keep his focus. Lance forced calm back into his lungs along with air.
ARTHUR felt a sickness well up in his stomach and surround his thumping heart. He knew, deep down, that this man wouldn’t hesitate to kill Lance and Jack. His tone, his words—this was a man without conscience or remorse. Arthur forced himself to remain calm.
“On the contrary, I could not be more proud of Sir Lance and of Sir Jack. They doth be outstanding young men.”
RAMIREZ guffawed and shook his head. “Yeah, right, men. That’s a good one. It’s those attitudes that’ve doomed your whole crusade from the start, King. Only the strong survive in this world, and might will always crush right!” He smirked again at the boys, obviously enjoying himself.
ARTHUR sat stiffly upon Llamrei, both Chris and Jenny leaning in attentively, anxiously. “How doth I know my boys be still alive?”
Jenny sucked in a sharp breath, and Chris’s eyes welled with tears.
“DO YOU have video chat on your phone?” Ramirez asked with an exaggerated sigh, as though saying, “why do they never believe me?”
ARTHUR handed the phone to Chris. “Sir Chris, doth this phone have something he called video chat?”
Chris took the phone and through blurred eyes quickly pressed a couple of buttons on the touch screen to open the video chat feature. Before handing the phone back, he looked imploringly at Arthur. “Are Lance and Jack gonna be okay?”
Arthur nodded. Then he held up the phone and spoke into it. “Yes.”
RAMIREZ quickly turned the screen away so as to not reveal himself. Instead, he turned the phone to face Lance and Jack.
Lance couldn’t help himself. “Arthur, he’s gonna kill you! It’s—” An elbow to the ribs shut him down before he could finish.
“It’s a trap, Arthur—” Jack spit out before he, too, got an elbow to the gut that silenced him.
Ramirez glared and disengaged the video feature before returning the phone to his ear. “You, see, Arthur, your knights are alive and, like all children, incredibly stupid!”
A WAVE of panic assailed Arthur at seeing the boys struck so harshly, and he fought to control the fear in his voice. His breath felt tight in his lungs, and his heart pounded with dread. He should have been prepared for a man like this—there had been a great many of his ilk back in Britain.
But he hadn’t been prepared.
Another error on his part.
Please, Lord, do not let Lance and Jack pay for my mistakes….
He exhaled a deep breath then spoke into the phone, “Do not harm them. I shalt do whatever you ask of me.”
RAMIREZ glowed with delight. “Of course you will. And what I want is very simple. You’re to keep your appointment with the mayor. Proceed precisely as you planned, but know that I will be watching and listening the entire time. Should you try to double cross me, your two fagboys are dead. I’ll call again with further instructions. It’s been a pleasure.”
He pressed “End” and beamed at the two coughing, gagging boys. “The end is near, for you and for him.” He sounded almost giddy.
ARTHUR saw the call had ended and lapsed into a brooding silence. Jenny gripped him tightly around the waist for comfort, and Chris squeezed the hand holding Llamrei’s reins.
“I couldn’t see your phone. Are they all right?” Jenny asked, almost breathless with fear.
Arthur nodded. “For the time being. But can I save them?” He shook his head in despair. “All my accomplishments, in Britain and here, all will be for naught if I canst not save them.”
Jenny squeezed gently with her arms. “You will. You’ll think of something.”
Arthur nodded and then spurred Llamrei into a fast trot, causing those on foot to break into a jog to keep pace.
ALL windows in the mayor’s office were occupied as Villagrana, the council members, and the police gazed out at the city below. The smoke had dissipated for the most part, but the sounds of sirens and the flashing of red and blue lights still crisscrossed the city.
Looking down, instead of out, Villagrana sucked in a startled breath. “What the hell is that?”
The others followed his gaze. Below them, from all streets leading to City Hall, small lights bobbed and weaved and raised and lowered and flashed and winked. But all were on the move—toward them.
“Cell phones,” Gibson responded. “Kids light ’em up at concerts like that.”
“Those are all kids?” Sandra Gale gasped in shock.
“Looks like it,” Gibson replied with a sigh. You down there too, Justin?
“And look who’s leading the largest group,” Sanders announced, pointing up Temple Street.
All eyes focused on the man atop the white horse. There was a child seated in front of him and a woman holding on behind. More blinking, winking, waving lights filled the street behind him. Cars had slowed to a crawl, trailing the pedestrians, headlight beams like wide eyes opening up the encroaching darkness.
“Looks like the king approaches, Mr. Mayor,” Murphy declared with a look toward Villagrana.
“Shit, Chief!” the mayor responded angrily, running his hands nervously through his moussed hair. “Get yer men and yer ass down there.
”
“My men are already down there, Mr. Mayor, but I don’t think it’s me he wants to see.”
“The Chief’s right,” Sanders said, turning to face Villagrana, who was visibly sweating with nervousness. “He wants us. And he’s probably got a thousand kids with him. I guess this is like a concert, Mr. Mayor, except you’re the star performer. You blow it, and they’ll likely storm the stage.”
“And then all hell breaks loose,” Murphy finished solemnly.
Ryan pulled his eyes away from the politicians and focused again on Arthur and his multitude of adoring, jubilant, and powerful children. He’d never have believed such a thing was possible, not here in his city, and yet it was happening, right before his eyes. He smiled slightly to himself.
“Let’s go,” Villagrana announced with resignation, and the assemblage left the office.
AS ARTHUR neared City Hall he noted a large dumpster off to one side of the building and pointed it out to Jenny. “What is that?”
“A dumpster,” Jenny answered, her mind on Lance. “I guess they brought it in for the mural unveiling, you know, for cleanup afterward.”
Arthur nodded, his mind also fixed solely upon on Lance. He wanted nothing more than to gallop off and rescue the boy, but he did not know where to go or even who had him. So he focused on his original plan. He instructed Justin to pass the word back amongst the knights—all backpacks filled with drugs were to be brought forward and tossed into the dumpster Arthur had spotted.
As bags began shifting from back-to-front, almost like an assembly line, the boys nearest the dumpster grabbed each one and tossed it in. As this was going on, Esteban and Reyna, along with Jaime, Darnell, Tai, and Duc made their way through the throng to stand by Llamrei’s side.
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