Sons of War

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Doberman smiled. “Nah, you’re good, man.”

  “Still don’t know what you want with my operation,” Mikey said, “so let’s cut to the fucking chase.”

  His men formed a perimeter, some of them holding guns, others carrying bats or crowbars. One even had a chainsaw—probably just for intimidation, but Vinny didn’t want to find out.

  “We’re here to talk logistics,” Vinny said.

  “Logistics?” Mikey raised a brow. “The fuck you talking ’bout, ese?”

  “Transportation,” Vinny said. “We want your garbage trucks.”

  Mikey tilted his head and took a step closer. Vinny could smell his rancid breath.

  “They aren’t for sale, yo,” Mikey said. “I was told you guys had a long-term deal for me.”

  “We don’t want to buy them,” Vinny said. “We can do that on our own. We want to rent them.”

  “We want to hire you to drive and deliver our product,” Doberman said.

  Mikey glanced at him, then back to Vinny, realization manifesting in a black, rotting grin.

  “Now you’re talking, ese!” he said.

  “Good. We’ll start small, do some test runs, and see how things work out,” Vinny said. He reached into his track jacket. Several of his men stepped closer, raising their weapons.

  “Relax,” Vinny said. “It’s a down payment. We brought you some silver, and some chips that you can use at our casino.”

  He held out a bag to Mikey, who snatched it from his hand like a feral child grabbing a scrap of food.

  Mikey looked inside and grinned even wider. “Gracias,” he said.

  “De nada, amigo,” Vinny said with a forced smile. “I’ll have my people contact you when we’re ready to start.” He reached out, wishing he had a glove on to shake the garbage man’s grubby paw.

  The meeting concluded as abruptly as it began, and Vinny and Doberman returned to the BMW. Their next stop was across town, near the construction site of the Four Diamonds. With a half hour’s drive ahead, they had plenty of time to discuss their arrangement with Mikey. His uncle’s idea was ingenious, as long as Mikey and his crew held up their end of the bargain and didn’t do anything stupid.

  Vinny didn’t like the guy, but part of his job was to work with lowlifes.

  The full moon climbed in the sky, shedding a carpet of white over the construction site that would become the biggest drug-selling zone in California. Vinny wasn’t sure who Antonio would assign to run the area, but his job was to make sure they had enough supply to keep up with the demand, and a safe way to transport it. With step two secured, his job was now to make sure that the police under Chief Stone stayed out of the way.

  Doberman parked at the edge of the construction site and killed the engine. “Looks like our contact is late,” he said.

  Vinny scanned the empty parking lot and spotted a black Audi parked between a bulldozer and a front-end loader.

  “No, he’s over there,” Vinny said. “You wait in the car this time and keep it running.”

  Doberman turned the engine back on, and Vinny got out. He jogged over to the Audi, slowing as the driver’s door opened. A dark-skinned man in a black leather jacket stepped onto the pavement, flashing a smile that reminded Vinny of his own.

  “Vinny?” the man asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Vinny stopped and scanned the construction site for threats but saw nothing moving in the moonlight.

  “Detective First Grade Ray Clarke.”

  Vinny studied the cop. “I’ve seen you before somewhere …”

  Ray shrugged one shoulder. “Probably. I’ve been through it all, man. The war, the fighting, the camps—”

  “The camps,” Vinny said, cutting him off. “That’s where I saw you and another cop, going into a tent. I believe those guys were Sureños you were collecting from.”

  “Could be, man, I don’t remember. Does it matter?”

  “Nah,” Vinny said. “Long as you realize who you’re working for.”

  Ray licked his lips.

  “That would be the Morettis,” Vinny reminded him.

  “I work for whoever Chief Stone tells me I work for. Guess that’s you boys now.”

  Vinny didn’t like this guy much better than Mikey, but when you were dealing with shady assholes, better to keep expectations low.

  “Once these buildings are up, I need a guarantee you’ll help me keep your buddies in blue from doing anything stupid with our operation,” Vinny said.

  “You got it, man. Easy-peasy, long as we get paid.”

  Vinny met his gaze and Ray held it.

  “All right, we can do that,” Vinny said. They sealed their new partnership with a one-two handshake.

  “Yo, I do got a favor I need,” Ray said.

  Vinny snorted. “I don’t think you realize you’re the one that’s supposed to be doing the favors, not me.”

  “I do, man, but this is something near and dear to me, and it will go a long way if you can help me out.”

  “What? Hurry it up, I want to get the hell out of here.”

  Ray reached into his jacket, and this time Vinny was the one to take a step back.

  “Just a picture,” Ray said when he saw his reaction. He handed it over to Vinny.

  “I’m hoping you can find some info about this girl. She’s the sister of one of my cop buddies. Got kidnapped in Downey a few nights ago.”

  “How old?”

  “She just turned twelve.”

  Vinny studied the picture. The girl did look young, but many of the girls sold into the human-trafficking black hole were young. His gut sank at the possibility that someone in the growing Moretti crew had done this. They were expanding into all sorts of selling operations now, including people.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

  “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”

  Vinny watched the crooked cop get back into his car. For a moment, he just stood there, holding the picture. Chances were good that someone in the Moretti family had taken the little girl. Chances were even better that she would end up as a sex slave and live a short, hellish life in some filthy brothel.

  It was finally sinking in that he was a made man, a Moretti soldier, and what that really meant. They had a code, but that didn’t mean they weren’t evil. The terrible things his uncle had done weren’t over. He would do whatever it took to claim the crown of the gang capital of the world, in one of the last cities in the United States.

  As the Audi drove off, Vinny walked over to the fence surrounding the construction site and hurled his dinner up into a bush. He wiped his mouth and began the slow walk back to the BMW, wondering whether he was really made out for this life after all.

  * * *

  Dom straightened the collar of his new LAPD uniform and filled his lungs. The relatively fresh air at Dodger Stadium didn’t bring back any good memories, nor did it do much to calm his nerves.

  He really didn’t want to be here today. This moment away from the streets was time he could be searching for his sister. Monica was somewhere out there, and his heart hurt knowing she was in danger.

  Almost two weeks had passed since her kidnapping. The battle for the city had ended not long after, with the gangs shattered and on the run. He didn’t know where she was or whether the gangs would reorganize, but he did know, now more than ever, that becoming a cop was his destiny. He was born a fighter, and he was damn good at it.

  Today, he was surrounded by thousands of other fighters. He sat in the third row of chairs on the yellow grass of Dodger Stadium, with the newest inductees to the Los Angeles Police Department. Warriors like Camilla and Moose, both still recovering from their injuries fighting F-13. They sat in the rows ahead, covered in bandages from the night of hell.

  Moose had nearly lost his right eye to a piece of metal that lodge
d in the bone beneath his eyebrow, and he had undergone two surgeries to remove shrapnel and fix a broken rib.

  Today was his first day back in uniform since the battle that nearly cost him his life.

  Many of the soon-to-be cops surrounding Dom had injuries from the fighting. Today, these brave men and women sat in their dress blues, waiting to be inducted officially onto the force.

  He didn’t recognize most of them. They had come from departments all over the county after the reorganization placed them all under the LAPD banner. Now they all would wear the same uniform, with the same logo, and fight together to take the streets back entirely from the gangs.

  With everyone together here, there seemed to be a palpable feeling of hope in the air, though Dom couldn’t bring himself to feel much of anything but dread. He fidgeted in his seat, anxious to get out of here and back on the beat, looking for Monica.

  He stared ahead blankly, trying to manage the dread and the anger that came with it.

  The California and US flags whipped in the wind on the flanks of the stage. Behind them, the outfield wall had collapsed, providing a view of the crater in the parking lot—a vivid scar from the Second Civil War.

  Beyond that, smoke drifted above the San Gabriel Mountains. Wildfires were encroaching from all directions, darkening the skyline—yet another threat facing the city.

  Dom twisted around to look at the stands. Family members were filling the seats to watch their loved ones, but not his family. His mom was back home, mourning, while his father was out on the border.

  Ronaldo had recently decided to join the LA County Sheriff’s Department now that the marines had been disbanded along with most of the military. When he wasn’t looking for Monica, he was responsible for securing the city’s eastern border wall, fighting looters, and vetting refugees, as he was today.

  Bettis and Tooth had joined up with Ronaldo, but Marks had decided to take a lieutenant’s post in the LAPD, where he too was helping search for Monica.

  Dom noticed three people in the stands who could have been his family. The mom and daughter waved at an officer sitting a few rows behind him, and the father sat looking down proudly on his son or daughter.

  It wasn’t just families in the stands. Snipers were perched throughout the stadium, and armed teams patrolled for threats down the rows and aisles. After what happened at the Hollywood Bowl, security was tighter “than a camel’s ass in a sandstorm,” as Dom’s dad used to say.

  He turned back to the stage, where a portrait of Chief Diamond sat on an easel next to the LAPD flag. The hero cop’s final words before his assassination had rallied every officer and sheriff’s deputy, and even the citizenry, in the fight against the gangs.

  But it was the help of former rebel units such as the Desert Snakes that had made the crucial difference in crushing the organized gangs and sending them scuttling back into their holes, just as the chief had predicted.

  The fight wasn’t over, though. Far from it. Some of the police officers sitting in the audience, onstage, and in the stadium were, without a doubt, corrupt—men and women who had done business with the gangs and would continue to work with the remnants.

  Rumors of new, powerful crime families had circulated throughout the ranks of the department over the past few days, and Dom suspected that they were behind the kidnapping of Monica and the other kids, as well as thousands of other atrocities across the city.

  The thought filled him with rage.

  Speakers crackled, and music started. The crowd stood as two dozen officers filed over to chairs onstage. All heads turned to Chief Stone, who walked up to the podium. Mayor Buren had selected him over the other contenders for the spot to replace Chief Diamond.

  If it were up to Dom, he would have made Marks the chief of police. The marine, aside from being practically family, was about as stand-up as they came.

  Stone stepped up to the podium and looked out over the people in the stands. Then he smiled, revealing a missing front tooth, before promptly clamping his lips shut. He gripped the sides of the lectern and, in a deep voice, said, “Today, I am honored to welcome new officers to the LAPD.”

  The new chief again swept the crowd with his gaze before continuing. “I can still remember when I was sitting at my academy commencement ceremony—something most of you never got to experience. But the experience you have already gained on the streets has given you far more than what I learned in training and inside classrooms. They say the best learning is hands-on. And all of you here got that.”

  Yeah, those of us that made it.

  In his mind’s eye, Dom pictured all the cops who had died over the past few months. The people who rushed to the call of duty when their city was imperiled. And the soldiers, marines, and heroic civilians—the magnitude of suffering and death was hard to fathom.

  “The faces I’m looking at this morning are those of survivors,” Stone said. “You have given everything you had to give, but are still willing to give more, and for that our city thanks you. Today, we celebrate your bravery and look to the future as the citizens of Los Angeles prepare for a brighter tomorrow. Receiving your shield today is the final step to becoming an officer, and it comes with the great and solemn responsibility to protect and serve.”

  He paused for reflection and then raised a hand over the outfield, pointing at the cranes rising over a construction site in the distance.

  “With the disbanding of the army and Marine Corps, in this postwar world, your duty will be to become our soldiers—a different kind of soldier, who will protect the new public housing across the city, the desalination plants, the solar farms, and the traditional farms that will once again produce food for the great state of California.

  “You are the future of this, one of the very last metropolitan cities in the United States that are still functioning.”

  The words sent a chill through Dom.

  “I’m keeping this short this morning because our work starts now,” Stone said. “Good luck and Godspeed. I will be here with you to fight this fight.”

  The cops all stood and clapped as Stone walked away and another officer took his place. He called names to come forward and accept their shields. The rows slowly emptied, and by the time Dom got to the front, the armpits of his uniform were dark with sweat.

  With every step, his injured foot throbbed from the tight dress shoes and the sweat burning the wound. He gritted his teeth, ready to be out of the stiff, hot wool suit.

  When he was next in line for his shield, a voice called out. “Welcome to the force, brother.”

  Ray Clarke stood in the third row of the officers onstage. Newly promoted to detective first grade, he flashed a perfect white smile, clearly proud of himself. Neither he nor Moose had found their parents’ killers yet, but the hunt was still on, and now they had joined the hunt for Monica.

  Dom stepped forward, next in line. Chief Stone held out his hand.

  “Dominic Salvatore, congratulations,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  They shook hands, and Dom accepted his shield and limped off the stage and down the aisle of empty seats. Behind home plate, the spectators clapped politely.

  Dom took in another deep breath, feeling a wave of pride like what he once felt after winning a fight in the Octagon. But the pride faded away.

  He didn’t deserve to feel anything but the guilt eating at his guts for not being able to protect Monica, and he wouldn’t allow himself to feel pride until he found her.

  After the ceremony, Camilla and Moose joined him in the parking lot. That they all were standing here together was nothing less than a miracle, and this wasn’t lost on any of them.

  In Dom’s eyes, Moose was a hero. He had saved both Dom and Camilla in the AMP office. But Moose didn’t see himself as anything special.

  “Don’t worry, Dom,” he said. “We’re going to find your si
ster, and we’re going to find the bastards who killed my parents. Then, when we do, we’re all going on a long vacation.”

  Camilla blinked. “Ugh, I’m not sure I want to come on a vacation with you two.”

  Moose laughed, but Dom didn’t feel much like it.

  “You’re stuck with us, Cam, like it or not,” Moose said.

  They started toward the buses that would ship them back to the LAPD headquarters, when a voice called out across the parking lot. Dom turned to see his father and his mother hurrying away from a parked Humvee.

  “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” Dom said.

  “Dominic,” Ronaldo called out.

  “Dad, Mom, what are you guys doing?” Dom said.

  For a moment, his beating heart hoped they had information about Monica. Was it possible? Had she been found?

  “Tried to make the tail end of the ceremony,” Ronaldo said. “I’m sorry we missed it.”

  Elena nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone full of resentment.

  Dom gave her a hug, hoping that someday she would forgive him and his dad for leaving her and Monica at the school. But he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

  “It’s okay; I didn’t expect you to come,” Dom said.

  Elena pulled away, her mascara a mess—evidence she had cried on the way here. She wasn’t doing well, and Dom wasn’t sure how to help her. She spent most days in their new housing unit, sitting and thinking while he and his father were out working or looking for Monica.

  He had already promised he would find her, and so had Ronaldo, but both knew that the chances were growing slimmer by the day.

  “Come on,” Ronaldo said. “We’ll give you a ride to the HQ.”

  Dom followed his parents back to their vehicle. He glanced over his shoulder at all the newly minted cops boarding buses, their eager faces so full of enthusiasm. How many of them would make it through their first year on the job? And how many of those who survived would still live by the department’s motto, “To protect and to serve,” when they saw the easy money to be made?

  Everyone from the mayor to the news anchors was fond of making blithe pronouncements about how the fight for Los Angeles was over, but Dom didn’t share their sunny outlook. He couldn’t escape the nagging sense that this was just the lull before an even bigger fight.