A/N: Here you go, as promised dear readers. You can read ahead on my Patreon. Title is inspired by my favorite episode in Star Wars Clone Wars.
Episode 32
Susan Coleman
Crowds lined their route out of LAXPD headquarters.
She frowned when she saw a woman lifting her top and started shaking her as their convoy passed by. She noticed the grins of the officers inside her vehicle, but focused her attention back to the prisoner transport vehicle ahead of her.
Around their convoy, ten officers from motors weaved ahead, blocking off intersections. She flinched when a rock hit her window.
"What was that?" She asked, looking around.
"People are growing crazy, chief." Her aide replied.
No shit. She looked ahead, her eyes narrowed in concern at what she saw. The city was in a state of frenzy after Alex Montel's promise of a reward to anyone who could free him, and the media was not helping at all. They had fanned the flames with their constant replaying of the footage of the 100 million dollar promise. Her office was swamped with calls, and agencies were already lining up, fighting to have the infamous international criminal in their jurisdiction.
"Contact!" Her driver yelled out.
She watched in horror as their lead car was t-boned in an intersection by a van.
"Behind us!" Her aide cried out. She looked back and saw another car, a pick-up truck, trailing them. She ducked down as the back window of the vehicle she was in shattered. Her officers fired back, and she covered her ears and closed her eyes.
"Shots fired! Shots fired!"
"Gun it!" She cried out. "Get us out of here!"
The rest of the convoy swerved past the wreckage. Her heart was beating fast. This was not supposed to happen!
"Send EMS to those men!" She started calling on Central. She needed Metro for this. To hell with cutting costs, her life was on the line here!
"Get Cortez to send out her platoons to Central." She called over the phone.
"Even Delta? They're under investigation at the moment."
"Yes! Even them! Call Hondo in!" She seethed. If these criminals and delinquents wanted to play hardball, she's show them what she was capable of.
They arrived back at Central, and she could see her officers had formed a perimeter around the station. Civilians lined the barricade, holding up signs. Several women even had their tits out with signs asking Montez to marry them. Disgusting and pathetic.
Montez patiently waited as chains were secured on his feet and arms after they got off the prisoner transport vehicle. The man still wore that amused smirk on his face, and his smile widened when he spotted a live broadcast on a nearby TV covering their convoy and the promise of 100 million dollars.
"Yo Ese, you for real?" A tattooed gangster called out while Montez was escorted to his cell. That set off the others behind the bars, each shouting over the other. She needed to transport him to a federal facility, fast.
Jack Routh
"It's your money."
Zoe told him as they walked around the neighborhood while holding hands. She suggested that they take an afternoon stroll around their neighborhood to check out the Halloween decorations. It was a relaxing moment, and he enjoyed watching little kids in various costumes running around collecting candies while their parents chased after them.
"Our money." He corrected her. They had a quick wedding in Vegas without any preparation at all, and there wasn't even a prenup.
"Our money." Zoe nodded. She knew by now that he could be very stubborn. "I loved Wesley and Camille's idea to restructure your donations."
His wife wore an almost vindictive smile as Camille sent out the letters to the banks and the charity organizations to which he donated his earnings from working along with Taylor, and funneled the money to the foundation Wesley helped him establish for his preferred charities. Their retaliation was enacted by basically pulling all their funding from the charity organizations previously headed by Coleman, before she got promoted to chief of police.
"Honey, look at that!" Zoe pointed at a particular house.
It looked like it was designed to look like a haunted house, and the props were top-notch, and it even included outdoor lighting that gave the exterior walls an unearthly purple glow. It looked like it belonged to a Hollywood set rather than in their neighborhood.
It was popular too, and he noticed how many parents and their kids were taking photos in front of it. The family who lived inside wore elaborate costumes with what looked like professionally done make-up.
There was a woman dressed like some zombie bride with gray skin and with a tattered gown to match that handed out candies and talking to the parents. What looked like her husband in a matching tattered suit and a top hat performed magic tricks, pulling candies out of little kid's ears.
He was never a big fan of Halloween, but he did appreciate the effort some of their neighbors made. At least he had set up that candy vending machine attached outside their gate, thanks to Howard's help. It automatically dispensed a fixed amount of candy, and it even opened at random moments, revealing a scary clown head laughing like a cuckoo clock.
"Welcome to the house of horror!" The mother with the undead bride costume noticed them and waved in their direction.
"Impressive setup." Zoe replied. "How long did it take to set all of these up?"
"We're veterans about this." The woman smiled. "You must be new here."
"We're from Rosewood and decided to take a look at the neighborhood." His wife replied. "We just moved to our house half a year ago."
A loud whistle interrupted their conversation. The husband who performed the magic tricks earlier moved closer to them.
"Rosewood, huh?" The man noted. "The houses over there usually have bigger land areas. You're lucky to find a property there, since anything that's for sale is automatically snatched up within days. Corner lot?"
He realized the man was addressing him and nodded in reply. "Yeah, we got a corner lot."
"My husband's a real estate agent." The woman added and offered a handshake. "I'm Claire, and this is Phil."
"I'm Zoe, and this is my husband Jack." His wife returned the greeting.
"Want to take a closer look?" Phil offered. "We have more decorations in our backyard."
Zoe agreed, and Phil gave a quick tour of their property.
The house was nice, but he preferred a more secure perimeter protecting his property. The houses here had open lawns, and anyone could just walk in and knock on their door.
"You're really lucky about getting property in Rosewood. There are rumors there, you know." Phil mock whispered.
"Phil…" Claire rolled her eyes and stared at them. "He believes Celebrities are moving in there bit by bit, and that they have some secret Illuminati group. That's why property prices in that street are so high."
"It's not nonsense," Phil argued. "I saw Jessica Chastain once, with Taylor Swift!"
"Sure." Claire snorted. "I'm sorry for Phil. He has a very active imagination. He just likes driving around at times, and he especially enjoys looking at that corner property at Rosewood."
"It's for market research!" Phil explained.
"What corner property?" Zoe asked.
"That Spanish Bungalow with a big tree and red tile roof." Phil replied. "It's a real estate agent's dream home to sell. Corner lot, on top of an elevated hill, total privacy…"
He shared an amused look with his wife, and Zoe gave a barely noticeable shake of her head.
They left the horror house a few minutes later, and Phil even handed him some chocolate bars as a belated welcome gift to the neighborhood.
"They were nice." He observed as they continued their stroll.
"They were." Zoe agreed. "Claire gave me some good ideas for next year's Halloween. They quickly finished their tour and even helped a lost toddler in a dinosaur costume who was crying, looking for his parents.
The little boy picked Zoe to carry him, and they went to the nearest houses, knocking on doors to ask for information. The eighth door provided the answer.
A frantic mother whose hair was a mess opened it, and gasped as soon as she saw them.
"Mikey!!!"
"Mama!" The little boy raised his arms from Zoe's neck into the direction of his mother.
"Thank you! Thank you!" The mother cried. "Steve! Mikey's here!"
A man quickly appeared, phone in hand. It looked like he was talking to someone.
"Sorry, our son has been found. Thank you, I'm sorry for the trouble. No, I won't need an ambulance. Good night."
"Thank you!" The father quickly shook their hands. "I was hanging decorations, and he must have run off while I wasn't looking."
"It's no problem." Zoe replied with a smile. "We saw him just a few blocks down the street, alone, around the corner."
"I ran in the wrong direction in my panic." The father bowed his head in shame.
"Everyone makes mistakes." Zoe shook her head. "At least now you'll be more vigilant with your children."
"And you." Zoe leaned in front of Mikey and playfully bopped the tip of his nose with her finger, causing the little boy to giggle. "No more trick or treating on your own, okay?"
"Kay!"
The strange, happy, and wistful expression on Zoe's face caught his attention. He held her tightly against him on their slow walk back home. He knew what was on his mind.
Their moment of peace was interrupted as Zoe's phone rang. Her face transformed into that serious expression as his wife carefully listened to the speaker on the phone. Judging by the way her lips pressed into a thin line meant it wasn't good news at all.
"There's a problem." Zoe looked at him. "That's Jessica Cortez, calling you in. Hondo's calling everyone, even those on vacation."
"What's this about?" He asked.
"They caught a big fish at LAX. Alex Montez, son of the leader of the Montez Crime Family." Zoe shared. "Even the Pentagon keeps tabs on them, and they're very big on illegal arms smuggling in Africa and Asia. He's wanted in over a dozen countries."
"That's a high-value prisoner." He mused. "The information he knows… so Cortez wants us to guard him?"
"The other platoons can do that if that's the case." She replied. "No, it's much worse. He promised 100 million dollars to a news crew for anyone who could get him free. The chief's convoy escorting him from LAXPD to Central was attacked. Other divisions say there's increased activity in crime all over the city. We're on high alert."
"We'd better get to Mid-Wilshire." He replied.
"And let's bring our gear." Zoe nodded in agreement. "It will be a warzone out there, and with Halloween night…"
"It's the perfect storm." He finished for her. If D platoon was getting reactivated, that meant the new chief was desperate.
They reached Mid-Wilshire in record time. He could hear emergency sirens all over, with the bullpen busy with several officers. Grey was already waiting, and he could see the older sergeant's posture relax when he saw them arrive.
"Captain! Boy, am I glad to see you." Grey, without wasting time, handed his wife a folder.
"What have we got?" She asked.
"Criminal activity is on the rise thanks to Montez. Some gangs have gotten bolder, and one started a turf war with another." Grey replied.
"Ignore petty crimes for the moment and focus on that." Zoe ordered. "Make sure it doesn't spill out and involve innocent civilians. Advise residents to stay indoors."
"On Halloween?"
"Either they get their kids candies or get robbed and or worse." Zoe replied.
"I need to get to Central." He told the two. "I'll keep you updated."
"Be safe." Zoe squeezed his hand, and he quickly left to get his gear.
He was about to leave and borrow a shop when he was stopped outside the armory by Lopez and Bradford. They were also wearing the navy blue tactical gear of the Mid-Wilshire division.
"Chief Coleman is requesting additional reinforcements for Central." Angela stated as she patted the rifle she carried. Tim carried a similar firearm.
"We're your back-up." Bradford added.
He nodded in thanks and they soon left the station in Bradford's shop. They all wore grim faces, seeing the state of their city. It was like a warzone, with several emergency vehicles in the streets. There was a checkpoint a block from Central Station. They were let through after a brief inspection. Outside the perimeter, hundreds of people lined the hastily set-up barricade, holding up signs and screaming and cheering as news vans covered the scene.
He knew this was going to be a long night.
Brian Gamble
This was the perfect opportunity. 100 million dollars was enough to disappear and live the life he always wanted. Getting booted out of SWAT for doing the right thing was the last straw, and now he had several accomplices thanks to some bullshit investigation about corruption.
"D platoon just arrived in the Central garage."
Perfect. He knew Hondo would be called in even if he was under investigation.
"Good, just keep me informed." He called out. "Tell me if they're transferring him."
"Transferring? Why?"
He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. It was difficult working with amateurs sometimes.
"That new chief will not want the heat focused on her station and the city. Montez is too hot to carry, and if I'm right, they'll first use the safest option, and I'm here to prevent that." He replied.
"Oh… right. Got it."
He settled down in the van, stretching, eating, and hydrating when needed. The shot would be difficult, but nothing he couldn't handle.
He was close to getting the high score in Subway Surfers when the warning came in.
"They're bringing him up!"
"Copy. Just hang tight for the fireworks." He replied. He headed back to the van and opened the back, and prepared his McMillian 88 anti-material sniper rifle and his .50 BMG cartridge. He had used this often during his Navy SEAL days, and with the right shot, could disable an armored vehicle. Helicopters were no match with their aluminum skin.
The orange wind cone at the helipad was the perfect indicator for wind speed, and he adjusted his scope. He had to account for many variables, including the crosswinds and the bullet's drop. A thousand yards was a long shot after all, but the helicopter was a big target, full of delicate systems.
Ten minutes later, he heard the familiar sound of Rotors. He looked at his scope and smiled. As he expected, it was D platoon that was taking point for the close-in security for the high-value prisoner, with Beta and Charlie taking the perimeter.
"Hello, Hondo." He smiled when he spotted his old sergeant. It was tempting to try and hit him in the head, but that would only give away his position too early. It looked like they had new members too, and there he could see his old partner, Jim Street, directing positions of coverage.
The helicopter flew over the parking building he was on, and within moments, it rotated itself for a landing on the helipad. He took careful aim, noted the strength of the wind blowing and its direction thanks to the orange cone. He compensated with these new variables and exhaled and pressed the trigger.
The van shook, but he remained focused on the helicopter as his bullet traveled. It looked like it hit the chassis, and he aimed once more and adjusted from where his first bullet landed and aimed a bit higher.
His second shot was money. He could see the D-squad panicking as the helicopter tilted and started to lose control. Hondo reacted quickly and hurried back to the building, while the pilot struggled to maintain control of the helicopter. It slammed violently into the helipad, the rotors hitting the machinery, probably generators and AC compressors.
The explosion came soon after, and he smiled in satisfaction. Now that the helipad was inoperable, they had no choice but to use a vehicle. And it looked like the helicopter explosion destroyed their air conditioners and back-up generators. That meant the Central police station would get uncomfortable soon.
He gave a signal to his driver, and the van soon left the parking building.
Daniel "Hondo" Harrrelson
"What the hell happened?" Coleman asked.
"Someone shot an LAPD airship down." Her aide replied.
Their safest bet to transport to a federal prison Montez failed.
"How did that happen?" The chief asked once again. He could see she was not handling this crisis well.
"My guess is someone used a big-bore rifle." Routh answered.
He smiled, seeing how the Chief was forced to swallow her pride as she tolerated the man's presence. Jessica had told him this was all a bitch fest in the first place.
"Probably a .50 caliber, with somebody that knows how to use it." Routh continued speaking. "And since we couldn't identify the sniper, he's probably camped out on top of one of the buildings, around 800 yards out or more."
"Without the helipad…" Jessica started speaking, but was rudely interrupted.
"I don't care that the helipad is inoperable." Coleman scolded them.
"Chief Coleman?" An aide popped her head inside the briefing room.
"Yes?"
"I have Mayor Stevens on the line for you."
"So it's my ass now that's on the line." Coleman shook her head. "You drop a plan, execute it, and don't screw this up! I want that asshole out of here, now!"
With the helipad above ruined, they had no choice. He ignored Coleman's tantrum as she dramatically left the room, slamming the door behind her, and focused on his boss and girlfriend.
"We'll have three decoys." Cortez laid out a plan. "Three convoys will head out all at the same time. I want everyone to be armored and be ready for an ambush."
"Sergeant Yamada." Cortez turned to the sergeant of Beta Platoon. "You're in command of convoy 1, take the northern route."
"Got it." Yamada nodded.
"Sergeant Howard. You're with convoy 2, take the southern route. Sergeant Hondo, Convoy 3, West route." Cortez crossed her arms and stared at the three of them in the eye. "Take all precautions, expect an ambush, with how the city has gone crazy."
"Yes, Captain." He replied. "I have a suggestion."
"What is it?" Jessica asked.
He knew they would be the ones to watch over the prisoner. Perhaps another secret convoy would be needed, and he didn't need too many men for that, just his most capable officers. He glanced at Street, Tan, and Routh and decided on a plan. That way, they'll be able to ride without any worry and hide in plain sight with an unmarked vehicle.
"There's an access tunnel that leads to a parking building, right?"
"Go on." He watched the smile on Jessica's pretty face. He knew she would love his idea.
Alex Montez
They were running around like headless chickens.
He was amused that just a few words from him would cause so much chaos. He should have shouted more words at that news crew. Americans. They were so easily rattled.
His smile slipped when a new group of police officers came in. Even the prisoners in the holding cells further down the hall lowered their voices. These were different. He noted their gear, tactical vests, helmets, and the rifles carried with familiarity and ease. Leading this group was a bald black man whose face instantly told him he was a killer.
He instantly knew who they were. They were perhaps the most famous civilian law enforcement unit in the world, even surpassing some other military special forces in training. They had been portrayed multiple times in the old American TV shows he used to watch, and he recently watched their operation against those airplane hijackers that even reached France's media networks. They were SWAT.
"You're coming with us." The leader of the group held up a ballistic vest while another member of their squad moved behind him to probably help secure the vest around his torso. As his cuffs were being removed, he slammed the back of his head into the officer behind him. He heard a grunt of pain, and then suddenly cursed as his knees slammed into the hard floor.
"Merde!" He cursed. The officer behind him, in retaliation, had placed his hands on his shoulder and forcibly made him kneel on the hard floor with incredible force.
"Cute. You okay, Routh?" The leader asked.
"Just peachy." The large man behind him replied. He glared up at the officer and noted how big he was. Hazel eyes stared back at him without flinching at all.
"When this is over, I'm going to skin you alive." He spoke in his native tongue.
"Try me. I'll probably break your legs before this day ends." He was surprised when this Routh replied in French.
"What did he say?" He heard one of the officers ask.
"He was trying to act tough." Routh answered and patted him on the head like some dog. "I told him I'll respond in kind."
That was not their conversation, and he gave a wary look at the intimidating cop looming over him. Perhaps he acted too rashly. No, he would be patient and make a move when the time came. His uncle was still loyal to him, and he knew the man would launch a rescue operation before he could be transferred to a federal facility.
His knees still hurt when they forced him to climb the stairs to the helipad, but that was all worth it when he watched the helicopter suddenly lose control and crash. That was an amazing shot, and he looked around, trying to see who was trying to help him. Perhaps he could shout a message, but Routh had already pulled him back inside the stairwell.
He was given some food and drink, but there was always a SWAT officer who guarded him outside his temporary cell. A few hours later, he was led to the basement and passed through a series of tunnels until they reached what appeared to be a parking building. His knees ached when he walked, but his escort didn't care about his comfort and nudged him forward whenever he slowed down. Barbarians.
The SWAT officers from earlier remained close to him, and he was led to a waiting SUV. The squad leader and Routh remained with him, along with two more officers. Strange, he had expected to be led to the armored transport truck. Those were quite spacious and had good AC. Here, he was sandwiched between two burly men.
"Hiding in plain sight?" He noted.
"You've caused enough trouble for this city." The leader replied.
They were vigilant. He noted the way they kept their eyes on him at all times, hands close to their weapons as they left the building. Outside, he squinted as the California sun's bright glare pierced through the tint from the sunroof. He looked around and realized there was only one unmarked car that acted as their escort.
"How are you over there, Yamada?" He watched as the leader got on his radio and listened in.
"Nothing so far, Hondo." The voice on the radio replied. Now he had a name for the leader.
"Howard, what's your status?" Hondo switched to another channel.
"All clear here, Hondo."
The leader then checked in on another person, and he began to piece things up. They must have deployed three convoys, visible with escorts. It was an enticing target for anyone.
"Contact! Contact!" The third person Hondo contacted cried out. "Shots fired! Jesus Christ!"
The radio cut off immediately, and in the SUV, the silence was deafening.
"American greed." He spoke up, breaking the silence. He immediately felt the glares, but he didn't care.
"Shut up." The officer sitting at the front on the passenger's side turned and glared at him.
"So reliable." He smiled. At least this one was more amusing to talk to, unlike Routh.
"Shut up!" The officer repeated. "Fellow officers are in danger because you shot your mouth off. Some could even be dead."
"Street." Hondo leaned forward and tapped the angry officer on the shoulder. Street, what a strange name for a police officer
"That's how I like cops, dead." He sneered.
"I like my criminals broken." Routh joined in and casually slapped a large hand on his left knee, causing him to hiss in pain. Seriously, as soon as he was free, he'd have this brute killed.
"I'll have you dismembered while you're still alive." He spoke in Russian this time.
"You'll soon be in federal prison. Little guy like you with a French accent? You'd be currency in there." Routh replied back in Russian. Seriously, who was this guy? He couldn't identify any features, since Routh wore a black mask that only showed his eyes. His French was fluent, and he had to admit the man's Russian was better than his.
Was Routh inserted by his own government just to secure him? Was he part of the Commando d'Action Sous-Marine? GIGN?
"He's still trying to act smart." Routh explained to the others.
"Didn't know you could speak that many languages." Hondo observed.
"It didn't come up." Routh answered.
He needed to be more careful. It was clear that this city sent its best cops to guard him. He was suddenly worried that no one would be able to free him, and they were nearly halfway out of the city.
Kenneth Yamada
The convoy of 5 shops and an armored prisoner transport truck left Central. Around him, his men kept their guard, knowing full well they could be shot at any moment.
"Steady, boys." He called out. "We're approaching the most likely ambush spot."
His timing couldn't be more perfect. As soon as he finished speaking, their lead car was rammed by an 18-wheeler that came out from an alley.
"We're under attack!" He shouted. "Move!"
Their rear car was T-boned by another truck. He looked around as gunmen appeared on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. His men responded quickly and responded with their own weapons.
"This is Convoy one!" He called on his radio. "We're trapped and need reinforcements!"
He looked around and spotted a laundry shop. "Ram to that shop! We need better cover!"
They were the decoy, and they were supposed to attract those dumb enough to believe they would really get that reward from Montez. He just didn't expect their plan to be this methodical.
His driver listened and crashed into the laundry shop, and the two remaining vehicles followed suit. He was thinking of his men in the chase and lead car, he needed to see if they were okay.
"Secure this position." He barked. Bullets were still raining down on them. He flinched when a large explosion erupted behind the cars, just outside the laundromat.
"What was that?" He asked.
"Grenades! They're throwing grenades, sergeant!" One of his men warned.
"Pull back!" He ordered. "What's the ETA of our reinforcements?"
"Sergeant Howard's Convoy got attacked." His second in command reported. "Sergeant Pearson is also trapped and requesting immediate assistance!"
He cursed under his breath. He needed to act, fast. He looked around, and noted the injuries his men had suffered. They were lucky, a few had been shot, but the additional plate they added inside their ballistic vests worked, though he could tell a few had broken ribs with the way they were standing.
"Find an exit out of this building." He ordered. "We need to get out of this death trap and circle around and check the status of the two vehicles and our men inside them. We're on our own for the time being, boys."
He received grim nods in turn. They didn't expect the sheer number of men that attacked their convoy. This situation had snafued so quickly.
Ralf Howard
He wheezed whenever he moved, and it was getting harder to breathe. He was pretty sure he had a few ribs broken, but he'd rather have that than have his insides turned into goo. The bastards didn't use handguns, but higher caliber weaponry.
"They're falling back!"
The neighborhood had turned into a warzone, but their four-vehicle convoy had survived the ambush. It cost them though, and a few of his men were shot. They were given first aid and their wounds patched, but he needed to get them to a hospital soon.
"Get us to the hospital!" His men's lives were the first priority.
The ambush nearly worked, but the driver of the armored transport car used his vehicle to ram the SUVs blocking their path. He was not surprised that the gunmen were reluctant to shoot at the transport truck, and they used it as their lead vehicle, turning it into a makeshift battering ram against the obstacles the ambushers placed before them.
There was going to be hell to pay when this was over, and he wanted to make sure those assholes paid the price.
"Sir! Convoy three is pinned down!" His man working the radio reported. "They turned into a dead end and are trapped!"
It felt like the whole city had risen up against them. It was a surreal feeling, seeing law and order totally breaking down. "Reinforcements?"
"They're trying to reach them, but there's a large group of armed men holed up in several buildings." His radio guy suddenly cursed. "Sergeant Farrows is dead. Shot in the head. They're reporting several wounded too, and that they need urgent medical attention."
Shit. Farrows was dead, and that meant he had to be the one to tell his wife and kids. "Tell Spears to split up and head to the nearest hospital with our wounded. We're going in to help."
"Sir?"
"We'll use the armored truck." He replied. "Those boys and girls need our help, and Farrows would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed."
"Yes, Sergeant!" His second nodded and started relaying orders once more. They were no longer being chased by those crazy gunmen in dirt bikes, and he could only hope they would get there in time.
Zoe Andersen Routh
She listened in on the emergency command frequency with Grey sitting in her couch. Mid-Wilshire had an increased tick of violent crimes being reported, and she made sure to send out all of her officers, even those who worked the desks out in the streets. They needed to be visible and serve as a strong deterrence for the general public.
"This is getting bad." Grey noted after they listened in on the conversation between the chief and the responding captains. Jessica Cortez's voice was strained, and she felt pity for her counterpart in Rampart as the new chief tried to shift the blame.
She nodded at Grey's statement. "Our fellow officers are already dying out there, and their bodies are not even cold, and she's already started the blame game."
"Those gangs must have banded up together to be able to field so many combatants." Grey observed. "How's Hondo's squad?"
"Still maintaining radio silence." She replied. Jack told her he would be unable to message her for the entire duration of their mission due to operational security. She had to give it to Hondo, springing up a backup plan at the last minute meant they were able to avoid what was happening to the other three convoys.
It was a risky, but bold move. They basically had no escort as they escorted the most wanted man in the world to federal prison.
"No, the HRT is not needed at this time. Thank you for offering your assistance."
Fuck. Garza was telling Susan Coleman that their famous tactical unit could step in at any given time, and the chief rejected it.
"I'll accept the offer." Jessica Cortez's voice came through the speaker. "Please, send out your men to aid Sergeant Farrow's group. They're in desperate need of assistance."
Hell yeah. She promised that she'd give Jessica a few bottles of her favorite champagne the next time she saw her. That took guts, and it looked like the chief wasn't happy.
"We have no time to keep playing politics or keeping up appearances, Chief." Cortez snapped. She wished she were there in that conference room in person. She'd pay a thousand dollars just to see the look on Coleman's face right now. "Remember, it was your plan to bring Montez to central instead of shipping him directly to a federal prison from the terminal. Lives are on the line."
"How dare you…"
She wanted to pump her fist in celebration, but Wade had done it for her already. Jessica would probably have to retire after this. Incompetent or not, she had just publicly humiliated the current chief of police in front of her peers and captains like her listening in through a secure communications channel.
Garza's voice came back, speaking as if Coleman wasn't making strange noises from her throat as she processed what Jessica stated.
"I'll inform their commander." The FBI agent promised.
"There's a problem with Hondo's convoy!" She heard a new voice speak up. It sounded breathless and strained as if the voice it came from had just run a hundred yards at full speed.
"What is it?" Coleman asked.
"They never reached the pre-planned third checkpoint."
She immediately sat up. Jack was in danger.
Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson
The impact came out of nowhere. He couldn't move and felt their vehicle spin and then suddenly stop as he felt the chassis hit something solid.
The window beside him shattered, and he only had a glimpse before a flash of light and a disorienting sound messed with his senses.
He coughed, moaning, but he couldn't make sense of anything at all. He heard new voices and ducked instinctively when he heard gunshots.
The door opened, and he felt something move past him along with a rattling of chains.
"Hey.."
"Hondo?"
"Hondo!"
Somebody was shouting near his ear.
"Fuck!" He opened his eyes and realized everything was still a blur. He tried to stand, but a white hot burst of pain lanced from his arm.
"Don't move, Hondo." He heard Routh's voice. "You got the worst of the stun grenade."
"Montez?" He asked.
"Gone." Routh answered. "Jim got wounded, but he knew who hit us."
"Who?"
"Someone named Gamble. Street said he was a former SWAT." This time, it was Chris' voice that he heard. He was already beginning to see shapes and colors, and turned his head to Chris' voice. Her figure slowly came into focus, and he immediately noticed she was pressing a bandage to Street's thigh. Jim was gritting his teeth as a bandage was being applied to his leg. Damn.
"You good, Street?"
"Bullet grazed my thigh." Street hissed as Chris applied disinfectant. "Hurts like a bitch, but I can move."
He looked around and realized they were on a sidewalk. Their vehicle had been flipped to its side. There was an abandoned tow truck that was pinned to the concrete wall of a building.
"Where's the chase car?" He asked.
"They got hit too. " Jim answered and pointed to the end of the street. He cursed when he saw Viktor and the rest of his men tending to their injuries. It looked like they got shot too, and Tan had a nasty gash on the side of his head, but the man was still treating his fellow officers with first aid.
"Where's McCabe?" He made a quick count of his squad. They were battered, wounded, but everyone was still alive.
"Hondo, he disappeared with Gamble after the attack." Street looked pissed. "And they set up jammers somewhere, preventing us from calling for support. I couldn't get through to dispatch to call for help."
"They knew our plan. Someone was feeding Gamble our fucking itinerary." He resisted the urge to punch. They lost Montez.
"Who is Gamble?" Routh asked.
"He's a former member of this squad." He replied as he started checking his equipment and gear. "He got kicked out when he mouthed off to the captain after shooting a civilian to get to a gunman. The woman sued, and it cost the department millions in a settlement."
"Shit." Chris cursed.
"That's how crazy Brian Gamble is." Street added. "He's an excellent shot, a former Delta force operator before he joined the LAPD."
He forced himself to stand up amidst Chris's protest. Viktor came over, but he noticed how the man was unsteady on his feet.
"We'll live." Viktor reported without being asked to. "But we need to get to a hospital soon. Henry got a piece of metal stuck to his arm. I don't want to remove it."
"And you?" He asked.
"Banged up, probably a concussion," Viktor replied.
It couldn't end like this, with fucking betrayal. He never realized Gamble would be willing to do this, and even ask one of his men to betray him. He looked at his remaining men, and they all looked eager for some payback. He heard an airship approaching and realized they needed to move, fast.
"They couldn't have gone far." He looked around the area.
"I saw them head to the sewers." Street shared.
"Then there's no time to waste." He answered. "Viktor, stay back and take care of Henry, and have McNelly find a way to call for aid. Fire some flares to get that bird's attention. That Jammer's radius couldn't be that large."
"On it."
"The rest of you, we move, now. Routh, take the lead." His lead scout should be alert, and it looked like Routh and Chris survived with the least amount of injuries. He and Jim followed behind the big guy with Chris protecting their rear.
Jack Routh moved quickly, acting like some experienced scout as he gave hand signals whenever he reached an intersection. The large man kneeled to the ground and found their attacker's spoor, footprints, disturbed sludge, and trash. He was impressed with Routh's sharp eyes, and it felt like he was back on patrol with the Marines.
They were moving quickly now, he could feel it. Gamble and Montez must be close by. The anticipation he felt grew and he tightened the grip on his rifle. And T.J. He plucked that cocky asshole from 77th. He trained him, recommended him for Metro and this was how he would repay him? He wanted answers.
He remembered the conversation between Alex Montez and Jim before they got hit. Montez praised American greed. Did he already know about T.J. and Gamble's plan to bust him out?
He snapped his gaze forward when Routh stopped.
"What is it?" He asked.
"They left phosphorescent paint." Routh ran one finger on the wall and sniffed it. "They left markers so they won't get lost down here."
"Then we're on the right track." He was seriously impressed by his scout's tracking skills. It was another addition to Jack Routh's list of mysterious skills, and how the fuck did he know them? They moved further along, avoiding trash and debris that ended up inside the sewer tunnels. He saw smoke start to thicken in the tunnel, and he suppressed the urge to cough.
He could see the sewer gate at a distance and was about to take the lead when Routh held out an arm, stopping him from moving.
"Trip wire." Routh spoke before he could protest.
Alex Montez
The extraction could have gone better.
His knees, already injured thanks to that strange multilingual SWAT officer, flared with pain every time he took a step. The impact from the tow truck banged up his poor knees even worse. His rescuers were already complaining about his pace, but he was confident they wouldn't leave him. These Americans were crude and barbaric, but at least their audacious plan worked.
The flashbang worked too well. He wanted to at least shoot Routh in the head, but when he regained his senses and recovered, they were already deep in the tunnels. It looked like their leader knew what he was doing, though he still sensed some hesitation from their spy. The rest of the four armed men looked competent enough and didn't hesitate to follow Gamble's orders.
"What the fuck?" Their spy complained when Gamble produced a Claymore mine. "This was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab!"
"You know this will only slow them down." Gamble expertly set up what looked like a booby trap. He nodded in approval to see his rescuer's ruthlessness. "Look, I know you're still pissed, but Henry was a threat, T.J."
"Henry was my friend." This T.J. was starting to become a liability.
"He was mine too!" Gamble countered. "But let's argue about it in paradise, yeah? No more Hondo, nor more ungodly working hours risking your life every day for an ungrateful city."
"If it's bitches you want in your paradise, I have plenty." He added, attracting the attention of the two men. They were naïve to think he'd just give them 100 million dollars just like that. He saw their skill, and while he would honor his promise, he'd make sure they would be working for him after this was all said and done. He could use some American recklessness in his organization.
"And stop crying." He turned to this T.J. What a weird name. "You can buy new friends."
He squinted when T.J. pointed his rifle with its flashlight on right on his face.
"Don't give me any more reason to kill you." T.J. warned him.
What an amateur. That was not how one was supposed to deliver a threat, and this one was soft. The other men didn't seem to care about this SWAT officer's actions, but he could see how they moved their fingers to their triggers, ready to stop T.J. from doing anything rash.
"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" He asked, staring at T.J. right in the eye. He could see the doubt and fear in the cop's eyes.
"You should relax a little bit, my friend." He continued speaking and started walking once more. "I'm the money here, and don't you forget it."
They left the sewer gate, but not before Gamble deployed a smoke grenade near the booby trap. He was starting to like this man. There was already an SUV waiting for them, and as soon as they left, Gamble started to chain up the gate tightly and placed a heavy-duty padlock. He would give this man a bonus when he was free.
"You smell like shit." The driver waiting for them observed.
"That will be the sewer." He replied. This one he'd have his tongue cut off.
He sat inside the SUV, enjoying the AC, but wondered why they were not moving. Gamble was staring back at the tunnel with concern etched on his face.
"What is it?" He asked. "I don't hear anything."
"And that's the problem." Gamble replied. "They must have defused the mine. Let's move!"
Their convoy of two cars immediately left. He looked ahead and wondered how Gamble and his men would plan to smuggle him out of the country.
Jack Routh
Jim Street quickly disarmed the booby trap, but they encountered another obstacle. It looked like Gamble had locked the gate behind them with thick chains and a padlock. One glance and he knew just shooting the blasted thing wouldn't work. They'd have to find their way back once more and find another exit. They were so close.
"I got an idea." Street hurried back to the previously booby trapped junction and came back with the Claymore.
"You're not seriously considering using an anti-personnel claymore to break that gate open!" Chris looked alarmed.
"We don't have a choice." He replied, watching as Jim expertly rigged the device to explode in a set time. They moved back a good distance and watched as their fellow officer ran back to their area. A few seconds later and they were assaulted by the shockwave from the explosion. He peeked around the corner and smiled in relief when he saw that the metal gate was now open, barely hanging on to the frame with one hinge still intact.
Hondo wasted no time and started checking on the radio.
"Dispatch, this is 30-David."
"This is 70-David. Hondo, where the hell were you?" The Captain sounded annoyed.
"We were chasing the suspects deep in the sewer network." Hondo responded. "Among the suspects are former SWAT officer Brian Gamble and Officer T.J. McCabe. They ambushed us on route to checkpoint 3. Currently in pursuit of suspects but we have lost visuals."
"What's your location?"
"We're somewhere around sixth and Trenton." Hondo looked around. "Where's our back-up?"
"None." Cortez replied. "There have been reports that the runway lights in Hawthorne airport have been turned on. The chief thinks they're going there to fly Montez out of our jurisdiction."
"That's the other side of town!" Hondo replied. "Send some units to pick us up."
"I'll divert some that are en route to Hawthorne." Cortez answered. "ETA is 25 minutes."
That was too long. They ran to the street and attempted to flag down a car. They were outright ignored, and he stepped into traffic and waved his rifle at an approaching limo.
"Police! We're using your vehicle!" He called out. "This is an emergency!"
The limo driver looked nervous. "They're just some kids in the back…."
Chris opened the door, and a bunch of teens in tuxedos and dresses stepped out. The limo smelled of weed, and it looked like they were hot boxing.
"Get an Uber." He told the nervous teens. If he were on patrol on a normal day, he would have taken them to the station.
They dived into the limousine with Hondo behind the wheel and Street sitting on the passenger side. He spotted some sodas and alcohol drinks and popped open a cold can of Sprite. Chris copied his actions and even handed a few to Hondo and Street at the front.
He sighed in relief. From the moment they were ambushed, he never had the time to sit down and rest, even for a minute. With some time to think, he recalled the events leading to where they were now. Something was not right. It was strange for Gamble to break his pattern from what he observed of their situation.
"This doesn't add up, Hondo." He spoke through the narrow privacy partition. "Since our attempt to get Montez to the federal facility with the helicopter, Gamble was always one step ahead of us."
"You think Hawthorne airport is a diversion?" Street asked.
"That's right." He nodded. "This time, we're alerted to the plan because of some running lights? Securing Hawthorne will take up a good chunk of our units. Gamble has to know that."
"There's a full moon tonight." He glanced at the night sky. "Even a rookie pilot could land in a runway without running lights."
"Gamble means to fly out Montez." Street noted.
"He can't get out of the city." Hondo mused. "All heliports and airports are being monitored. What's he planning?"
"What about that?" Chris pointed to a plane with full running lights on descending into the city. "Either they built a new airport downtown, or that plane is descending for a landing."
"There's no airport in that area." Hondo noted.
He opened up his phone and pulled up a map. He looked for any suitable straight lines, but he couldn't find anything. The streets were all too narrow, short, and uneven for a plane to properly land. He spotted a line and his eyes widened in surprise. No, that was too reckless, but it perfectly fit into Gamble's history from what he observed.
"The Sixth Street Bridge." He spoke up. "That's the only straight, flat piece of road that the plane can land."
"You've got to be kidding me." Chris shook her head in disbelief.
"How wide is the Sixth Street bridge?" Hondo asked.
"Four lanes across, plus sidewalk." He replied. "A small plane could land there if the pilot is skilled and brave enough."
"Sounds good to me." Hondo turned the wheel and sharply turned to a corner. "Chris, tell the captain that Learjet is about to land on the Sixth Street Bridge."
"On it."
Jessica Cortez
"Can you repeat that?"
"A plane is descending on the Sixth Street Bridge. We're on route to intercept." Chris Alonso reported on the radio.
This brought the people in the command room into silence. She stared at the large display of the city. At Hawthorne airport, most of the reserves were already there, sent by the chief against her advice.
There were no units available, aside from one that she diverted to pick up Hondo and his four men. She noted the radio call sign and smiled.
She saw Susan Coleman slump back in her seat, defeat written all over her face. Even her pet captains were looking at her with concern.
They just had a very public argument, with her stating it was not advisable to send all their reserves not involved in emergency response to Hawthorne Airport, but Coleman was too sure, too eager to redeem her name. She had even insinuated that Hondo and his squad were working with Gamble and wanted the entire team detained and investigated once they got back.
She got on the radio and contacted the unit.
"7-Adam-19, this is 70 David." She called out.
"7-Adam-19, go ahead." Tim Bradford's voice came out of the speaker.
"Reroute to Sixth Street Bridge." She replied. "20-David is in the area, we believe a jet is about to land there. That is where Alex Montez is planning to make his escape."
"10-4, 70-David." Bradford replied.
She noted the map carefully. From Alonzo's last report, they would arrive at nearly the right time to hit the bridge from the south side, while Bradford would arrive from the north a few minutes later. That was all she got at the moment, as the rest of her metro units were scrambling to get back to Sixth Bridge.
She knew Yamada was bone tired, but she had to admire the man's resilience to follow her orders after engaging in a running battle with some gangsters who were after Montez all afternoon.
Sergeant Farrows of the third convoy was dead. She would grieve later. The veteran cop mistakenly believed he would be safe sitting inside the armored transport vehicle, but their ambushers had focused on that vehicle and even threw a couple of grenades. Were they trying to save Montez or kill him?
He perished during the hour-long gun battle. This attacking group was the largest, and if it were not for the heroics of the FBI's HRT and Howard's courageous charge with his remaining vehicles, she knew that entire team would be wiped out.
She noted that Percy West was already making detailed notes throughout the day. She knew that a damning report would soon arrive that would bury Coleman's career. Her? She was prepared to resign her post after this. She knew she'd just committed career suicide after getting into a bitch fight with Coleman in front of all the brass.
Maybe she'd copy Zoe and get herself assigned to a more peaceful area like Pasadena after the dust has settled. Her boyfriend certainly spent enough time there, playing with some engineers and their toys.
Alex Montez
"Impressive." He remarked. The plane that was descending meant his freedom was near, and he would be able to travel in luxury too. He thought Gamble would smuggle him to Mexico in a cramped vehicle, but this was even better!
He couldn't believe this was happening. His smile grew wider as the plane smoothly landed on the asphalt. He could hear the engines whining as they engaged a reverse thrust to slow down. It looked like it was still traveling too fast, and he could hear the wheels screech as the pilot engaged the brakes. Gradually, it shed speed and finally stopped just a few feet from their parked SUVs.
He couldn't help it and started clapping and shot Gamble an impressed look. The crazy American did it!
Gamble quickly opened the hatch and climbed in. The passengers on board who must have owned the plane cried out in fear as they protested. The older grey grey-haired man protested, but Gamble merely pulled him off the plane and landed painfully on the asphalt.
The younger blonde wife with the lovely pearls screamed and attempted to follow her husband. "Richard!"
"Richard is gone." He needed entertainment anyway and wrapped an arm around the woman's waist and pushed her to the very back of the plane. She was a bit too old for his tastes, but she'd do. Plastic surgery still has it uses.
The rest of Gamble's men started to disperse, while two more climbed on board with them, as the plane was being turned around.
"Okay, let's go." He ordered and clapped his hands once. He was eager to get home.
"We got company!" One of Gamble's men warned him through the radio. "A limo just broke containment!"
"What do we do?" He asked. Gamble looked too calm for what was happening.
"I've got insurance." Gamble fished out a radio controller with an extendable antenna. "Just keep them coming."
He moved forward and watched through the cockpit as a gunfight erupted between the men in the two SUVs that blocked the other end of the bridge and a limo that was barreling towards them.
Just before the limo reached the SUVs, Gamble, crouching right beside him, pressed a button. "Boom."
The two SUVs exploded in a giant fireball, engulfing the limo along with it.
"You crazy bastard." He let out a chuckle as he spoke in his native language. His laugh died when the limo emerged from the explosion, and it was still headed towards them.
"It's not over yet." Gamble cursed and opened the hatch and started firing. He promised never to set foot in this cursed country ever again. Everyone had guns, and they all shrugged off explosions like they were simple fireworks. He just wanted to get out. What was wrong with these people?
Tim Bradford
Chen was coming along. He was confident he'd trained her enough that he believed she would be a pretty good cop. She lost that naivety, though it took months of hard effort to do that, and overall, he was satisfied with her progress at this stage of her training.
Seeing Angela pass the detective exam and appearing one day in the bull pen in civilian outfits with a badge clipped on her belt made him think of his future. What did he want next? He sometimes envied his fellow T.O. for knowing what she wanted in her career with certainty. She told him Routh would be her last trainee, and just like what she said months ago, she did it without any hesitation.
Wearing his tactical gear and receiving a rifle from the armory for his latest assignment made him remember his urge to see more action and use better gear. He wanted to join the Metro units, but he was given clear orders to help secure Central HQ.
Seeing the mob of civilians barely held back by the security perimeter made him realize why the new chief requested tactical units from nearby stations to help out. His city had gone crazy.
He and Angela watched with concern as numerous ambulances passed by, and he shared a concerned look with his temporary partner. Something must have happened, but they were out of the loop regarding Alex Montez and the LAPD's plan to transport him. All he knew was that three groups of vehicles left the central one after the other, chased by half a does news vans eager to catch a glimpse of the notorious international criminal.
"Any word from Jack?" He asked Angela during their break.
"No, and I don't expect him to send any message right now." Angela replied after she took a bite out of her sandwich. "They must have strict OPSEC guidelines at the moment, and he's in Hondo's squad. That means what they're doing is the most crucial part of this cluster fuck."
He agreed with Angela's assessment. This was a cluster fuck indeed.
"B and C Platoon left in force." He noted. He had seen the two platoons leave, being familiar with some of them since he often trained together with those men.
It was practically impossible to distinguish the two platoons from D-platoon, their most elite unit. They all wore that black vest over their blues, carried the same equipment, and used similar gear, but that was about it. D-platoon had higher requirements to get in, from marksmanship to endurance and training. He was confident he could join them.
"So, joining Metro after Chen?" Angela seemed to have read his mind, but he didn't let it show in his face.
"What made you say that?" He asked. "Training rookies is a sacred duty."
"Please." Angela rolled her eyes. "I've seen how you look at my rookie whenever he goes out in his tactical gear, and you even pay attention in the break room to hear his stories. I know you're thinking about it."
"And with this latest assignment from the Captain, I saw how your eyes slit up when we were told that we had to bring tactical gear and rifles." His partner for this assignment continued speaking. "I know you're itching for change for some time now."
He didn't bother to reply to her statement. Angela would make a fine detective.
They were ordered to pick up some members of D-platoon, mostly Hondo and his immediate squad. They had somehow ended up on the other side of the city in Trenton. It was there that they finally learned what was going on. It looked like Jack needed help.
"Faster." Angela urged him for probably the fifth time. He could see how worried she was when she heard Hondo's secret convoy had been ambushed. There was a traitor too, one of their own. He gripped the steering wheel in frustration. He hated traitors, and he knew McCabe personally.
"7-Adam-19, this is 70 David."
The shop's radio blared out when they were near Hondo's reported location, and he was able to answer before Lopez, earning the Latina's glare. In his defense, it was his radio call sign they were using, not hers.
"7-Adam-19, go ahead." He answered.
"Reroute to Sixth Street Bridge." The Captain of Metro ordered. "20-David is in the area, we believe a jet is about to land there. That is where Alex Montez is planning to make his escape."
"10-4, 70-David." Bradford replied.
"A plane? Jesus." Angela looked stunned, and he felt the same. What kind of idiot would land a plane on a bridge?
"20 David, this is 7-adam-19." Angela took the radio from him and contacted Hondo. "We're on roué to the Sixth Street Bridge to provide assistance."
"7-Adam-19, what direction are you coming from?"
He recognized Jim Street's voice. Angela looked around for a moment and quickly replied. "We're coming in from Santa Fe Boulevard, West side of the bridge. ETA two minutes."
"Good. We're coming in from the East. Expect combatants in the area. ETA 1 minute from the bridge"
He stepped harder on the accelerator before Angela could even comment.
"If they're using the bridge, they must have used something to block the traffic so that the plane can land." Angela shared.
"And probably men manning it." He added. "We'll go in hot. You ready for this?"
"Always." Angela took one last inspection of her rifle and nodded.
Like they suspected, there were construction barriers blocking the entrance. It looked legit too, with the wooden barriers and orange lights, they even had a couple of men in high viz vests and white safety helmets maintaining the blockade. The only thing wrong was the rifles strapped behind their backs.
"Gun it!" Angela already had her weapon ready.
The engine of his shop roared, and the men dived out of their way as his vehicle smashed through their barrier. He could immediately hear gunshots and Angela firing back. As he crested the slightly curved ramp leading to the bridge, he immediately spotted an actual jet on the asphalt. It looked like it was heading towards them, preparing to take off, and it was being chased by a black limo. Someone was on the roof of the limo, shooting back, and he quickly swerved to the other side of the road to avoid getting hit by friendly fire.
"Angela! Look ahead!" He shouted.
His partner was still firing back at the guards down the ramp.
"What the hell?" Angela exclaimed when she turned around.
The small jet was picking up speed, but its hatch was open. A few gunmen were hanging out, shooting back at the limo chasing the jet. He saw his partner hesitate, and he instantly knew the reason.
She could hit her fellow cops, and they both knew how flammable Jet fuel was. There was only one thing left, and that was to play chicken with whoever was the pilot.
"Just watch our six." He called out. "Strap yourself, this could get ugly!"
"On it!"
He increased their speed, hoping the other guy would blink first.
Alex Montez
"Just sit down, you imbécile!" He shouted, but no one heard him. Amidst the sound of the jet engines, the annoying blonde's pleas to be let go, the pilots screaming for Gamble to close the hatch, and the gunfire, he could barely hear his own voice. It was already giving him a headache.
"Up ahead!" The co-pilot warned.
He looked through the cockpit windshield and noticed a lone police vehicle heading straight toward them.
"Shut the damn hatch!" The pilot shouted once more. "We can't take off with this amount of drag!"
Of course, Gamble couldn't hear him over the gunshots. He looked around and noticed that the cop, T.J., just looked resigned in his seat. It was like the man had given up. No, he was so close! He needed to act.
"Give me your gun!" He ordered.
T.J. didn't react at all, but he didn't protest when he took the handgun from the man's holster. Enough was enough. Gamble may have proven to be a creative and bold ally, but the man's crazy stunt was now a hindrance.
He didn't see it coming as he shot the man at the back of his head, and he quickly fell out of the hatch. Another shot, and his henchman joined him on the asphalt. Gamble's remaining man froze as he pointed his gun at his head. "Close the hatch. Now!"
The man quickly followed his order, but as soon as the man closed the hatch, he fell down on the cabin floor as the plane suddenly jolted. He felt the armrest of a chair dig into his belly as the plane lost control and started to spin. He was able to hold on tight, but the other weren't so lucky as they were tossed around the cabin violently until they crashed into the side of the bridge and hit a steel arch.
He can't go down like this. He opened the hatch before the others had recovered and jumped out. The limo was on the other side of the plane, and he emptied his gun to dissuade them from following him and started to run, eyes scanning for a way out of his predicament. He could already hear the sound of distant rotors, and he knew he needed to hide before the police helicopter arrived.
He could see an exit, what looked like a pedestrian path at the side of the bridge, and he headed towards it at full sprint. Perfect, he would be able to move under the cover of the bridge, but a few seconds into his run, his ears picked up a different set of footsteps hitting the asphalt, and it was getting louder. He chanced a look over his shoulder and cursed when he saw who was chasing him.
Oh merde. It was him. He ran faster, but the large man was gaining a lead on him. Just a few meters before he reached the pedestrian access, he jumped, but he cried out a second later as he felt an unimaginable pain in his knees. A moment later, his vision tumbled and he saw stars as his head hit the pavement hard.
It was like someone shoved a hot burning rod in his legs, and he felt blood on his mouth. He groaned, unable to speak as he felt his hands being moved behind his back. Fuck. His knees were pulsing with pain.
A powerful white light flooded his immediate area, and he realized Routh was speaking to him in his own native language. Something about his right to remain silent and about a lawyer. He didn't care, the pain he was feeling was too strong. He could hear more sirens approaching, and he finally admitted defeat.
Twenty minutes later, he knew what Routh did to him. Fractured kneecaps. Routh actually tried to break his legs, just like he promised before the ambush. That was what the medics told him inside the ambulance when they checked his injury. That, along with a few missing teeth, thanks to that tackle from the violent cop, were his only serious injuries. He could still walk, but it was painful and slow.
He was now sitting in a wheelchair, guarded by four men, while those in charge finally arrived and discussed his fate. Fuck this country, seriously.
Jack Routh
He felt tired.
The medics treated his minor wounds inside the ambulance, and more and more officers and emergency response crews arrived on scene. He was surprised that Chief Coleman wasn't present since both ends of the bridge were already flooded by news reporters and curious civilians.
DHS and FBI agents secured the scene along with LAPD officers while their airborne assets continued to circle the bridge.
Hondo had his arm bandaged heavily, while Street had his wounds treated with disinfectant. The veteran sergeant was quickly ordered to join a command meeting at the side, and he accepted a bottle of water from Street and joined him and Chris as they leaned on the side of their SWAT vehicle to watch the circus.
The Learjet was being moved to the top of a flatbed. It was small enough that only one crane was needed to lift it, while the two pilots were arrested and placed in a prisoner transport van along with Gamble's remaining men.
"I hope your body cam was on when you made that tackle." Street bumped his canned drink against his water bottle as a form of congratulations, and he nodded in turn. They both watched Montez at the back of another prisoner transport van, his head down while being guarded by four SWAT officers.
"That was a sweet tackle." Chris spoke up from Street's other side. "I'm surprised he could still walk after that."
"He was desperate to get away." He replied. He was surprised how fast Montez could move, he could tell the man was desperate to get away. He even thought the man was desperate to jump from the bridge, but he knew the water was too shallow to survive diving into, with Los Angeles being turned into an artificial concrete channel in the late 1930s to control the flooding it did to the city during the rainy seasons.
It looked like Hondo was done talking to the brass and started to head their way, followed by Captain Cortez. The woman looked relieved, and he straightened up from his relaxed posture as she began to speak.
"Good job on recapturing Montez." The Metro captain looked at them one by one in the eye. "But the job's not done."
"Road trip?" Chris asked.
He knew what the captain was doing. She was giving them the honor of completing their original assignment. He could see that his remaining team members were determined to finish their task despite how tired they were.
"Road trip." Hondo sighed.
Thankfully, none of them had to drive, and they all sat in silence in the SWAT vehicle as they headed to Victorville. It was about an hour and a half drive, and he used that moment to rest. Alex Montez was cuffed in both arms and legs and secured to his wheelchair at the back with Street and Alonso watching him, while three more SUVS joined their convoy with Tim and Angela in the lead car.
Hondo was silent, and he knew the man was still thinking of what had happened just a few hours ago. He heard a faint sound of a gunshot as he chased Montez, and later realized it was T.J. taking his own life by shooting himself in the head.
"He just couldn't resist the money." Hondo finally broke the silence after staring at the desert for over an hour.
"Money changes people." He replied. He didn't know McCabe well, but he could tell the man had expensive taste with how he dressed and his fancy watches. He often bragged in the locker room about expensive dates at exclusive restaurants or attending concerts, and drove a classic '69 Mustang.
"He was a good cop." Hondo added. "Cocky as shit, but he had the skills to back up that arrogance."
They reached the Penitentiary at Victorville half an hour later and the morning sun was already creeping up.
"We're here to transfer custody of L.A. Police Department prisoner number 109672 into federal custody." Hondo spoke the guard.
He looked around and noticed several prison guards watching them, and even some convicts in orange clothing from several layers of chain link fences and barbed wire.
"Thank you sir." The prison guard looked flustered at having numerous LAPD officers in tactical gear staring at him. "I will accept the transfer."
The man looked up at the tall tower beside the gate and gave a nod. The chain link gate separating them slid open, and the prison guards took over and surrounded Alex Montez and moved him to their own wheelchair.
"Enjoy your new home." Street told Montez.
"Try your best to know the guys." Hondo added.
He couldn't allow the two to tease Montez and joined them in their teasing. "Be good to your boyfriends, alright?" He ruffled Montez's hair as he moved away.
"Who are you, really?" Montez asked him.
"I'm just a cop." He moved away and headed back to their vehicle.
The drive back was livelier, with no prisoner to watch over. It was there just as they were beginning to relax and joke that Hondo decided to ruin their mood with some news.
"We're off SWAT for a month." Their sergeant suddenly spoke up. "You'll probably hear about this tomorrow, but I figured I'd give all of you a heads up. You deserve that, at the very least."
"Why now?" Chris looked annoyed. "First they put us under investigation, and then call us back, and now this?"
"I know Chris." Hondo replied. "But I agreed with the Captain's idea. We've been tackling major high stress scenarios like these regularly and she's concerned for our mental health."
"So what are we suppose to do?" Street asked. "A month's a long time Hondo."
"You're still getting paid during that month." Their sergeant replied. "We're going to mandated psychiatrists for some counseling and some light-duty crap if we ever decide to take some assignments."
"Do we really need to?" He asked. It looked like a waste of time. And what does light duty mean?
"I'm afraid it's department policy and not some political crap." Hondo replied. "It's to help deal with PTSD. D-platoon sees the most stressful situations on a regular basis. Look at what happened to Gamble, and… T.J."
They became silent after that, and he had to acknowledge Hondo's point. They were all highly trained killers, and if one of his fellow officers snapped or broke down during a crucial operation… yeah, he knew that would only get messy, quick. Their motto of never missing a shot and always completing a mission had turned their work environment stressful, and if prolonged, dangerous.
"What the hell. I'm still getting paid." Street sighed. "Maybe I can renovate my house. I mean, it's just light duty."
"Maybe I could start a new hobby." Chris stretched her legs and started looking at her phone. "I always wanted to learn how to paint."
"The captain is stepping down too." Hondo revealed.
"What for?" Chris asked.
"Well, it's against department policy for an officer to have a romantic relationship with a direct subordinate." Hondo glanced at him from the passenger seat and gave him a wink.
"You mean you and the captain…" Chris looked thrilled to hear this piece of gossip.
"Where did this come from?" Street looked confused. "Is this new or has there been something going on without me knowing?"
"I bet you got inspired by Routh and Captain Andersen?" Chris teased.
"We started dating first, even before Routh joined the force," Hondo replied, sounding annoyed. "If anything, it's Jack that copied me!"
He hitched a ride with Tim and Angela back to Mid-Wilshire once they returned to the city. Tim was eager to hear his side of the engagement. Angela though, had quite a lot to say about yesterday's events.
"It was the perfect storm." The new detective shared. "It came to the point that we were deploying riot gear to patrol and totally ignored petty crimes. And it's all because of one man."
"It goes to show what people would do for 100 million dollars." Tim noted.
"It's not just that." Angela shook her head. "Some didn't care about the money, they just want an excuse to riot and cause as much mayhem as possible. Thankfully we arrested the more violent offenders. If Montez was able to escape…"
"People would see how weak we are and become bolder against us." He finished for her.
His old T.O. was right, his latest mission was very symbolic, and if they failed and Montez got away, the LAPD's reputation would suffer and they would lose a good amount of confidence from the public that they were suppose to protect. It was a dangerous scenario that they managed to avoid, but it was close.
He knew the political fallout after this would be enormous, and heads would roll, starting with Susan Coleman.
It felt good to hug Zoe once more in the privacy of her office. Tired, but still missing his wife's presence, he settled for a nap on her couch and only woke up for snacks and lunch. He recovered somewhat by lunch, and shared his experience with his fellow officers in the break room. Getting him to share his experience guarding Montez was easy. They just needed to bring him sandwiches from one of his favorite food trucks parked near their station.
He watched along with John and Lucy the climax of their mission on the bridge. A news chopper kept playing the moment Montez got out of the small jet, firing shots at their limo and then running in the other direction.
"That was you, right?" John pointed to the TV showing a figure that jumped from the roof of the limo and started sprinting after the notorious criminal.
"Yeah." He replied. He didn't realize someone had managed to catch the whole event. The sunroof of that limo barely fit him and his gear.
"Ooof." Lucy winced when he tackled Montez just as he was about to reach the pedestrian access. "That has got to hurt. He deserved it, though."
"Some good cops died. Many are from Metro's B-platoon." He added. That caused the two and those listening in to their conversation to pause for a moment to show their respects.
"So what will happen to him now?" Lucy asked.
"He'll spend the rest of his life inside." He guessed. "Then several agencies will start to press him for information about his father's organization. Find out how they launder money, and then try and get him to reveal secret offshore bank accounts and the African warlords that buy their weapons."
"Don't forget those foreign governments that will request his extradition." John added. "I read up on the guy. He committed a lot of crimes all over the world. He's more bloodthirsty than his father."
"I'm puzzled by Convoy 3." Lucy brought up the sensitive topic. Convoy 3 had the most casualties, including their sergeant suffering from a fatal gunshot wound, and C-platoon had to rebuild. "Why were the gunmen focused on the decoy truck? I mean, if they were there to save him, wouldn't they avoid trying to kill their meal ticket?"
"Sergeant Farrows assumed the same." He replied. "And like I said before, assumptions kill. It looks to me like another group wanted to eliminate Montez rather than rescue him."
There was also the big question of why Alex Montez was here in the first place. He knew the FBI and DHS were already looking for clues to answer that question. He had his own theories, and a big part came from the deadly attack at convoy 3.
Convoy 3 was originally their convoy until Hondo made a last-minute suggestion. It had one of their armored vehicles along with the prisoner transport. From the scattered reports he was able to piece together from his fellow officers at Central, the gunmen only fired at it enough to disable, but they must have spent hundreds of rounds on the prisoner transport. It was like they wanted to kill Alex Montez, and anyone in it, including Farrows.
Then there was the number of enemy combatants. A staggering number of fifty armed men attack the third convoy, far higher than the twenty that attacked convoy one.
He shared his suspicions with Zoe on their drive back after his wife's shift ended. She took him seriously and even sent a message to his own captain. It was also there that he learned what light duty entailed, and he instantly hated the idea.
It mostly consisted of community building, a low-stress environment, according to Brass. He was sure they were out of touch if they considered dealing with an irate neighbors and overzealous citizens a light stress environment. He'd rather deal with an armed robbery any day.
"If you're against the idea, maybe you could do some recruitment work for the department." Zoe suggested while wearing a smirk. He knew his wife was making fun of him at this point.
It was a pity the new chief ended his teaching stint at the community college. He really worked hard for that program.
"There are other options, you know." Zoe reminded him. "The LAPD also has a program for officers who want to further their education."
"You mean…"
"It's called the educational pathway program." His wife shared. "So if you want to continue with your master's degree, there are ways to achieve that."
That was actually a good idea. He'd certainly enjoy going back to UCLA while doing cop work on the side. They finally reached their home, and he quickly headed to the shower. He had an early afternoon snack with Zoe and they decided to spend the rest of the early evening for a walk.
With the city in high alert yesterday, he knew many parents had probably forbidden their kids to go out trick-or-treating. With the crisis finally over, it looked like the kids and even young adults were out in full force.
Different superheroes, princesses, and monsters roamed the streets, and he was tempted to bring out his Mjolnir armor to join in the fun, but he knew this wasn't the place for it. Zoe looked like something was on her mind and so he let her be for now and merely held her hand during their stroll.
They made it a point to walk past the house with the elaborate decorations and it didn't disappoint. It looked like they had more crew to help out with scaring and entertaining the kids who visited their house.
On the way back, Zoe shared her call with her estranged father and the older man's reluctance to talk about his past.
"He's a military general?" He wondered what department Zoe's father worked on. The fact that he was a four-star as well surprised him.
"He got that fourth star due to an assignment." Zoe explained. "Normally after that, they're bumped back down to a three-star, but I think dad's planning to retire."
"That means he can retire with his current rank." He guessed.
"You got it." His wife nodded. "He's very proud of his accomplishments and wants to retire on a high note."
"His reluctance to speak about my past is troubling." He noted. The more they tried to investigate his past, the more they realize how difficult it is. He was really curious about his lost memories and wondered if he would ever get them back.
"That's what's troubling me. And we're going to meet them soon." Zoe revealed. "We'll use this opportunity to visit my family on the East Coast."
He felt an irrational fear fill his belly, but he forced it down. He was only meeting Zoe's parents and it wasn't a big deal. Shit. He needed to calm down. What were their names again?
Zoe let out a peal of laughter that shook him out of his thoughts.
"Relax, honey." His wife clutched his arm tighter to her body. "It's just for one dinner, and then we'll have more time for ourselves. We'll go out to explore, I'll show you the sights, and I'll even introduce you to my mom. We'll visit her grave in Maryland."
"I'd like that." He noted the wistful tone in Zoe's voice when she mentioned her mother.