'Let him talk, for Chrissake,' Alexa persisted. 'Go ahead, Tom. Just tell us.'
'What… what is it you wanna know?' His voice was close to tears.
'I wanna know what's going on with the H Street Bounty Hunters. How come Ray's den was letting those bangers run free in Southwest?' Alexa asked.
'I don't know.'
'This is just more fucking bullshit/' Shane screamed, and cocked the gun again.
'No, no… Please… Please stop it. What I'm saying is, I know they're being allowed to rob down by the university.' His words tumbling out now… 'The gangbangers were told to do whatever they want from Exposition Boulevard to the freeway, and the police would look the other way.'
'Down by USC?' Alexa said.
'Yeah, the old University Division.'
'Why?'
'I don't know. For the love of God, I'm telling you all I know, I swear it.'
' Why are those Gs being told it's okay to caper south of Exposition?' Alexa continued.
'I don't know. I don't… All I know is Brewer, once when I asked him, said that he wanted to drive the crime stats up in that part of town.'
'The chief of police wants to drive the crime stats up?' Alexa asked from the darkness behind the camera. 'Why? His job performance depends on driving the stats down'
'I don't know. It's all he said.'
'Tommy, this is all fucking, runny yellow bullshit.' Shane shoved the gun out in front of him, right into Mayweather's face, the barrel pressed against his right cheek.
'Shane NO!' Alexa shouted.
'Stop it,' Mayweather sobbed, his eyes bugging, straining to get away, the cuffs rattling against the metal ladder. 'I don't know I swear it! All he said was he was trying to increase the number of uncleared crimes in that section of the city. Molar's den was setting it up, running it. They transported the H Street bangers after the arrests and turned them loose. Sometimes they blew the busts by not reading the Miranda or by losing evidence.' He was glistening with sweat under the floodlight. Shane didn't answer, but recocked the gun. The sound echoed menacingly in the concrete tunnel.
'Scully… Calm the fuck down,' Alexa ordered.
There was a moment when all Shane could hear was the three of them breathing. Then Alexa moved out from behind the camera.
'Stop himMake him stop,' Mayweather pleaded. Tears were suddenly running down his cheeks.
'Tell me about Calvin Sheets,' Alexa said. 'He worked the Coliseum detail down there. He was letting hookers and petty thieves run wild. Was he part of it?' She was taking over 'point' on the interview because Mayweather had begged her. She probably seemed like his only chance. Shane let her have him, taking a step back.
'I don't know why, but yes, I heard Sheets was in on it.'
'So that's why all Ray's den members have cases going through IAD,' Alexa reasoned. 'But why send them to full boards where they'd be tried in the open, in public hearings? The chief could have disposed of the charges on his own, in private, under Section 202.'
'Because the community down there was getting pissed. Their shops were being held up, people beaten or killed. They were filing complaints. That city councilwoman, Alicia Winston, is making a big fuss, her and Max Valdez. They want the bangers stopped, so the chief sent all those cases to open boards to appease the community. The panels were gonna be rigged. I was in charge of picking them. The officers were all gonna be acquitted or get modulated penalties days off without pay, but no terminations. If that happened, they'd get envelopes to make up the difference. Burl wanted to control the timing of the boards so they wouldn't fall one on top of the other.'
'And that's why Drucker's board was just postponed?' she asked.
Mayweather now seemed uncomfortable. He shifted his weight, averted his eyes.
'Something wrong with that, Tommy?' Shane asked, stepping in again. 'Did I get that wrong? Spit it out!'
'Uh… uh… uh… please… please… make him… I'm trying to…' the deputy chief said inarticulately.
'Was Li'l Silent making trouble?' Alexa persisted. 'Did he want something that you couldn't give, so you couldn't trust him on the stand in Drucker's case? Was he shaking you down?'
'Look, I've told you all I know.'
'Are we ever gonna see Sol Preciado again?' Shane asked softly. 'Or did Li'l Silent break jail and dive into a pit full of lye?'
Mayweather licked his lips and said nothing, but it was as good as a confession.
'How did you ever get to be a deputy chief?' Alexa said softly.
Mayweather was sobbing heavily now, standing there, psychologically stripped, cuffed to the ladder and sweating like a field hand, his chest heaving, tears streaming down his handsome face. 'My dad was a cop, y'know. He was a uniform in Lake Falls, Illinois. When I went to UCLA to play ball, he used to save up, come to the games… He loved watching me play. He was proud… He was… he… he…' Mayweather was so lost and out of control, he couldn't get the words out.
Shane closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear this man's bullshit story.
'When I didn't make it in the pros, I wanted to make my dad proud… so I… so I…'
'Shut the fuck up, or I'll kill you just for being a pussy,' Shane shouted, not performing now, truly pissed.
'You kidnapped a boy named Chooch Sandoval. With him was my next-door neighbor and friend, Brian Kelly. I want them back. If I don't get them back, you die.'
'Honest, honest… I know nothing about that. I told you, I know nothing about any kidnapping.'
Shane took the cold barrel of the gun and again laid it up against Mayweather's cheek and held it there. The man's eyes got wide, trying to look down to see it.
'Why should I believe you?' Shane asked softly. 'Make me a believer, Tom.'
'Sol Preciado is dead,' he whispered. 'They let him out of that jail-transport vehicle, then took him out and shot him. That makes me an accessory before the fact in a first-degree murder. You think I'd confess to that with a tape running and withhold information on a kidnapping?'
Shane took a deep breath and a moment to get level, turned away, then shut off the videotape and sun gun, packing up the camera. Alexa reached out and uncuffed Mayweather. Shane could barely see him but knew the deputy chief would not make trouble. He was beaten.
'Go home, Tom,' Shane said softly. 'Think about what you've done, the lives you've hurt or destroyed. Not just mine or Sol Preciado's, or Chooch Sandoval's or Brian Kelly's, but all the shop owners who had their brains kicked loose or were murdered. Think about all the old ladies who got knifed or beaten for their welfare checks so you could have that pretty new sailboat. If you believe in God, you better start working on a good excuse, 'cause you're gonna need it.'
He turned and, carrying the video box, walked out of the tunnel with Alexa.
When they were outside, he paused and handed her gun back to her. They could hear Tom Mayweather splashing around in the tunnel, slowly making his way out.
'You wanna drop him somewhere?' she asked.
'Let the prick find his way home. Maybe some H Street gangster will pick him up and finish the job for us.'
They scrambled up the concrete incline and finally got back to the car. Shane locked the video box and tape in the trunk. Tom Mayweather's confession was obtained illegally and under duress. It would be useless in court but would surely keep him on the sidelines. The last thing the deputy chief wanted was to see it on the six o'clock news.
They sat in the front seat of the Crown Vic for a long moment, both changed by what they had just done.
'That was brutal,' Alexa finally said. Shane nodded, and she added, 'What now?'
'What now? We've just pulled off a pretty successful kidnapping and felonious assault,' he said. 'Wanna try your hand at forced entry and burglary?'
