Constrictor One through Twelve. I want the mid-watch guys stationed under the bleachers behind these concrete equipment rooms,' he said, indicating the location. 'Your job is to protect the people in the stands.'
'The graveyard shift is Stone Breaker. Sergeant Lunderman has that group and you'll be held in reserve back at the command post.'
I couldn't believe that Eastwood was going to keep the entire graveyard shift at the CP as his personal security.
But then he cleared that up by saying, 'Graveyard is going to do the critical response work. I'll spot-deploy that bunch as the situation demands. Okay, let's make this a neat, clean operation. Remember that Haven Park parents and students will be in the stands. I don't want any innocents to get shot.
'Unfortunately, we need to let this situation happen so we can make felony arrests and finally put an end to all this Crip violence on our street corners. Stopping that game in advance and clearing the stands will only alert the Crips and we'll lose a golden opportunity. I think, with this many guys, we can swarm them and get a good, quick result without risking collateral damage.
'Lastly, let me say that these Crips are hardened killers. If any of them go to God tonight, I'm not gonna be writing down badge numbers.'
A murmur of approval came from the cops seated around me.
'Let's do it and let's do it right. Meet in your individual groups for briefings with your sergeants and then see the armorer and pick up the new Heckler amp; Koch MP5 submachine guns and Second Chance Kevlar vests that just came in. We'll reconvene out front in twenty minutes.'
I couldn't believe that they weren't going to stop the game and clear the stadium. But as Talbot had told me when I first got here, the Haven Park PD wasn't out there to protect and serve. This was all about our envelopes.
The day shift, most of whom I still barely knew, met with Alonzo in one of the old elementary school classrooms that no longer had any desks or furniture. He had some chalk in his hand and had already drawn our sector of the parking lot onto the blackboard.
'Okay, everybody gets a number,' he said. 'Belkin, you're Thrasher One; Ashcroft, you're Two; Scully, you're Three…' He continued until all of us had a radio designation.
'I've got your call signs written down on a card, but to tell the truth, I'll never remember them. The call signs are just more of Dirty Harry's movie bullshit. How we're gonna use 'em is to marshal troop strength. Like I'll say, 'One through Three respond to the east side of the parking lot' — that kind of thing. But if you call me, use your fucking name so I'll know who I'm talking to.'
He turned to face us. 'Okay, we all know what this is about. We're gonna throw down on these Crips and bag this K-Knife character, I got a raise in grade for the guy who dumps him. Is everybody straight on what we're trying to do here?'
'You got it! Done deal!' the officers of the day watch shouted back.
The adrenaline was really pumping in our little classroom.
'Okay, study the parking lot layout on the board and saddle up. Everybody gets totally flacked for this one. These new Second Chance vests will stop armor-piercing rounds, so even though they're bulky, wear them. I don't want to lose a guy to a stray bullet. Roulon Green is gonna be passing out vests and MP5s.'
He motioned to a tall black officer who was a Policeman II, standing in the doorway in front of a large rolling cart stacked with H amp;K shipping crates and boxes of Kevlar vests. There were plenty of extra magazines.
'See you all out front.'
Everyone got an MPS, a vest and two spare mags, then started to disperse. Once they were gone, Alonzo took my submachine gun out of my hand and leaned it against the wall next to me. As I started to shoulder into my vest, he took it as well. 'Gimme your cell phone.'
'Left it in my hotel room. Why you always on me?'
'Why you always such a hard-on?' he replied.
I shrugged, but didn't answer.
'You're with me tonight,' he finally said. 'You stay close by. I don't ever want you outta my sight.'
Then suddenly, without warning, he ran his big hand over me, under my arms and down my chest, looking for either my cell phone or a wire. This time he made no attempt to disguise the frisk. All cops know that people wearing a wire will often hide the recorder in the crotch because most men have a homophobic dislike of frisking another guy's package. But that wasn't going to stop Alonzo. I grabbed his wrist as he went for my groin.
'When are you gonna give this a rest?'
He smiled and said, 'You gotta get with the program, man.'
'I'm trying.' I grabbed the MP5, my extra mags and Second Chance vest.
Then he said, 'I got your back out there tonight.'
It was the scariest thing he could have told me.
Chapter 22
Lieutenant Eastwood and the graveyard shift officers were under the bleachers, locked inside the black-and- white bus that served as his sixty-foot mobile command center. The rest of the Haven Park police force gathered with Deputy Chief Jones in the Haven Park football teams locker room under the stands where pictures of the ten Crip shooters were taped up on the coach's chalkboard. We had nothing to do but study their scowling faces and wait.
I thought it strange that our chief, Ricky Ross, had not even made an appearance. Not at the elementary school briefing, not here. Did he even know this was happening?
We could hear the five hundred or so people in the stands above us cheering as the ball was kicked off and the game began. The department spotters high up in the bleachers were keeping us apprised of outside activity.
'Still all clear out here,' someone said over the radio. I didn't have a clue who the spotters were.
'We got a good complement of Locos roaming the stands. They're mostly in their regular black gang coats with blue neck scarves, so watch out for them,' the spotter said.
The tension inside the locker room was growing. It was hard to sit in twenty pounds of Kevlar and wait to go into action. I tried to stay calm, but was overdosing on a mixture of stomach bile, anxiety and adrenaline. Even though I was flacked, I knew that if I was a target, my own teammates could cancel my pension with one head shot.
As I looked at the tense faces around me, I wondered which, if any, of the cops gathered with me had my kill number. I wondered which one was Officer Oscar Juarez.
'We got bogeys entering the parking lot,' a spotter said ten minutes later. 'Three black Lincoln Town Cars. Mother ships. Four guys to a car.'
'Roger that,' Talbot Jones said, then turned to face us. 'Okay, Alonzo, you and your bunch are up. Remember, let this get started. Make sure these Crips get some chrome out before you go into action. We need felonies to get clean DOAs here. Once it gets going, lead enemas all around. Move out.'
We left the locker room and ran beneath the stadium seats toward the parking lot. Our operation plan had been discussed beforehand and the deadly mission was reflected on our drawn, expressionless faces. Our boots were setting up a rumble, echoing underneath the bleachers as we ran.
Alonzo was in the lead. I was second, with the rest of the day watch strung out behind me. As we sprinted away from the football field toward the parking lot, Alonzo directed our squad with arm gestures. Some flanked right, some left, peeling off in both directions.
We had been told to deploy into the lot, and set up a pincer movement. Then the center column, made up of myself and three other guys, led by Alonzo, would make a frontal assault and initiate a firefight away from the stands. The pincer groups would close in after the shooting started and surround the Crips, catching them in a crossfire. Once we had them contained, the swing shift would leave their position where they were protecting the stadium and bleachers and offer tactical support. Graveyard would cover critical response and swarm a position if any of us got pinned down.
