Bradley fixed the sergeant with a look of great interest, but he couldn't keep his mind on the man's words. He'd already gathered some of this story from one of his young deputy friends, Caroline Vega, who by luck happened to help take the kidnap report from Stevie's hysterical sister, who had called nine-one-one. Bradley believed in luck and in Caroline.
He also knew Stevie's father, Rocky. Rocky was a Florencia OG with Eme ties, a tattooed knot of a man with a reasonable outlook and a quick smile. He was also tied to the North Baja Cartel. Everyone knew that the North Baja Cartel was having a hard time maintaining supply lines in and around L.A. They were losing traction. Which led Bradley to wonder if MS-13 sicarios of the newly arrived Gulf Cartel had grabbed the kid to cripple a North Baja rival, bleed some cash out of him, and jack up the terror level so guys like Rocky might think twice about staying in L.A. Everybody wanted California real estate, thought Bradley. Especially the Mexican drug cartels. After all, it was the front door to the biggest drug market in the world.
In the motor yard they checked over the patrol unit, a late-model Crown Victoria Police Interceptor with almost two hundred thousand miles on it. Bradley, a motorhead, checked under the hood-fluids, belts, battery, radiator and brake lines-then used his own pressure gauge to check the tires. He washed the windshield twice, meticulously, nothing more annoying to him than poor view at night.
Jerry Clovis checked the MDT and radio, then leaned on another radio car and watched Jones do his work. Clovis was a thickly built middle-aged deputy, a family guy, easygoing and unambitious, the kind of man who made Bradley Jones want to take a long nap.
'Ready, Brad?'
'Nope. One minute.'
Bradley tossed the squeegee back into the bucket, then walked down the row of black-and-whites until he was out of earshot. He called Rocky to see if he knew yet where Stevie was being held, and told Rocky it would behoove them all to find out fast. Then he called Theresa Brewer of FOX News and told her the ground rules again. Then he called Caroline to make sure she knew what to do and when. He walked back to the unit with a bounce in his step.
'Checking in with the wife?' asked Clovis as they boarded.
'Every chance I get.'
'What's her name?'
'Erin.'
' 'Atta boy. Take it easy. Keep it clean. That's been enough to get me through twenty-two years of this. Three more to go.'
'Easy and clean, that's me.'
'I see you have an ankle gun.'
'It's an eight-shot Smith AirLite. Charlie Hood turned me on to them.'
'Never had to draw my gun on duty. Not once.'
'They'll kill that boy if they don't get their ransom fast enough. They might kill him anyway.'
'Kill a kid over business,' said Clovis. 'Pure animals. Nothing's the same in this world anymore.'
'Everything's the same as it always was.'
'Can't say I really agree with that.'
'And that's why I have two guns.'
'Coffee?' asked Clovis.
'Let's just drive fast, make something happen, arrest somebody.'
'Oh, man, you've got a lot to learn. First patrol shift, right?'
Bradley nodded, smiling. 'I'm kidding, Jerry. Coffee would be good.' L.A. Sheriff's Department patrol area two includes the rough territory along the broken Los Angeles River, from Maywood down to Compton, which was where Bradley Jones and Jerry Clovis were now patrolling, fresh coffees in hand. These were no longer the days of Winchell's coffee but of specialty double espressos and low-fat lattes, which Clovis and Bradley drank respectively.
Clovis drove. Bradley looked out the very clean windshield at the city of South Gate, unassuming and unbeautiful in the smog-muted autumn light. They cruised Tweedy out to South Gate Park, looped it once slowly with an eye for drug peddlers, but it was quiet and the cover of darkness was still more than an hour away.
'You ever do anything heroic?' asked Bradley.
'I actually delivered a baby once.'
'Fantastic. How did it go?'
'I didn't do much, really. Put her in back with a blanket from the trunk, then drove under siren, lights on full. Then when the screams got too loud, I got worried so I pulled over and held on to the lady's head while she screamed and pushed and thrashed around in the back. Then out it came. A girl. Bloody mess but she started bawling, too, and by the time we got to the hospital they were waiting for us and the mom was wrung out but smiling.'
'Now, that's a good tale.'
'Not sure how heroic it really was.'
'You up for some heroics tonight?'
'Yeah, right, we'll bust a nickel-bag crack dealer in Compton.'
'How about we rescue Stevie Carrasco?'
Clovis looked over at him. 'Sure. Anytime.'
'I'm going to find out where he is.'
Clovis looked over at him again. 'No, you aren't.'
Bradley sighed. 'Old men.'
'You're joking again, right, Jones?'
'You in or out?'
'I can't believe we're having this conversation.'
'Pretend we really are having it. Rescue Stevie Carrasco. Would you be in or out?'
Clovis said nothing for a long time. 'Give me more details.'
'Happy to: Carlos Herredia's North Baja Cartel has an old alliance with La Eme and Florencia Thirteen. A loose alliance. They've been here in L.A. awhile, low-profile, doing business, building market share. But the Gulf Cartel has moved in. Benjamin Armenta and his MS-13 gangstas mean business. They've taken out six Florence boys in four months but nobody has figured the why. That's because our brethren in law enforcement think the cartels are still safely confined south of the border. Well, guess what? Armenta and the Salvadorans have pretty much sewn up the east side and now they want South Central. Stevie's dad is Rocky Carrasco, an Eme favorite. The Salvadorans grabbed his kid. Rocky's already gotten a ransom demand for half a million in small dirty bills that smell like herb, crack, crank and Mexican brown H. With me?'
'How do you know this stuff?'
'Does it matter?'
'You're serious.'
'I'm serious. What if you got a chance to do something good tonight? To use all your training, all your preparation, to do a good act. Delivering the baby? Absolutely fabulous, Jerry. But now you've got a chance to take it up a notch. Pull over, please.'
Clovis pulled the prowler to the curb of Firestone Boulevard. The Los Angeles River dribbled before them, a trickle in a concrete channel.
'Let me tell you what I see in you,' said Bradley. 'I see a cautious man with the heart of a warrior. I see a man who knows right from wrong. I see a man who took an oath and meant it. Am I right?'
'Well, sure, okay.'
'Jerry, sometime tonight I'm going to find out where Stevie is. And when I do I'm not calling in SWAT or hostage negotiation or backup. I'm calling in me. And that could mean you, too. I'm going to get that boy out alive. I'm going to make sure the world knows about it, too. Because I don't work for free. Are you in or out?'
'I'm in.'
Bradley bored into Clovis's eyes but liked what he saw. 'I can leave you out. You can sit it out.'
'I'm in.'
'Sweet, Jerry. Good. Okay, let's drive.'
