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“Big swarthy kid up front is packing an AK-47. Enough heat to do some damage.”
“Ballsy kids,” Mick said as Trey’s report came in.
Kelso reported in from his vantage point. “The blond kid has his arm around the
neck of a twenty-something woman.”
Craig moved into the command post vehicle. Time to try phone contact.
Incident commander Captain Jefferson Harris settled into the chair nearby. Balding,
about fifty, and with a commanding presence, the Captain had the entire team’s full
respect. “Here’s hoping these numb nuts don’t have enough balls to go any further than
they have.”
Craig arranged the headset over his head and shrugged, trying to ease the tension
from his shoulders. “If these were your usual idiot teenage boys out for a joyride, I’d say
the same. These are The Dragons. They were meaner than shit when I was a member, but
they’re a hell of a lot meaner now.”
Harris’s expression darkened. “You’re right. I was being a damned Pollyanna. How
old is that kid that Dane Kanter said is his friend?”
“The friend is only fourteen.”
Harris grunted in disgust. “Jesus.”
Ian Duffy, standing right outside the vehicle, adjusted the chin strap on his Kevlar
helmet. “The creeps are the worst gang in the area. Men grow up in the gang.” His gaze
traveled to Craig. “And if they don’t get out, they raise their children in the gang.”
Right then the sky opened up.
Friggin’ rain.
If there was one thing Craig hated during an operation, it was a thunderstorm, and
this one was a pisser. Torrents unloaded, assuring that the other team members were
soaked before they could run under the overhang on the small bank building next to the
command center.
“Trey and Mick said you were a member of this Dragon’s gang,” Harris said.
Craig nodded, irritated. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I know how these kids work.
This is probably an initiation.”
“Then you know what it takes, unless it’s changed after all these years.”
“Hasn’t changed much. Back then, though, we weren’t so much into weapons. It was
more intimidation, robbery. Nobody got killed. The gang was bad ass, but more into
beating, stabbing…” His voice trailed off when Harris looked sick to his stomach. “I
didn’t stab or beat anyone.”
“Then how did you get in the gang?”
“I got out, that’s all that counts and I was lucky to never have a criminal record.”
Craig switched gears. “Do we have any intel on these kids? Parents?”
“Mostly foster kids, but a few not.”
Craig nodded. “Yeah, it was the same when I was involved.” Thunder rattled the
command center as the rain continued to flood the area. He glanced out a window.
“Where’s the fuckin’ ark?”
Harris nodded. “Let’s rock.”
Craig got on with it, dialing in to the store with speakerphone engaged.
“Hello?” A younger woman’s tremulous voice came over the speaker.
“Ma’am, this is Sergeant Craig MacGilvary of the El Torro County Sheriff’s
Department. Is everyone in there all right?”
“Yes. So far. But—”
Her voice was cut off as a young man’s voice burst over the line. “This is Frisco. We
aren’t takin’ any bullshit off you pigs.”
Pigs? What was this, the sixties? For a second Craig was speechless. Fucking hell.
Dane’s friend was in charge of this little operation? At fourteen? Babies with fuckin’
guns. He saw red, but pulled back on the high-test anger. “Hank Frisco? I understand
you’re a friend of Dane Kanter’s.”
“What?” The boy sounded shell shocked. “Yeah.” Bravado returned to his voice.
“So?”
“Dane’s also a friend of mine.”
“You’re lying.”
“Dane’s worried about you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
Silence.
“Frisco? You there?” Craig asked quietly. “Look, are you the man in charge? We
understand there was gunfire in the store earlier. We want to make certain everyone
inside is all right. If you’ll send everyone out, all the employees, we’ll take that in good
faith that you don’t wish to hurt anyone.”
Silence, except for rain battering the earth. A cool breeze stirred the air, bringing the
scent of moisture.
Craig continued. “We need to talk with you to make sure everyone is safe. If you
could acknowledge—”
Gunfire erupted from inside the store, shattering the front windows and spraying the
area.
A spate of cursing filled Craig’s headphone, including the report from Trey.
“Automatic weapon fire. Suggest we block off a bigger sector. If it’s an AK-47, those
bullets can travel damned far.”
“Ten four Trey.” The commander’s voice was no-nonsense as he called in an order
for the street cops to push back the public at least two blocks, and confirm all the
surrounding buildings in the area had been evacuated. Craig was damn surprised no one
had been hit by the last spate of gunfire.
“Trey, you have any line of sight yet?” Harris asked.
“Clear shot at any time,” Trey said.
“I have a clear shot,” Kelso’s voice came through loud and clear.
As Craig witnessed many times, they went through the same process they always
did. Contain and isolate the suspects and attempt to negotiate surrender. If no surrender,
demand surrender. If not, use chemical weapons to make suspects admit defeat. If that
didn’t work, utilize snipers. And last, order a SWAT assault.
Rain slid down the windows next to Craig’s face. The damned thunderstorm wasn’t
making things easier. All the firearms, ammo, breaching instruments, you name it,
couldn’t get the job done if the people behind them weren’t competent. Luckily for the
people of El Torro County and Gold Rush, this team knew its business.
Craig understood how these kids worked, but he didn’t know if he could get a boy
Frisco’s age to work with him.
To Craig’s surprise, the line remained open. “Frisco? You there, man?”
“Yeah.” The young boy sounded out of breath. “We mean business.”
“I can hear that. Is everyone all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Who was shooting?”
“Ghost. Stop askin’ me questions man. I’m asking the questions. These stupid
bitches will be dead if you don’t give in to our demands.”
Craig heard the false bravado talking, but he also detected true anger. This kid was
balanced on the edge of incredible violence, brought on by a hatred of the world. Craig
couldn’t afford to screw this up.
Christ. This kid was a friend of Dane’s? He had a freakin’ Clint Eastwood complex.
Thunder cracked overhead and faded to a rumble that vibrated the ground. And still the
rain came, heavy and relentless.
“We haven’t heard your demands yet. What’s the problem? What started all this?”
“This bitch in the store dissed one of us last week. She’s gonna pay. She dissed
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