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  He stood up and started for the door. Jade stood and said, “Did you just threaten me? Did you just mother fuckin’ threaten me, Andre?” He kept walking as he talked, “I’m just speaking the mother fuckin’ truth, babe. I’m just speaking the truth.” He laughed under his breath but loud enough for Jade to hear. As soon as his cruiser was out of the parking lot, she called John.

  Chapter Five

  “You’re never going to believe this.

  It’s fuckin’ Chavez. He collapsed

  while taking a shit.”

  Gil Chavez was doubled over in pain while in the bathroom sitting on the toilet. It had been an hour since he ate breakfast, and he was cursing Mario and his helper, whoever the guy was, for the bad burrito. A couple of other officers were in the bathroom with him and all were cracking jokes about eating on Olvera Street. “You know, Gil, you might want to give up on the spicy food for a while!” a voice said from the other side of the stall. “Oh, fuck you, Martin. You’re an asshole. I’m shitting razor blades in here.” Gil stood, and he felt his legs go out from underneath him. He passed out and hit the floor sliding down the front of the stall until his head and upper body were outside the door. There was laughter, which turned to calls for help as blood started to pool around Chavez’s head and body. “Holy fuckin’ shit…call 911. Call 911.”

  Jim was sitting on the smoker’s bench having a cigarette in front of his office when his cell phone rang. “O’Brian.” He listened for a few seconds and then started laughing. “You’re shittin’ me; you’re fuckin’ shittin’ me. They want me at the West Valley division temporary offices at the federal building of LAPD?” There were a few more moments of silence, and he said, “I’m on my way. This I gotta see.” He hung up the phone and called out to one of his detectives. “I’m on my way over to the federal court building. Let everyone know I will call it in when I get there.” Jim was laughing with the cigarette still in his mouth as he started the car and headed further downtown. He was mumbling, “This I just have to see. This will be one for the record books.”

  John and Steve had just gotten back to the office when John’s cell rang. “Swenson.” “John, it’s Jade.” “Hey, Jade. What’s going on?” He could tell she was out of breath as if she was scared. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” She caught her breath and said, “Listen, you know that cop I’ve been dating out of West Valley?” “I don’t know him. I’ve seen his cruiser at the house a few times. Why?” “His name is Andre Espinoza. He was just in here asking questions about the Sanchez murder.”

  John was quiet for a second then asked, “He’s a detective, right?” “Yes…he came in to see me. I thought he wanted a nooner, but he really wanted to ask about Sanchez.” “What about him?” “It never got that far. He told me that he was in Koreatown yesterday, and that he saw Sanchez go into the market.” “That’s the first I’m hearing of a cop seeing Sanchez yesterday before he was killed.” “Yea, well, it gets stranger. When I started to probe him and asked him if he told anyone he was there and saw Sanchez, he told me no, and then he threatened me.”

  John was silent for a second and asked, “How did he threaten you?” “He said I better keep my mouth shut about him seeing Sanchez. He said there is a lot of weird shit going on, and I could end up in the middle of it.” “Interesting…where does Sanchez usually work out of?” “He works East LA. He handles a lot of the gang shit now that it’s reemerging in LA. Turf wars and shit like that.” “Did he say why he was in Koreatown?” Jade explained it all to him and when she was finished she said, “John, I’m scared.” “Relax. You have a staff. Don’t go to your car alone, and when you’re home on property keep your alarm set on the house. I will have security step up patrols on the house inside and out if that’s okay with you?” “Absolutely, John. I have known Andre for a few years, and the man that was talking to me in my office was not the Andre that I know.” “Okay. I got the information you gave me. I will run it down and see what I can find on him and his whereabouts yesterday.” Jade thanked him and hung up the line.

  John hung up and called Jim’s cell. “O’Brian.” “Hey, Jim, where are you?” “You will never believe where I am. I am walking into the federal building where West Valley has a temporary station because one of their cops was just life-flighted to the only trauma center in LA.” “An officer is down in LA, and they are flying him to Northridge?” “You got it. I was told that Sara and Karen had been called in to meet the chopper. I don’t know much else. You want to come down and slum with me here?” “Do you know who it is and what happened?” “Hang on. The paramedics are still on scene as well as officers.”

  John heard the phone go quiet as if Jim was covering the mouthpiece. Then Jim must have pulled it away from his body, and John could hear him yelling, “Hey, who the fuck did I get called down here for? Is this a goddamn homicide, or is someone busting my fuckin’ balls?” Jim came back a few seconds later and said, “You’re never going to believe this. It’s fuckin’ Chavez. He collapsed while taking a shit. They said there was blood everywhere. You coming down?” “No…I’m heading for Northridge Hospital. I need to talk to Chavez if I can. Call me once you know more. I will call you when I know something.”

  He hung up the phone and ran out the door with his suit coat over his arm. “Tell Steve I will be back, and that I had to run out for a few minutes.” He disappeared into an open elevator. Steve was wheeling himself down the hall when he saw John heading out. He stopped at the field agent’s desk and asked, “What the hell was that all about?” She shrugged her shoulders and said, “If I didn’t know John better, I would think he was going to get laid!” Steve laughed and wheeled himself back to his office.

  Sara and Karen were standing on the helipad at Northridge Hospital as the chopper touched down. They followed Gilbert Chavez’s gurney into the ER. They were both checking him and barking out instructions. Karen yelled, “Get me five units of O negative, stat. Do a type and cross on this patient, stat as well.” The ER was humming, and within a few minutes they had Chavez, nude, on a gurney. He was bleeding out his rectum and his mouth. He was barely conscious. Sara was calling to him through the oxygen mask over his face. “Mr. Chavez, what happened?” He choked out the word, “burrito” as he struggled to breathe. Karen asked, “Did you eat a burrito?” He nodded slowly as he was losing consciousness. Sara yelled out, “We need to get him to an operating room, stat.” Karen was running alongside Sara as they rushed Gilbert into the OR. The doors closed behind them as they tried to intubate him, but they could not get a clear airway. “There’s too much blood. His throat has been cut from the inside.” One of the other doctors said, “Let’s trach him.” Sara called out to Karen. Chavez was going fast, and there was no way to keep him breathing or to find the source of the bleed. He died on the table, and Karen called out the TOD.

  The two looked at each other and walked out of the operating room to see John standing in the hall. “How is he?” “Dead,” Sara said. “What killed him?” Karen shook her head and said, “We will have to wait for autopsy to know. He bled out. That’s all I can tell you. He just bled out.”

  Jade had just gotten her lunch and was preparing to eat it when she was paged that she had a call. She picked up a phone in the lounge and said, “Morgan.” “Jade, I need you at Northridge Hospital right away.” John’s voice was calm, cool, and collected, and that unnerved Jade. “What’s going on?” “I need an autopsy on a dead police officer, and I need it now.” Jade took a bite of her salad and asked, “If he died in a hospital, why me? Just have one of the doctors do the autopsy. Northridge is a California certified crime lab.” “I want you. I need you here, Jade, and I need you here now.” She put the lid on her salad while holding the phone to her ear. “Okay, John, okay…I’m on my way. Who’s the attending?” “Sara and Karen.” “Jesus, John. Karen was in on this? What happened?” “They don’t know. I don’t know. I have Jim on scene at the office where the officer collapsed, a
nd all that Sara and Karen could tell me is that he bled out.” Jade opened the refrigerator to put the salad away and asked, “Is it anyone I know?” “I don’t think so. The guy’s name is Gilbert Chavez.” There was no immediate response. “Jade, are you still on the line?” “Um…yea…yea…I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone with tears in her eyes and headed out the door to her coroner’s car and Northridge Hospital.

  Chapter Six

  “The notion of innocent until proven

  guilty is just that, isn’t it Ben?”

  Garrison Cantrell arrived at the federal probation department with his attorney in tow. Probation Officer Don Bartell was expecting Cantrell and invited him back to his office. “Okay…Mr. Cantrell, while you are on informal monitoring, it is still monitoring.” Bartell took a small black box with a strap on it and handed it to Garrison. “This is a GPS transmitter. It is satellite-activated. Once it is attached to you, it will transmit your whereabouts at all times to me and all other monitoring offices. While you have no travel restrictions in the state of California, the unit will notify me and others if you venture out of LA County.”

  Bartell had a tablet in front of him, and he took the unit back from Cantrell, ran a scanner over a barcode reader on the unit, and there was a beep. Bartell got up and walked over to Cantrell and asked which leg he wanted the unit on. He pointed to his left leg. Bartell leaned down and snapped the unit in place, leaving Garrison a little wiggle room to move the unit up or down. “Okay, so, you are live.” Bartell looked at his computer tablet and showed it to Garrison. “You see this blinking red dot?” Cantrell nodded. “That’s you. From here on out, until your trial, or if you are otherwise released from the program, I can see your every move. Do you have any business planned out of state?” Cantrell shook his head. “Do you have any business that will take you out of Los Angeles, Orange, Riverside, Ventura, San Bernardino, or San Diego Counties?” Cantrell shook his head again. “Okay, well then, you are good to go. Here is a pamphlet on your device. It’s waterproof, so you can bathe and swim if you like. There is nothing that you need to do to check in, though you should have your cell phone with you at all times in the event that I call. Um…you will see me once a month until your trial. I will send you an email for your calendar. Do you have any questions?” “Yea…what if I get tired of having this on, and I cut it off?” “Oh, that’s an easy one – you go to jail until your trial. Tampering with the unit in any way, shape, or form will be an immediate violation of your release, and you will go directly to jail. Does that answer your question?” “Um…yea, pretty much.” “Good. You are dismissed.” Bartell stood up and opened his office door to show Cantrell out. As they left the office, Garrison said, “The notion of innocent until proven guilty is just that, isn’t it Ben?” “Oh, yes, Garrison, oh yes. It truly is.” Garrison Cantrell just shook his head as the two men left the probation office.

  Lance Coswalski was revving up the engine on one of the Harley Davidsons that he rented out to tourists near Balboa Park in the San Fernando Valley. He had kept a low profile since working with John and the others in operations Rome is Burning and Red Alert. He liked the nice private life he was enjoying in the private sector. He had plenty of money, so he could do what he loved. He had just turned off the bike when an all too familiar grating voice yelled out to him. “So, are we going to rent the son of a bitch out, or are you going to buy it a dress and take it out for dinner?”

  Lance looked up to see his friend and business partner, Patrick Martin, leaning against the doorway to the garage where he was working on the bike. Lance looked at him and asked, “Why didn’t I kill you when I had the chance?” “Because you’re a pussy and too slow on the draw. Now, I have a customer who wants the damn bike. Is it ready?” Lance pushed the bike into the show room where the customer was waiting.

  Howard Washington was in his police uniform with his motorcycle helmet under his arm. Lance parked the bike, and Patrick asked Washington, “So, you’re a bike cop. Why are you renting this baby when you ride the same bike all day?” Washington was running his hand along the fuel tank and said, “Because I ride one all day and because my police issue bike is not like the street bike. I want to make sure that it’s what I want before I make the investment.”

  Lance laughed and said, “Buying a bike is like getting married; you better know what you’re getting into because if it goes bad, you never get out of them what you put into them.” Patrick rolled his eyes, and Washington laughed under his breath and said, “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Washington was an impressive figure at six eight and three hundred pounds. He was also the quintessential motorcycle cop. His bald head and imposing figure had been known to scare more than motorists. He got on the bike and asked, “Is it okay if I take it for a spin?” Patrick said sure and opened the double doors. Washington took off down Reseda Boulevard at full speed, and Lance said, “It would be nice to have that kind of immunity to the law.”

  Patrick just laughed and said, “He has immunity to the law because we allowed him to keep his freedom.” Lance nodded and walked back into the garage to work on another bike. Washington was back in five minutes and paid for one month’s rent and took off south on Reseda headed to Ventura Boulevard.

  Marco Estrada was standing at the corner of Reseda and Ventura when he saw Washington sitting at the light. He had his cruiser parked off on Reseda, and he ran across traffic and hit Howard on the back. Howard jumped and went for his weapon when he turned to see Estrada standing next to him in full uniform. Howard put his hands up in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture, and Estrada pointed to the parking lot of Tarzana market across the street. Howard nodded, and Estrada ran back to his cruiser then turned on his lights to cross traffic and led Howard to the lot. Once they parked, Howard got off the bike and started yelling at Estrada. “What the fuck, man? Shit. I nearly shot your Mexican ass!” “Oh, fuck you, you big ass nigger. I saw you and wanted to stop you before you got killed crossing the intersection.”

  Washington looked and asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?” “Your left turn signal is out, dumb ass, and if you had tried to make a turn, oncoming traffic would not know your ass was turning, and you would be yet another cop biker death.” Washington checked out the blinker and saw that it wasn’t working, and he looked at Estrada and said, “Thanks, man. You’re not too bad for a spic!” “Yea, well, you know how it is. If us spics don’t look out for you spear chuckers, who would?” They shared a laugh, and Howard asked, “What the fuck, man? What the hell are you doing in Sherman Oaks?” “I’m off duty and was going to the bank and saw your sorry ass about to get killed. I live south of the boulevard past Ventura.” Howard looked at him and said, “When did you move into this high class suburb?” “Shit, man…my wife and I bought a lot after the fires and had a house built. We have some great views. You should come up and see it some time.” “No fucking way, man…I figure whitey would have a heart attack if he saw a nigger and a spic at the same house in white bread land.”

  They laughed, and Estrada said, “Yea…when we first started building, those homes that had survived the fire were all whites. When they saw me and the wife and kids pull up, I heard one of them say, ‘There goes the neighborhood.’ The next day, I pulled up in my police cruiser to check out the lot before construction, and suddenly whitey was all kinds of happy. They had a cop in the neighborhood.” Howard laughed and said, “So, did you put some fuzzy dice in your car, so they’d know you were Mexican?” “Oh hell yea, man…I got it all cholloed out! What’s up with the street bike?” “I’m thinking about buying one, but I want to see how the street bike rides as opposed to my police bike.” “And?” “And…I have had it for all of…” he looked at his watch, “ten minutes, so I can’t say for sure. I’m off duty. I have some business to attend to, and then I will take it up to my house in Northridge.”

  Estrada laughed and said, “I didn’t know they were letting niggers into my
old turf.” “Oh yea, the brothers are taking over the spic’s turf. It’s only a matter of time before we have a hip-hop and rap studio going and some brothers with their bling walking the streets of the hood.”

  Estrada laughed and said, “Well, unlike you worthless dogs, I have to work. Ride safe.” He patted Howard on the shoulder and slipped a flyer in his leather jacket pocket. Howard saw him do it and asked, “What the fuck, man?” “It’s a fundraiser the West Valley Department is putting on. I thought you could show up there with your police bike and WOW the little kids.” Howard just laughed and rode off. Estrada stood there smiling, watching as Howard pulled out of the lot onto Reseda headed for Northridge.

  Jade walked out of the hospital morgue with a small white towel. John was waiting for her. She was still in surgical scrubs and covered in blood. “So?” John asked. Jade handed him the towel, and he opened it slowly. There, in the towel, were three small green balls. He recognized them right away. “Sulfuric acid tablets…Jesus I haven’t seen these in a few years.” Jade looked at John with a strange look on her face and asked, “You know what this is?” He nodded. “How could you know?” she asked. “It was part of my training in the Marine Corps and with the FBI.” “What…were they training you to use it to kill people?” John looked on and asked, “So, this is what killed Chavez?” “Um…yea…I’ve never seen it like this. I have seen suicides from drinking the acid. It’s a horrific way to die, and it’s easy to get. I mean, dump the liquid out of a car battery, and you have the stuff. But someone went to great lengths to put it in a solid capsule that the digestive system could break down and then release in the stomach and small intestines. I sense that I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.” John shook his head. Jade looked on as John rolled the balls around in the towel. Jade asked, “Homemade?” John nodded and said, “By someone who knows what the hell they are doing.” Jade said, “Well, that’s the cause of death. Someone fed this guy these things, and it had to be in the last few hours because there is no way they were in him any longer than that.”