"Sarge, check out the size of this freaking gourd!" Sphinx calls to me across the open marketplace.
I turn to see the big ass fruit, and it's huge! "Dude, that thing's the size of your head!" We start to laugh together.
Our bonding moment is shattered when Roman and the rest of our team comes sprinting around the corner. "Move move move!" He shouts as he passes us. We don't hesitate for a second, immediately falling in behind the captain.
"What's going on?" Sphinx cries as other people start screaming and running with us. His question is answered when a pickup with a heavy machine gun in the back drifts around the same corner Roman had come from. Another extremist group supplied by Charlie Wilson in the 1980s.
They open fire on everyone, men, women and children. This isn't an extremist group. They wouldn't do this. These are the people we're here to take out. Opium pedaling fucks.
After last night's clown fiasco, I'm still out of one office. Today's agenda is to check out the wreckage to see what we can find out. What did they want to gain from burning down the house? What can we find out about the clowns that actually did it?
I grab my phone and compose an email:
Team:
Meet me at the Psych office. Don't gear up but don't come unarmed.
Spencer.
I didn't say when, but I know my crew. They'll be there when I get there.
I roll up on my bike to see that I was right. Jules and Lassie are both here.
"Morning everyone. Any sign of Gus yet?" I ask, noticing the absence of my cocoa crime fighter.
"No. Did he respond to your email?" Lassie asks, leaning against his Ford Fusion.
I pull up my phone to see a message from my mom, just checking up on me. Nothing from Gus.
I quickly push out a text:
Hey buddy. Where you at? Did you get my email?
"Shawn, should we go check on him?" Juliet's eyes match the hot led ball in my gut.
"Yeah. We'll all go. Until we know what's going on, I don't want us splitting up. Gus never takes this long to respond, let alone missing a meet up call."
We all meet up at Gus's place, the three of us convoying over here together. I don't know what's going on with him, but I have the worst feeling in my gut. Something's not right here.
"Let's move, everyone on me," I say not too loudly. I feel like we're being watched. That being said, I think it's best if I go in armed.
Lassie and Jules see me grab for my M9, and they pull their guns, too. I don't know what I'm expecting. Maybe it's nothing. But there's a million possibilities rolling through my head as we climb the stairs to his apartment.
"Gus? Buddy?" I ask as I knock on his door. We wait. We wait. I knock again. We wait. We wait.
"Spencer, let's get in there," Lassie suggests and I agree. I try the handle and it's locked. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing. Locked door, no response. Maybe he's just out on errands.
I open the door, fearing the worst. When I do open the door, his place is as it should be. Everything is immaculately spotless and tidy like always. Not a thing is out of place.
"No sign of a fight or struggle," I note aloud.
"Guster would have put up a fight," Lassie says, confirming what I think now. Nothing is really amiss.
"Maybe he's just out and he didn't hear his phone?" Jules asks, returning her Glock back to her purse. I didn't expect anything crazy today, so I'm not surprised she just has it in her purse. Lassie, as always, is wearing his full suit. He probably sleeps in one.
"What do we do now? Wait for him? Check out the office without him? Go hunting for the man?" Lassie's suggestions are all solid.
"Shawn, should we split up and…"
"No." I cut Jules off right there. "They came after me and Gus last night with ten men. They're moving on us, trying to take us out or at least hurt us. The last thing we need to do is separate."
"Spencer's right, O'Hara. As much as I hate to say it."
"It's okay, Lassie. You'll get used to saying it." Lassie glares while I smile at him.
"As I was saying, I've been doing some reading on the English Mob. It's mainly been through news sources because they're obviously not going to have a website. But these are dangerous, ruthless people, O'Hara. They don't mind murder at all. Only they know how much they really do, not that much getting caught." Lassie did do his homework.
"Roman assembled his team and I picked you guys because you're the only cops I can trust to not be bought," I tell them. "But for now, I think we should go do our check-up on the Psych office. Gus will head there once he sees my messages."
We've been at the Psych office for a good hour with nothing to show for it. It really looks like the job was as simple as the security tape from yesterday made it out to be. There was gas and a match. There's no clues to anything here.
The entire building is just gone. It's still standing, but everything is a charred, crumbling mess. There's not an inch of it that isn't black burns or ash coated.
"I'm sorry, Shawn. I know this was like a second home to you, even though you didn't have it that long."
"There's nothing here," I point out, simply in hopes to change the subject. "No clues, still no Gus."
Just as I say that, I see the Blueberry shoot by like an indigo streak of light! I didn't know that thing could go past sixty.
"Come on, guys! Back to Gus's house! I'm sure that's where he's going." I run the short distance to my bike and forsake my helmet because we need to move fast. By the time my bike is revved and ready to go, Lassie's got his Fusion ready to fly.
I take off into the street after the black Cadillac that was after Gus, Lassie and Jules right behind me in the same car so we can more easily stick together.
We're doing our best to zip down Santa Barbara's side streets to avoid as much traffic as possible, but it's not the most efficient way. A crow would laugh at us as it flew above.
After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, we finally get back to Gus's! And just in time for him to come drifting around the corner like a Smurf out of hell. This whole scene is like the Sandlot when they pickle the Beast except Gus is Benny the Jet Rodriguez. That makes me Smalls. James Earl Jones has not yet revealed himself.
Jules, Lassie and myself duck behind the Fusion with sidearms ready. Gus peals into the parking lot and doesn't stop till he's past where we are. Before the Cadillac can even pull into the apartment complex's parking, Lassie opens fire and takes out a tire! I didn't think he was that good!
The car stops before it can spin out and cause damage to the driver and passenger. The people inside pour out and use it for cover. Their vehicle is so much bigger than ours! Yup, great. Now they're shooting at us.
Lassie and Jules return fire while Gus runs over to join us. I just remembered that I didn't give Gus a gun…
"What am I supposed to do, Shawn?" Gus yells at me over the fire fight. "These guys were chasing me and I was unarmed the whole time! C'mon son!"
"Oh my God, I know!" I cry back, squeezing off two rounds. "Here. Take this and cover me," I tell him, handing him my M9. "Do not shoot me."
"Shawn? Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus asks, and it's a fair question.
"Pickling the Beast," I respond. "Lassie, Jules… cover me." Leaving it at that, I shuffle to the back end of the Fusion, keeping low. I wait till the one on my end reloads, and now I run!
I'm sprinting across the parking lot with bullets flying everywhere, a real live grenade in my hand! I don't think any of the English dudes saw it, though.
I get to the Cadillac and hit the ground immediately, protected by one of the tires. If they tried to get me from here, they'd blow their cover… which is what I'm about to do.
I take my grenade, pull the pin, and open the passenger door closest to me. I roll the little explosive under the seat and close the door again. "Fire in the hole!" I shout before sprinting back to the Fusion and my time. It takes a second for what I just said to soak in before they start running, too. They're maybe seven feet out before it detonates, my team safely covered but them wide open, allowing them to get peppered by shrapnel from Cadillac and grenade alike.
There seems to be two wounded while three others head for the hills on foot.
"You take care of them. I'm going after our runners," my tell Lassie as I run for my bike. I still have two more grenades in my saddle bag, too. I don't think I need them, but a guy can't be sure.
"Spencer!" Lassie shouts as soon as I make it into the SBPD's bullpen. One foot in and I'm all ready getting yelled at. Is my dad working here again?
"Glad to see you're okay, too," I tell him, not holding back on the sarcasm. "Where's Gus and Jules? Are they both okay?" I cut the chatter and get to what matters. Damn, I don't remember joining Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, but I could with rhymes like those.
"They're fine and talking to the two mobsters you almost blew up. As much as I don't like these guys being in our city," wow, he said 'our,' "they do it right. Full suit like a monster should instead of this wife beater and no belt jeans that the gangbangers around here wear.
"You do have a point. But Lassie…"
"Yes?"
"How about that grenade, though!" I say, jumping up and down. "You know that was badass! Admit it!" I call him out, pointing to him after I stop jumping.
"That was stupid and reckless. But… it worked," he admits and probably hates the big stupid grin on my face.
"I'm heading down to interrogation."
"Not after last time, Spencer." Lassie tries to stop me with his vice of a hand on my shoulder.
"Oh ho ho, Lassie. Did you forget that you're on my team? I'm the boss!" I cry as I run away from him down towards the stairs.
Once in the viewing room, I can see that they're patched up but haven't seen a hospital yet. Gus is leaning against the back wall while Jules is asking the questions.
"How long were you tailing Mr. Guster here?" Jules asks, motioning to the man in question. The suit says nothing. "Who told you to follow him? Who's above you on the chain?"
"We have officers, yeah. But no one told us to. We can act alone as long as we don't fucking talk if we get caught." I hate these guys all ready.
"How do you know who he is before I gave his last name?" Jules asks.
"We know who to look out for, Detective Juliet O'Hara." They're trying to intimidate us with what they know, and by Juliet's visible attempt to not look worried, it's working.
"Mister and Mister Shit Bag, it's good to meet you," I say as I barge in. "From what I've heard, I'm guessing you all ready know that I'm Sergeant Shawn Spencer. Good for you."
"Shawn, any luck with the runaways?" Jules whispers into my ear before I can get too into it.
"No. They ducked into a public coffee shop where I couldn't get violent. I had to get back here so I couldn't wait them out," I whisper back.
"Sergeant, we're waiting," the taller on with the beard gets my attention.
"Don't fucking test me," I warn sternly. "I can all ready tell that there's nothing we can legally do to make you talk. You're going to sit in prison until your stupidly huge bail is paid or until you find a way to threaten your way out. Best case scenario is that you get out before I get a man inside to really make you talk." I'm tired of shadow games. I want to meet who's running the show. I'm sure Sarah Boleyn, the woman behind the clowns has something to do with it. Maybe she's the Santa Barbara chapter head. I'm going to need a lot more before we can go after her. These two aren't enough yet.