Chapter 28: "Speak of The Devil" (Part 2)
Men's Locker Room
LSPD Headquarters
Rockford Hills
The Next Morning
7:30 AM
After discreetly returning the Jeep Cherokee Laredo he had borrowed to the car rental at the Los Santos International Airport, Harrison took a taxi back to LSPD Headquarters and slipped in quietly, hoping no one would be the wiser. He showered, brushed his teeth, and shaved all in the space of about 30 minutes, and was in the process of putting on his uniform when Officer Declan Fostenberg walked in. Fostenberg was dressed a very plain-looking white sweatshirt, a pair of tattered blue jeans, and what looked to be some very well-used white running shoes. He held a gym bag in his right hand, which Harrison guessed contained his uniform, weapon, and other necessary equipment.
"Morning, Sergeant!" Fostenberg cordially greeted as he set his gym back down on the long wooden bench behind them and opened up his locker.
"Hey Declan", Harrison replied as he pulled his white cotton undershirt on over his head, "Good morning to you, too, buddy. How are you?"
"I'm cool", Fostenberg said, "I had a great night last night. Took my girlfriend to the movies to see 'The Loneliest Robot in Great Britain'."
Harrison raised an eyebrow at that as he put on his uniform shirt and buttoned it up. "Really?" he said in a rather cynical tone, "I hear that movie's a bit of a downer."
Fostenberg shrugged his shoulder as he removed his uniform clothes from his gym bag. "My girl liked it", he candidly replied, "I guess I just tolerated it for her sake."
Harrison chuckled before playfully slapping his young field trainee on the shoulder. "Good man!" he lightheartedly said, "That's very gracious of you."
"Oh", Fostenberg said, "Before I forget, Sarge. I saw a certified letter in your mailbox. The return address was from a law firm called Walsh, Hawthorne, and Schmidt."
Harrison sighed and nodded. "Thanks for letting me know, bud" he replied.
"They're a defense firm, right?" Fostenberg inquired.
"Yeah", Harrison replied, "They represent some of the wealthiest and most well-connected people in the city, including the De Santa family."
"You think Michael took your threat seriously?" Fostenberg asked.
Harrison nervously smirked. "Well," he replied, "If his lawyer's sending me a certified letter a little over a day later, then I would assume so."
Portola Drive
Rockford Hills
15 Minutes Later
15 minutes later, Harrison and Fostenberg were out on their usual patrol, starting where they always did in the vicinity of Portola Drive. Sergeant Harrison had decided to give Fostenberg the conditional privilege of driving their 2013 Chevrolet Impala police cruiser, so as such, Harrison himself sat beside him in the passenger seat. A shrill beeping alarm then sounded on the cruiser's onboard computer, known as a Mobile Data Terminal (MDT).
"What was that?" Fostenberg inquired.
Harrison turned the MDT screen towards him, at which point he was equally surprised and perplexed to see Trevor Phillips' face on the screen. "It's a felony warrant alert out of Blaine County", Harrison said, "That guy Trevor Phillips is wanted for questioning in the murders of Johnny Klebitz as well as about a dozen other bikers in Stab City."
By this point, the two officers happened to be passing by the De Santa residence where they saw that their front gate was open and two men appeared to be getting into Michael's darkly-colored 2013 Audi A4 sedan. "Declan", Harrison said to Fostenberg, "Pull over right here."
Fostenberg did as instructed, slowing the cruiser to a quiet stop just out outside the immediate view of the De Santas' front gate. Harrison, meanwhile, saw that the person getting behind the wheel of the A4 was obviously Michael De Santa himself, but his mouth dropped as soon as he realized who the passenger was.
"Speak of the devil", Harrison exclaimed, "That's Phillips!"
"What should we do, Sarge?" Fostenberg asked.
"Let's tail them", Harrison replied, "Don't activate the lights or the wailer unless we absolutely need to. Stay two cars behind them, we don't want to spook them and have them tear ass away from us."
"Got it", Fostenberg said as he slowly rolled the cruiser out behind the A4.
Harrison then grabbed the CB radio mic off its cradle and keyed it. "HQ-Sergeant-One to Dispatch", he said into the mic, "Copy?"
"HQ-Sergeant-One", a male dispatcher's voice replied from the radio a few seconds later, "Dispatch here. Over."
"Be advised, Dispatch" Harrison said into the mic, "HQ-Alpha-Six and I are currently doing a covert tail of what looks to be a dark gray late model Audi sedan, San Andreas plate number Five-Mary-David-Sam-Zero-Zero-Three. There's possibly a felony suspect in the vehicle. We're not sure where it's going at this time. What units are currently available in our sector? Over."
"HQ-Sergeant-One", the male dispatcher replied from the radio, "Copy your information. Be advised, HQ-Ocean-Oh-Two and HQ-Ocean-Oh-Three are both currently in service for Rockford Hills at this time, over."
"Ten-Four, Dispatch" Harrison said into the mic, "Please assign them to hold down any calls for service in our sector for the time being. I'm not sure where the two guys are going to take us, but there's a very good possibility it could be way out of our sector. We'll keep you updated. Over."
"Copy your request, Sergeant" the dispatcher replied, "Stay safe, over."
Harrison sighed before keying the mic once again in response. "Copy", he said into the mic, "Will do."
Maze Bank Arena
Davis Avenue, South Los Santos
Harrison and Fostenberg were able to stealthily trail Michael De Santa and Trevor Phillips to the parking lot of the Maze Bank Arena, a massive dome-shaped sports and concert venue that stuck out like a sore thumb over the skyline of South Los Santos. They observed Michael and Trevor go inside through the building's side entrance, at which point the two officers exited their own vehicle and made their way toward the entrance. As they did so, Harrison keyed the portable radio mic.
"HQ-Sergeant-One to Dispatch", he said, "Be advised, we have trailed our suspects to the Maze Bank Arena on Davis Avenue. Please roll a South-Central patrol unit our way, Code Two, over."
Sergeant Dakota Michaels then came over the radio in response. "Tac-Twenty-One-Sergeant to HQ-Sergeant-One", he said from the radio, "I copy your traffic and your request, Troy. Be advised, I'm currently on the way to the arena with Central-Bravo-Three at this time." Central-Bravo-Three was the radio call sign for Michaels' field trainee, Officer Samar "Sam" Hanpoor. "We're about two minutes out", Michaels added.
Harrison smiled before keying the mic. "Copy that, Dakota" Harrison said, "Fostenberg and I will make our way inside and take positions until you get here, over."
As planned, Harrison and Fostenberg went inside the main lobby of the arena, at which point they quietly approach a burly, bald African-American security guard.
"Sergeant Harrison, LSPD" he said before gesturing to Fostenberg, "This is Officer Fostenberg. I don't mean to alarm you or anybody else here, sir, but we have very good reason to believe that someone just came in this building who's a wanted subject."
The stoic and unwavering security guard nodded. "Okay", he said, "Who?"
Fostenberg held up a printed image of Trevor Phillips' mugshot. "This guy", he said, "Have you seen him?"
With that, the guard's expression changed as he nodded again, this time in apparent recognition. "Oh yeah", he said, "The real skinny balding dude. I have seen him. He came in about five minutes ago with some Rockford Hills-looking middle-aged dude."
"Where were they headed when you saw them?" Harrison asked.
The guard then pointed to a set of double doors on the farthest right side of the spacious lobby. "The 'Fame or Shame' Green Room", he replied, "It's that way, through those doors."
The two officers were just about to start heading in that direction when a loud male voice called out. "Troy!" Dakota Michaels hollered, "Declan!"
Harrison and Fostenberg turned to see Sergeant Michaels entering the lobby with Officer Hanpoor right by his side. "Hey fellas", he said before gesturing to the guard, "No time for pleasantries. We've got a positive ID from this gentleman on this guy Trevor Phillips. He's wanted for questioning by the Blaine County Sheriff's Office."
Just then, both Michael De Santa and Trevor Phillips burst through the doors of the Fame or Shame Green Room. Michael was dressed in a light blue polo shirt with khaki shorts and flip flops, while Trevor was clad in a Del Perro Pier muscle shirt and dark aviator sunglasses with dirty blue jeans and very mangy-looking brown work boots.
Perhaps acting more on his natural instinct as opposed to training, Officer Fostenberg stepped in front of the two men and held his hand up. "Halt!" he shouted, "LSP…"
The young officer had no time to shout the "D" in the acronym as he was hit with a very abrasive punch to the stomach by Trevor Phillips, at which point he crumbled to the floor. Michaels and Hanpoor immediately went ahead and began pursuing him and Michael on foot, while Harrison knelt to the side of his injured field trainee.
"You okay, bud?" Harrison anxiously inquired, "Do you need EMS?"
Before the sergeant could even finish the sentence, Fostenberg was already staggering back to his feet. "I'm good, Sarge" he strained to say as he shook his head, "Let's get these shitheads."
Harrison and Fostenberg caught up to Michaels and Hanpoor in the arena parking lot. "Where'd they go?" he asked Michaels.
It was then that the four officers saw a large tractor trailer truck emblazoned with the "Fame or Shame" logo rev into gear and start to exit the lot. "My guess is that they're in that big-ass truck over there!" Michaels replied as he pointed to the moving truck.
The two pairs of officers then hurried into their respective police cruisers and began pursuing the wayward tractor trailer truck. As a zealous Fostenberg drove their cruiser, Harrison grabbed the CB radio mic off of its cradle and keyed it.
"HQ-Sergeant-One to Dispatch", Harrison said into the radio, "Be advised, our suspects appear to have stolen a large 'Fame or Shame' tractor trailer truck from the Maze Bank Arena parking lot. Vehicle is currently heading northbound on Autopia Parkway. HQ-Alpha-Six and I are leading the pursuit with Tac-Twenty-One-Sergeant and Central-Bravo-Three following us in their vehicle, over."
The lengthy pursuit continued throughout South Los Santos and through certain sections of Textile City and La Mesa. Things began to slow down somewhat as the large truck and the two pursuing police cruisers reached the entrance to the Los Santos River spillway, which was located on Glory Way in East Vinewood. The truck and the two cruisers followed one another down the incline ramp that led to the actual spillway itself.
The vehicles crossed the spillway and continued pursuing one another for a brief period of time on the opposite side. It was at this point that Harrison, Fostenberg, Michaels, and Hanpoor realized that Michael De Santa and Trevor Phillips were actually using the truck to carry out a chase of their own. They appeared to be chasing a small red hybrid-powered compact vehicle.
"Tac-Twenty-One-Sergeant to either HQ-Sergeant-One or HQ-Alpha-Six", Michaels' voice said from the radio, "Do either of you guys copy?"
Choosing to let Fostenberg continue his very impressive pursuit driving, Harrison once again picked up the CB radio mic and keyed it. "We copy you, Dakota" Harrison replied into the radio, "What's up? Over."
"Do we know who the hell it is that these guys are pursuing?" Michaels asked from the radio, "Over."
Harrison and Fostenberg momentarily traded looks before the former shook his head and keyed the mic to reply. "Negative", Harrison replied into the radio, "I think it's best if we all just let whatever this is play out and respond accordingly, over."
"Ten-Four", Michaels said from the radio a few seconds later with a very noticeable bit of reluctance in his voice.
Roughly a minute or so later, the large tractor trailer truck slowed to a stop, as did the small red compact car that they had been chasing. The two police cars each came to a gradual stop as well. It was then that the four officers observed Michael and Trevor climb down out of the big truck and almost immediately began to berate the driver of the small red vehicle. The driver turned out to be Lazlow, a much maligned and famously troubled media celebrity who actually the host of "Fame or Shame".
Lazlow was a middle-aged white man with long blonde hair that had been tied into a ponytail. He wore a black leather jacket with a red shirt underneath, blue jeans, and gray slip-on shoes.
Meanwhile, Fostenberg, Michaels, and Hanpoor were very eager to run up and intercede in the situation. Harrison put a hand up in response and stopped them. "Hold up, guys", he said, "Like I said on the radio, let's just let this shit play out."
"You run out of batteries, huh?" Trevor said to Lazlow.
"I didn't mean anything by it", a desperate-sounding Lazlow replied, "Alright?"
"Oh yeah?" Trevor barked, "Well, that little girl sat on my lap when she was two years old and I swore to God that I would rip the fucking skin off anyone who fucking wronged her!"
In retort, Lazlow pled his preposterous case, basically blaming whatever it was he had done wrong on the trials and tribulations of being a has-been celebrity in today's America. At one point, Trevor had forced the man to drop his pants and dance ridiculously while Trevor recorded him with his cell phone while Michael laughed hysterically. They apparently decided to let Lazlow go, at which point he approached the four officers.
"Oh good", Lazlow said, "The police! Did you see what those crazy assholes just did to me?"
The four officers then erupted in gut-busting laughter in response. "I'm not going to speak for my three brother officers here", Harrison said after regaining his breath, "But all I see is a numb-nuts has-been running away from his disabled car in his drawls, dude."
Lazlow's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not going to help me?" he asked.
Sergeant Michaels then stepped in to back his friend Harrison up. "Looks like you pissed off the wrong dudes, asshole" he added, "And it also looks like you finally got one hell of a comeuppance. Take a hike right now or we'll arrest you for indecent exposure."
"But..." Lazlow uttered as he hung his head.
"He said 'now', you selfish douchebag prick!" Harrison barked, "BEAT IT!"
Lazlow then scampered away like the cowardly punk he was. It was at this time that Harrison saw Michael De Santa walking away from the truck in their direction and also noticed that the truck was driving away in the opposite direction, apparently with Trevor Phillips behind the wheel. Harrison sighed, hanging his head in realization of his mistake, at which point Michael approached the group of officers.
"I guess I should beat it too, huh?" Michael asked Harrison.
Harrison picked his head back up and made eye contact with Michael before nodding his head affirmatively. "Yeah", he regrettably replied, "I received the 'Cease-And-Desist' letter from your attorney this morning. I won't be arresting you after all. I would leave your cell phone on for the time being, though. You never know when I might need a favor."
With that, Michael too walked off. Fostenberg put a hand on Harrison's shoulder.
"What should we do, Sarge?" Fostenberg asked.
"Get on the radio", Harrison instructed, "tell Dispatch that we were unable to locate the truck or the suspects, and then let's get back to our stations. This isn't over, though. Not by a goddamn longshot."