Flames

Chapter Three

"It's impossible," the Chief told David Aceveda as the Captain stood in the office.



Aceveda shuffled uncomfortably in front of his boss's desk. He cleared his throat. "Sir, I really think that on the basis of that recording, we should re-open the investigation of Detective Crawley's death."



The Chief's patience was wearing thin with his Farmington Division Captain. "David, IAD cleared the case. I don't think this one recording, of questionable origin, is going to cause the board to re open an investigation that's been closed this long. There's just not enough evidence."



"Sir, I've already got at least two of the IAD panel members to agree that the case should be further looked into."



The Chief folded his hands on his desk. It was not that he disliked Aceveda. Nor was he that awfully fond of Vic Mackey. But he refused to believe that the Strike Team, no matter how questionable their tactics might be, had any involvement in the death of a fellow officer. And he had looked at the statistics. The Strike Team had been making consistent arrests for the past year. Farmington's crime rate had dropped considerably. And he didn't believe that Aceveda had all that much to do with it. He knew his Captain had political ambitions and was usually busier campaigning than he was planning for the future of his division.



"I am aware that both Jenna Wade and Scott McDonald are interested in the case. Ms Wade is nothing more than a civilian auditor with a misplaced sense of justice. Retired Captain McDonald has had issues with Detective Mackey spanning more than twelve years. So I'm sorry David, but I won't issue an order to re open the case. Not without convincing new evidence."



Aceveda opened his mouth to argue, but he read on the Chief's face and knew that it would be futile.



He nodded. "Well, if that's your final decision…"



The Chief nodded. "It is. Have a good afternoon Captain." And with that, he dismissed Aceveda.



David did a slow burn, feeling his neck under his collar sweat. He knew he should have expected as much. But he thought for sure with the tape that Jenna had produced…well, that at least the Chief would admit there was a chance that somehow something might have been overlooked.

He was out of ideas for the time being.

*******************************************************************

Shane and Lem found the machine shop Chokie the fence had tipped them to. They parked a good distance away to survey the place and called Vic to meet them.



While they were watching, a black T-Top Trans Am pulled into the place's parking lot. Two men got out and went inside.



Lem handed the binoculars over to Shane. He wasn't familiar with the cops who'd been in the squad with Shane and Vic.



"Well kiss my ass," Shane expounded, as he caught a glimpse of the men. He recognized Mark Wilson and Denny Fontaine. Rossi wasn't with them. "That's two of them all right," he confirmed.



Vic pulled up behind them a few minutes later. They reconvened inside the Durango.



Shane brought Vic up to speed starting with Chokie's bought statement and ending with Wilson and Fontaine going into the old building.



Vic told them what Vasquez had to say and the discovery about the evidence warehouse.



"So're we goin' in after them or what?" Lem asked, un-holstering his pistol and checking the clip.



Vic shook his head. "I want Rossi too. And I want to know just what the hell's so hot. It's not just stolen evidence weapons."



So they waited.



Shane's cell phone rang after a few minutes. "Vendrell."



It was Ronnie. He told Shane all he'd been able to find out: that Aceveda had gone to see the Chief and that the civilian IAD Board member Jenna Wade had been nosing around asking questions about the Strike Team. Ronnie also explained that Aceveda had returned from the Chief's office looking none to happy and had gone straight to his office and hadn't come out.



Shane reported this to Vic.



Vic nodded. He'd known if Aceveda really had something concrete, the Chief would have backed him. But judging by Aceveda's actions, Vic didn't think the meeting had gone well.



"Shane, go pick up Ronnie. If we're gonna take down Rossi, we're gonna need everyone. Me and Lem will follow the T top and call you to meet us."



Shane nodded and got out of the Durango, trotting back to his truck.

Aceveda had called Jenna Wade to report his disappointing outcome. She wanted to meet with him again. At an Italian restaurant this time. Aceveda was getting tired of all these secret rendezvous with her. He was getting nothing he could use and he had a feeling she was just feeding him tidbits in hopes of getting him to bed. Not that the idea was unattractive. But he did have his wife and daughter to think about. He wasn't sure he wanted to risk all of that, as well as his political career, over a piece of ass. Albeit it was a very nice ass.



He agreed to meet her, but told he it would have to be short.



When Shane got there to pick up Ronnie, the other detective had other plans.



"Man, this is hot. We gotta tail Aceveda first."



"Vic's gonna need our help with this Rossi thing," Shane reminded him.



"I know, I know. But if Aceveda is doing what I think he's doing, Vic will forgive us for being a few minutes late."



Ronnie explained what he'd heard "through the grapevine" about their Captain and Jenna Wade.



Shane's interest was piqued. "Okay, but we got to make it quick."



Ronnie brought his camera with him from the clubhouse. They saw Aceveda's city car leaving the parking lot as they got into Shane's truck.



Shane tailed the Captain with practiced experience, staying just far enough back so that Aceveda wouldn't catch on.



"So you really think he's ballin' that IAD chick?" Shane asked Ronnie.



Gardocki shrugged. "Who cares? As long as we can get something on him that makes it look that way…well, he can just back off of Vic."



Shane nodded in agreement. He watched Aceveda's car park in the lot of Tattorria, an Italian restaurant. He parked up the street, offering a good view through the side window of the place.



Ronnie put on a long distance lens on his camera.



"I can pick out the asshole on a gnat with this thing," he boasted.



"Just concentrate on *that* asshole," Shane reminded him. He was anticipating a call from Vic any minute and knew they'd have to get to where he was in a hurry.



Ronnie peered the camera through the open side window and looked through the viewfinder, picking up the interior of the Italian place through the window as if it were right in front of him. He spotted Aceveda walking to a table, where Jenna Wade sat.



"Bingo," Ronnie told Shane. "She's there."



He started snapping the shutter, the electronic whir of the camera making the only noise inside the cab of the pickup.



Aceveda kissed Jenna lightly on the cheek before sitting down. All captured on film. They talked for a few minutes. A few more snapshots. Jenna Wade reaches across the table and takes his hand. Ronnie clicked off four shots of that.



"Man this is good," Ronnie said with a grin, snapping off shots of what looked like a couple of adulterers. He had always enjoyed 'playing' private detective.



Shane's cell phone rang.



He snapped it open. It was Vic.



"We're on West Johnson. About a block up from the house Rossi's at."



"We'll be right there," Shane told his partner.



He started the truck. "We got to roll," He told Ronnie, who was still clicking off shots.



"Wait, wait!" Ronnie said. This was gonna be the one. Aceveda was getting up to leave. Jenna wade got up too. They embraced. Kissed again. Ronnie snapped it.

"Go!" he said.



Shane peeled away from the curb, ignoring on coming traffic. His truck roared up the LA street.



****************************************************************************



Shane coasted to a stop behind the Durango. Vic and Lem had followed Fontaine and Wilson from the machine shop to this run down neighborhood, mostly welfare projects. It was mainly white and Hispanic. A place Rossi and his boys wouldn't be too conspicuous in.



The house the T Top was parked in front of was about twenty years old, but looked dilapidated enough to be fifty. The windows were mostly boarded up. The paint was peeling. The yard was nothing but dirt. A ramshackle fence of rotting boards ran along the east side. The houses next to it looked almost as bad.



"We got Fontaine and Wilson inside for sure," Lem briefed Shane and Ronnie. He watched through the dirty windows, where there weren't boarded up, with the binoculars. "Third guy in there. Stays away from the windows."



"Got to be Cowboy," Vic affirmed.



"We got a game plan?" Shane asked.



"Hit them like they hit us. Hard and fast."



Ronnie and Shane were already sliding their Kevlar vests over their shirts. Lem and Vic had already put theirs on.



Shane opened the weapons and ammo box behind the back seat. He handed Lem his Mossberg shotgun. He checked his Glock 37, making sure to chamber a .45 caliber round into the chamber.



Vic un-snapped the clasp of the holster holding his Beretta.



"Ronnie, Lem, go around the back. We'll try to take them off guard. If they want to go down shooting, we'll play. But I want to try and get them alive and talking. I want to know just what the hell is going on."



So, their game plan set, the four cops moved out, taking different routes hoping not to get spotted by those inside the house.



Vic and Shane moved on the front of the house, using cars, shrubbery and trash dumpsters for cover. Vic gave Lem and Ronnie time to get around to the back of the house and pick their targeted point of entry.



He keyed his mike; having tuned the police issue radio to a private channel only the other three detectives were tuned onto.



"Go," was all he said.



He and Shane went to the front door, having noted that it was only a screen door that was shut, not the interior wood door.



Shane saw the three occupants inside, sitting at a table in the front room. He threw open the door.



"Hands in the air!" he yelled. Vic covered him.



Joey Rossi, Mark Wilson and Denny Fontaine certainly seemed surprised as Vic and Shane burst through their front door, shortly followed by the sound of the back door slamming open and Lem and Ronnie entering from that side.



"Well, well," Rossi said, grinning up at Vic, his hands slightly raised. "Guess you didn't take my friendly warning."

"Guess not." Vic was surveying the scene, thinking that the three ex-cops were sure taking this well. They hadn't even made a move for the guns he could plainly see.



The four Strike Team covered the three seated.



"Reach for those guns nice and slow and drop them on the floor," Vic commanded.



Rossi complied, dropping a .45 on the floor. Fontaine followed suit, Wilson doing so as well.



Shane glanced at Vic out of the corner of his eye. He was having the same feeling. This was going down way to easy. It was eerie.



"You got nothing on us Vic. Just three dead guys, sitting around playing cards," Rossi told him. His damn grin never faded.



"Well, if you're already dead, then nobody will miss you when I put a bullet in your head," Vic growled.



"Oh, somebody might. Somebody who right at this minute is putting documents at each of your homes tying you all into that nasty scandal down at Farmington. It kinda reads like that piece a while back at Rampart: dirty cops buying illegal weapons, stealing evidence, killing other cops. Ugly stuff."



Vic and Shane exchanged quick glances.



"What the hell are you talking about?"



"You take us down, you are going down with us," Rossi explained. "You really didn't get that I was giving you a friendly warning. I told you this was big. I did that on my own. Out of loyalty Vic. To what we are. Brothers. But now it's gone too far. Gotten out of my hands," he shrugged.



"What the hell are you talking about asshole?" Lem demanded to know, training his shotgun on Cowboy's Stetson hat.



"It's like this boys. You take us in, there's IAD at your homes, finding documents proving that you four are buying illegal automatic weapons using different officer's identities. To finance your little arsenal, you've been stealing guns from the evidence lock up, guns that were supposed to be destroyed, and selling them back to the street. It'll look pretty unfavorable on the LAPD and Farmington Division especially. Then there's the little matter of all the drugs that will be strategically found in your belonging. Could it be you're still hooked up with the drug trade, making a little extra money on the side?"

The four members of the Strike Team exchanged looks. Their faces read a mixture of anger and, possibly fear. If what Cowboy was saying was true, not only did he have them for crimes they hadn't committed, but crimes that they had as well. Either way, with all that evidence, no one was going to care.



"So say this little theatrical spiel of yours is true," Vic said. "What is it you want from us?"



"Simple actually. Leave. Let it go. Like I asked you before. Back off an let us do what we do."



"And let you keep on putting weapons on the street, buy illegal shit and then sell it to fuckin' Saddam or whoever the hell you're hooked up with?" Shane spat.



Cowboy nodded. "Exactly. I told you before. It goes too deep for the four of you to even make a dent in. So you might as well go about your happy little lives, make a drug bust or something."



Vic felt a bead of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades. His Beretta was still trained on Rossi. His mind reeled with what he'd just been told. This was bad. Very bad. And he'd been set up. Betrayed. And one face flashed through his mind: Vasquez.



Slowly, Vic lowered his weapon, nodding to his team to do the same.



Obviously, the frontal assault hadn't worked. Now he had to think of a way to get his team out of the fire.