Chapter Four
Sergeant Pete Sinclair was leaving for the day from his duty at the evidence warehouse. It was a crap job for the PD and one he wasn't happy to be relegated to. Except for the fact that he got a large cut of the profit Joey and his team made for Pete's contribution to their arsenals, the job would be worthless. He missed being a street cop. But Joey promised him if he kept up business as usual for another six months, they'd all be on easy street. So needless to say, when Pete found himself surrounded by five cops when he got to his car, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Look Sinclair," Aceveda was telling the Sergeant, now in an interrogation room at the Barn. "You're all going down. Hard. I'm just trying to cut you a little slack, make things a little easier for you."
Sinclair had been there almost an hour and his shirt was drenched with sweat.
"You know what they do to cops in prison?" Mackey asked with a leer.
"I can make a lot of it all go away," Aceveda promised the sergeant. "All you have to do is play ball with us."
"Or don't. And we'll tell Rossi you did anyway. He'll kill you himself before anyone else has a chance at you."
Sinclair's eyes darted from Aceveda to Mackey, back and forth.
"All right, all right," he gave in with a sigh.
Sinclair gave them enough information to bust Rossi and his team red handed. A Mexican buyer was flying in that night to look at some of Rossi's 'merchandise'.
"We're going to be cutting it close," Mackey said, reviewing the plan, then glancing at his watch. The deal was supposed to go down at eleven. It was already nine.
"We've got to get into position at that airport."
"I've got 15 officers on standby." Aceveda nodded. "Lets move."
It was a small airstrip outside of LA. There were several hangars and outbuildings in which the officers could conceal themselves. Mackey and his team set up in the main hangar, a large Quonset hut-type building.
It was a quarter until eleven when they spotted the T top making it's way to the hangar. At the same time, the small plane carrying the potential arms buyer touched down on one of the runways.
"Get ready," Mackey advised over the radio. "No body move until I say."
The plane coasted to a stop not far from the hanger. The Trans Am pulled up in front as well.
Aceveda looked on with infrared binoculars from one of the nearby buildings.
Rossi, Fontaine and Wilson got out of the car, waiting beside it for the occupants of the plane.
Three men got out of the GulfStream. They approached the car.
There were brief greetings exchanged and some small talk, and then Rossi popped the trunk. He took out a Mac 10 semi automatic pistol and an AR 15 rifle to show his 'customers'.
The Mexican looked over the guns, nodding his approval. They talked for another few minutes, and one of the other men brought up a suitcase. He handed it over to Rossi. A deposit on their order.
Cowboy handed the case to Fontaine, who opened it up. Mackey could clearly see the money inside.
"Go!" he ordered.
From various strategic positions, the Strike Team, and the LAPD uniforms moved on the men.
"LAPD! Drop the weapons and let me see some hands!" Mackey yelled, running toward the dealers, covered by Shane and Lem.
"Manos arriba!" he yelled telling the Mexicans to put their hands up.
Rossi stared, definitely surprised to see cops coming at him from everywhere.
Fontaine and Wilson tossed their guns on the ground. They placed their hands on top of their heads. They clearly saw they were outnumbered and there was no need to try and pretend otherwise.
The three Mexican men too threw down weapons and assumed the position.
Rossi was the only one who did not move. Instead he grinned at Vic. The Mac 10 was near his hand on the trunk of the car.
Mackey took a shooting stance behind an airplane engine that was in for repair. Lem and Shane covered him from opposite sides of the building. Ronnie was in an upper window of the hanger with a rifle, prepared to take out anyone who didn't want to cooperate.
Aceveda and his detail of LAPD officers in squad cars had begun moving in from the outbuildings.
Rossi looked at Vic.
"Get on the ground, face down!" Lem ordered the men.
Wilson and Fontaine complied. The Mexican men followed suit.
Only Rossi's position remained unchanged.
"Look around Cowboy. You're not getting out!" Vic told him.
"I never thought it'd go down like this Vic," Rossi yelled, the grin never leaving his face. "We were friends man!"
"Don't do it Joey!" Vic advised again, seeing Rossi's eyes jump to the pistol again.
"Sorry man. I'm dead already." He grabbed for the gun.
Shots rang out.
Rossi managed to get his finger on the trigger as he attempted to roll behind the car for cover. The semi, converted to full auto, fired a rapid volley of shots, most wildly hitting the pavement and the car.
Before he even made it to the ground, Rossi was hit several times. Once from Ronnie's high-powered rifle; at least once from Vic's Beretta.
The rest of the players in the arms deal were taken into custody on a number of charges. Cowboy Rossi was taken away by the coroner, dead enough this time.
Media, who had been conveniently alerted to the situation 'somehow', were beginning to arrive. Aceveda played star for the cameras.
Mackey had holstered his gun. He stared at the T-top, now scarred by bullet holes. The red and blue flashing lights cast an eerie glow on the black car.
Shane walked up to his partner. "You okay?"
Vic nodded slowly. He considered just how easy it must have been for Rossi and his guys to get caught up in the action, and the money. "Don't ever let it get this far."
Shane wondered if Vic really meant that it could have almost as easily been them on the receiving side of this. Did he really think they were as far over the line as Rossi? Were they?
Lt Jesse Vasquez was not prepared for what happened when he opened his front door to leave for work just before eight in the morning.
There was a herd of news media on his lawn. Cameras were stuck in
his face and microphones thrust toward him.
"Is it true you're involved in the cover up of several LAPD officer's deaths?"
"Lt any comment on the arms selling charges?"
"Did you spearhead the sale of illegal guns by LAPD cops?"
Vasquez was bombarded by the reporter's questions.
A man in a suit pushed past the reporters. Captain David Aceveda.
"Lt Vasquez, I have a warrant to search the premises." Four uniformed officers followed him.
Vasquez gave Aceveda a heated look, but quickly retreated back
into his house, followed by the Captain and the officers.
Vic Mackey was content to watch the arrest unfold on television. He
didn't have any desire to come face to face with Jesse. He didn't
know what it was inside him that refused to confront his old friend.
Maybe it was because deep down inside he knew. He knew how hard
it was to walk on the tightrope. One slip…he'd already made a slip.
He couldn't ever let it happen again. He'd be where Jesse was.
No, he had to admit to himself. He could never be where Jesse
Vasquez was. Vic knew, if it ever came down to it, he'd be where
Cowboy Rossi was.
Vic drank some more coffee and tried not to think about that.
FIN
Sergeant Pete Sinclair was leaving for the day from his duty at the evidence warehouse. It was a crap job for the PD and one he wasn't happy to be relegated to. Except for the fact that he got a large cut of the profit Joey and his team made for Pete's contribution to their arsenals, the job would be worthless. He missed being a street cop. But Joey promised him if he kept up business as usual for another six months, they'd all be on easy street. So needless to say, when Pete found himself surrounded by five cops when he got to his car, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Look Sinclair," Aceveda was telling the Sergeant, now in an interrogation room at the Barn. "You're all going down. Hard. I'm just trying to cut you a little slack, make things a little easier for you."
Sinclair had been there almost an hour and his shirt was drenched with sweat.
"You know what they do to cops in prison?" Mackey asked with a leer.
"I can make a lot of it all go away," Aceveda promised the sergeant. "All you have to do is play ball with us."
"Or don't. And we'll tell Rossi you did anyway. He'll kill you himself before anyone else has a chance at you."
Sinclair's eyes darted from Aceveda to Mackey, back and forth.
"All right, all right," he gave in with a sigh.
Sinclair gave them enough information to bust Rossi and his team red handed. A Mexican buyer was flying in that night to look at some of Rossi's 'merchandise'.
"We're going to be cutting it close," Mackey said, reviewing the plan, then glancing at his watch. The deal was supposed to go down at eleven. It was already nine.
"We've got to get into position at that airport."
"I've got 15 officers on standby." Aceveda nodded. "Lets move."
It was a small airstrip outside of LA. There were several hangars and outbuildings in which the officers could conceal themselves. Mackey and his team set up in the main hangar, a large Quonset hut-type building.
It was a quarter until eleven when they spotted the T top making it's way to the hangar. At the same time, the small plane carrying the potential arms buyer touched down on one of the runways.
"Get ready," Mackey advised over the radio. "No body move until I say."
The plane coasted to a stop not far from the hanger. The Trans Am pulled up in front as well.
Aceveda looked on with infrared binoculars from one of the nearby buildings.
Rossi, Fontaine and Wilson got out of the car, waiting beside it for the occupants of the plane.
Three men got out of the GulfStream. They approached the car.
There were brief greetings exchanged and some small talk, and then Rossi popped the trunk. He took out a Mac 10 semi automatic pistol and an AR 15 rifle to show his 'customers'.
The Mexican looked over the guns, nodding his approval. They talked for another few minutes, and one of the other men brought up a suitcase. He handed it over to Rossi. A deposit on their order.
Cowboy handed the case to Fontaine, who opened it up. Mackey could clearly see the money inside.
"Go!" he ordered.
From various strategic positions, the Strike Team, and the LAPD uniforms moved on the men.
"LAPD! Drop the weapons and let me see some hands!" Mackey yelled, running toward the dealers, covered by Shane and Lem.
"Manos arriba!" he yelled telling the Mexicans to put their hands up.
Rossi stared, definitely surprised to see cops coming at him from everywhere.
Fontaine and Wilson tossed their guns on the ground. They placed their hands on top of their heads. They clearly saw they were outnumbered and there was no need to try and pretend otherwise.
The three Mexican men too threw down weapons and assumed the position.
Rossi was the only one who did not move. Instead he grinned at Vic. The Mac 10 was near his hand on the trunk of the car.
Mackey took a shooting stance behind an airplane engine that was in for repair. Lem and Shane covered him from opposite sides of the building. Ronnie was in an upper window of the hanger with a rifle, prepared to take out anyone who didn't want to cooperate.
Aceveda and his detail of LAPD officers in squad cars had begun moving in from the outbuildings.
Rossi looked at Vic.
"Get on the ground, face down!" Lem ordered the men.
Wilson and Fontaine complied. The Mexican men followed suit.
Only Rossi's position remained unchanged.
"Look around Cowboy. You're not getting out!" Vic told him.
"I never thought it'd go down like this Vic," Rossi yelled, the grin never leaving his face. "We were friends man!"
"Don't do it Joey!" Vic advised again, seeing Rossi's eyes jump to the pistol again.
"Sorry man. I'm dead already." He grabbed for the gun.
Shots rang out.
Rossi managed to get his finger on the trigger as he attempted to roll behind the car for cover. The semi, converted to full auto, fired a rapid volley of shots, most wildly hitting the pavement and the car.
Before he even made it to the ground, Rossi was hit several times. Once from Ronnie's high-powered rifle; at least once from Vic's Beretta.
The rest of the players in the arms deal were taken into custody on a number of charges. Cowboy Rossi was taken away by the coroner, dead enough this time.
Media, who had been conveniently alerted to the situation 'somehow', were beginning to arrive. Aceveda played star for the cameras.
Mackey had holstered his gun. He stared at the T-top, now scarred by bullet holes. The red and blue flashing lights cast an eerie glow on the black car.
Shane walked up to his partner. "You okay?"
Vic nodded slowly. He considered just how easy it must have been for Rossi and his guys to get caught up in the action, and the money. "Don't ever let it get this far."
Shane wondered if Vic really meant that it could have almost as easily been them on the receiving side of this. Did he really think they were as far over the line as Rossi? Were they?
Lt Jesse Vasquez was not prepared for what happened when he opened his front door to leave for work just before eight in the morning.
There was a herd of news media on his lawn. Cameras were stuck in
his face and microphones thrust toward him.
"Is it true you're involved in the cover up of several LAPD officer's deaths?"
"Lt any comment on the arms selling charges?"
"Did you spearhead the sale of illegal guns by LAPD cops?"
Vasquez was bombarded by the reporter's questions.
A man in a suit pushed past the reporters. Captain David Aceveda.
"Lt Vasquez, I have a warrant to search the premises." Four uniformed officers followed him.
Vasquez gave Aceveda a heated look, but quickly retreated back
into his house, followed by the Captain and the officers.
Vic Mackey was content to watch the arrest unfold on television. He
didn't have any desire to come face to face with Jesse. He didn't
know what it was inside him that refused to confront his old friend.
Maybe it was because deep down inside he knew. He knew how hard
it was to walk on the tightrope. One slip…he'd already made a slip.
He couldn't ever let it happen again. He'd be where Jesse was.
No, he had to admit to himself. He could never be where Jesse
Vasquez was. Vic knew, if it ever came down to it, he'd be where
Cowboy Rossi was.
Vic drank some more coffee and tried not to think about that.
FIN
