Lethal Rage (18 page)

“I am not leaving until they fix my car and that's final.” The defiant gentleman dressed in a suit that probably would have covered two, if not more, of Jack's mortgage payments crossed his arms and looked as if he wanted to stamp his feet.

Tired and exasperated, Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He'd had a headache most of the day — no doubt thanks to the weather, once again hot and humid — and if the expensively dressed man kept arguing much longer it would surely cross over to migraine status. He and Manny were handling an unwanted-guest call at a BMW dealership on Adelaide Street and they had already been there twice as long as they should have been.

“Sir, the manager has explained to you, repeatedly, that the damage to your car is not covered by the warranty. They will gladly fix it but you'll have to pay for it.”
How many times does this moron need to be told?

Jack and Manny — taking turns so neither of them punched out the idiot from sheer frustration — had laid it out to Mr. BMW several times, but he refused to budge.

“And I have explained it to you,
officer
, they
are
going to fix it and it
is
covered by the warranty. Do you not understand me for some reason?”

Pain throbbed behind Jack's right eye and he was starting to squint against the bright lights in the showroom, two sure signs his headache was cheerfully on its way to a full-blown migraine. All he wanted to do was get in the car, down some meds and try to forget this condescending prick.

It was Manny's turn. “Sir, if you have a problem with —”

Mr. BMW threw up his hands, interrupting Manny. “Of course I have a problem! My God! Have you not understood a single word I've said? I understand the qualifications to become a police officer are lenient, but I had no idea they were that substandard. It's no wonder you two ended up as policemen. If you represent the norm for those who serve the rest of us —”

“That's enough!” It was Jack's turn to interrupt and he did it like a volcano erupting. Mr. BMW may have stood taller than Jack, but right now he took a tentative step back. “I've had enough of your fucking attitude. The manager has
asked
you to leave, we've
asked
you to leave and now I'm
telling
you to leave. If you don't, I will gladly arrest you for trespassing, handcuff you and dump you in the back of my shitty North American–made police car. Do. You. Under. Stand. Me?”

Mr. BMW quickly recovered from his shock. “You, officer, have just bought yourself trouble you cannot handle. Do you know who my lawyer —”

Manny threw his hand up in BMW's face to silence him as the portables, always kept on at low volume when they were out of the car, crackled with urgency.

“CB51 Bravo in pursuit!” a female officer shouted.

Jack and Manny cranked their radios up.

“CB51 Bravo! We're chasing a male southbound through north Regent Park on a bicycle. Male black wearing a red shirt and black gloves!”

Sirens erupted across the division; Jack could hear them through the dealership's fancy glass walls. Every officer in the division knew what the gloves meant.

“Out! Now!”

Jack and Manny grabbed an arm each, wrinkling BMW's expensive suit, and ran him to the doors, not bothering to slow down when they reached the glass panels. Mr. BMW bore the brunt of the impact when they rammed open the doors. They ran to the scout car, BMW sputtering a tirade of threats and promising legal retribution; they would have dragged him if he hadn't been able to keep up. At the sidewalk, they released him, and with the abrupt freedom he careened into the side of the scout car. Luckily for his suit, they had managed to get the car washed that morning.

“Don't go back in there,” Jack yelled as he ran to the passenger side. He slid in and Manny screamed away from the curb as Jack slammed his door.

“Southbound from 605 Whiteside now!”

“Who is that?” Jack wanted to know.

“Jenny, I think.”

The red light at Parliament was coming up fast. Manny braked at the last instant and didn't hit the gas again until Jack yelled, “Clear!” To cut down on time at red lights — when the sirens were wailing, seconds mattered — two-man cars held the advantage over solo units; the passenger's responsibility was to check for traffic on his side and the driver had to learn to wait for the “clear” without checking. It took practice and trust. A distinct advantage for permanent partners.

In their four days together, Jack had learned that Manny was one of the best drivers he had ever seen. The guy could squeeze a scout car through a keyhole at unimaginable speeds without scraping either side of the car. Jack had ridden with one officer up in 32 who had enough titanium holding him together to qualify as a cyborg, all as a result of departmental accidents. High-speed manoeuvering seemed as natural to Manny as breathing.

“Where do you think he's headed?”

“If he was going to bail off the bike and head inside — clear! — he probably would have done it in north Regent. I bet he's planning on heading into the little streets south of Shuter,” Jack said.

“Male now westbound on Shuter!” came Jenny's voice again.

“Or not,” Jack admitted.

“10-4, CB Bravo, westbound on Shuter. Bravo, what's the male wanted for?”
Either the dispatcher didn't understand the significance of the gloves — which Jack found hard to believe — or she was trying to legitimize the bicycle pursuit. Since the warrant for Charles's arrest had been made public, there had been five foot pursuits of glove-wearing suspects. None of them had been Charles, of course. Overnight, black leather gloves had become a fashion statement in 51.

“Possession cocaine and assault to resist.” Jenny hardly sounded out of breath, evidence that those legs of hers were good for something other than being stared at.

“Any idea — wait, wait, clear! — who she's working with?”

“I think I saw her riding with Sue earlier.”

“Then this guy's fucked.”

Officers didn't like it when one of their own was assaulted; they tended to repay the culprit back twofold or more. When a female officer was assaulted, coppers took it personally.

The scout car screeched around the corner onto Shuter and Manny mashed the gas pedal. The car leapt out of the turn while Jack scanned the road ahead.

“Special 51's on Shuter. Bravo, where are you?” No answer. “Bravo! What's your 20?”

“The last location I had for Bravo was westbound on Shuter,”
the dispatcher advised.

“They probably came out around Blevins, so they have to be around here somewhere. Slow down.”

Manny eased off the gas and killed the siren, but left the lights on, then drove down the centre of the four-lane road, searching his side of the street. Jack was checking between houses and straining for sounds of a fight. Suddenly, Manny goosed the car ahead.

Jack grabbed the mike. “Special 51, we've found them. Front lawn of the Shuter Street school. All appears in order, units can slow down. All in order.”

Manny bounced the car over the curb onto the sidewalk, but there was no need for hurry. The two pws were kneeling on their suspect, who was face down and cuffed on the grass. The male faced away from Jack, but he knew immediately that it wasn't Charles; the man's complexion was too light.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Jack greeted them, walking over. “Nice day for a bike ride.” The two white police bikes and a beaten-up mountain bike were lying nearby.

“Hi, Jack. Nice to see you.” Jenny was kneeling on the man's back, completely at ease having a friendly conversation from that position. She flashed an enrapturing smile at him. Even with sunglasses and the bulky helmet, she was an incredibly beautiful woman.

Jack's heart fluttered for a beat or two before he could answer. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but —”

“I know, it isn't Charles. I saw that as soon as we got him cuffed.”

“It isn't? That fucking sucks.” The second policewoman was kneeling astride the prisoner's legs. She stood, unclipped her helmet and let it fall at her feet. Not as tall as Jenny, she had dark red hair — the word that popped into Jack's mind was
crimson
— and a set of lips so pouty, they had him thinking collagen.

“Sorry, Sue; seems like every sack of shit down here is wearing the gloves now.” Jenny unfolded her legs and, with Manny's help, heaved her man upright. “I gave him a quick pat-down, Manny, but he could use a thorough search.”

“My pleasure.” He planted the man chest down across the scout car's trunk.

“Those bitches be lyin'. I ain't done nothin' wrong.”

“Then why were you running, or biking, away?” Manny asked as he began his search.

“'Cause they was chasin' me! I didn' want to get Rodney Kinged.”

“Isn't that phrase a little out of date? Besides, you're just upset because you got caught by two girls.” In Manny's world, a day wasn't complete if he couldn't taunt at least one criminal.

“Do either of you ladies need any physical attention? Any areas of your bodies in need of examination?” Paul Townsend had cruised to a stop and called from the driver's seat.

“Dark Chocolate! Baby!” Sue lost interest in the arrest and sashayed over to his car. Her legs were nowhere near the quality of Jenny's, but she certainly put a lot of hip sway into her walk.

“I thought you were married, Officer Warren.” Jenny had caught Jack looking and there was amusement in her voice.

“Actually, I was just comparing her legs with yours,” he admitted truthfully.

“Really? And . . . ?”

Jack smiled at her — it was easy to smile at Jenny — and told her the truth. “No comparison.”

“And don't you forget it,” she cautioned him with a grin. “It took you that long to come to your verdict?”

“Nope, that was almost instantaneous. I was just thinking that my Scottish grandmother would say she had the
sheuggle
for a kilt.”

“The what?”

“
Sheuggle
. Hip sway. If you like,” he offered sincerely, “I can watch you walk for a while and see if you have a good sheuggle. I'm just trying to be fair.”

“I hate to interrupt, but is anyone still involved in this arrest except for me?”

Jack and Jenny looked over their shoulders at Manny. “You're doing an excellent job, officer. Carry on.”

“Gee, thanks, Jack. That makes me warm and fuzzy all over.”

They loaded Jenny's prisoner into the back seat and his stolen bike — what anyone caught on a stolen bike called a “community bicycle“— into the trunk for the short trip to the station. In the station's back lot, they passed prisoner and bike to the ladies and decided to hang around until Jenny and Sue headed inside with him. While the bike officers waited to be called into the booking hall, Manny leaned the prisoner into the wall and planted his hand between the man's shoulder blades to keep him put. Sue stood on tiptoes to run her hands over Manny's bare scalp.

“She will flirt with anything male,” Jenny declared, sounding somewhat strained.

“Trust me,” Jack told her, “you'd rather see this than the guy who was feeling up his head a few days ago.” Not wanting to let the conversation end, he added, “I thought you usually worked with Al.” While he asked, he dug his migraine medication out of his duty bag — he tried to never be far from his drugs — and downed a pill with some water.

“Al's sick and Sue's partner's also off. Gee, Jack, that's rather ballsy of you, doing drugs where the sergeants can see you.”

“It's all right, just migraine meds. I do the illegal stuff on my way to work in the car.”

“Sensible. Migraines, huh? Is that why your face is all squinted up and you look like you're going to throw up all over me?”

He nodded. “Pretty much, yup.”

“That's good to hear. I was beginning to think it was me.”

“Oh, no,” he reassured her. “You have a completely different effect on me.”

“Really? Sy never told me that about you,” she said with a sly smile.

“You talked to Sy about me? Interesting. . . .”

Jenny smiled, then chewed nervously on her lower lip.

If Jack had known her better, he would have said she was stalling. “Something on your mind, Jenny?”

“This may — no, I'm pretty sure it will — sound kind of nuts, but it's about Manny and you being partners. I like Manny,” she added hastily, “don't get me wrong, but . . .”

“But it seems pretty soon after Sy . . . dying for me to pair up with someone. Right?”

She looked embarrassed, then nodded. “I guess it seems kind of disrespectful to Sy. I know you weren't with him for long, but for him to partner up with you said a huge amount about you to the station. I'd hate to see you throw that away inadvertently.”

“Whoa. I never thought about it that way. Believe me when I say I never intended to throw away my time with Sy. It's just that . . . well, I need some stability in my life right now. I'm not sleeping well and when I do, I have nightmares about Sy. And now my wife and her parents are hounding me to transfer out of 51 to someplace safe.”

He couldn't believe he was opening up like this to Jenny. Except for saying hello a half dozen times and the odd small talk she was a stranger to him. But that didn't stop him. There was something about her that made talking to her easy and natural. True, she was a beautiful woman, but that wasn't it. Talking to her just felt . . . right. He couldn't explain it, even to himself.

“And something happened on Monday, the first day Manny and I worked together, and it meant so much to me —”

“Jenny! We're up.”

The sally port door was rumbling open. It was time to parade their prisoner.