Stephen Cannell - On The Grind

I triggered my shoulder mike with my right hand as I drove.

"This is One-L-Nine," I screamed, trying to mimic the frantic sound of the pursuing cop. "The fugitive vehicle just turned onto Huntington Park Drive passing Bristol heading west."

As I put out the phony call I heard Alonzo's voice immediately step on it. "Cancel that! He's still westbound on Otis."

"One-L-Six has the suspect vehicle in sight," Roulon Green said.

I glanced in the rearview and saw a second set of pursuing headlights about two blocks back.

We didn't make it into Vernon either. Just as we were about four blocks from the city boundary, two Haven Park squad cars turned onto the street ahead, blocking our way.

I pulled another smoking one-eighty and reversed course, passing between the two trailing black-and-whites, splitting them, knocking off side mirrors, going almost eighty. I caught a glimpse of Roulon Greens startled expression as we flashed past. Both patrol cars made screeching turns and came after us.

Rocky yelled, "You're heading toward the river. They'll have all those bridges blocked. Go left here. Try for Monterey Park again."

I took a thirty-mile-an-hour left on the next street and almost flipped the Mustang as the right-side tires slammed hard against the far curb. But we stayed upright as I hit the gas and headed west again.

We had gone almost six miles, but had gotten nowhere. Alonzo and the Haven Park cops had managed to herd us in a big useless circle.

Over the noise of the sirens, I heard the chopper moving in. Carmen cursed in Spanish under her breath.

"Almost there!" Rocky shouted. "Two more blocks!"

We drove through the underpass that bordered Fleetwood and Monterey Park. For a minute I thought we'd made it. We were out of Fleetwood and that meant we were out of Haven Park PD's jurisdiction. I didn't think Alonzo would shoot us down in county sheriff territory because the sheriffs would be in charge of the investigation, putting another controlling authority into the mix. T hen Alonzo's voice came over the rover.

"All units. All frequencies. We have just been given hot pursuit authorization by Monterey Park Sheriffs. Do not break off. I repeat, do not break off at the city line. Continue into Monterey Park, lake this guy down."

Just then, two Haven Park PD squad cars rounded the corner ahead and skidded to a stop, blocking the road. I had no choice but to make another smoking, tire-shredding U and retreat again into Fleetwood. As I came out of the underpass, the xenon sun in the belly of the police chopper suddenly lit us in a halo of white light.

"I've gotta lose this chopper," I shouted. "Well never get away with him on top of us!"

"How about Live Oak Street?" Carmen suggested.

"What s on Live Oak?" I shouted.

"Oak trees," she said.

As soon as I turned onto the street I knew Carmen's suggestion was a good one. It was lined with massive hundred-year-old oaks. Huge branches completely overhung the street. I shut off the headlights as we streaked under the sheltering canopy. I was looking for an open garage or deep driveway where I could ditch the Mustang. The night sun from the chopper was shooting hot streaks of white light through pinholes in the leafy overhead. They shifted and moved, dancing on the asphalt as the chopper changed position above, trying to spot.

"I have an aunt who lives on this street," Carmen shouted over the din of the lowering helicopter.

A few blocks back, two Haven Park patrol cars, going almost fifty, were smoking turns onto the street.

"Which one is your aunt s?" I shouted.

Carmen pointed to a brightly painted stucco house with barred windows in the middle of the block.

"I'm turning at the next corner," I shouted. "Once I've stopped — everybody out. Get behind the bushes in front of the corner house, then we'll make our way back up the street to your aunts."

"They're too close!" Rocky shouted.

"I've got a plan for that," I told him.

I floored the car, picking up speed. The two squad cars also sped up and were now only a block and a half back. I made a quick right at the corner, then immediately slewed the Mustang sideways to a stop, blocking the narrow street. I set the emergency brake and the three of us jumped out, abandoning the car. We sprinted for the shrubs and dove behind them, flattening out in the dirt. A few seconds later two cop cars rounded the corner with lights and sirens blaring. The lead unit T-boned Carmen's car, slamming into the passenger door. The second shop immediately pounded into the back of him.

While the cops were busy getting out of their busted units with guns drawn and advancing cautiously on the Mustang to clear it, we rose up and sprinted across the lawn in the dark, keeping low, working our way toward Carmen's aunt's painted stucco.

"I know where she keeps the hide-a-key," Carmen shouted and dug it out of a nearby pot. We ran for the back porch and Carmen slipped the key into the lock, then swung the door wide.

"Auntie Anna, it's Carmenita," she called out as we entered the house. I closed and locked the door behind us.

"Keep the lights off," I instructed.

"I'll check her bedroom," Carmen said and headed down a dark hallway.

Overhead, Air One was coming lower, working back and forth above the street. I could hear its rotor pitch whine and buzz as the pilot worked the chopper's collective and cyclic controls to circle overhead.

A few minutes later Carmen exited the back hallway with a short, middle-aged Hispanic woman who was belting her robe and pushing a sleep-ruined hairdo back up into place.

She was looking up at her ceiling, where, above the roof, the helicopter was making a racket.

"Auntie, it's the police. They're trying to kill Rocky."

"Aye, aye, aye," Carmen's Aunt Anna said, but asked no further questions. She knew how justice was delivered in Haven Park.

"Carmen, get out of those clothes," Rocky said. "Put on one of your aunt's nightgowns and wrap your head in a scarf or something. Maybe if they come in here they won't recognize you."

Then he turned to me. "If we stay, we could get them both killed!"

"I agree." I turned to Carmen. "Rocky and I are gonna take off. There's an FBI agent named Ophelia Love. Get in touch with her through the Homeland Security office on Wilshire. Tell her what's going down."

"What are you going to do?" she asked Rocky.

"I'm not that far along with my plan yet," Rocky said.

"We've got a better shot if we split up. I've got a tracker in my belt. If they're using it, maybe I can lead them off you," I told him. "One of us has to be alive to testify against these guys."

"Querido," Carmen said, putting her hands up to Rocky's face. "I love you. I couldn't stand to lose you."

He leaned forward, kissing her, putting his arms around her waist. "I couldn't stand to lose me either. Te amo. Soy tuyo."

"This is a really nice moment," I whispered. "But can we please get the hell out of here?"

Just then there was a heavy knock at the front door.

"Police! Open up!" somebody shouted.

Rocky and I waited until we heard Carmen's aunt open the front door, then I slipped out the back. The helicopter's belly light was blasting through the dense tree cover, dappling the backyard from overhead. We ran across the grass and both dove for cover under a huge leafy oak.

"I'm going east," Rocky said. "You should go north. There's a bunch of old decommissioned water runoff drains all over this part of town. They're big underground pipes from the fifties, almost five feet in diameter. They've been sealed up with big metal plates, but it's possible to pull them off. If you can find one, get inside and follow the drain down into the L. A. River."