Crossing the line

To Stone, telling him to stay out of the red line area, alone, in or out of uniform, was like asking a child not to visit a candy store dressed for a costume party as the Sweet-Tooth Man, with free candies on offer. The anticipation at heading over there on duty for operation gangbang was eating at him from the inside out. They pulled over into a rest area. Both climbed out and put on their vests ready for the operation.

Back in the car, Stone glanced at the dashboard clock, then at Jefferson. His partner had hardly said two words in all the time they'd been patrolling, leaving Stone to carry out the traffic stops while he gave cover.

Stone sighed, then said, "We've got another hour to kill until one in the morning when the operation starts. If we pull someone now, we could get delayed. Any suggestions?"

"Now you wants advice? A salad sandwich and coffee wouldn't go amiss. It could be a long night. There's a gas station with a twenty-four seven store around the corner. Next right."

"Salad sandwich! Wouldn't you prefer a burger?"

"What, and end up with a burger gut like the rest? No thanks. Besides, it's well lit, and if we park next to the carwash we'll be out of sight during our break. Safer that way."

Stone did a right at the corner then a left onto the forecourt and parked at the side of the carwash.

"So, is that why you're giving me the cold shoulder treatment, because I don't take kindly to advice?"

"You said it, bro."

"Listen, we're cooped up in here all shift, at least we can be civil."

"So, you're sorry then?"

"What for?"

"For you dissing me, for me having to save your sorry ass from Granger."

Stone thought that from what he'd said and the way he had acted Jefferson was being petty.

"What makes you think I can't handle myself?"

"Because you're a skinny runt, that's why. Granger's hard as nails. He's feared as much as the gang bosses inside the red line. He don't fight by no book."

"Yeah, well neither do I."

Jefferson grinned. "So, you thinks you're a tough guy?"

"I don't need muscle against an ape. Brains'll bring the big guys down every time."

"He's no dummy."

"Whatever. I don't know how you lot put up with the shit him and his crew gives you. Maybe none of you lot have got any balls."

"Oh, I get it. By 'you lot,' I guess you mean us blacks. And when you said burger, what you really meant to say was a banana."

"You said that... bro. Not me."

Jefferson slapped the dash, and said, "Fuck you. I ain't your freakin' bro." He yanked on the door handle and turned to Stone. "Your ugly white ass can watch my pretty black ass while I get my stuff."

"I'm not hungry. I'll have a coke... bro."

Jefferson elbowed his door open, climbed out, and then slammed the door. Stone followed, easing out of his seat, and then he ambled over to the forecourt to stand guard at the entrance. He knew from the way the conversation had gone that he wasn't exactly working to elicit empathy with Jefferson for him to gain some background information on his target. It wasn't just that he needed. Stone was hoping to find out from him what the slain officer at Elysian Way was like to get along with during the time Jefferson had partnered him.

Bam, bam, bam.

The glass door panel exploded. A thud in his chest and Stone staggered backwards, the round taking the breath from his lungs. Fighting for breath, he dropped to his knees.

Bam, bam.

Stone flinched, then hit the ground to make a smaller target at the sound of more shots in quick succession from inside the store. Stone scrambled to his feet. Drawing his Glock, he kicked his way through the swing door, taking cover behind the sales counter.

"Got a live one," said Jefferson.

Crouching behind a row of shelving, Jefferson pointed two fingers to his eyes, then pointed toward the end of the shelving stack where he was taking cover. Stone sucked hard, with the impact of the bullet making breathing difficult, and his chest was on fire.

"Give it up," Jefferson shouted.

Stone glanced out along the shelving. The assailant's head and gun popped around the corner, then he ducked back. Luckily, Stone had the same idea as a round exploded from the punk's direction, this time taking out the bottom of the glass door panel.

"To hell with this," said Jefferson. He lay on the floor, aimed along the underside of the shelving, and squeezed off two rounds. One of the bullets must have hit the target. A scream rang out from the direction of where the felon was hiding. It was the sort of scream that might come from a young individual.