Brock tightened his finger on the trigger. Just as the man was about to speak, Brock aimed over his accomplice’s shoulder and pumped two quick shots into the man’s chest. Words never made it out of his mouth. Officer Richards raced to the doorway, gun aimed low. Slattery always aimed high, Richards low in a shootout. They had agreed over coffee one day. “You pop the heart and I’ll pop their balls,” Richards had quipped.
The other three men started running for the window fire escape, their accomplice gasping for air on the floor as his lungs filled with blood. They smashed the window and squeezed through as Slattery and Richards strolled up to them, guns drawn.
“Hey you fuckers, stop or I’ll shoot.” Officer Slattery had a huge smile on his face, loving every moment of their helplessness. The first man out the window had already run down the stairs into the night. Slattery grabbed the man stuck in the window and threw him back toward Richards.
“Hold on to this fucker, I’ll be back.”
He reached out and grabbed the second man who had been trying to pull his associate through the window.
“Hold on there buddy, we need to have a word.”
The perp looked at him wordlessly, feeling panic at this brute of a man clenching his arm with ungodly strength. The smile on his face was especially discomforting. Zamir had come to this country last year. He’d been quick to join a local gang of men from his homeland It was the only way to survive in this shitty neighborhood. Despite his wife’s warnings, Zamir started participating in the criminal aspects of their social club.
They were breaking into apartments for the last three months, selling jewellery and other valuables. Zamir got a tip this apartment had loads of cash and cocaine. It was going to be a jackpot. But it had gone upside down so quickly. His friend was dying on the living room floor and this cop had eyes like the devil.
Officer Slattery crawled through the window onto the metal staircase. “Hey man, you’re in the wrong place,” he said calmly. Slattery knew this apartment. The drug dealer worked for one of the big timers that Slattery protected. This was going to end badly.
“I sorry, I go away okay?” Zamir pleaded. “Please, please, don’t arrest me!”
Officer Slattery looked at him pityingly. This sucker didn’t know what he’d gotten into.
“Yeah, you know what? I’m gonna let you go,” Slattery said.
“Really? Thank you sir, thank you sir” Zamir said gratefully, bowing his head repeatedly.
“Yep, I’m gonna let you go,” Slattery repeated with a smirk on his face.
He lifted Zamir by his arms and hung him over the metal staircase. Zamir screamed breathlessly. “No, please sir, don’t kill me! Please!”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Slattery said. As a hint of relief appeared in Zamir’s eyes, Slattery giggled, “the concrete will,” and let go.
Zamir let out a blood-curdling scream as he slipped into the darkness and landed with a sickening thud.
Slattery crawled back through the broken window. Zamir’s remaining accomplice cowered under Officer Richard’s foot in the living room — his dead associate’s blood spreading over the wood floor.
“Lane, grab a knife from the kitchen.” Lane obediently rummaged through the drawers and brought a cleaver.
“Stand up,” Slattery gestured to the man. The man shook visibly as he struggled to his feet.
“Pick it up,” Slattery gestured at the cleaver.
“No, you kill me if I touch it,” the man trembled.
Slattery said menacingly, “Pick it up now or I’ll kill you anyway” as he pushed his gun against the man’s face. The man leaned over and gingerly grabbed the cleaver. “Please don’t kill me, please, please!”
Slattery stood back and screamed “Drop the knife or I’ll shoot! Drop the knife! Drop the knife!” and unloaded his clip on him.
As the man crumbled to the floor, Slattery said to Richards, “Give me one minute then call in the shootings. Try to sound scared. Backup will be here eventually.”
Officer Slattery walked to the apartment across the hall and knocked gently. “Hey Jill, it’s Officer Slattery.” The door opened slowly, security chain still in place. Jill peeked out, recognizing Slattery.
“Oh my god, what happened?”
“Jill, you need to grab Antonio’s shit and hide it somewhere, heat’s coming down. You didn’t hear anything, you were hiding in your friend’s apartment when we went in.”
Jill scrambled over, gasping in horror when she saw the bloodbath in her living room. Slattery shook his head and said, “Hurry up,” as the sirens grew closer. She grabbed the duffel bag from the dead man and several other packages from hidden nooks around the apartment. Running back to the other apartment, she said “I’ll be okay here. My friend is cool.”
Slattery nodded and said “Good, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Antonio’s gonna flip,” she said.
“Antonio will be fine, I’ll tell the boss to call him. He’ll be happy you’re okay…and the stuff.” He really meant the stuff, girlfriends were replaceable. “Now get the fuck inside.”
Eventually backup arrived, breathless and incompetent as usual. Officer Slattery told them exactly what happened, his version at least. All corroborated by Officer Lane Johnson. It took a bit longer to wrap up, due to all the deceased. Slattery was grumpy because he’d missed his coffee break.
On the positive side, he was finished by shift’s end at 6 a.m. and could go home to a good day’s sleep. Slattery told Richards to call around 11 a.m. They could go for a coffee and recount the night’s action before their next shift started.
As Officer Slattery’s head hit the pillow, the dreams started. Screams of the people he’d killed, beaten, brutalized. Their eyes staring at him, pleading, hateful, desperate.
A grin slowly spread across his sleeping face.
