Black Velvet Ch. 04

"And this is our Captain, Mary Raytheon." said Claire. A tallish, prim woman was coming up to us. She was attractive but rather severe looking, and wore rather thick glasses. Her legs weren't bad, though. (Not that I was looking, of course ;o) ).

"Ah, so nice to meet you, Commander." said Captain Raytheon. "Lieutenant Michaels has kept us apprised of everything you've done in your State."

"Only the good things, I hope." I said as I shook her hand.

"Of course." she said. "So Lieutenant Michaels, you're going on this raid after dark?"

"Yes ma'am." said Claire.

"And Commander Troy is working as part of the FBI on this?" asked the Captain.

"Yes ma'am."

"Fine." said the Captain. "Keep me in the loop on everything." She then went back to her office.

"So, Commannderrr," said Lt. Provino, "where does your rank fit amongst ours?"

"My Police Force is much smaller than yours." I said. "I'm second-in-command, after the Chief. Operations Officer, if you will. Our Deputy Chief is like the XO."

"We have a 'Commander' rank, too." said Lt. Tal Shiarr. "It's up there, but it's not quite as high as our Deputy Chiefs and the Chief.

I saw the whiteboards on the wall of their office space. "To the extent you can tell me, what are you guys working on?"

"White supremacy group, at the moment." said Claire.

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. "I've been working with the FBI on one of those, too." That generated some interest.

"These guys have been trying to smuggle arms and explosives through the Port of LA." said Claire. "We find a number of the scruffy redneck types, but then we've found a very well-organized business group behind them. Bankers, lawyers, businessmen and -women. And they're starting to run for political offices, like Pastor Westboro was on the Town Council."

"Interesting." I said. "This background group have a name?" Everyone looked uncomfortable for a minute, then Claire spoke up.

"It's okay, guys." she said. "Commander Troy may know more than we do about some of it. He's been working with the Feds."

"You'll have to exxx-cuse us, Commander, if it seems like we're not trusting you." said Provino.

"I fully understand." I said. "But maybe I can help." I walked up to the whiteboards and looked them over, feeling the eyes on me. Finally I pointed to three people, who were nowhere close to each other on the boards. "Check these three out for connections to each other."

"They're pretty small fish." said Lt. Shiarr.

"That's what they want you to think." I said. Shiarr went to his computer. Claire Michaels was already on hers.

"What are we looking for?" asked Shiarr.

"See if they were in the same places at the same times." I said. "Look at pharmacies, doctors offices, clinics, hospitals, and the like. Tap into the FBI's facial recognition software if need be."

"Oh wow, you are connected." said Provino. "Do you know what hoops we have to go through to get access to that? Especially since our last Captain, whose husband is an FBI agent, left us for greeeener pastures?"

"Well, marriage is one way to cultivate a relationship with the FBI." I said with a grin. "I went with the expedient of buying one of their agents the double cheeseburgers that he likes a lot." Claire Michaels laughed, understanding.

"Oh my God." said Lt. Tal Shiarr, looking at his screen. "You're right, Commander. Those three have been meeting at parks near a hospital and a clinic." He called in Captain Raytheon.

"Oh my." she said, looking at the data. "Let's get some surveillance on that. And on those three."

"Commander Troy made the connection, ma'am." said Provino. Captain Raytheon peered at me.

"How did you manage that, Commander?" she asked with some wonder in her voice.

"Their profiles on your whiteboards." I said. "Those three are diabetic. They could use that as an excuse to meet at medical facilities, exchange information, and such. It was a longshot, but sometimes those work out."

"Sometimes means 'a lot of the time' for the Iron Crowbar." said Claire Michaels, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Whatever stories she had been telling her fellow LAPD Officers had just been proven and vindicated, I realized.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the sun set over the Pacific Ocean, we prepared for the mission. I was in all black, with armor under and over my black shirt, and of course in the lining of my trenchcoat. I had on the ubiquitous Tilley hat (Lt. Provino had loved that; he had a fisherman's hat himself) and of course the red crowbar. Claire and Lorena Rose were dressed in LA SWAT gear, and Webster and the FBI agents in armor with light jackets over it, which had "FBI" on the back in large letters.

"This is not a good neighborhood we're going into." said Claire. "Lots of Hispanic gang activity. We're going in fast, and we're getting out fast. Shouldn't be a problem, as long as we don't dawdle."

"Roger that." I said.

We pulled up to the three-story tenement building. Claire led the way, me following, then the others. On the second floor, we were about to round the corner when Claire had us stop and crouch.

A young Hispanic man, slender with a small mustache, tattooed, and mean looking, was coming up the hall from the other side. He stopped and knocked on the door, which happened to be the room we were interested in.

A woman opened the door and as I peered over Claire to see, I recognized her: she was Vivian Schultz Towson, who'd taken Greg Towson's child out of my jurisdiction!

The young man went inside with her. When the door shut, Claire raced up. She had a device that could be fed under a door crack to see what was going on inside. The camera (which was recording) showed the man give the woman a roll of money, then he turned to a little boy at the other end of the room, who was cowering on the floor. "I'm gonna get some fresh ass now, little boy." the mean looking man said.

That was enough for me. I had Claire move back, then I jimmied open the door with the crowbar. As it splintered, I slammed against the door and it gave way.

Time slowed down.

The woman was beginning to scream and I saw the young man turn toward me. I heard the *click!* of a switchblade knife locking into place. This might cause some people to pause, but I was already in unavoidable motion, and I was swinging my crowbar at his hand. It connected with his hand and wrist. The switchblade fell to the floor.

I was all over the guy in a flash. He knew some moves, though. He expected me to try to take him down as any cop would, and his moves would've delivered powerful punishment. But I had trained to defeat Cindy Ross in the Police Boxing Matches, and I had no interest in taking him down. I was just trying to beat the living shit out of him with the crowbar... and I was succeeding. I got in several good blows to the sides, the hips, and one to the face.

*THWACK!*

When I did take him down, I brought the crowbar down as hard as I could onto his back, as I had Sergei Molotov (the first time). I knew he'd feel that one and his back would spasm in an hour or so. Then I put my knee on his neck and jaw, pressing down with all my weight, as an LAPD Officer affixed cuffs to his hands behind his wrist.

Meanwhile, Claire had taken down Vivian Towson, who had been going by the name 'Vivian Leigh'... her first and middle names. Lorena went up to little Mike Towson, now eight years old. "Hey Mikey. I'm Lorena, with the Police, we're here to help you."

"Get this piece of garbage out of here." I said, about the man.

"Do you know who just whipped your ass, amigo?" Vivian shouted at him. "The Iron Crowbar! That's the Iron Crowbar, Commander Donald Troy from my home town! Tell your fellow gangbangers who he is!" Claire was trying to shut her up, but Vivian just kept screaming my name as she was dragged out.

"Iron Crowbar, eh?" the man says. "You'll be hearing from us again."

"Oh, I do hope so. Bring... it... on." I said menacingly, waving my crowbar at him, being sure to show no fear to his face. I think he was surprised at my bravado... nobody ever 'fronted the gangbangers like that.

"Hi, Mike." I said, going up to the boy, who was looking fearful. "I'm with the same Police Department as your dad and your uncle." The boy's eyes widened and brightened.

"You're the Iron Crowbar?" he asked, astonishing me.

"Yes, one and the same." I said, exhibiting the red crowbar.

"What did you do to my mommy?" the boy asked.

"Your mommy did some bad things, Mike." I said. "She was not supposed to take you away from your dad."

"Mommy said my daddy hates me." said the boy. "She said he never wanted to see me again."

"That's one of the bad things she did... she lied to you." I said. "Your dad is a good guy, and he loves you, and he wants to see you again. So we're going to take you back home again, okay?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We were boarding the FBI jet at John Wayne Airport. I hugged Claire Michaels goodbye. "Lorena is going with you." Claire said. "To help with Mike, and with legal issues on that end. Come back to see us. My boss was very impressed with you."

"I'll come see you, for sure." I said. "And it seems your White Supremacy groups and mine may be similar. Maybe we can wipe both of them out at the same time."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As we neared County Airport, I came up to Mikey, who was sitting by Lorena, and sat down in the empty seat next to him.

"Hey Mikey," I said, "we're going to take you to see your dad. He's a Fireman now, and your uncle is a policeman like me. You'll be staying with him now, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Iron Crowbar." Mikey said.

"Your dad hasn't seen you in a long time, so you be patient with him while y'all get to know each other, okay?" I said. Mikey nodded.

"My wife is a doctor," I said, "and she has a friend who is a very good doctor. His name is Dr. Yates. He's going to check you out to make sure you're okay, and he's going to talk to you, so you talk with him and give him the best answers you can, okay?"

"Okay." said Mikey.

It was 11:30am, Monday, February 13th, when we landed at County Airport. I called the Duty Desk and told them to have Cindy come pick me and Mikey up at the airport, and to have Patrolman Louie Towson meet us at his brother's Fire Station. Fire Chief Quinlin was also contacted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hey, Louie, what are you doing here?" Greg Towson asked.

"They called me and told me to come here." said Louie Towson.

The Superintendent came up. "The Chief just called. He'll be here in a minute. You guys just hold tight.

A moment later, two vehicles came up: the Fire Chief's car, and the Police Commander's Police SUV. Fire Chief Quinlin came up to the open garage door. "Hey Towson!" he called out. "Somebody's here to see you!"

As Greg Towson came up, he saw his eight-year-old son come out from behind the group of adults.

"Mikey?... Mikey?!?!" he gushed. The boy ran into his arms as he went to his knees, and they hugged for a long moment. Word passed through the Fire Station what was going on. Firemen began applauding. Some began filming with their iPhones, which Cindy had been doing from Minute 1. Then Louie Towson came up and gave his nephew a hug.

"How... how did... who found you?" Greg Towson asked.

"That would be the Iron Crowbar's doing." said Fire Chief Quinlin... saying it a bit more loudly than he needed to. "He found your boy, and then he went and got him. Took him away from some rough customers, from what I hear."

I'd stayed back, but now felt Cindy pushing me forward as Towson came up to me.

"I don't know how to thank you." he said, tears streaming down his face. He gave me a big bear hug, and I hugged him back.

"Thank me by raising him right." I said. Then Louie Towson came up to me, and his handshake turned into a hug as he almost broke down. Lorena Rose was openly crying, and Cindy was losing the battle, as well.

"Okay, guys," said Quinlin to the Towson brothers, "we're going to take Mike to the hospital for a checkup. Dr. Yates will meet us there. You can ride with me, Ms. Rose."

As they got into the Fire Chief's car, and Louie Towson into his Police cruiser, Mikey suddenly ran over to me and hugged my legs. "Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Iron Crowbar."

"My pleasure, Mikey." I said. "Remember to be patient with your dad." Mike ran back to the car and got in.

As I was about to get into the Police SUV, I heard a roar of applause from the Fire Station. The Firemen were all clapping, and shouting "Thank you, Iron Crowbar!" at me. I waved at them in recognition.

As I drove, Cindy was in the shotgun seat. Tears were running down her cheeks. "Don... I've always been proud as hell to be your partner, and your cousin... but never more proud than today."

Now I had to work to keep from being emotional. "Just doing my job, to the extent I'm able." I said. "I was able to right a wrong, and help my people. It's what I was put here to do."

That was one agenda item down, I thought to myself. Now I've got a serial killer to catch, a White Supremacy group to take down with terminal prejudice, a Black Militant group to likewise take down... oh, and one more small item... a mistake I made, that needs correcting.

As we drove, a country song came on the radio. It somehow was appropriate for this moment:

"Every word of every song that he sang was for you,
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon, what could you do?

Black velvet and that little boy's smile,
Black velvet with that slow southern style,
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees,
Black velvet, if you please..."
------ Alannah Myles, "Black Velvet"

Finis... for now...