Senile Squad: Adventures of the Old Blues (31 page)

“Of course,” Jake said.

“They’re making sure she stays put.”

“Not to mention intimidating her,” Jake said.

“Look at ’em.” The sergeant pointed to the group milling around outside. “They’re not even crossing the street; they’re just standing around. They’re not even trying to hide.”

“Suppose they want her to see them?” Jake asked.

The sergeant nodded. “Yep. They’re also letting her know that they know where she is. And warning her to keep her mouth shut.”

Jake watched the monitor and nodded solemnly. “Makes her stay put, that’s for sure, but why not just go get her? It’s like a game of cat and mouse and they’re just—” The conclusion washed over him like a bucket of ice. Jake met the sergeant’s gaze. “Didn’t you say Clubba likes to take a bat to his enemies himself?”

“Yea.” Sergeant Scott’s eyes widened. “Oh, holy, crap!” He pulled up the Nebraska Penitentiary page and scanned over the inmate population and their release dates. “Oh man,” Scott said. “He gets out tomorrow. Those mopes are holding her there for him. As soon as he gets out, he’s going to bash her head in!”

“Let’s get ’em,” Jake said.

Sergeant Scott grabbed his phone and called the gang unit secretary. “Get ahold of the entire unit; I want everyone in the conference room in two hours.” Turning back to his monitor, he smiled. “This is gold, Jake. Gold. We can grab every one of them for felony witness tampering.”

“Awesome,” Jake said. “I love it when things come together like that.”

“No kidding; stuff like this doesn’t fall in our lap every day. I’ll set up a sweep. That way we can nab a good chunk of his gang and put it with the other evidence we’ll get.”

“Should be more than enough to nail Clubba,” Jake said.

Scott smiled and turned his attention back to his monitor. “Let’s send this thug back where he belongs.”

“SMITTY.” THE SARGE STALKED TO HIS DOORWAY AND called for his righthand man.

“Yeah, Sarge.”

“C’mere,” he said with a jerk of his head toward a chair inside.

Smitty hurried in and took a seat. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to set up a quick response team. The gang unit should be about to hit those punks and hit ’em hard.”

“Right,” Smitty said. “What’d you have in mind?”

“The GU should have their whole unit there, not to mention the assistance of the black-and-whites.”

Smitty nodded his agreement. “And?”

The Sarge reached up to the frame surrounding a photo of the President of the United States and pulled down a hidden map of the Sixtieth and Etna apartment complex. “You can bet once these punks realize what’s coming down on them, they’ll scatter throughout the whole area. Our goal is to nab ’em all—every single one.” He switched his gaze from the graphic and back to Smitty. “How many Blues do we have there right now?”

“Ten,” Smitty said. He stood and walked over to the apartment diagram. “The Chelinis have Blues posted here.” He circled between the buildings. “Here.” He circled the walkways on the main entrance. “And here, at this maintenance path. Looks like the entire outer perimeter will be covered. What about the inner perimeters? There are so many buildings in this complex, we could have Clubba’s thugs running all over the place.”

Nodding, the Sarge pored over the layout. “Good,” he said. “Very good. I want another ten at the choke points around the parking lot in the middle. There’s a donut shape to the entire area on the map with a playground and parking lot in the middle. Here.” He pointed at a walkway that led to the swings. “And here.” He pointed at another choke point between buildings that also led to the inner courtyard. “These are the obvious escape routes they could run through if they do and will run through this complex.”

The Sarge rubbed his chin. “If I were that gang sergeant, I’d put some coppers right in the middle of the complex for the thugs that escape the chase.”

“You’re figuring on a chase?” Smitty asked.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Smitty said with a smile. “And if I was thirty years younger, I’d look forward to it.”

“I want every single Blue with a weapon.”

“Weapon?” Smitty asked.

“Our weapons,” the Sarge said. “Walkers, canes, and crutches.”

“Sorry,” Smitty said. “I must’ve stepped back in time.”

“I know the feeling,” the Sarge said. “Let the boys at Sixtieth and Etna know.”

“You got it, Sarge.” Smitty seated himself at his desk and pulled out his radio for the call. “Tony, you there?”

“Yeah, Smitty,” the friendly elder Chelini brother asked. “What’s up?”

“Sarge wants a secondary security detail set up.”

“What?” Tony asked. “Why?”

“He thinks the gang unit is gonna pounce on these punks any time now. And he wants everybody with walking assistance.”

“Ah,” Tony said. “Everybody gets weapons.”

“Yep,” Smitty replied.

“Fun stuff.”

“I’ll be out with the supplies as soon as I can. Once I get there, we’ll get your people set up and get the escape prevention units organized.”

“Okay, no problem, Smitty. We’re ready to rock and roll.”

True to his word, Smitty and the Somewhat Quick Response Unit, a term the Blues had for a bunch of old coppers who couldn’t respond very quickly, had arrived. Tony and Smitty posted extra men at all potential escape routes. The complex all but looked like a retirement center itself. Old men milled around throughout the apartment complex.

To the casual observer there would seem to be some sort of activity planned for the senior residents of the complex. They were standing around buildings, talking to each other as if it was just a normal day. However, if one were to look closely, it would be clear that these weren’t just a bunch of old men talking about the weather. Years of experience had taught them how to carry on what looked like a normal conversation while setting up ambush positions. They may have been talking, and slowly walking, but they were taking in everything, and they were making mental notes of how to bushwhack Clubba’s thugs.

Smitty jutted his chin across the street. “Seems to be more of his soldiers around than usual,” Smitty looked again, “Whoa! There’s way more. There’s gotta be twenty guys out there!”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a frown. “Sure does. That doesn’t bode well.”

Smitty was in deep thought trying to figure out how the estimates of the actual number of Clubba’s people could have been so wrong. “Definitely doesn’t. They may be changing the guard or calling out their members to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere before Clubba gets out.”

“Good,” Tony said. “If more of them hang around and talk, maybe the gang unit will arrest ’em all. We might get a load of those hoods off the street.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Smitty muttered. He got on his radio with an announcement to the Blues in the complex. “Boys, this may be a bigger job than we thought, we got three times as many gang members than usual. This place will be a hornet’s nest any minute.”

In response to Smitty’s announcement there were anonymous hoots and hollers from Ol’ Blues excited for an old-fashioned raid. “Don’t worry Smitty, we’ll get ’em!” and “They ain’t going anywhere!”

Smitty smiled and said for all the Blues to hear, “Let’s round ’em up like the old days, boys.”

Sergeant Scott’s briefing was quick and to the point. His team’s attention focused on the aerial photo of the Etna housing units on the front viewing screen. “We’re going to disembark in the neighborhood behind the gang members because they’re watching the apartment complex, not the neighborhood behind them. Then come up from their rear by going between the houses, as quickly and quietly as possible.” Scott directed. “I want to surprise the thugs by popping out behind them and nabbing them before they have time to react.”

Sergeant Scott looked at the officers for understanding; heads nodded showing collective understanding. “If we do this right, we just might catch at least seven to ten of them. I want quick takedowns, and I want them secured and stuffed in a cruiser even quicker. The faster we clear the area, the less chance of any disturbances by their friends. I want them outta there and booked for witness tampering.”

Sergeant Scott perused the maze of escape routes any of them could take. He pointed to a table where some of his undercover officers sat. “For good measure I want two cars with you, eight officers here.” He indicated directly in the parking lot in the middle of the housing units. “And nab anybody who tries to run through; it’s a huge complex so we’ll try to grab as many as we can during the initial contact.”

“There’s bound to be a couple who run inside and away from the initial officers,” Officer Turley said.

“Yep,” Scott said. “Monitor the radio and converge on the route they’re using to escape and cut them off. Got it?”

“Absolutely.”

Scott scanned the room filled with officers and detectives. More nods and murmurs of understanding and agreement met his analysis. It was a good plan. “I’ll monitor our frequency. Stay tactical; stay safe.”

One glance told him all he needed to know. Everyone was definitely ready. The possibility of arresting an entire gang in one operation psyched up everybody involved. “Let’s hit it.”

Shanese plucked at the curtain covering the living room window and peeked out across the street where a couple of dozen of Clubba’s hoods still hung around. Over the past month, she’d performed the same useless routine watching the young men under her ex’s control deliver their silent message.
He’s comin’, woman.
She didn’t know whether to cry or vomit. They scared her. A lot. But not as much as the thought of Clubba’s bat cracking against her skull. She rubbed the thin material between her index finger and thumb absently.

The waiting was the worst—not knowing when or where the attack would come. Clubba fed on the terror, and she prayed she didn’t let fear get the best of her, that she could face him straight on and take what came. She prayed but doubted she’d have the strength.

“They still there,” her grandmother said from the kitchen. “Just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. They ain’t goin’ anywhere, girl.”

“I know…but I think there’s more today. A lot more.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” her grandmother clucked behind her. “That Clubba nothing but trouble from day one. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes,” Shanese admitted reluctantly. “But I was in so deep and so quickly, I—” She broke off that line of thinking. It didn’t do anyone any good. What was done was done and pretty soon she’d have to deal with the consequences. Fear coiled inside her and she drew in a deep breath to brace herself. She almost wanted it over and done with now.

Before Shanese let the drape slide closed, several groups of older men outside caught her eye. Dozens of them. Tons more than ever before. Puzzled, she turned to her grandmother. “Grandma, is there some senior activity today?”

Her grandmother wiped her hands on a blue kitchen towel and slung it over her shoulder. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Shanese dashed to the kitchen window and peered as far as she could see to the right and then to the left. There were always a group of old men—she recognized several—who hung out or were observed walking around or playing checkers. Today, though, there were loads more. Not only did they line the benches, some stood between the buildings. She tilted her head and frowned. Almost like they were waiting.

“Grandma, did you see all those old men outside? You sure nothing’s going on? A party maybe?”

“Party? With who?” She threw her towel on the countertop and padded into the living room. “What you talking about?”

Shanese pulled the curtain back; her grandmother took a step forward, surprise flitting across her face. “That’s a lot of men. Any of them cute?”

Shanese shot her grandmother a shocked look. “I didn’t look.”

“Doesn’t matter. What’s cute to me is different than what’s cute to you. Lemme see.” She drew back the window covering and scanned the older gents at leisure.

“Grandma.” Shock turned to scandal; Shanese couldn’t believe her grandmother’s actions.

“I’m old; I’m not dead, girl.”

Shanese shot her grandmother a glare.

“Don’t give me that,” she said with a tsk of disgust. She pointed across the street. “Them Clubba’s boys?”

“Yes,” Shanese whispered.

“They ain’t nothing but trouble.”

“I know that now.”

“Look at all those men milling around out there. I don’t recognize any of ’em. Do you?”

“I’ve seen some of them around. I think they live here. They’re usually playing checkers when the weather’s nice.”

Her grandmother’s attention stayed with the newcomers. “Maybe I’ll go introduce myself.”

“Grandma!”

“Just to see what’s up,” the older woman said not taking her focus off one particular gentleman, between buildings.

“Hardly,” Shanese said, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Well, a girl can look, can’t she?” Glancing left and right and then left again, her grandmother shook her head. “That’s really odd though, child.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never seen that many older men in the neighborhood before. The odds have definitely improved.”