Episode 32 Landing at Point Rain (part 3/3) (Patreon)

Tim Bradford

Chen was coming along. He was confident he’d trained her enough that he believed she would be a pretty good cop. She lost that naivety, though it took months of hard effort to do that, and overall, he was satisfied with her progress at this stage of her training.

 Seeing Angela pass the detective exam and appearing one day in the bull pen in civilian outfits with a badge clipped on her belt made him think of his future. What did he want next? He sometimes envied his fellow T.O. for knowing what she wanted in her career with certainty. She told him Routh would be her last trainee, and just like what she said months ago, she did it without any hesitation.

Wearing his tactical gear and receiving a rifle from the armory for his latest assignment made him remember his urge to see more action and use better gear. He wanted to join the Metro units, but he was given clear orders to help secure Central HQ.

Seeing the mob of civilians barely held back by the security perimeter made him realize why the new chief requested tactical units from nearby stations to help out. His city had gone crazy.

He and Angela watched with concern as numerous ambulances passed by, and he shared a concerned look with his temporary partner. Something must have happened, but they were out of the loop regarding Alex Montel and the LAPD’s plan to transport him. All he knew was that three groups of vehicles left the central one after the other, chased by half a does news vans eager to catch a glimpse of the notorious international criminal.

“Any word from Jack?” He asked Angela during their break.

“No, and I don’t expect him to send any message right now.” Angela replied after she took a bite out of her sandwich. “They must have strict OPSEC guidelines at the moment, and he’s in Hondo’s squad. That means what they’re doing is the most crucial part of this cluster fuck.”

He agreed with Angela’s assessment. This was a cluster fuck indeed.

“B and C Platoon left in force.” He noted. He had seen the two platoons leave, being familiar with some of them since he often trained together with those men.

 It was practically impossible to distinguish the two platoons from D-platoon, their most elite unit. They all wore that black vest over their blues, carried the same equipment, and used similar gear, but that was about it. D-platoon had higher requirements to get in, from marksmanship to endurance and training. He was confident he could join them.

“So, joining Metro after Chen?” Angela seemed to have read his mind, but he didn’t let it show in his face.

“What made you say that?” He asked. “Training rookies is a sacred duty.”

“Please.” Angela rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen how you look at my rookie whenever he goes out in his tactical gear, and you even pay attention in the break room to hear his stories. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“And with this latest assignment from the Captain, I saw how your eyes slit up when we were told that we had to bring tactical gear and rifles.” His partner for this assignment continued speaking. “I know you’re itching for change for some time now.”

He didn’t bother to reply to her statement. Angela would make a fine detective.

They were ordered to pick up some members of D-platoon, mostly Hondo and his immediate squad. They had somehow ended up on the other side of the city in Trenton. It was there that they finally learned what was going on. It looked like Jack needed help.

 “Faster.” Angela urged him for probably the fifth time. He could see how worried she was when she heard Hondo’s secret convoy had been ambushed. There was a traitor too, one of their own. He gripped the steering wheel in frustration. He hated traitors, and he knew McCabe personally.

“7-Adam-19, this is 70 David.”

The shop’s radio blared out when they were near Hondo’s reported location, and he was able to answer before Lopez, earning the Latina’s glare. In his defense, it was his radio call sign they were using, not hers.

“7-Adam-19, go ahead.” He answered.

“Reroute to Sixth Street Bridge.” The Captain of Metro ordered. “20-David is in the area, we believe a jet is about to land there. That is where Alex Montel is planning to make his escape.”

“10-4, 70-David.” Bradford replied.

“A plane? Jesus.” Angela looked stunned, and he felt the same. What kind of idiot would land a plane on a bridge?

“20 David, this is 7-adam-19.” Angela took the radio from him and contacted Hondo. “We’re on roué to the Sixth Street Bridge to provide assistance.”

“7-Adam-19, what direction are you coming from?”

He recognized Jim Street’s voice. Angela looked around for a moment and quickly replied. “We’re coming in from Santa Fe Boulevard, West side of the bridge. ETA two minutes.”

“Good. We’re coming in from the East. Expect combatants in the area. ETA 1 minute from the bridge”

He stepped harder on the accelerator before Angela could even comment.

“If they’re using the bridge, they must have used something to block the traffic so that the plane can land.” Angela shared.

“And probably men manning it.” He added. “We’ll go in hot. You ready for this?”

“Always.” Angela took one last inspection of her rifle and nodded.

Like they suspected, there were construction barriers blocking the entrance. It looked legit too, with the wooden barriers and orange lights, they even had a couple of men in high viz vests and white safety helmets maintaining the blockade. The only thing wrong was the rifles strapped behind their backs.

“Gun it!” Angela already had her weapon ready.

The engine of his shop roared, and the men dived out of their way as his vehicle smashed through their barrier. He could immediately hear gunshots and Angela firing back. As he crested the slightly curved ramp leading to the bridge, he immediately spotted an actual jet on the asphalt. It looked like it was heading towards them, preparing to take off, and it was being chased by a black limo. Someone was on the roof of the limo, shooting back, and he quickly swerved to the other side of the road to avoid getting hit by friendly fire.

“Angela! Look ahead!” He shouted.

His partner was still firing back at the guards down the ramp.

“What the hell?” Angela exclaimed when she turned around.

The small jet was picking up speed, but its hatch was open. A few gunmen were hanging out, shooting back at the limo chasing the jet. He saw his partner hesitate, and he instantly knew the reason.

She could hit her fellow cops, and they both knew how flammable Jet fuel was. There was only one thing left, and that was to play chicken with whoever was the pilot.

“Just watch our six.” He called out. “Strap yourself, this could get ugly!”

“On it!”

He increased their speed, hoping the other guy would blink first.

Alex Montel

“Just sit down, you imbécile!” He shouted, but no one heard him. Amidst the sound of the jet engines, the annoying blonde’s pleas to be let go, the pilots screaming for Gamble to close the hatch, and the gunfire, he could barely hear his own voice. It was already giving him a headache.

“Up ahead!” The co-pilot warned.

He looked through the cockpit windshield and noticed a lone police vehicle heading straight toward them.

“Shut the damn hatch!” The pilot shouted once more. “We can’t take off with this amount of drag!”

Of course, Gamble couldn’t hear him over the gunshots. He looked around and noticed that the cop, T.J., just looked resigned in his seat. It was like the man had given up. No, he was so close! He needed to act.

“Give me your gun!” He ordered.

T.J. didn’t react at all, but he didn’t protest when he took the handgun from the man’s holster. Enough was enough. Gamble may have proven to be a creative and bold ally, but the man’s crazy stunt was now a hindrance.

He didn’t see it coming as he shot the man at the back of his head, and he quickly fell out of the hatch. Another shot, and his henchman joined him on the asphalt. Gamble’s remaining man froze as he pointed his gun at his head. “Close the hatch. Now!”

The man quickly followed his order, but as soon as the man closed the hatch, he fell down on the cabin floor as the plane suddenly jolted. He felt the armrest of a chair dig into his belly as the plane lost control and started to spin. He was able to hold on tight, but the other weren’t so lucky as they were tossed around the cabin violently until they crashed into the side of the bridge and hit a steel arch. 

He can’t go down like this. He opened the hatch before the others had recovered and jumped out. The limo was on the other side of the plane, and he emptied his gun to dissuade them from following him and started to run, eyes scanning for a way out of his predicament. He could already hear the sound of distant rotors, and he knew he needed to hide before the police helicopter arrived.

He could see an exit, what looked like a pedestrian path at the side of the bridge, and he headed towards it at full sprint. Perfect, he would be able to move under the cover of the bridge, but a few seconds into his run, his ears picked up a different set of footsteps hitting the asphalt, and it was getting louder. He chanced a look over his shoulder and cursed when he saw who was chasing him.

Oh merde. It was him. He ran faster, but the large man was gaining a lead on him. Just a few meters before he reached the pedestrian access, he jumped, but he cried out a second later as he felt an unimaginable pain in his knees. A moment later, his vision tumbled and he saw stars as his head hit the pavement hard.

It was like someone shoved a hot burning rod in his legs, and he felt blood on his mouth. He groaned, unable to speak as he felt his hands being moved behind his back. Fuck. His knees were pulsing with pain.

A powerful white light flooded his immediate area, and he realized Routh was speaking to him in his own native language. Something about his right to remain silent and about a lawyer. He didn’t care, the pain he was feeling was too strong. He could hear more sirens approaching, and he finally admitted defeat.

Twenty minutes later, he knew what Routh did to him. Fractured kneecaps. Routh actually tried to break his legs, just like he promised before the ambush. That was what the medics told him inside the ambulance when they checked his injury. That, along with a few missing teeth, thanks to that tackle from the violent cop, were his only serious injuries. He could still walk, but it was painful and slow.

He was now sitting in a wheelchair, guarded by four men, while those in charge finally arrived and discussed his fate. Fuck this country, seriously.

Jack Routh

He felt tired.

The medics treated his minor wounds inside the ambulance, and more and more officers and emergency response crews arrived on scene. He was surprised that Chief Coleman wasn’t present since both ends of the bridge were already flooded by news reporters and curious civilians.

DHS and FBI agents secured the scene along with LAPD officers while their airborne assets continued to circle the bridge.

Hondo had his arm bandaged heavily, while Street had his wounds treated with disinfectant. The veteran sergeant was quickly ordered to join a command meeting at the side, and he accepted a bottle of water from Street and joined him and Chris as they leaned on the side of their SWAT vehicle to watch the circus.

The Learjet was being moved to the top of a flatbed. It was small enough that only one crane was needed to lift it, while the two pilots were arrested and placed in a prisoner transport van along with Gamble’s remaining men.

“I hope your body cam was on when you made that tackle.” Street bumped his canned drink against his water bottle as a form of congratulations, and he nodded in turn. They both watched Montel at the back of another prisoner transport van, his head down while being guarded by four SWAT officers.

“That was a sweet tackle.” Chris spoke up from Street’s other side. “I’m surprised he could still walk after that.”

“He was desperate to get away.” He replied. He was surprised how fast Montel could move, he could tell the man was desperate to get away. He even thought the man was desperate to jump from the bridge, but he knew the water was too shallow to survive diving into, with Los Angeles being turned into an artificial concrete channel in the late 1930s to control the flooding it did to the city during the rainy seasons.

It looked like Hondo was done talking to the brass and started to head their way, followed by Captain Cortez. The woman looked relieved, and he straightened up from his relaxed posture as she began to speak.

“Good job on recapturing Montel.” The Metro captain looked at them one by one in the eye. “But the job’s not done.”

“Road trip?” Chris asked.

He knew what the captain was doing. She was giving them the honor of completing their original assignment. He could see that his remaining team members were determined to finish their task despite how tired they were.

“Road trip.” Hondo sighed.

Thankfully, none of them had to drive, and they all sat in silence in the SWAT vehicle as they headed to Victorville. It was about an hour and a half drive, and he used that moment to rest. Alex Montel was cuffed in both arms and legs and secured to his wheelchair at the back with Street and Alonso watching him, while three more SUVS joined their convoy with Tim and Angela in the lead car.

Hondo was silent, and he knew the man was still thinking of what had happened just a few hours ago. He heard a faint sound of a gunshot as he chased Montel, and later realized it was T.J. taking his own life by shooting himself in the head.

“He just couldn’t resist the money.” Hondo finally broke the silence after staring at the desert for over an hour.

“Money changes people.” He replied. He didn’t know McCabe well, but he could tell the man had expensive taste with how he dressed and his fancy watches. He often bragged in the locker room about expensive dates at exclusive restaurants or attending concerts, and drove a classic '69 Mustang.

“He was a good cop.” Hondo added. “Cocky as shit, but he had the skills to back up that arrogance.”

They reached the Penitentiary at Victorville half an hour later and the morning sun was already creeping up.

“We’re here to transfer custody of L.A. Police Department prisoner number 109672 into federal custody.” Hondo spoke the guard.

He looked around and noticed several prison guards watching them, and even some convicts in orange clothing from several layers of chain link fences and barbed wire.

“Thank you sir.” The prison guard looked flustered at having numerous LAPD officers in tactical gear staring at him. “I will accept the transfer.”

The man looked up at the tall tower beside the gate and gave a nod. The chain link gate separating them slid open, and the prison guards took over and surrounded Alex Montel and moved him to their own wheelchair.

“Enjoy your new home.” Street told Montel.

“Try your best to know the guys.” Hondo added.

He couldn’t allow the two to tease Montel and joined them in their teasing. “Be good to your boyfriends, alright?” He ruffled Montel’s hair as he moved away.

“Who are you, really?” Montel asked him.

“I’m just a cop.” He moved away and headed back to their vehicle.

The drive back was livelier, with no prisoner to watch over. It was there just as they were beginning to relax and joke that Hondo decided to ruin their mood with some news.

“We’re off SWAT for a month.” Their sergeant suddenly spoke up. “You’ll probably hear about this tomorrow, but I figured I’d give all of you a heads up. You deserve that, at the very least.”

“Why now?” Chris looked annoyed. “First they put us under investigation, and then call us back, and now this?”

“I know Chris.” Hondo replied. “But I agreed with the Captain’s idea. We’ve been tackling major high stress scenarios like these regularly and she’s concerned for our mental health.”

“So what are we suppose to do?” Street asked. “A month’s a long time Hondo.”

“You’re still getting paid during that month.” Their sergeant replied. “We’re going to mandated psychiatrists for some counseling and some light-duty crap if we ever decide to take some assignments.”

“Do we really need to?” He asked. It looked like a waste of time. And what does light duty mean?

“I’m afraid it’s department policy and not some political crap.” Hondo replied. “It’s to help deal with PTSD. D-platoon sees the most stressful situations on a regular basis. Look at what happened to Gamble, and… T.J.”

They became silent after that, and he had to acknowledge Hondo’s point. They were all highly trained killers, and if one of his fellow officers snapped or broke down during a crucial operation… yeah, he knew that would only get messy, quick. Their motto of never missing a shot and always completing a mission had turned their work environment stressful, and if prolonged, dangerous.

“What the hell. I’m still getting paid.” Street sighed. “Maybe I can renovate my house. I mean, it’s just light duty.”

“Maybe I could start a new hobby.” Chris stretched her legs and started looking at her phone. “I always wanted to learn how to paint.”

“The captain is stepping down too.”  Hondo revealed.

“What for?” Chris asked.

“Well, it’s against department policy for an officer to have a romantic relationship with a direct subordinate.” Hondo glanced at him from the passenger seat and gave him a wink.

“You mean you and the captain…” Chris looked thrilled to hear this piece of gossip.

“Where did this come from?” Street looked confused. “Is this new or has there been something going on without me knowing?”

“I bet you got inspired by Routh and Captain Andersen?” Chris teased.

“We started dating first, even before Routh joined the force,” Hondo replied, sounding annoyed. “If anything, it’s Jack that copied me!”

He hitched a ride with Tim and Angela back to Mid-Wilshire once they returned to the city. Tim was eager to hear his side of the engagement. Angela though, had quite a lot to say about yesterday’s events.

“It was the perfect storm.” The new detective shared. “It came to the point that we were deploying riot gear to patrol and totally ignored petty crimes. And it’s all because of one man.”

“It goes to show what people would do for 100 million dollars.” Tim noted.

“It’s not just that.” Angela shook her head. “Some didn’t care about the money, they just want an excuse to riot and cause as much mayhem as possible. Thankfully we arrested the more violent offenders. If Montel was able to escape…”

“People would see how weak we are and become bolder against us.” He finished for her.

His old T.O. was right, his latest mission was very symbolic, and if they failed and Montel got away, the LAPD’s reputation would suffer and they would lose a good amount of confidence from the public that they were suppose to protect. It was a dangerous scenario that they managed to avoid, but it was close.

He knew the political fallout after this would be enormous, and heads would roll, starting with Susan Coleman.

It felt good to hug Zoe once more in the privacy of her office. Tired, but still missing his wife’s presence, he settled for a nap on her couch and only woke up for snacks and lunch.  He recovered somewhat by lunch, and shared his experience with his fellow officers in the break room. Getting him to share his experience guarding Montel was easy. They just needed to bring him sandwiches from one of his favorite food trucks parked near their station.

He watched along with John and Lucy the climax of their mission on the bridge. A news chopper kept playing the moment Montel got out of the small jet, firing shots at their limo and then running in the other direction.

“That was you, right?” John pointed to the TV showing a figure that jumped from the roof of the limo and started sprinting after the notorious criminal.

“Yeah.” He replied. He didn’t realize someone had managed to catch the whole event. The sunroof of that limo barely fit him and his gear.

“Ooof.” Lucy winced when he tackled Montel just as he was about to reach the pedestrian access. “That has got to hurt. He deserved it, though.”

“Some good cops died. Many are from Metro’s B-platoon.” He added. That caused the two and those listening in to their conversation to pause for a moment to show their respects.

“So what will happen to him now?” Lucy asked.

“He’ll spend the rest of his life inside.” He guessed. “Then several agencies will start to press him for information about his father’s organization. Find out how they launder money, and then try and get him to reveal secret offshore bank accounts and the African warlords that buy their weapons.”

“Don’t forget those foreign governments that will request his extradition.” John added. “I read up on the guy. He committed a lot of crimes all over the world. He’s more bloodthirsty than his father.”

“I’m puzzled by Convoy 3.” Lucy brought up the sensitive topic. Convoy 3 had the most casualties, including their sergeant suffering from a fatal gunshot wound, and C-platoon had to rebuild. “Why were the gunmen focused on the decoy truck? I mean, if they were there to save him, wouldn’t they avoid trying to kill their meal ticket?”

“Sergeant Farrows assumed the same.” He replied. “And like I said before, assumptions kill. It looks to me like another group wanted to eliminate Montel rather than rescue him.”

There was also the big question of why Alex Montel was here in the first place. He knew the FBI and DHS were already looking for clues to answer that question. He had his own theories, and a big part came from the deadly attack at convoy 3.

Convoy 3 was originally their convoy until Hondo made a last-minute suggestion. It had one of their armored vehicles along with the prisoner transport. From the scattered reports he was able to piece together from his fellow officers at Central, the gunmen only fired at it enough to disable, but they must have spent hundreds of rounds on the prisoner transport. It was like they wanted to kill Alex Montel, and anyone in it, including Farrows.

Then there was the number of enemy combatants. A staggering number of fifty armed men attack the third convoy, far higher than the twenty that attacked convoy one.

He shared his suspicions with Zoe on their drive back after his wife’s shift ended. She took him seriously and even sent a message to his own captain. It was also there that he learned what light duty entailed, and he instantly hated the idea.

It mostly consisted of community building, a low-stress environment, according to Brass. He was sure they were out of touch if they considered dealing with an irate neighbors and overzealous citizens a light stress environment. He’d rather deal with an armed robbery any day.

“If you’re against the idea, maybe you could do some recruitment work for the department.” Zoe suggested while wearing a smirk. He knew his wife was making fun of him at this point.

It was a pity the new chief ended his teaching stint at the community college. He really worked hard for that program.

“There are other options, you know.” Zoe reminded him. “The LAPD also has a program for officers who want to further their education.”

“You mean…”

“It’s called the educational pathway program.” His wife shared. “So if you want to continue with your master’s degree, there are ways to achieve that.”

That was actually a good idea. He’d certainly enjoy going back to UCLA while doing cop work on the side. They finally reached their home, and he quickly headed to the shower. He had an early afternoon snack with Zoe and they decided to spend the rest of the early evening for a walk.

With the city in high alert yesterday, he knew many parents had probably forbidden their kids to go out trick-or-treating. With the crisis finally over, it looked like the kids and even young adults were out in full force.

Different superheroes, princesses, and monsters roamed the streets, and he was tempted to bring out his Mjolnir armor to join in the fun, but he knew this wasn’t the place for it. Zoe looked like something was on her mind and so he let her be for now and merely held her hand during their stroll.

They made it a point to walk past the house with the elaborate decorations and it didn’t disappoint. It looked like they had more crew to help out with scaring and entertaining the kids who visited their house.

On the way back, Zoe shared her call with her estranged father and the older man’s reluctance to talk about his past.

“He’s a military general?” He wondered what department Zoe’s father worked on. The fact that he was a four-star as well surprised him.

“He got that fourth star due to an assignment.” Zoe explained. “Normally after that, they’re bumped back down to a three-star, but I think dad’s planning to retire.”

“That means he can retire with his current rank.” He guessed.

“You got it.” His wife nodded. “He’s very proud of his accomplishments and wants to retire in a high note.”

“His reluctance to speak about my past is troubling.” He noted. The more they tried to investigate his past, the more they realize how difficult it is. He was really curious about his lost memories and wondered if he would ever get them back.

“That’s what’s troubling me. And we’re going to meet them soon.” Zoe revealed. “We’ll use this opportunity to visit my family on the East Coast.”

He felt an irrational fear fill his belly, but he forced it down. He was only meeting Zoe’s parents and it wasn’t a big deal. Shit. He needed to calm down. What were their names again?

Zoe let out a peal of laughter that shook him out of his thoughts.

“Relax, honey.” His wife clutched his arm tighter to her body. “It’s just for one dinner, and then we’ll have more time for ourselves. We’ll go out to explore, I’ll show you the sights, and I’ll even introduce you to my mom. We’ll visit her grave and bring Chrysanthemum flowers too. Those were always here favorite."

“I’d like that.” He noted the wistful tone in Zoe’s voice when she mentioned her mother.

A/N: I had to cut the last two POV parts out. I don't think they fit with this episode's theme. I'll replace them with more relevant POVs.