Drug Bust

By: Summer Crockett

                Ding! The bullet bounced off the hood of the car, kissing the metal then tearing off in a dangerous new direction. Gingerly Mike fingered his side where a similar bullet not two minutes earlier had pierced through his black leather jacket and his skin. He would need a doctor soon or his blood would be leaking like the rain around him: in an endless flow. He wiped his brow smudging blood across it, but it was rapidly washed away with the frigid rain. He looked at his gun. Two bullets left. What to do?

“Come back you son of a!” The man chasing him cursed. His black gun reflected the warehouse parking lot’s only lamp light. “Davin, go make sure the fence is secure. He can’t leave!”

A dark figure jogged to the opening of the parking lot and pulled the chain linked fence closed. He wrapped the heavy duty lock and chain from the post by the entrance admittance and sliding door. “No way he’ll get out this way, Boss!”

“Clark, Joe, you two take the perimeter. Davin and I will go through the rows,” the boss said. The two pairs started on their search.

“Bad place for a deal to go down. Who picked the old car factory? There are so many cars he could be anywhere.”

“The other side picked the location, you idiot. We just have to get the goods he stole before they get here,” the boss said cocking his FNX-9. “Mike won’t get away with this.”

Mike was starting to feel a little dizzy.  His side still hurt and it didn’t appear that it would stop complaining anytime soon. He was lying under an old beat up Ford, waiting for the moment when he would need to act. He tried to spit out the rain that had leaked into his mouth. It tasted slightly of oil, and the smell that was arising from the old cars was a rough metallic one.

“Mike!” the boss called to the large dark parking lot. The rain pressed in on the space with violent tears. Mud stuck to boots with annoying difficulty. “Give it back and we’ll let you leave!”

Mike closed his eyes and listened. He was shot, he was bleeding, and he had four murderers after him. His only assets were two bullets and one back up plan. He heard the distant murmur of Hummers. He smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t need to play his stupid card after all. He’d never been so glad for a buyer of illegal drugs to appear on time for his appointment.

Head Quarters

Time: 21:45

 “Agent Moss hasn’t reported in yet,” Mary said as she briefed Larsen.

“He was supposed to get the recording today and report back by 9,” Larsen said sitting at his desk. “Do you know of any previous issues of Mike’s that may cause this to be a compromising case?”

***

Eight Years Ago

“If you want to help, keep an eye out for cops,” Luke said to Mike.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Mike said quietly. It was his first day in the gang. He had to prove himself, but his stomach felt like a fishing net filled with strong willed cod. He knew the consequences if he got caught, his dad used to be a cop.

“You have a decision,” Luke said, placing a brotherly hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Your mom is sick, and your sister’s just been fired from the diner. Who’s going to pay the grocery bill? Come on man. I know you can do this. And, maybe tonight, you can try some of this stuff so you can witness for yourself how great it is.”

Mike looked into Luke’s face. He seemed calm, but as he listened he could hear the stress in Luke’s breathing, it was slight, almost unnoticeable, but it was there like the steady constant drum of Mike’s conscience.

“I don’t think I’m the man for the job,” Mike said.

“It’s your choice man. I’m not going to force you to do anything. Just remember, you had the choice and you might have made the wrong one.”

***

“Davin, come with me,” the boss said. “You two stay here. Shoot to kill if the coward shows his face.”

“What about the shortage? Will the big man notice?” one of them asked asked.

“It won’t make a difference. We’ll just lower the price a bit. We’ll make it sound like this is all we could get our hands on.”

Mike listened as their steps retreated. It was going to be now or never. He rolled out from under the Ford. It had been close to twelve years since Mike’s last event with drugs, and he could still vividly remember why he turned his back.

Location: Head Quarters

Time: 22:03

“He used to be part of a drug gang,” Mary said setting a few folders for Larsen to look through while she talked. “He was about to help a large deal go down, it included cocaine and heroin. Instead he went to take his guard post and called the police. It ended in a drug bust that amounted to near two million dollars.”

“I assume that he should be fine then,” Larsen said setting one folder to the side.

“His father died from a drug overdose,” Mary said. “It was Methadone.”

“Ah. His father had some sort of surgery and got addicted to his pain killer. But it’s pretty hard to get a hold of more of that particular drug.”

“Carson, the guy we’re trying to arrest, was the one who sold the Methadone to Moss’ dad.”

***

Eleven Years Ago

“Drugs ruin your life,” Mikes’ dad told him as he strapped on his officers belt for work. “I busted a few kids just the other day. It’s a mess. Promise me, promise me now, that you will never touch the blasted stuff.”

“I promise dad.”

***

Mike’s breath was wheezing slightly. He leaned against the wet truck and tried to prepare himself. Two shots, two men, one gate. He exhaled. His breath formed a small fog in front of his face, but was quickly dissipated from the crying clouds. Mike could see the gate.

“Check under the vehicles,” one called. This man bent down to check under a broken down Ford.

Mike pulled the trigger. The only sound that could be heard was the bullet ripping through flesh and a man’s painful cry.”

Mike ran, cursing. He’d missed, he’d hit a leg! How could he not shoot a man? He shook his head. That was a bad question. He knew the answer to that. He was a good marksman, but being on his first solo mission the actuality had hit him. Life was now in his hands to be taken with the tap of a finger. A better question was how could he have hit him in a place that wasn’t very debilitating?

He sprinted. So close, the gate was just a few feet ahead, and the Hummer, which belonged to the buyer inside the factory, was just beyond.

Shing! A bullet hit the fence to the left of Mike. He pushed himself further. His adrenaline controlled his body and mind. A second shot was fired. This one was closer. Mike measured the angle it must have been fired from, and, with a knowledge earned from years of practice, turned and shot blindly. He heard a gasp, then nothing. He reached the fence’s gate and jumped. He made it half way up then had to climb. He made it over the fence just as the shots resumed.

He reached the Hummer door and yanked it open scrambling inside. A well-aimed bullet shattered the passengers’ window. Mike reached down and hot-wired as fast as his shock, numbed, fingers could move. The engine started. Mike put it in gear and slammed on the gas. The Hummer slid on the mud like some perverse, overlarge ice skater. A final shot was fired from the side, where it entered through the passenger’s window and hit the windshield sending crooked witch fingers across it. Mike cursed again, but kept driving with his limited vision.

Location: Head Quarters

Time: 23:52

 “Should we send in back up,” Larsen said rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“I think you should,” Mary said concerned. “He’s never been this late on a mission.”

The doors to the agency slammed open as if a prince who’d lost his temper had just decided to make his dramatic appearance. With a limping, half-hearted march Mike entered Larsen’s office. He pulled a small pocket book, which disguised a recorder. He set it on the desk with red, shaking fingers. “I believe this is what you wanted?”

Larsen couldn’t repress his smile. “I believe it is.” His face straightened. “But you have some major explaining to do.”

“I need a doctor,” Mike said slumping into a chair. “And you should probably call in for some back up. I’m expecting some guests.” He dug into his jacket pocket. “Here’s the drug they were selling.”

Larsen picked it up and examined it like a child viewing a new dish his mother prepared for him. Mary set off calling in more officers. “Methadone. Who was it going to?”

“Street vendors.”

“You mean high-school street vendors?”

Mike nodded. “They have specific lists for the kids who have parents on this particular pain killer. They figured that if they gave it to them it would be passed off as an accident if anything . . . unpleasant occurred.”

Larson got up from his desk and patted Mike on the shoulder. “Well done. Your father would be proud. But I believe my instructions had been to do surveillance, not gather hard evidence.”

“I—I,” Mike stuttered. What excuse did he have? He saw the Methadone and he had lost control. It was his dad all over again. It was his father’s slumped body in the bathroom right in front of him. He had to take it to prove what drug they were selling. He’d thought it was cocaine or heroin.

“I understand,” Larson said. “Just don’t let it happen again. Maybe if you follow orders you’ll make it out without a scratch.”

Mike looked at his side. “This doesn’t feel like a scratch.” Larson left the room to go call a doctor, and Mike relaxed in his chair. He had kept his promise to his dad, and that was a mission accomplished.