Blood shift

Krautzer and I never spoke to each other. He got up and, armed with a flask of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, I sat down to sign in. It was already a busy night, four units in action, which I monitored a few minutes before I took over. I hated weekends.

"Seven polecat," the radio said.

"Seven," I acknowledged.

"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."

I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."

"Seven copy," he replied.

I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."

Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."

"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."

The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."

"Sharp five wilco."

The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"

"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."

Shit. "Can you release Center two?"

"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."

The customer board yelped at me.

"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."

He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.

"...backup! Officer down!"

The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.

The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
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With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."

"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"

I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.

A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.

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