Rod and Norma are at it again! The never ending battle against crime in Las Vegas continues to enthrall their readers as Rod Randel, ’The Hawk’, and his partner, Sam Sikes, walk the sidewalks, and cruise the streets and alleys maintaining law and order. Randel’s relentless crusade against the powerful, invasive drug cartel peaks as ’The Hawk’ and his partners conspire to unravel its destructive web and to untangle the gripping network that holds their city captive to the effects of drugs. In Randel’s mind, no alliance is too strong or organization too powerful to evade the wrath of ’The Hawk’ and his special force of loyal, dedicated officers. Join Randel in a glass of ice tea as he and Sikes continue their vendetta against the evil factions that corrupt the streets. ’The Hawk’ is after every last one of them. It Ain’t Finished!

FRANK-3 ENROUTE

IT AIN'T FINISHEDBy Rod Harris Norma Hood

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Rod Harris and Norma Hood
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-9001-9

Contents

TARGETS.....................................1MACHETE.....................................5TENSION.....................................11VIOLET......................................17DRAWIN' THE LINE............................22DOCTOR OPEN WIDE............................30HOT DATE....................................37BIKER BITCH.................................43TRUTH OR DARE...............................51LITTLE BUDDY................................56FLOWER SHOP.................................60DORA LITTLE.................................62ICED CRÈME.............................67INSTRUCTOR..................................72PRE-TRIAL...................................76DANDY'S CANDY...............................81GET YOUR GOAT...............................85PREGNANT AND SCARED.........................90SPECIAL DELIVERY............................98YOU'VE GOT TROUBLES.........................101BERSERK.....................................107PLANE PLAIN WRAPPER.........................117EYE TO EYE..................................131COURT AT THE CEMETARY.......................134BLIND MAN'S BLUFF...........................143TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS.....................146FREE LOADERS................................152UGLY DIVORCE................................157NOT SO HOLSUM...............................163FLOWER BOYS.................................166SREET SIGNS.................................170GOLDEN GATE.................................174IN THE RAFTERS..............................179THE SAFE WAY................................184TELEPHONE TRIAL.............................188BOK CHOY....................................190WIGGIN' OUT.................................195CAUGHT IN THE ACT...........................199THREE ALARM FIRE............................203OUT OF A JAM................................211MONGO MADNESS...............................215FILM CRITICS................................221RICH MAN POOR MAN...........................224MOURNING FLIGHT.............................228OVER THE EDGE...............................231THAT'S WHAT WE DO...........................241IT AIN'T FINISHED...........................246

Chapter One

TARGETS

"I hear what you're sayin', Captain, but like I was tellin' you, it ain't finished. All those bastards are goin' down, and goin' down hard." I started fidgeting in my chair in the Captain's office as we waited for Lieutenant Gene Germain. "Nobody gets away with trying to ambush me and my buddies, or killing other po-lice officers without paying dearly; and pay they will. The sheriff wants our streets cleared of the drug pushers, the prostitutes and the riff-raff, and that's what he's gonna have. I'm after the big boys now, and they need to know that I'm still out there. I am the enemy!"

"Officer Randel ..., Rod," the Captain began thoughtfully, "just remember, you're not to be on the streets alone. You will ride double and you will have backup, the best Metro has. Damn it man, the streets of Las Vegas are still a hot bed of crime, even though you and your hand-picked squad have cleaned it up some. It's going to take the whole department and more to do the job. The preliminary hearing for the Saavedra case will be heard in two weeks. I want you alive and ready to testify. Don't take chances! Is that clear?"

"I'll be there with bells on, Cap.! I hope to hell that the damn judge will have some common sense. Who's gonna sit on the bench? It better not be Judge Shivers; that bitch lets everybody go. And besides that, she hates my guts." I rubbed my mustache and cleared my throat, trying to clear my mouth of the foul taste of saying her name.

Brushing my uniform at invisible and non-existent fuzz, I mentally checked my appearance as I half listened to the Captain's warning. I was squared away as usual, pressed and dressed, boots shined, all my standard and not so standard equipment in its proper place, well, maybe not my radio. It had a special re-enforced back pocket that I had the seamstress add so that I could reach it more easily. I don't like the standard radio holsters. And what if my gloves were tan leather instead of standard issue black; so what the hell, people knew which officer I was, even called me 'One Glove' sometimes. Yeah, I carried an extra gun or two and extra knives; an officer has to be prepared for the worst. I sure as hell had seen some of that lately! My latest pair of sunglasses, thanks to replacement by the department, was hung on my left epaulette. I had removed them out of respect for the Captain. Otherwise, as the smart-ass that I was, I would have worn them indoors in defiance of protocol. I thought, Lt. (Benedict) Arnold and Sgt. Dumb Dumb would be proud of me for that! Ha!

I was relieved when I heard the deliberate, loud knock at the door. The Captain recognized the resonant tap, tap, tap as that of Lieutenant 'Mean' Gene Germain, and bade him enter. Rising from his chair, the Captain rounded the desk and shook his friend and fellow officer's hand. "Have a seat, Gene. Glad you could make it. Officer Randel and I are just going over our plans for the next little while." The Captain briefly filled in my lieutenant and asked, "Do you have any questions, Gene?"

"Yes, I do, Captain. How in the world are you going to keep tabs on these wild and defiant officers?" We could feel the questioning amusement in his voice.

The Captain smiled broadly and said, "I have my sources, Gene, and I have you. I still run a pretty tight operation. I'll stay informed; the sheriff and the under-sheriff will be in the loop, and we will get the job done. This is the best team we could have picked."

Another, lighter knock at the door announced the arrival of Officer Sam Sikes, my friend and long-time partner. As he entered, the odor of his last Winston cigarette, probably just crushed as he entered the no-smoking area, was still present on his clothes and in the air. His burly body always smelled of nicotine and of the Tums that he used, ineffectively, to cover the fact that he smoked two to three packs a day, and to ease the heartburn. Sikes sauntered in, removing his sunglasses and placing them in his breast pocket, just under his badge. I thought, your badge saved your sorry ass not too long ago, buddy. You were one lucky sum-bitch. Sikes shook hands with the captain and the lieutenant, and pointing at me, queried, "Sir, what's this loser up to now? What you gettin' us into, Hawk? You realize I ain't your damned baby sitter, don't you?"

Heartedly, the captain laughed with us and invited, Sam, AKA Grumpy, to join us. "Officer Sikes, you and Officer Randel will more or less baby sit each other for the next few weeks. You will both ride double and will be each other's backup. We're gonna use you both as bait or targets, if you will, and we are going to take down the criminals that are haunting you and the drug bosses that have put out contracts on you and your rookies. Make no mistake, Sam, this is a very dangerous situation, and we want you to be extra cautious with everything you do. Don't start your car or step off the sidewalk without checking everything first. I want you on the alert! You need to inform your rookies, I assume you will be using Officer Willy Wells and Officer Dane Gilmore as your regulars, as to what's going on. They'll be in danger too."

"Yes sir, we will. Captain, I want you to know that Randel and I are still cleanin' up the city for Sheriff Morgan. As my buddy, The Hawk, said, 'It ain't finished, 'till he says it's finished,' and I'm in it to the end with him. We're downright fightin' mad, sir, and there ain't nothin' but the blood of Jesus that's gonna save the sorry souls of those bastards. Their asses are ours! I'm gonna cut 'em long hard and deep and watch 'em bleed to death. You still lettin' us have the reigns on this, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sam. You and Rod have the green light. You just keep us in the loop at all times, understood?"

"Yep! That's good enough for me. Well, don't just sit there, Hawk, we're burnin' daylight."

"Hold up a minute, Grumpy. Sir," I looked at the Captain, "may we still count on Roscoe, Riley, and Senega as part of our team?"

"You've got whatever and whomever you need, Rod. Now you officers heed my warning, and this is the last time I will harp on it, be careful out there. Remember, we want you going home every day after your shift is over! Oh, and don't go home the same way every day." The captain rose, placed his hand on our shoulders and walked with us to his door. He shook our hands and wished us well. As Grumpy and I stood outside the door replacing our glasses, tucking in our shirts and adjusting our equipment, we heard the squeaking of the captain's chair as he sat. We also heard, "Gene, somehow, I feel that I have lost control here. What do you think? Will my boys be okay?"

Lieutenant Germain answered, "Sir, you should feel that you have the best damned men on the best damned team that you could ever ask for. Don't worry too much about Randel and Sikes. They are both Vietnam vets that have seen a lot of action and they came back alive."

Grumpy drew his pack of smokes from his pocket and dug out a single death stick with his nicotine stained fingers, replaced the pack and offered, "Let's get the hell out of here, Randel. I can't stand all that sweet talk in there. I need a cigarette, and I'm hungry. Where do you want to eat?"

"You name it, Grumpy, 'cause you're payin'. But I guess we'd better give them a call, and pick up our shadows, Willy and Gilly. Hell, let's just get the whole damned group together at Denny's at Charleston and Fremont.

We had no sooner entered our vehicles when I heard, "Frank-3, Adam12, copy a call."

I listened to Cheri' at dispatch and answered, "Frank-3 Enroute." Over the radio, I stated, "Adam-12, pick up your rookie and forget about eating. We've got a hot one." I circled into the 7-11 and placed the call to my snitch.

MACHETE

The phone rang four times and I was about to hang up when the soft spoken voice of Violet Ramsey, a cute little street whore and a snitch for me, answered. Violet, was a good girl that just couldn't stay away from her drugs. At 5' 1" she was petite, almost skinny, and her dull brown hair wasn't looking too good anymore. It was thinning and stringy, as happens with druggies. However, Violet was always clean. She wore T-shirts, preferring white, pink and teal green, usually with some kind of design on the front. Her cut off jean shorts were always white and she wore white tennis shoes. I knew what business she was in and had arrested her many times, mainly to protect her or to help her. Knowing how she lived and why she worked the streets still did not make what she did right. Hooked on crack cocaine at the age of fourteen, Violet knew she was spiraling downward, but even to save herself, she could not stay away from the rocks that her body cried out for. In an effort to feel better about what she did, Violet would call me occasionally to report on really bad drug dealers.

That was the case today. Violet's hushed tone already revealed that she had used the drugs that she told me she had just purchased. "Officer Randel," she began faintly, I'm so sorry, but I just couldn't stay away from them. You know how it is with me. I only bought two rocks though."

"What you got for me Vi?" I spoke in an urgent and unforgiving manner.

"There are some real bad Cubans on the third floor of the Forest Lane Apartments, number 309."

"That floor is condemned, Vi. Are you sure you're giving me the right place, honey?"

"I'm sure! I almost fell down those damned rickety steps when I left. Those awful people are cookin' and baggin' crack right now. There's a whole slew of them, Randel. And they're mean. They threatened to kill me if I told anybody they were there. I don't think I was supposed to know, but a friend told me, so I went there and they dragged me in, threw me down, and hit me twice before I could tell them what I wanted and promised not to say anything to anyone else."

So now that you won't be goin' back, you're ready to give up your source. I see, I thought. "You did the right thing, Violet. You go straight home now and don't let me see you on the streets. You know I don't want to arrest you, but the sheriff wants his city cleaned up. You looking for regular work, girl?"

"Yes, sir," she lied. "I'm gonna be working at the grocery store if I can pass the pee test."

"Well, get off that crack before you take your test. Gotta go, Violet. You take care and thanks for the tip."

"Bye, Hawk. Be careful. They're bad!"

Back in the police vehicle, I swung by for my ride along, Willy Wells. He was a good rookie, and I trusted him. He still had a lot to learn and I hated to put him in the position we were in. "Wells, you ready to roll? We've got a hot one. Get on the radio and give Grumpy this address. We'll have automatic backup. That's the way it's gonna be for now. So, if you see a tail, other than po-lice, you speak up man. Our butts are in trouble, and someone is out to get us. You remember what I told you about how to travel and how to watch out for yourself? Well, now's the time to be extra cautious, all day, everyday! Understand?"

"What the hell's going on, Randel?"

"We're being set up by the Cubans, and this could be one of their tricks to get us upstairs in a condemned building so they can take us out. I don't think that Violet is that kind of snitch, but they threatened her within an inch of her life if she told anyone. They may know that she's my snitch and that she would go straight to me. So, we're goin' in, guns drawn and ready for action."

"Gotcha, Hawk. I'm ready, but I didn't load my shotgun into your car."

"You can use mine. But from now on, kid, you bring your own equipment. You have to be prepared. I know this was quick notice. That may be just what those bastards are counting on."

"You think Violet would set you up, Randel? She likes you."

"No, she wouldn't, but her friend may have set her up. As I said, we can't be too careful."

We parked a block away and walked, checking every corner, every vehicle and every person that might be a lookout. We did not spot anyone. Sikes and his men took to the left stairs and Wells, my backup and I headed cautiously up the right stairwell, using due care. Vigilantly, we checked each door as we approached 309. I spotted Sikes as he cleared the left stairwell and he let me know that he had seen no one. We revealed ourselves in my normal polite manner; we did not say a word until we stormed in, smashing the door to 309, guns drawn and yelling, "Po-lice!" I didn't even ask them to open up!

The group of seven men and three women were taken by surprise, and I realized that they were not expecting company. "Get on the floor NOW! Don't move! Keep your hands where I can see them. You are all under arrest, and I don't have any patience for you today!" The men and the women stopped what they were doing, and lay in a huddle on the floor. "Hook 'em up, Willy, Gilly." Our Backup, seasoned officers, went to work cuffing everyone. No one resisted. "Wells, you and Gilmore clear the rest of the apartment. Gilly, check the bathroom. Someone could try to dump the cocaine, but I doubt it."

Sam Sikes observed, "They've got a nice little operation here, Hawk. Look at those tables covered with that shit. No wonder they are all wearing masks. You could get high just breathin' in here. We'd better clear this joint in a hurry before something happens."

I looked around at the bagged rocks and the paraphernalia they were using. "Smells to me like they were cooking in the kitchen. Wells, check it out.

The L-shaped kitchen was at the back of the apartment and all we could see was the entryway. As Willy entered, using due caution, a man sprung at him from behind the counter with a large Machete, swinging it at Willy's belly. "Pinche joto! Pigs!" he shouted. "Me gon to keel you!"

Willy arched his long frame, jumping back out the doorway and I was instantly in front of him with my PR-24 drawn. I countered the man's next swing at my stomach with the baton and then drove the end of the PR-24 into his throat. He went down with a thud. "You okay, Wells?"

"I'm fine, Randel. Man, he really was trying to slice me open."

"Wells, we'd better call Mercy for an am-bo-lance. He's not breathing too well, and is out like a light."

Grumpy stuck his head around the corner to see what I had been up to. "Lookie there, Hawk, you'd best turn off that stove over there before that crap explodes. Maybe we should just let this cesspool burn! Willy, you did just fine, boy. You gonna call the am-bo-lance or are you just gonna stand there?"

"Officer Sikes," Willy proffered, "I feel a little funny, maybe I should sit ..." Willy Wells sunk to the floor.

"Damn, boy," reprimanded Sikes, "can't you take a little excitement?" Grumpy stepped over to Willy as I finished cuffing my suspect. "Hawk! Get over here now! Our boy's been cut!" Sikes was on the radio, "Control, officer down. Send an am-bo-lance to the Forest Lane Apartments at Main and Oakey, #309. We have an officer that's bleedin' bad. Been cut! Tell 'em to hurry!"

I hollered at Gilmore. "Gilly, find some clean cloth. Look over there where they were working." I placed my hand on the cut to suspend the bleeding as Gilly ran over with some sheets. I prayed it was not covered with cocaine dust. I rolled it and shoved it tightly against the wound just as Willy regained consciousness. How could I allow him to get hurt? Damn!

"Sorry, Randel," whispered Willy. "I just kinda passed out, I guess."

"It's not your fault, Willy; I should have checked it out myself."

"Wells, are you wearing your vest?" asked Sam Sikes.

"Yes sir. I am."

"How the hell could that machete have cut through that vest, Hawk?"

"I don't know, Grumpy. Someday they'll make real bullet proof and knife proof vests. This one sure as hell didn't stop that machete." I heard the sirens as Mercy arrived. The EMTs were up the stairs in a flash and I was glad to see Eric, a medic that I trusted.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from FRANK-3 ENROUTEby Rod Harris Norma Hood Copyright © 2012 by Rod Harris and Norma Hood. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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