Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [41]
Jack waited until it was around the corner, then started out after it.
11
“My baby! They killed my baby!”
By the time Jack reached the muscle car it was parked out in front of one of the tenement houses. The ambulance sat in the middle of the street, its red strobe flickering, curious neighbors spilling from their homes to see what the commotion was.
The paramedics were already rolling a gurney out a doorway, the small body on it covered with a sheet.
Jack checked the address. It was Jamal Thomas’s apartment.
An emaciated but not unattractive woman in her early forties stood on the sidewalk, her arms stretched toward the gurney, her face twisted in agony as Leon held her back.
“My baby!” she cried, her high, shrill voice full of raw emotion. “Why did they kill my baby?”
She tried to wriggle away but Leon held tight, his own face slack with shock and grief as he stared at the gurney, tears running down his cheeks. The other kids stood around him, open-mouthed, looking much more like children than gangstas, their bravado overwhelmed by the tragedy of the moment.
Jack quickly assessed the scene, and as the paramedics reached the rear of the ambulance he approached the one nearest the doors and showed him his GNT credentials. “What happened here?”
The paramedic waved him away. “Stay clear.”
“Have the police been notified?”
“Soon as we got the call.”
“What’s the C-O-D? Was he shot?”
The guy hesitated, as though sizing Jack up; he seemed to decide it might not be a bad idea to keep a potential ally on hand.
The EMT shook his head. “Overdose.”
“Like hell!” Leon shouted, gently passing the crying woman into the arms of one of his friends. “I already told you, Jamal wasn’t no junkie!”
“Okay, man, take it easy,” the paramedic said.
“Yo, man, that’s not good enough,” Leon snarled. He drew a Glock from the back of his waistband and crossed the sidewalk. “You take it back! You apologize to my mother!”
“I’m sorry!” the young man said. “I take it back!”
The other EMT had stopped moving the gurney. He edged behind the ambulance. Jack positioned himself between Leon and the other paramedic.
“Leon, listen to me—put away the gun,” Jack said. “I want to find out who did this but we need to talk.”
“The cops did this. That’s who killed my brother.”
“How do you know? Do you have any names, descriptions? Are there any witnesses?”
Jack couldn’t make a grab for the Glock. Leon’s finger was on the trigger, and though they were backing off, moving behind cars, there were too many people standing around to risk an accidental discharge. Instead, Jack ignored the gun. He’d had weapons pointed at him before, and they were never the threat. The man holding it was. If Jack stayed calm, chances were fifty-fifty he could talk Leon down. Or at least delay him until his mother realized what was happening.
Jack looked into Leon’s eyes and held them. They were bloodred in the flashing light of the ambulance, still clouded with tears.
“Talk to me, Leon,” he said calmly.
“The cops,” he said, sobbing but still pointing the gun. “They came in our house and put Jamal down like a dyin’ dog.”
“If we’re going to prove that, I need details,” Jack said.
“Man, you need to go away!” one of the kids shouted.
“Me, too?” came a voice from the middle of the street.
They all looked over as Maxine came walking from out of the darkness. If she wasn’t exactly an angel, she was the closest thing Jack had ever seen.
“This is my associate Maxine,” Jack said. “You saw her in the car. Remember?”
Leon kept the gun on Jack while he looked at Max. “Yeah.”
“Leon, if you want to show your brother respect, then let the paramedics do their job while we go inside and have a nice calm conversation,” she said. “Think you can manage that?”
Leon looked at her. Then, choking back a sob, he wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his gun hand. He nodded.
“Great,” she said.
* * *
The apartment was a cluttered, two-bedroom disaster in serious need of a handyman. Cracked ceiling. Dents and scuff marks on the walls. A battered oven in