“Shit,” West said when they rolled up on the scene.
“Fuck.”
She parked on the side of the narrow, dark street.
“You see that tall man right there getting out of the car, the one in the suit? You know who that is?”
Brazil reached for the door handle, then thought better of it.
“I know exactly who it is,” he said.
“Huge Bedsore.”
West shot him a surprised look. It was true the cops had a pet name for their city councilman, but she wasn’t clear on how Brazil knew about it.
“Not one peep out of you,” West warned as she opened her door.
“Stay out of the way.” She got out.
“And don’t touch anything.”
The ambulance was rumbling, and parked in the middle of the street with the tailgate open wide, light spilling out as red and blue flashed and strobed from cop cars. The men had convened near a rear tire to come up with a plan. West followed around to the back to assess the problem for herself, Brazil right behind her and dying to get in front. Swan was inside, as far back as he could get, wielding a pair of surgical scissors, his eyes bloody egg yolks filled with fury when the woman cop in the white shirt filled his vision.
He had knots on his head and was bleeding from the fight he had gotten into at the nip joint where he had been gambling and drinking Night Train Express fortified wine. When he was put in the ambulance, it was one of those times when he decided he really didn’t feel like going anywhere just that second. Whenever this happened. Swan seized the environment. In this case, he grabbed the closest dangerous object he could, and yelled to the paramedics that he had AIDS and was going to cut every one of them. They jumped out and got the cops, all of them men, except for that one with the big tits peering in at him like she might do some thing.
West saw the problem plainly. The subject was holding down the lock to a side door that led out to the street, and the only way to get to him was for someone to climb inside the ambulance. This didn’t require much of a plan. West went around to confer with the committee of officers still gathered by the same tire.
“I’m going to divert him,” she said as Bledsoe stared at her as if he’d never seen a woman in uniform.
“The minute he takes his hand off the door, you guys grab him,” she made sure they understood.
She got closer to the open back of the ambulance and made a face, waving a hand before her eyes.
“Who used pepper spray?” she called out.
“Even that didn’t stop him,” one of the cops let her know.
Next thing Brazil knew, West had climbed inside the ambulance and picked up an aluminum stretcher to use as a shield. She did this easily, and her lips moved. Swan didn’t like whatever it was she was communicating to him. His eyes were on hers, arteries bulging in his neck as he twitched and challenged her with looks and utterances. She was halfway inside when he lunged. Swan was sucked out as if he opened the door of an airplane. Brazil went around to check and found him facedown on the street being cuffed by all those men with a plan. City Councilman Bledsoe watched, hands in his pockets. His eyes followed West as she walked back to her car. Then he stared at Brazil.
“Come here,” Bledsoe said to him.
Brazil cast a furtive glance in West’s direction, certain he might get left alone out on this dark, unfriendly road.
He was mindful that West had ordered him not to talk to anyone.
“You’re the ride-along,” Bledsoe stated as he got closer.
“I don’t know if I’m the ride-along,” Brazil answered. He was just trying to be modest, but the councilman took it the wrong way. He thought the kid was being a smartass.
“Guess Superwoman there just gave you a good story, huh?” The councilman nodded his head toward West, who was getting back into her car.