Blood Over Badge by Wayne Farquhar
The cop sounded desperate. He looked and saw a gun pointed right at his head.
“Yes sir. I ... I’m sorry. Please officer, please don’t shoot.” He had lost the advantage; he’d waited too long. He placed his hands on the wheel, leaving the gun buried in the crease. He needed to calm this cop down, get him to put his gun away. Then he could go for his gun.
The cop held his flashlight and gun, both arms extended. He could almost feel the site aimed at his right ear. The cop was semi-crouched so he could see into the car.
“Put your hands on top of your head, nice and slow, now!”
He complied. How do I get a drop on this asshole? Shit! I need a new plan!
“When I tell you to, take the keys from the ignition with your right hand, and drop the keys out the driver side window.”
The cop’s voice was still serious, but he was calming down. Compliance was working.
“Do it now, very slowly.”
He carefully removed his right hand from the top of his head, spread his fingers and slightly turned his palm toward the cop so he could see he had nothing in his hand.
“Yes sir. I’m real sorry; I’m doing it right now.” He reached down and slowly removed the keychain holding the shaved ignition key. He’d filed it himself, so it would work in plenty of locks and ignitions. If the cop saw that key, the game was up. He cupped the shaved key in his hand so the cop wouldn’t see it.
“Okay sir, I’m gonna’ drop the key out the window.” He slowly moved his right hand across his body and extended it out the open window. The keys jingled when they hit pavement. He placed his right hand back on top of his head and listened. Suddenly, he realized the cop wasn’t talking to the other cop anymore. They had to be in sight of one another. He knew the closer together the two cops were to one another, the better for him once he started shooting.
The cop talked into the radio microphone clipped to his lapel. “Control Six-Nora Thirty-One,” The cop said.
He heard a female voice on the other end. “Six-Nora Thirty-One, go ahead.”
“Code Ninety-Nine control.”What the fuck is a Code Ninety-Nine? And why isn’t the other cop doin’ the talkin’ on the radio? It wasn’t making sense.
“Ten-four, Six-Nora Thirty-One, break ...”
He strained to hear the woman. “Unit to respond for Six-Nora Thirty-One?”
Suddenly, it clicked. Yes! The fucker’s alone! He’s calling for a backup. He heard: “Six-Nora Thirty-Three, roger, I’ll take the fill, ETA nine.” The radio crackled then fell silent.
He thought he knew what this meant: In nine minutes backup would arrive. But, what if he was wrong? What if there was another cop out there?
“When I say so, slowly open the door, step out and keep your hands on top of your head.” Now the cop was much calmer.
He turned and looked at him. “Yes sir. I’m sorry sir, anything you say.” He tilted his head sideways. The spotlight from the police car was less blinding that way. The cop diverted the flashlight so it wasn’t right in his eyes. He watched the shadowy figure outside the door. The cop hadn’t moved an inch. Good for me, he thought, bad for you. Just keep your big ass in the same spot. How much time had passed? Two minutes? Three? Either way, the cop had stopped talking to his partner. He was still unsure: one or two? Guessing wrong could get him killed.
The cop sounded desperate. He looked and saw a gun pointed right at his head.
“Yes sir. I ... I’m sorry. Please officer, please don’t shoot.” He had lost the advantage; he’d waited too long. He placed his hands on the wheel, leaving the gun buried in the crease. He needed to calm this cop down, get him to put his gun away. Then he could go for his gun.
The cop held his flashlight and gun, both arms extended. He could almost feel the site aimed at his right ear. The cop was semi-crouched so he could see into the car.
“Put your hands on top of your head, nice and slow, now!”
He complied. How do I get a drop on this asshole? Shit! I need a new plan!
“When I tell you to, take the keys from the ignition with your right hand, and drop the keys out the driver side window.”
The cop’s voice was still serious, but he was calming down. Compliance was working.
“Do it now, very slowly.”
He carefully removed his right hand from the top of his head, spread his fingers and slightly turned his palm toward the cop so he could see he had nothing in his hand.
“Yes sir. I’m real sorry; I’m doing it right now.” He reached down and slowly removed the keychain holding the shaved ignition key. He’d filed it himself, so it would work in plenty of locks and ignitions. If the cop saw that key, the game was up. He cupped the shaved key in his hand so the cop wouldn’t see it.
“Okay sir, I’m gonna’ drop the key out the window.” He slowly moved his right hand across his body and extended it out the open window. The keys jingled when they hit pavement. He placed his right hand back on top of his head and listened. Suddenly, he realized the cop wasn’t talking to the other cop anymore. They had to be in sight of one another. He knew the closer together the two cops were to one another, the better for him once he started shooting.
The cop talked into the radio microphone clipped to his lapel. “Control Six-Nora Thirty-One,” The cop said.
He heard a female voice on the other end. “Six-Nora Thirty-One, go ahead.”
“Code Ninety-Nine control.”What the fuck is a Code Ninety-Nine? And why isn’t the other cop doin’ the talkin’ on the radio? It wasn’t making sense.
“Ten-four, Six-Nora Thirty-One, break ...”
He strained to hear the woman. “Unit to respond for Six-Nora Thirty-One?”
Suddenly, it clicked. Yes! The fucker’s alone! He’s calling for a backup. He heard: “Six-Nora Thirty-Three, roger, I’ll take the fill, ETA nine.” The radio crackled then fell silent.
He thought he knew what this meant: In nine minutes backup would arrive. But, what if he was wrong? What if there was another cop out there?
“When I say so, slowly open the door, step out and keep your hands on top of your head.” Now the cop was much calmer.
He turned and looked at him. “Yes sir. I’m sorry sir, anything you say.” He tilted his head sideways. The spotlight from the police car was less blinding that way. The cop diverted the flashlight so it wasn’t right in his eyes. He watched the shadowy figure outside the door. The cop hadn’t moved an inch. Good for me, he thought, bad for you. Just keep your big ass in the same spot. How much time had passed? Two minutes? Three? Either way, the cop had stopped talking to his partner. He was still unsure: one or two? Guessing wrong could get him killed.
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