sHe: THE RISE OF THE NEW BREEDS [Book 1]

Chapter 12

A DARK GREEN CAMARO DROVE FAST in the street with four shemales L.A. Chicanos gangbangers inside it. Hernando was seated at the backseat with his henchman Tito — with two large duffel bags of stolen coke from the Russian gangland, The Oligarch Daughters of America.

His gun-for-hire gang had ambushed and killed two dozen, Blacks gang members yesterday, who had mulled the drugs from New York City that was supposed to be distributed in the west coast market.

The edgy driver was Perez, and with him was Santos in the front passenger seat with a laptop — Hispanic gangster-rap music played out, Perez turned down the volume — looking back into the rear-view mirror...

"That black Dodge Nitro — two cars behind — it has been on our tail for the past 10 minutes — check it out, Ese!"

Santos utilized his laptop and clicked the keyboards — a micro spy-camera on the back windshield of Camaro was activated, with its prodding zoom lens snapped a photo. Santos got a fuzzy image on his computer screen, and the blurry image rendered the three passengers in the Dodge — Santos recognized one of them...

"Hernando, that is Agent Renee Osborne — the DEA is tailing us!"

Hernando punched the backseat before he peered at the rear wind-shield, cursing in Spanish, "Motherfuckers! Santos quick, shoot a 'kite' to alert our people to get the families out now — they are all sitting ducks out there in that warehouse!"

*

Somewhere outside the city, Roberta conducted a stakeout in a stalled Ford on the shoulder of the road with two other Strike-force female cops — Corporal Jamie was at the driver's seat and rookie Billie was on surveillance in the back seat — keeping a lookout in a field-glass at the freeway's flowing traffic for Hernando's LA Chicanos' entry.

Roberta was still pissed that some of her best paymasters were dead with their black decomposed heads found floating in the bathtub yesterday morning. She now had to find another pecuniary source to get back for the loss.

There were lots of ways to make money in the streets — the safest way, Roberta had lucre well was by 'looking away from the other side' since her days as a beat-cop — in return, the Blacks in Ohio had remunerated her handsomely over the years — but it all ended yesterday when the Latinos killed her golden goose...

She scoffed and vented aloud of her random thoughts to her partners-in-crime...

"Fuck us all, we have to now play second fiddle to Osborne and her DEA cunts on our own turf — Hernando was clearly the spic-fuck Chicano who came into our backyard and sliced up those Niggers Oxen and B.B. He should not get away this easily, certainly not in my city!"

"Hey Sarge, mind if I ask — who is this C.I. you are speaking of?" asked Jamie.

Roberta was tightlipped...

It was best not to speak of her name in front of her 'guy'— of the shadow known in her circle as Mister Clarkey — a Mulatto who hated the Blacks...

Roberta first heard of her, was when her beat partner — the late Manny Thompson — mentioned that she graduated with Clarkey at the police academy — and now Clarkey had become a small-time drug-dealer ever since she retired.

Mister Clarkey was a CPD's ex-Strike force team member during the pre-Medusa times, wherein her last working-case, some male Black gangbangers planting an IED on a car, with a tied-up hostage inside. During the daring rescue, an explosion resulted — where Mister Clarkey's right-hand fingers were blown off — along blinding her right eye too.

Once Clarkey left the forces on medical retirement; as pain management and treatment, she used street drugs before becoming a junkie cum dealer. Cops like Roberta was her loyal customers — who smoked-up occasionally with her — while on consecutive visits, Roberta was put on the waiting list for three weeks since the pre-booking date for their personal one-on-one 'insider' meeting — it was when Clarkey shared intel to her inner-circle customers with natters that she picked up from the various high profiled street gangbangers and also of addict cops alike.