The door hinges peeled from the frame as the Blackhawk battering ram made initial contact. The SWAT team’s breacher stepped off to the side as his colleagues poured in, weapons raised, and ready to fire.
“POLICE! POLICE!”
A crowd began to gather on the sidewalk. Additional LAPD patrol cars blazed their way down the block, officers jumping out to establish a perimeter.
More SWAT filtered rapidly down each side of the house, joining the secondary entry team stationed at the rear. The numbers were overkill, designed to send out a very firm message to the kidnappers.
Inside the living room, four body-armored SWAT officers froze in place as Pony emerged from the bedroom, red-eyed and bleary. He put his hands in the air, offering no resistance, as red laser sights danced across his chest.
The lead officer took him down to the floor, pinning a knee hard into the small of his back as he cuffed him.
“Check the bedroom,” he said.
Two officers stepped over Pony, returning a few moments later to deliver the bad news.
“Clear, Sarge.”
The lead officer turned his attention back to Pony, hauling him up to his feet, and getting in his face. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Pony.
He was scared but trying not to show it. Being arrested didn’t worry him. Or not in the way regular people would think it should. He might catch a beating from the cops. That was no big deal. He regarded that as an occupational hazard.
No, what worried him was what lay on the other side of the arrest. Jail. The suspicion that he might be marked down as a chivato, or informer.
“Yeah, you know who I’m talking about, the two Chinese kids you and your buddies jacked in Arcadia.”
Pony sucked his teeth. “I don’t know shit, and I’m not talking to no pinche hura.”
“We’ll see.”
Two more SWAT officers filtered back into the living room. “He’s it.”
The sergeant turned his attention away from Pony. “Take up the floorboards.”
Pony tried to struggle free. “Hey, this is my home, hura.”
“The walls too,” the sergeant added, his eyes on Pony. “Get some sledgehammers. Punch through every damn wall in this shit hole. Make sure he’s not hiding anything in the cavities.”
Tilting his head back, Pony stared up at the ceiling. “Screw you.”
The sergeant grabbed the back of his neck. “No, I think you’ll find it’s us that are going to be doing the screwing until those two kids are back home safe. So, when you speak to your attorney, make sure he feeds that back to whoever’s picking up his tab.”
“Hey, Sarge.”
The sergeant turned towards a uniform who had walked in from the bedroom with a pair of silk pajama bottoms. The uniform had already placed them in a clear plastic evidence bag.
“These match the description of what the female vic was wearing.”
“Oh dear. Looks like your day just went from bad to worse,” said the sergeant.
Pony shrugged. “Do what you gotta do.”