Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗

sidewalk. He and his mother gazed silently at one another. The sound of police sirens could be heard approaching.

“We already called ’em,” said the elderly abuelita who had threatened Ryan with the rolling pin at Round Table, “soon as we seen who you had tied up over there.”

Esteban’s mother smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, mijo, for everything. It’ll be different now, for your sister. I promise.”

He nodded. Before he could turn away, she grabbed him in a crushing hug and held on. Mortified, Esteban squirmed out of her embrace. “C’mon, mama,” he hissed, “you be embarrassing me!”

She let him go. “Sorry.”

Reyna stepped forward to stand beside Esteban, clearly indicating by her stance and by her look at the older woman that she was asserting her own claim on him.

His mother eyed Reyna appraisingly. “I met you before.”

“Yes,” Reyna replied, “during the clean-up.”

The older woman smiled. “So you’re his latest jaina?”

“No, I’m his last jaina.”

Esteban turned a bit red and had to cover his awkwardness. “Okay, team, cops’re coming, we’re outta here.” He turned back to his mother. “Give Rosa a kiss for me, ’kay?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, just sprinted off down the street, his team following closely behind. Reyna patted Esteban’s mother on the arm and handed her the phone Ronaldo had used to video the whole operation.

“Give this to the cops.” Then she followed the others into the darkness.

Throughout the city, in neighborhood after neighborhood, similar operations unfolded at the same moment. Because of Mr. R’s warning, his people were prepared for an attack. However, like all adults, they greatly underestimated the power of young people when those young people wanted something badly enough. A number of the drug-house owners were wounded, like those in Boyle Heights, but none were killed. That had been Arthur’s directive. Bullets had grazed some of his knights, but none were badly hurt.

In placing former gang members as leaders of each team Arthur had ensured that his knights knew how to deal with gunfire, just as Esteban and his old homies had done. Jaime, Darnell, Duc, Tai, and all the others had achieved great success, considering the odds against them. Some of the houses, upon receiving the heads-up from Mr. R., had cleared out, leaving nothing for the knights to attack or confiscate.

But considering it was but a small salvo in a much greater war, Arthur’s operation was a resounding success. And contrary to what Mr. R. had told Lance and Jack, every neighborhood hit that night made the exact same choice—call in the cops to remove the drug dealers, and all felt empowered for having made that choice.

When Arthur had given the word to begin, he and his own team were lurking within the shadows of a large industrial building directly facing Mr. R’s warehouse. A Hummer stretch limo had pulled out of an underground garage ten minutes before, but since then all had been still. Arthur and Jenny exchanged a look when the limo departed, as though the same sense of dread had come over them both simultaneously.

Despite that eerie feeling, Arthur dispatched a young knight named Norman to take care of the parking garage gate, which had descended once the limo departed. He sent a text to a splinter group to do the same on the opposite side of the warehouse. The large padlocks Arthur had purchased that very morning were perfectly suited to the task.

With both garages secured against escape, Arthur eyed the quiescent building soberly. To think that such death and destruction of human life originated here on a daily basis. He scanned the few windows on the top floor, waved his hand at Lavern, and pointed to one window in particular. The small, wiry boy took aim and fired a smoke bomb. The window shattered, and smoke billowed out into the setting-sun-drenched sky.

Arthur sent a text to his splinter team, and skilled archers on the opposite side began their assault.

Arthur pointed out the next window to Lavern. The boy fired. Another bomb. More smoke. And so it went until a smoke bomb had been fired through every upper-floor window. Smoke billowed from the wounded building like blood from an animal that had been stabbed.

Arthur nodded in approval at Lavern’s expert shooting. The small boy grinned back with gratitude.

“Now we wait,” Arthur whispered, and all eyes returned to the smoking warehouse.

Mayor Villagrana stood at his window watching the brilliant red and orange of the setting sun, the twinkling of city lights springing to life below him, and wondered what Arthur was up to, and would R. take care of it like he’d promised. All these kids running around the streets doing who knew what—it was a public-relations fiasco waiting to happen.

“Well?” came a harsh voice from behind him.

Villagrana turned to observe Council President Sanders with the usual scowl plastered to his craggy old face. Seated with Sanders was the rest of the city council—none too happy to be here by the looks on their faces. Chief Murphy had also brought in Sergeants Ryan and Gibson.

Oh joy, the mayor sighed inwardly, the whole circus is in town.

Despite these thoughts, all he said was, “Nothing going on that I can see.” Sanders “hummpphed” and exchanged a look with Vice President Sandra Gale.

The phone rang suddenly, startling Villagrana with its harsh, tinny clang. The mayor snatched it up in annoyance. “Yes?” He listened but a moment and then held out the phone to Chief Murphy. “It’s for you.”

Murphy rose from his chair and took the phone from the obviously disgruntled mayor. “Yeah?” He listened, then covered the receiver with his hand and turned back to the group. “911 calls coming in from all over the city.” Then he resumed listening to the report.

Villagrana and Sanders exchanged a look. Despite their enmity, the mayor knew that whatever was going on probably wouldn’t be good for either of them.

Arthur watched as people attempted to exit from the underground garage. The padlock trapped them like the rats they were. Arthur looked at Jenny, who nervously gripped his hand. He squeezed it gently and then nodded to Lavern. The boy retrieved from his satchel another arrow, this one fitted with bound cloth. Enrique soaked the cloth in gasoline and lit it. Lavern notched the arrow, took aim at the first window he’d taken out, and fired. The arrow made a perfect arc up and into the office. Within moments, fire leapt from the window as the interior went up in flames.

Arthur observed a moment as the fire took hold. Lavern shot several more flaming arrows in through the upper windows, and as the inferno engulfed the entire top half of the building, Arthur signaled to Jenny. The prepaid phone she’d been given was already in her sweaty hand, and she thumbed in 911.

In the mayor’s office, Villagrana, the council members, Ryan, and Gibson had all taken spots at every available window to observe the scene below. Smoke rose from all over the city. Sirens shrieked as the flashing red of fire trucks and the flashing blue and red of police vehicles ripped the twilight open like a wormhole might a galaxy of stars.

“What the hell is happening?” Villagrana practically shouted. “It looks like a war zone down there!”

Ryan and Gibson exchanged a frustrated look. They clearly wanted to be out there with whatever was going on.

Chief Murphy finally hung up the phone. He’d made several calls to his men at Parker Center and now had a pretty good idea what was going on. And he liked it. Damn if he didn’t approve, despite the vigilante nature of the whole thing. He cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look. “You want the story? I got it.”

He leaned up against the mayor’s expensive desk, ignoring the flash of anger in Villagrana’s eyes.

“Well, Chief,” Sanders asked anxiously, “Is the city burning down?”

Murphy shook his head. “Not fires. Just smoke. Well, there’s one fire at a warehouse, but somebody called it in and trucks are on the way.”

“Then what’s going on out there, Chief?” Villagrana practically screamed.

The Chief cleared his throat again. “It seems our King Arthur and his kids have smoke bombed a bunch of crack houses and meth labs throughout the city.”

“What?” Sandra Gale exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

The chief nodded. “Yep, bagged the cookers and left ’em in fishnets for us to pick up and book. Actually, these kids are turning the netted cooks over to the locals and letting them decide to call us or not. That’s the 911 calls—citizens who want us to finish what Arthur and his kids started. They even videoed everything and left the evidence for us to use.”

“Anybody get hurt?” Ryan asked.

“Too early to tell. I think some cooks got shot with arrows, but that’s still unconfirmed.”

“Hell!” Villagrana cursed, glaring at the Chief as if the whole evening was his fault. “Do you know how bad we’ll look in the media, Chief, when a bunch of kids can do better police work than the LAPD? We’ll be the laughing stock of the country.”

“Is that all you care about, Mr. Mayor?” Sandra Gale asked incredulously. “I, for one, think this King Arthur has done us a tremendous favor. Chief, how would he know where to find these drug houses when your men didn’t?”

“If I may answer that, Chief,” Ryan piped up, and the Chief shrugged. “The kids know everything that goes down in their neighborhoods, Ms. Gale. That’s why we try to befriend them. Unfortunately we stab them in the back way too often, so they don’t trust us. They do trust Arthur.”

“You’re out of line, Sergeant!” Murphy barked, his temper rising.

“Yeah, Ry,” Gibson added. “When do we stab ’em in the back?”

“Every time we arrest ’em and tell ’em if they help us, we’ll help them. We help ’em all right, straight to prison.”

Gibson opened his mouth to protest, but ended up saying nothing.

The mayor looked fit to be tied. “So, Mr. Police Chief, what do we do, huh?”

“I got my men responding to the calls, including that warehouse downtown. Seems that was a major drop and manufacture point too. Didn’t you say Arthur wanted us here in your office?”

The mayor nodded.

“Then I guess we wait for him,” Sanders added before returning to the window.

Smoke billowed above the city lights, and flashing sirens cast everything in strobing shades of blue and red.

At the first sound of approaching sirens, Arthur nodded to Justin.

“Thank you, Sir Justin,” he said, placing one hand on the tall boy’s shoulder. “You have done a great deed this night for the people of thy city. Your father would be proud of thee.”

Justin basked in the compliment, but lowered his gaze at the mention of his father. “I don’t think so. Probably just think I’m some kind a pyro or somethin’.”

Arthur waited, never taking his eyes from the boy’s face until Justin raised his head again sheepishly. “I take great pride in thee, Sir Justin, and I thank thee for thy loyalty.” He offered a small smile, patted the boy on the back, and turned to the others. “Now, my brave and noble young knights, we have a rendezvous with the mayor.”

He exchanged a look with Jenny and then glanced down at Chris, who gazed at the burning building in wonder. The top floors were completely engulfed in flames, and the people below beat furiously against the locked garage gate.

Arthur