Cole Shoot Read online

  “How’d you like to live with that one?” Cole said reflectively.

  “It gets weirder. This guy’s either the world’s dumbest criminal or world’s worst shot. Get this, he shot the leader of the FCBZ! Killed him. Shot him in the back.

  According to Chou, this kid they call Trick stepped in front of him. He was aiming at one of the Norteños from behind a table or something. Pow! Shoots his life-long friend.”

  Cole didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just slumped down in his chair. No one said anything about Trick being killed. That was the cost of Anthony’s freedom. A knot churned in the pit of Cole’s stomach. Cole just stared at the top of his desk.

  “You hear me? This kid shoots his own guy!” Chin broke the silence.

  “Crazy,” Cole finally said.

  “Here’s the part I thought you might find interesting.”

  “What’s that?” Cole said, still reeling from Trick’s death.

  “It seems that the FCBZ snatched a kid off the street. Mexican kid. Held him hostage for two or three days. The so-called Norteños are the ones who came to rescue him. Ricky Chou says some old guy came looking for him.” Chin paused.

  “Huh, that is interesting,” Cole said trying to sound calm.

  “Sound like anybody you might know?”

  “Not off hand,” Cole replied flatly.

  “This Chou kid says they both came around asking questions, lots of questions from the people in Chinatown. Said they worked for a newspaper. He was a bit fuzzy on which one.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “The Parade Shootings.”

  The silence screamed over the phone line. Chin knew. Cole knew. First one to blink, Cole thought.

  “You been to Chinatown recently?” Lieutenant Leonard Chin was using his San Francisco Police Homicide Detective interrogator voice. Cole knew the voice.

  “This old guy hurt anybody?”

  “You been to Chinatown lately?”

  “Did the Mexican kid hurt anybody?”

  “You been to Chinatown lately?” Chin repeated.

  “You know I’m reporting on the Parade, of course I’ve been to Chinatown. Me and half the news people in America.”

  “Anything I need to know?”

  “Journalists as a whole, and newspaper reporters in particular, report stories like this, not make them. Have you called the Examiner or The Tribune? How about the Mercury News, talked to anybody there? They all have people on the street here in the City. They might know something.”

  “That’s it? That’s what you got?” Chin was obviously irritated.

  “Just brainstorming. Is the Mexican kid alright?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How’s that?” Cole asked.

  “I don’t know who he is.” It was clear to Cole. Chin didn’t want to be asked that question.

  “Was the sister alone?”

  “No, a kid from the Mission was with her. Funny thing, a P.I. was with them. Sort of with them, she was tailing them.”

  “She?” Cole asked.

  “Ex-SFPD, Cal Corwin. Know her?”

  “Yeah, she was in my office a couple of days ago. Working on a missing person case. Did the girl show symptoms of Down Syndrome?” The picture began to come into focus for Cole.

  “Both of them. Where’s Anthony?” Chin fired in rapid succession.

  “Asleep at my house the last I knew. He was out late with friends.” Cole answered, without missing a beat.

  “Are you holding back information, Sage?”

  “That is a serious accusation, Lieutenant. Not something I would expect from a friend.”

  “It was a question, not an accusation. That wasn’t a statement I would expect from someone with nothing to hide.”

  “If I hear anything that might help, I’ll let you know. It’s really sad about the girl. Is the boy OK?” Cole asked.

  “Yeah. What are you doing for lunch? Talking to you has made me hungry for eel. Want to hit Okina Sushi? They make a killer Unagi Box. I’m buying,” Chin offered.

  “With an invitation like that you should be a writer, Chin. 12:30?”

  “See you then old newspaper guy.”

  At ten-thirty Cole called Kelly’s cell. “My house guest still asleep?” He asked before she could say hello.

  “Nope.”

  “Is he sitting at the table?”

  “Yep.”

  “He OK?”

  “Seems to be.”

  “I’m obviously interrupting something. I’ll call back later.”

  “Thank you for calling.” Kelly ended the call.

  “Cole?” Anthony asked.

  “How’d you guess? He was checking on you.”

  “He really stuck his neck out for me. I half way wish he hadn’t; then again, the other half is real glad I’m alive.”

  “He thinks the world of you.” Kelly smiled. “You want to talk about what happened?”

  “What did Cole tell you?”

  “Not much. He thinks he’s protecting me.”

  “He may be.” Anthony took a sip of coffee. “I went to get background for the parade shootings. No big deal. I know I’m a rookie, but really I was just trying to get reactions from people in the neighborhood. The Fire Cracker clowns came up and told me if I want to talk to people in their community I had to talk to somebody named Trick.” Anthony took a bite of scrambled eggs. “These are really good.”

  Kelly smiled and took a sip of her tea.

  “So, I go to this upstairs apartment with these guys. It was their hangout. It was just a bunch of guys getting loaded and hanging out. The guy in charge’s name was Trick. He was really nuts. I don’t know if he just smoked his brains away or what, but he was a combination of mean and just plain crazy. Anyway, I was doing my best reporter thing. A little edgy, little cool, you know the whole Sage School of Journalism thing. I whip out my recorder and Trick spots this.”

  Anthony puts his hand out toward Kelly to show her the faded XIV in the web between his thumb and index finger.

  “I got it when I was fourteen. I was kind of a wannabe. That was it. Next thing I know I’m duct taped to a chair in a back bedroom somebody used to store junk in.”

  “How long were you tied up in there?”

  “I’m not sure. They gave it to me pretty good.” Anthony turned his head to show Kelly the side of his face. “My ribs are pretty bruised up, too. Anyway, last night I pretty much figured I was finished. I tried to make my peace with, you know, anyway, I hear all hell breaking loose down the hall. All of a sudden the door is kicked in and there is my friend Luis from L.A. I knew that it was Cole’s doing.”

  “Cole was so worried about you he called them,” Kelly offered.

  “Wow. That took a lot.”

  “He told me at dinner that night after you disappeared. He was really conflicted. He wasn’t sure unleashing their violence was the right thing to do. He said in the end all that mattered was getting you back.” Kelly smiled.

  “Whew.”

  “That’s crazy, he could have gone to jail.” Anthony shook his head.

  “Still could, I guess. I think he just sees things differently. He would have kicked in that door himself, but knew he needed help, so he called your buddies. When they got here, they refused Cole’s help.” Kelly looked deep into Anthony’s eyes. She decided Cole was right. He was worth saving.

  “He was going to go with them? He could have gotten killed!”

  “Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Kelly said, taking another sip of tea.

  “What’s that? Shakespeare?”

  “The Bible.”

  “Has Cole got religion?”

  “I think he has a lot deeper faith than we know. Let’s put it that way.”

  Anthony took a bite of his eggs. “He has seen a lot of stuff. He’s caught glimpses of the Pearly Gates more than once. I guess he figures he’d better be ready.” Anthony chuckled. “He just se
ems a lot different than when I first met him. He’s a lot, I don’t know ... nicer.” Anthony laughed. “Don’t tell him I said that. It would be bad for his rep! I was in that room with those guys. They are a scary bunch! Cole said he was there the day before I was. He said it like it was nothing. He may be nicer but he is still a hell of a warrior.”

  The small auditorium of Golden Gate Academy was a churning, low roar of voices, movement, and the buzz and hum of lights and cameras. The small three-foot high stage was covered with flowers. On either side of the microphone stand, were two large, moveable corkboards covered with drawings, paintings, and handmade cards. The centerpiece of the stage was a gigantic heart with MEI in the center. Like a float from the Rose Parade, the entire thing was fashioned from crepe paper flowers and suspended by wires from the ceiling.

  Cole met Anthony at the Academy for the 10:00 press conference and found a spot near the front and off to the right of the stage.

  “This is quite a turn out,” Anthony whispered.

  “We’ve got it all. Gangs, handicapped kids, guy shooting his sister and best friend,” Cole paused, “by accident. All we’re missing is the love interest.”

  “Cynic,” Anthony teased.

  “Nope, just been here before.” Cole smiled. “Have you thought of an angle for your story?”

  “Story?” Anthony wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

  “Yeah. My Three Days in Hell, or Gang Hostage: My Story. No, no. I got it, College Student Meets Street Gang and Survives: The Untold Story!” Cole laughed heartily.

  “Seriously, will I get to write something before I go back to school?” Anthony queried.

  “I was serious. Not about the headline, but the story needs to be written, all except the escape. We’ll have to work on that angle of it.”

  “Angle for what?” The voice that came from over their shoulders was that of Lieutenant Leonard Chin.

  “The Press Conference here,” Cole replied.

  “You missed the Mayor and the Chief of Police. They’re kind of the draw, wouldn’t you think?”

  “We were checking out a hot tip.” Cole smiled.

  “Your friend is so full of crap,” Chin said to Anthony. “I know you two are up to your ass in this mess. What I want to know is the angle.”

  “Angle?” Anthony asked Chin but looked at Cole.

  “Yeah, Mexican kid gets held by FCBZ, an old guy comes around asking questions, they both claim to work for a newspaper, some even say The Chronicle, and three, four, or five Norteños, or not, ride in and rescue the kid.” Chin cleared his throat. “The angle would be who, and why. My people got zip from the gangbangers in the Mission. They should be bragging like mad over a stunt like this. They’re quiet as can be. They actually didn’t know it happened. So I figure there’s an angle.”

  Anthony held his right hand out. “That is the angle,” he said, indicating his faded tattoo. “I was a victim, held against my will. I do not intend to press charges. I would love to thank the group of concerned citizens of San Francisco who came to my aid. Sadly, they didn’t leave their name and address. Cole picked me up down by The Chronicle Building and took me home. I have been asked to write the story of what happened. You’ll have to read it. I’d like to know what you think.”

  “You teach him that?” Chin asked Cole.

  “That, my friend, was 100% Anthony Perez.”

  “So that’s that, huh.”

  “It would appear so.” Cole grinned.

  “You’re a pain in the ass, Sage. If it weren’t for...” Chin was interrupted by a man’s voice.

  “Testing, testing. One, two, three.” A lanky man in dark green corduroy trousers and a denim long sleeve shirt was standing at the microphone. “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. My name is Thom Kyriakos, I’m a Life Skills teacher here at Golden Gate.

  “The tragic shooting of one of our own yesterday is just one more of the senseless, violent acts that plague our city, state, and nation. It is our hope that, as members of the press, you show compassion and respect for our student and her family.” Kyriakos turned and looked over his shoulder to the back of the stage.

  “I would like to introduce Dr. Nancy Cline, our Principal, and our lead teacher, Maggie Strout.”

  Two women came to the front of the stage, one walking with a confident stride and the other in a wheelchair.

  Taking the microphone from the stand, the older of the two women said, “Good morning, my name is Nancy Cline. I am the chief administrator here at Golden Gate Academy. First off, I would like to thank the Mayor and The Chief of Police for speaking so eloquently to the problem of youth violence in our city. Here at Golden gate we have suffered a heartbreaking loss of innocence. When you think of gang violence and the troubled violent nature of the streets, the image of children, special needs children, does not come to mind does it?”

  She spoke with authority and with a clear unwavering tone. “Mei Chou, a member of our Golden Gate family, has been senselessly gunned down, and her friend Marco Gutiérrez, is left unable to understand why this happened on a street in his own neighborhood.

  Her crime? She wore the wrong color sweatshirt, a sweatshirt representing our own San Francisco Forty-Niners.” Ms. Cline let her statement hang in the air for a long moment.

  “We are here today to speak on behalf of Mei, the children of San Francisco, and the children of America. It is not just the job of the Police. We who love children, as a parent, as a teacher, as a concerned member of our neighborhood or community, must strive to teach respect and love for all people. Race, sex, or the foolish affiliation to a color or scrap of fabric can’t be the determination of the value of a life. We must stop this insanity!” Cline stepped back and handed the microphone to the woman in the wheelchair.

  “Hi, I’m Maggie. I have spent my life working with these wonderful, very special children. Mei and Marco are very dear to my heart. I have watched them grow, learn, and mature. As seniors in our high school program, they were about to graduate to our adult work training program. Now my dear, sweet, Mei lays in a hospital bed clinging to life.” Maggie Strout’s voice cracked and she wept quietly. The room fell into a reverent silence. Maggie wiped her eyes and looked out over the audience. “I want you to meet a young man that has suffered in a way no child should. He also has seen someone he loves get shot. He is a wonderful, kind, and generous boy. He is special, you see, he has something the rest of us don’t have, a forty-seventh chromosome. Marco, will you join me?”

  The room burst into spontaneous applause, as Marco came from the wings to join his teacher on stage. Maggie Strout reached out and took his hand and smiled up at him. She said something the crowd couldn’t hear. Marco took the microphone and walked out to the edge of the stage.

  “Hi.”

  Several members of the audience returned the greeting.

  Cole leaned over to Anthony and whispered, “I know that kid!”

  “I like nice people. Mei is nice. She got shot. That is really bad.” Marco looked down at the front of his shirt. “I got her blood on me. We should all be nice and not shoot people.” He turned and looked back at Maggie Strout. She nodded for him to go on.

  “I want kids to be safe. Gangs need to stop shooting people. Please stop!” Marco turned and walked back to where Maggie waited for him.

  “We all know what the problem is and we all know love is the answer. Please tell your viewers, your listeners, your readers to consider the innocent, be they child or adult. Please help put an end to this blight on our city. Thank you for coming. We will be giving tours of our school in a few minutes, if you anyone is interested.”

  Cole walked toward the stage. Dr. Cline was already exiting the stage on the left side. Marco was obviously being praised by his teacher. Mr. Kyriakos was busy winding up the microphone cable. Cole was about six feet from the stage when Marco looked down at him.

  A frown crossed the boy’s brow and Cole could see he was trying to process a memory. A
s he approached the stage, he made a heart shape with his thumbs and index fingers and held it out to Marco.

  “I love you too! I love you too!” Marco’s face lit up with delight at the recognition of the man from the taxi just a few days before.

  “Hi buddy!” Cole called out.

  Maggie Strout looked from Marco to Cole completely baffled by the exchange.

  “Mrs. Strout, it’s him! It’s him. The man, the man! He said ‘I love you too!’”Marco was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

  Cole hopped up on the stage and made his way to Marco and his teacher. Three feet from them, Marco rushed forward and put Cole in a bear hug. To Cole’s amazement, the boy lifted him off the ground and spun him around.

  “Whoa!” Cole laughed in shock at Marco’s exuberance.

  “Marco! Maybe your friend doesn’t like to be spun about!” Maggie Strout said firmly but happily.

  Marco set Cole down and clapped his hands in delight.

  “Perhaps I should explain,” Cole said to Maggie. “I’m Cole Sage.” Cole offered his hand.

  “From The Chronicle?”

  “That’s me. This young man and I made a connection the other day. I was in a taxi when his school bus pulled up next to me. He made that heart sign and said ‘I love you’ through the glass. I said ‘I love you too!’ I guess that makes us friends.” Cole laughed.

  “I’m Marco,” the boy said, taking Cole’s hand and pumping it vigorously. That not being enough to satisfy Marco’s thrill of seeing Cole, he gave him a bear hug and lifted him off the ground. Then put Cole down with a thud.

  “My name is Cole. That’s my friend Anthony,” Cole said panting and pointing into the dispersing crowd, remembering he left Anthony without explanation.

  “Hi, Anthony!” Marco yelled.

  Anthony waved and started toward the stage.

  “Well, Mr. Sage, you certainly made an impression.” Maggie smiled.

  “I couldn’t leave without saying hello, the opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

  “I hope you will be doing a piece about our dear, sweet Mei.”

  “Actually, I have been working on an article about the Parade shootings. Anthony there, has been assigned the job of telling the story and its various connections,” Cole replied.