Worthy Opponents(50)

She saw it on TV at the same time Mike did, and heard the announcer say that there was some concern that looting might occur. Two of the store’s windows had been shattered and the glass had been completely shot out of one of them, giving easy access to the store known for its expensive, exclusive merchandise. Burglar alarms could be heard sounding in the distance as Spencer hurriedly put on shoes and a denim jacket with her jeans and T-shirt and rushed to tell Francine she was going out. She didn’t say where or why.

She found a cab in a few minutes to travel the short distance to the store. There were police officers and barricades blocking traffic, and they stopped the cab a few blocks from the store. Spencer paid the driver and got out and spoke to one of the officers. There were ambulances speeding by.

“You can’t go down that street, miss.” A police officer wearing a bulletproof vest stopped her. “Do you live there?”

Spencer pointed to the lit-up hulk of Brooke’s. “That’s my store.”

“There’s active gunfire.” They heard shots ring out in the distance after he said it, and Spencer looked at him, shocked.

“Are they looting the store?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said, and listened to something on the radio. Another officer was down, and one of the shooters had been killed by the rival gang. It was a mad scene of heavily armed police officers, riot troops, SWAT teams, and emergency vehicles. As the officer turned to say something to a colleague, Spencer slipped quietly down the street, staying close to the buildings. She just wanted to see what was happening at the store, and if anyone was climbing through the shattered windows, or stealing what was in them. But there was no sign of entering near the windows, as she huddled in a doorway, watching the action. The gunfire had slowed down to an occasional shot, and the entire area had been sealed off to keep people out. There was no one on the street except police, and presumably gang members hiding in doorways and behind cars, taking aim at each other and the police.

Spencer had been there for half an hour without moving when a cluster of armed men in motley clothes carrying a variety of weapons ran toward the store and started to climb through the windows. She didn’t know if their intention was to loot the store or to take refuge from the police shooting at them. Several men ran through the open windows and disappeared into the store as Spencer moved closer to the scene, although she knew there was nothing she could do to stop them, if the police couldn’t do it with gunfire. All she could think of was the damage they would do, so soon after the fire. It silenced forever the argument that the neighborhood was safe. There was no way she could claim that now, with rival gangs in the drug trade shooting at each other, and police crouching behind cars, taking cover, and shooting at them. Helicopters were hovering overhead. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing and that the store was being invaded by gangs. She could only imagine the kind of damage they were going to do by the time it was over. There were tears rolling down her cheeks and she didn’t even know she was crying.

Her cell phone rang while she watched, just far enough away to be out of danger. All the action was closer to the store.

It was Beau. “Are you watching this horror on TV?” he asked her.

“No . . . yes . . .” She didn’t want him to know that she was there. She was too frightened to move now. More men ran into the store. The police shot one of them and he lay sprawled in one of the windows, writhing in pain, until two more officers dragged him out of the window and paramedics took him away.

“Oh my God, this is crazy,” Beau said, terrified by what he was seeing on the screen.

“I’ll call you back,” she said to Beau, and hung up. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Marcy called her too and she didn’t answer. The store was now the scene of an ongoing shootout, as several more of the gang members ran through the windows into the store and began shooting each other as the two gangs collided again. And the store was an ideal place for the bad guys and the police to play hide-and-seek.

Mike was watching it, mesmerized at home. He picked up his cell phone and called Spencer’s number. She didn’t want to talk to him either but answered anyway. She could hardly think, she was so shocked by what was happening.

“Are you watching this?” She heard Mike’s voice and nodded, struggling to find her voice. She was terrified by what she was seeing and hearing.

“Yes, I am,” she said softly, never taking her eyes off the men rushing in and out of the store windows. And she saw two of them shatter two more windows, for easy entry. The others had been shot out by gunfire earlier. And then Mike realized something. The sounds he heard coming through her cell phone were different from the more muted ones he heard on TV, where the prevailing sound in the background was sirens. On Spencer’s phone he kept hearing the staccato of gunshots that didn’t sound distant at all.

“Where are you?” he asked her.

“Here. I’m watching the store. The bad guys keep running through the windows into the store, and now they’re shooting each other, and the police are shooting them.”

“Oh my God, you’re down there?” Somehow, he had known she would be, which was why he had called her, to make sure she was okay. “Where are you?” he asked again.

“A little less than half a block from the store. I’m in a doorway. No one can see me, I’m okay.”