The System - A Detroit Story - Read Online Free PDF

around Campus Martius and cruised past the plain white work van parked near the Fox Theatre.
    Investigator Freeman Washington sat in the van's shotgun seat, Big Bill Purdy in the driver's and Walter Robbins in the rear. Robbins manned the radio, kill box and laptop.
    "Ping it once more," said Washington, looking across the street at a burgundy Chevy Avalanche. Robbins positioned the cursor to an icon on the laptop display and clicked the mouse. The small vehicle icon turned yellow momentarily, then turned green.
    "Good to go," said Robbins.
    Washington watched the Avalanche. Great bait car, parts in demand, especially around Southwest border towns, being a vehicle of choice for some of the bigger Mexican drug gangs. Sometimes they let vehicles walk, just like guns, ATF style. Mark the parts and see where they show up, occaisionally leading to a bigger bust. But that was ATF and not the Detroit Police Department, Auto Theft Unit. Washington didn't like to see anything walk.
    "Man I'm hungry," said Purdy.
    "You're always hungry," said Washington.
    "Old lady's on this diet kick. No more chili fries. No more conies. No more Lafayette. Now, it's mostly turkey, chicken and lettuce. I hate that shit," said Purdy.
    "So?" said Robbins. "Stop by American. You won't be lying if she asks if you went to Lafayette."
    "She'll know," said Purdy. "She's got spies everywhere," he said, looking at Washington.
    Washington looked at his watch. 1:30am. If nothing happened in another four hours, the bait car would be moved and his shift would be done. The hours and the shifts were getting tough. He was beginning to feel weary, feel his age. Twenty two years, winding up working midnights. That's the way it worked here. Something happens years ago and you're labeled for life. Just like that. Like a regular actor doing porn- only has to do it one time and the career is shot. Once the brass thinks you're trigger happy, that's it. Lawyers loved it. Get shot by a cop who's quick to pull the trigger and it's a big time payday.
    The stakeouts were long and mostly boring, like fishing, but with the same allure. Sometimes a fish would hit the bait, sometimes not. Just had to be in the right water at the right time, and this was the right water. The right time was just a matter of luck. Washington thought about the Muskie starting to hit, moving down from Lake St. Claire, through the Detroit River to Lake Erie. The water was cooling off and the fish were cold, hungry, big and firm, going after smaller bait fish. He looked forward to going fishing after his shift. Grab his tackle box, pole, face the cold and head down to the RiverWalk.
    A short dude in a black hoodie turned the corner and stopped in front of the Avalanche. He looked around and jacked open the door. The car alarm sounded. Didn't matter. There wasn't a soul that paid any attention to those.
    Washington straightened in his seat.
    "Fish on," he said. "Call one-ten."
    Robbins got on the radio. "One-ten. Five-o-three. Repeat, five-o-three, over."
    No reply.
    The Avalanche took off going west on Montcalm toward Woodward Avenue.
    "Fish is running," said Washington. "Move."
    Purdy slammed the van into drive and jammed down the accelerator. Robbins flew out of his seat and Washington felt the gees push him back. Robbins scrambled and toggled the button on the radio. "One-ten. Five-o-three. Repeat, five-o-three. You copy?"
    Dead air. "Nobody there," said Robbins.
    "Shit," said Washington. "Kill it."
    The Avalanche shot through the red light, zoomed across Woodward past Comerica Park and headed toward Brush Street. Robbins, back in his seat, flipped a red toggle switch on a small electrical box mounted on the surface of a bench with the Velcroed laptop. This sent a signal to a receiver hidden in the Avalanche. The signal shut off the flow of gasoline to the fuel big engine's fuel injectors. The vehicle slowed, no matter how hard the Fish pumped the accelerator. The Avalanche rolled to a complete stop at