Under a Raging Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

i va’s supporting leg out from under him.
    Kopriva fell hard to the mat, his breath whooshing out.
    Shen remained merciless, dropping next to him and reaching in for a chokehold.
    Kopriva rolled out of range and stood up without using his hands. Shen pounced upon him almost instan t ly, flicking a punch toward his face. Kopriva blocked it with his left and countered with a straight right to Shen’s rib cage. It landed with a solid thud. Shen exhaled with a grunt and stepped back.
    “Time!” yelled Chisolm.
    Kopriva and Shen bowed to each other and shook hands, both breathing heavily.
    “Nice work, Stef,” Shen said.
    Kopriva shook his head. “Nice work? Nah, that foot sweep you made was excellent. That was nice work.”
    Shen rubbed his ribs. “That last punch will stick with me for a bit.”
    They thanked Chisolm for timing the round. The veteran officer winked at Kopriva. “Any chance to see someone beat on a sergeant, I’m there,” he said, and returned to the weight bench and resumed lifting.
    Shen laughed. “I’m sure that’s a common sentiment.”
    “Depends on the sergeant,” Chisolm said his voice straining as he curled the hand weights, “but I can’t discriminate.” He grimaced with e f fort, trying to affect a smile.
    Kopriva walked with Shen from the gym down the hall to the locker room. He knew that some of the ot h er graveyard patrolmen called him ‘Se r geant’s Boy’ because he sparred with Shen a few times a week. He didn’t care. They also called him a ‘Code-Four Cowboy,’ because he didn’t like calling for back-up, but so what?
    Sticks and stones .
    At his locker, he undressed and headed for the shower. The hot water felt good as it cascaded down his body. When he returned to his locker and began dressing, he read through the small phrases of positive self-talk taped to the inside of his locker door. They served to get him into the right mind-set for patrol every night. He always paused at the final one.
    I will survive, no matter what, even if I am hit .
    Below that, he had written I am a warrior, in mind, body and spirit.
    Kopriva slipped his bulletproof vest over his head and secured the straps into place. A warrior’s armor .
    Below the positive self-talk, he’d hung a narrow bamboo wall hanging. Painted upon the horizontal ba m boo slats were a Japanese style tiger and a yellowing moon, tendrils of smoke or clouds snaking across it. It had been a gift from his sensei when he achieved his black belt two years ago. He called it “Tiger Under a Raging Moon” and said that the brooding cat r e minded him of Kopriva.
    Now, two years later, Kopriva still wasn’t quite sure why.
    He strapped his duty belt into place and removed his .40-caliber Glock pistol from the holster. A quick check showed a full magazine and one in the pipe. He slid the gun back into the holster, closed his locker and made his way to roll call.
     
    2100 hours
     
    “Listen up,” Lieutenant Robert Saylor said as he stepped to the le c tern at the front of the room.
    The drill hall fell silent.
    Saylor read through a couple of administrative memos, then paused and looked out at the assembled group of police officers.
    “Last night,” he began, “we had officers fired upon by the Scarface robber. One of them was injured when a bullet struck a spotlight. That’s going to be a charge of attempted murder, or at least first-degree assault, when Scarface is apprehended. And it is one more very good reason to catch this son of a bitch.”
    General agreement murmured through the room.
    “El-tee?” Chisolm said, lifting his hand in the air.
    Saylor nodded for him to continue.
    “I believe this guy might have a military background,” Chisolm said. “He went over that fence infantry style. Besides that, he fired a shot our direction almost as soon as he landed.”
    Saylor considered. “Did you get that information to Renee in Crime Analysis?”
    Chisolm nodded. “I sent a copy of my report along with a