L.A. Wars Read Free Page B

police are still trying to help you?”
    â€œAs much as they can—which isn’t all that much. There are a great many street gangs in the City of Angels, Mr. Hawker. It would take an army of policemen to keep them under control. In other words we welcome your offer to help.”
    â€œI’ll do everything I can, Virgil,” Hawker said. “And I guess the best way to begin is to get a little more information. All gangs have headquarters, Virgil. Do you know where the Panthers and Satanás meet?”
    â€œThe Panthers, of course, hang out in the black section. That would be between Rosencratz and Blitz streets. The Satanás are on the other side of Hillsboro—the east side—on Ybor Avenue. I don’t know any specific addresses.”
    â€œDo the two gangs ever operate together? Do they get along?”
    Kahl snorted. “Like fire and water. They kill more of their own kind than they do honest citizens—and our thanks for that. They call it ‘gang-banging.’” Kahl leaned forward to make an important point. “I’ve spent considerable time studying these groups, Mr. Hawker—”
    â€œJames.”
    â€œJames it is, then.” Kahl smiled. “I’ve watched and read extensively, trying to learn what makes these street gangs tick. I knew their activities resembled those of some other groups I’ve read about, but it took me a while to put my finger on it.” Kahl poked at his glasses. “Have you ever read some of the early observations on aboriginal behavior in Africa?”
    â€œDo Tarzan movies count?”
    â€œOddly enough, yes. The aborigines in both history and fiction put great store in tribesmanship. They both love colorful, gaudy costumes, and they take special care in selecting or awarding nicknames. Both take pride in the theatrics they can lend to warfare—gang members call it being ‘cool.’ Street gangs like to give their violence a style, a flair. The more unusual the form of violence, the better.
    â€œYou see,” he continued, “they are superstitious in that what they don’t understand either infuriates them or terrifies them. They function on emotion, not intellect. I think it might be the one chink in their armor, James. They are brutal and fearless because they never have to fight alone. They can’t be reasoned with, because they seem to lack any suggestion of morality. They understand only two things: violence and fear.”
    â€œSo you’re saying the best way to beat them is to scare them?”
    Kahl nodded quickly. “If we could just find some way to scare them. They laugh at police. And they actually seem to take pride in being arrested—perhaps because so few of them are ever sent to prison.”
    â€œIt’s not going to be easy, then,” said Hawker, deep in thought, an absent expression on his face. He sat silent for a time, then his face slowly lightened. “But maybe … maybe it won’t be quite as hard to scare them as we think.” He stood up quickly. “Do you think we could get your watch group together tomorrow night?”
    Kahl made a noncommittal gesture. “I can try. Most of them are ready to give up. Can I call you and let you know in the morning?”
    â€œJacob Hayes rented a house for me on Manhattan Beach. I don’t know the telephone number yet—”
    Hawker was interrupted by a handsome, older woman’s rushing into the room. She had flaxen hair edged with gray and a plain, librarianlike face. She seemed surprised that her husband had company. Her hands were pressed together nervously, and her eyes showed concern. She looked from Kahl to Hawker, and then back to her husband. “Virgil,” she said anxiously. “I hate to interrupt, but Julie seems to be … missing. She was supposed to be home by three, and I’ve just finished calling all her friends.…” Mrs. Kahl choked