“Yes, as long as it's daytime. But they expect him to be home. Abreu has a reputation for only coming out at night when he can move around the favela easier to avoid the legitimate police who work there.”
Romansky frowned. “Let us hope that is the case today. Please continue.”
“Once the sniper confirms Abreu is home, he’ll eliminate any armed sentries outside of the building. Then part of the team will secure a perimeter around the building, and the rest will breach the ground-floor front door with a charge, throw in stun grenades, and then run up the stairs to the third floor and make their entry into Abreu’s apartment, throw in more stun grenades and snatch the detainees.”
“Why go in so heavy-handed?” Romansky said. “Why not introduce a chemical agent into the building to incapacitate everyone inside and then carry out the detainees like sleeping babies?”
Molka shook her head. “I’m not sure. Major Fernandes did stress taking great care not to harm any civilians, though. He said the people had a hard enough life just living in the favela, let alone that part under direct CV control.”
“When will the operation begin?”
Molka removed the tablet Major Fernandes gave her from her purse, switched it on, and propped it against a magazine stack on the desk so both she and Romansky could watch the screen.
She powered it up, and the camera drone’s feed was live on the screen, and its high-overhead view displayed a three-story red building on a narrow street with an abandoned-looking, older white Toyota coupe and a junky looking, older silver Honda sedan parked on the curb in front of it.
“To answer your question,” Molka said. “I would say it’s about to begin any moment.”
CHAPTER 41
Abreu’s Home
Forbidden Zone
Esperança Favela
3:00 PM
From his black leather recliner across from his large flat-screen TV mounted in his red-walled living room, Abreu—dressed in a tight white tank top and gray athletic shorts and holding the TV’s remote—glanced just in time to witness the two, armed sentries sitting outside the sliding glass door on his patio slump over one after another.
But the older Kozlov sleeping sitting up on the black leather couch, across from Abreu, and the younger Kozlov half dozing next to him did not notice the sentries’ demise.
And Cardoza—laying on the bed in Abreu’s bedroom—was in no position to notice.
Abreu laid the TV remote on the little table next to his chair, reached under the table with his right hand and removed a small, black remote control-like device taped to the table’s bottom. A hinged red safety guard was the only thing visible on the device’s face. He used his right thumb to flip open the guard to expose a yellow button over a green button.
He pressed the yellow button with his left forefinger.
A second later, the green button lit up.
He pressed the green button with his forefinger, dropped the device, and covered his ears.
CHAPTER 42
Manuel’s Auto Repair and Custom Audio Shop
Esperança Favela
3:01 PM
BOOM!
BOOM!
The loud booms of the two older cars parked outside Abreu’s home-headquarters exploding about a kilometer away reached Molka and Romansky’s ears a millisecond before the drone’s view of it appeared on their tablet screen.
They both jumped up from their chairs.
Romansky’s men—standing in the doorway behind Molka and Romansky also watching—both spewed verbal exclamations in Russian, which did not sound like they should be spewed in polite company.
Before the explosive surprise, Major Fernandes’ operation proceeded with flawless precision.
The drone showed the sniper position himself behind a blue water tank on the roof across the street from Abreu’s building, deploy a scoped rifle featuring a front tripod, and put Abreu’s apartment under surveillance.
A few minutes later, the other 14 team members came into view, all missing their backpacks but carrying Taurus SMT9 submachine guns on tactical slings, wearing black ballistic vests, eye protection, and tactical headsets.
Six team members moved to set up a perimeter, and the remaining eight got into position to breach the building’s first-floor entrance.
Seconds later, the sniper fired two shots, and two armed sentries sitting in chairs on the third-floor patio balcony slumped over.
On that cue, the ground team breached the building’s entrance.
And maybe thirty seconds after that, the cars exploded.
On the tablet screen—carrying no audio—the cars burned out of control under orange flames and thick black smoke, which quickly obscured both the street and Abreu’s building from the drone’s view.
“I believe those explosions were a diversion,” Romansky said.
“Yes,” Molka said. “But I don’t think it was Major Fernandes’ diversion.”
A moment later, the massive, pewter-colored, armored extraction vehicle, with a large bulldozer-like ramming blade mounted on the front, tore around the corner, sped down Abreu’s street, and disappeared into the smoke cloud.
Back in Major Fernandes’ field headquarters, the drone operator tried various zoom settings on the camera to see through the smoke to no avail.
Just over two minutes later, the armored vehicle appeared again, backing out fast from the smoke cloud and all the way to the street’s corner. It stopped suddenly, the back doors opened, and the sniper—running hard—jumped inside.
The doors shut, and the vehicle departed at high speed.
The drone view zoomed out ultra-wide to show the streets filling with assault rifle armed young males running and screaming in all directions.
Romansky cast an uneasy glance at Molka. “Well, it took longer than two minutes, but they did make it in and out.”
Molka frowned. “I’ve seen a few snatch and go ops from above, and that one didn’t look quite right, to say the least.”
Molka’s phone rang from inside her purse.
She removed it: Nathan calling.
She answered. “Yes, Nathan?”
Nathan: “Molka, we have a bit of a problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We guided Major Fernandes’ team in and were on our way out of the Forbidden Zone when two big explosions went off behind us.”
“Yes,” Molka said. “Two cars blew up in front of Abreu’s building. We’re not sure why yet.”
Nathan continued. “And right after that, the whole area flooded with gun-carrying gang members running around and screaming like crazy. It was like kicking over an angry anthill. Olavo said we needed to hide, so we’re hiding.”
“Where?”
“Olavo found an empty store, and we broke in through the back door. He says we need to stay put until things calm down outside.”
“Understood,” Molka said. “Just let me know when you’re heading this way.”
“Ok. How did everything go?”
“We don’t know yet. But we will soon. I just heard a big, armored vehicle pulling up outside.”
CHAPTER 43
Molka—with Romansky and his men standing behind her—opened the right-side garage door to find the armored beast parked sideways before the shop with its loud diesel engine idling.
The double back doors opened, and Major Fernandes—clad in a pale-blue tee shirt, khaki shorts, and black sneakers under his black ballistic vest—leaped from the vehicle with his handsome face scowled. He strode past Molka and the RSS men into the shop, ripped open the Velcro closure straps on the ballistic vest, pulled the vest over his head, and slung it into a workbench causing several tools to crash to the floor.
No easy way to ask, so Molka just asked. “Problem with the operation, major?”
Major Fernandes spun on Molka with a fresh scowl. “Abreu got away.”
Romansky’s chin dropped to his chest, and he spoke words in Russian to his men.
His m
en uttered more Russian exclamations.
Molka dared to continue the questioning. “We saw the two cars parked outside Abreu’s headquarters-home explode just as you began your entry. What happened?”
Major Fernandes leaned his back against the white van. “Abreu obviously planted those bombs to cause a diversion if he was ever under attack. And it worked brilliantly. Somehow, he was alerted to our presence and just as we breached his building, he detonated the bombs. The whole structure rocked, and it disoriented us for nearly a minute. We regrouped and made entry into his apartment and found Abreu had escaped through a shaft with a ladder that ran from a trap door in his kitchen floor all the way down to a tunnel under the building.”
“You did not go into the tunnel after them?” Romansky said.
Major Fernandes leveled his scowl on Romansky. “We did not dare take time to do that because we knew an overwhelming firefight against us would erupt on the street any second. So, we withdrew. CV soldiers still poured fire on us all the way out of the Forbidden Zone. Thank goodness we did not lose anyone back there.”
Romansky’s face cast disdain on Major Fernandes. “No, major, we all lost someone back there.”
Major Fernandes’ scowl switched into confusion. “What? What are you—” He exhaled, and his face relaxed. “No. You did not lose anyone. We captured your fugitive brothers.”
“You captured them?” Romansky’s disdain morphed into hope. “You mean…they are outside in your vehicle?”
“Where else would they be?” Major Fernandes walked over and retrieved his ballistic vest from the floor.
Romansky’s faced glowed, and he gawked out at the armored monster. “I thought perhaps they must have escaped with Abreu.”
Major Fernandes picked up the tools he knocked down and placed them back on the workbench. “We found them both cowering on the floor, begging us not to shoot them.”
Molka ventured to ask. “And Cardoza?”
“We grabbed him trying to leave out the bedroom window. But security bars over the window probably saved him from serious injury had he jumped.”
Romansky sprung forward, grabbed Major Fernandes’ shoulders, and kissed him on each cheek.
Major Fernandes grimaced and pushed him away. “Where would you like us to leave your prizes?”
Romansky pointed to the white van. “Mine go inside here.” He spoke to his men and Russian, and they smiled, high-fived, and opened the van’s side door.
Major Fernandes addressed Molka. “And Cardoza?”
Molka pointed to the green van. “He goes in there. But could you please ask one of your men to take him into the bathroom here first? He has a long ride ahead of him.”
“Of course.” Major Fernandes exited the shop and reentered the armored vehicle.
Molka and Romansky stood by with eager eyes on the back doors.
Major Fernandes stepped back out a moment later, followed by two of his men leading the front cuffed, belly-chained, and black hooded Kozlov brothers.
Romansky’s men took charge of them and moved them to the white van’s front bumper. Romansky removed their hoods.
The Kozlov brother’s faces exhibited a pathetic fear-confusion blend.
Romansky spoke to them in harsh Russian before his men moved them into their van.
Another one of Major Fernandes’ men stepped from the armored vehicle and turned to help Cardoza get out.
Cardoza wore an open collar, long-sleeved white dress shirt, dark brown dress pants, and brown leather dress shoes. As Molka requested, he was front cuffed, belly-chained, ankle shackled, and blindfolded with a black scarf. She asked for the scarf instead of the hood because she didn’t want him trying to breathe through it on the 12-hour drive.
The man led Cardoza by the elbow into the shop and back to the little bathroom.
Molka moved to the green van, opened the side door, and waited.
Cardoza was led from the bathroom two minutes later, and Molka pointed to the van’s door.
The Major Fernandes’ man helped Cardoza inside and into the middle seat. Molka fastened a seat belt around his waist.
The Major Fernandes’ man exited the van, and Molka slid the door shut.
Major Fernandes moved back into the shop and met Molka at the green van’s front bumper. Romansky exited the white van and joined them.
Major Fernandes addressed Molka and Romansky. “Now, if you will both excuse me, I must return to my headquarters and debrief my team and resume my pursuit of Abreu.” He ran his hand through his thick hair and exhaled with frustration. “If nothing else, we deprived him of his preferred lair and put the fear into him that we are coming.”
“A tough break, major,” Romansky said. “And believe me, after chasing these two around,” he pointed to the white van, “for the last couple of years—which cost me a divorce and increased alcohol use—I know what tough breaks are about. But all it took was one good break from one good man. You have done a great service to my country. Perhaps more than you can appreciate and certainly more than I can adequately express. However, I am sure my superiors, and even my president, will do a much better job thanking the great Major Fernandes of the National Police of Brazil.”
Major Fernandes smiled, polite. “Might I ask a favor from you, inspector?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Anonymity is a great asset to my team. Therefore, I would consider it a personal favor if you and your men took full credit for the Kozlov brother’s apprehension and not mention our involvement to your superiors and your president.”
Romansky moved to kiss Major Fernandes’ cheeks again. He checked himself and offered his hand for shaking.
Major Fernandes accepted his handshake.
Molka addressed Major Fernandes. “Major, I’m truly sorry Abreu slipped away. I’m sure you’ll get him next time. And I thank you too for your tremendous help, and please pass along my gratitude to your team.”
Major Fernandes gave a humble nod. “I will, thank you.”
Molka continued. “And I’ll make sure my organization also preserves your anonymity. They appreciate and respect such things.”
Major Fernandes gave another humble nod. “Thank you.”
Molka offered him her hand.
Major Fernandes shook her hand, turned, exited the shop, and climbed back into the armored vehicle through the back doors. The doors shut, and the big beast roared away, emitting a black diesel exhaust cloud.
Romansky watched the armored vehicle vanish from view. “A good man.”
“Very good,” Molka said. “What’s your extraction plan?”
“The same as before. We are taking them back to the lake and flying them out on the seaplane tonight. Yours?”
“A 12-hour drive north to our embassy.”
“Well, I know you will not enjoy your company on that trip, but I have actually enjoyed yours these past hours. If I can ever be of any assistance, feel free to contact me in Moscow.”
“Thank you,” Molka said. “Maybe we’ll have the good misfortune of serving together again one day.”
Romansky’s eyebrows rose. “Interestingly put. Is that a Hebrew proverb?”
“No. It’s a Colonel Krasnov-ism.”
Romansky smiled, impressed. “Ah, so you are familiar with Russia’s legendary Red Wolf?”
A sly smile creased Molka’s lips. “I’ve heard a few things about him.”
Romansky moved to the white van, climbed into the driver seat, started the vehicle, looked out the open side window to Molka, and flipped her a small wave. “Dasvidaniya.”
Molka returned the small wave, and Romansky hurriedly exited the shop.
Molka moved to the right-side garage door, pulled it closed, walked back to the front of the green van, removed her phone from her track pants pocket, and called Nathan to tell him the good news.
His phone rang until it went to voicemail.
She messaged him the good news.
No response.
Two more tries of each contact method netted the same results.
CHAPTER 44
An hour passed.
Still no response from Nathan.
Molka stood outside the green van and called him again.
Again, his phone went to voicemail.
She called Olavo’s phone.
Voicemail.
She sent Olavo a message to message her right back.
No message came.
Maybe Nathan and Olavo were just busy trying to find a safe way out of the Forbidden Zone. It was probably still chaos in there. A steady stream of siren blaring police vehicles and a fire truck had raced by the shop in the past hour on their way to the scene of the explosions and the CV civil unrest.
Molka entered the van’s driver's side and sat. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Cardoza in the middle seat. He had remained silent the entire time in her custody.
A man imprisoned, frightened, and contemplating an uncertain fate.
Her plan was to not speak to him and keep him blindfolded until he was secured inside the embassy. But her empathy—born from being imprisoned, frightened, and contemplating an uncertain fate—moved her to exit the van, open the side door, and remove the blindfold.
Cardoza blinked and squinted hard to adjust to the shop’s bright illumination coming in through the windows even in the darkened van. A moment later, his vision cleared, and he focused on Molka watching from the door.
He smiled at her, and his tense shoulders relaxed.
“You don’t look surprised to see me,” Molka said.
“I am very surprised to see you,” Cardoza said. “But my relief overwhelms my shock.”
“Why is that?”
“After the police seized me, I demanded to know their charges. They assured me I was not the subject of a local, state, or federal investigation. Then I got scared. Very scared. Because I thought those police officers belonged to the IDI. And when the blindfold came off, I would be faced with the IDI’s notorious fillet knives and acid bath. But instead, I am faced with your lovely face. And I now know who wants me and why. My compliments to your acting abilities, by the way.”
VENGEANCE REAWAKENED Page 21