VENGEANCE REAWAKENED
Page 23
Molka smirked. “Honor among thieves in law.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“For safety reasons, Cardoza refuses to meet in the favela, and Abreu refuses to go to Cardoza’s office. So, they agreed to meet at Mundo Fantástico, Fantasy World.”
Molka unfolded her arms and leaned forward. “What and where is that?”
“It’s a permanently closed amusement park in Rio now owned by a bankrupt private developer. It’s not guarded, and the entrance gates can be easily breached. I sent you a little briefing about it and a map and some photos to your secure email account. Fantasy World is considered neutral territory by the trafficking gangs. It’s been used by the CV in the past for peaceful meetings with the IDI and the police. Which is why Abreu feels safe venturing out of the favela and going there.”
“The six million reais incentive probably helped too.”
“Undoubtedly,” Raziela said. “Their meeting is set for 4 PM tomorrow on the park’s ‘Main Street’ at a feature called the ‘Wishing Well.’ That’s all in your briefing. At 6 PM, Cardoza has agreed to surrender himself to us—which means you—in his office. Get back to Rio, rent another vehicle, cuff him up, and bring him back to the embassy as previously planned.”
“Alright,” Molka said. “And when I do, will my task be considered completed?”
“Yes, but before you take custody of Cardoza, I want you to put the Cardoza-Abreu meeting at Fantasy World under covert surveillance. The agreement is for Cardoza to bring only his driver-bodyguard with him to help protect the cash, and Abreu will bring his man Felipe with him to do the same when the handover is made.”
“Did they talk about why Cardoza has to personally hand over the cash to Abreu? Couldn’t they each just send their top guys?”
“Cardoza suggested that,” Raziela said. “But Abreu insisted on the meeting being face to face. It’s probably about making Cardoza subservient to him. You know, the whole machismo thing.”
“Why do you want it under surveillance?”
“To make sure that serial killing maniac Abreu doesn’t do something maniacal like make Cardoza his next victim after he gets the money.”
Molka smirked again. “I’ve gone from assuring Cardoza will die to assuring he will live.”
Raziela shrugged. “No one ever said foreign espionage work has to make sense.”
“And if Abreu does try to make Cardoza his next victim after he gets the money?”
“Stop him by any means necessary. And after the meeting, and with Cardoza safely on his way, as a favor and a thank you to the handsome Major Fernandes, and for retribution for Nathan, call and inform Major Fernandes that Abreu has crawled out of his new favela hiding spot and is leaving Fantasy World if he would like to intercept him.”
“Why not just inform Major Fernandes beforehand?” Molka said. “He can be in position to surprise Abreu there?”
“Then Cardoza would get to keep his six million reais. Better to let Major Fernandes confiscate it from Abreu and leave Cardoza substantially poorer when he gets out of prison.”
Molka nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
“And more good news, I finally received a new-model encrypted phone, so we can have direct communications.” Raziela grinned. “Just in time, right? When, for all practical purposes, your sixth task is completed.”
CHAPTER 48
Even though for all practical purposes, she had completed her sixth task, Molka didn’t know why dissatisfaction burned a hole inside her as she rode in a rideshare to their apartment.
She didn’t know why when she walked inside the hot apartment and turned on the air conditioning.
She didn’t know why as she ate two yogurts and two granola bars at the little kitchen table.
She didn’t know why as she sat on the couch and read Raziela’s briefing on her phone and studied the map and photos of Fantasy World.
She didn’t know why while she used the apartment’s laundry room to wash all her clothes from the lake trip.
She didn’t know why while she showered.
She didn’t know why while she combed out her hair.
She didn’t know why while she brushed her teeth.
She didn’t know why when she put on clean panties.
She didn’t know why when she put on a clean tee shirt.
She didn’t know why when she crawled into bed.
But as she lay staring at the dark ceiling, Molka then knew why dissatisfaction burned a hole inside her.
It was because after the Cardoza-Abreu meeting the next day, neither man deserved to simply walk away alive.
But they would.
And even though, for all practical purposes, she had completed her sixth task, that would be a hard thing to take.
PROJECT MOLKA: TASK 6
TUESDAY
APRIL 27TH
CHAPTER 49
Felipe’s Apartment
Forbidden Zone
Esperança Favela
8:11 AM
“You sure this kid can be trusted?” Abreu said from his seat on Felipe’s living room couch.
“Yes, Bull,” Felipe said from his chair across the room. “He’s skinny and super-quick and super-loyal.”
“The boys have a good night?”
Felipe smiled. “They partied all night, and they’re ready to party again today.”
“Good,” Abreu said.
“How many do you figure he’ll bring?”
“Hopefully, all of them.”
Felipe smiled. “Yeah, that would be very convenient.”
“Ok, go get the kid.”
Felipe stood and opened the apartment’s front door. A skinny, teenaged Hispanic male in a white tee shirt, denim shorts, white sneakers, and a white ball cap waited outside.
“The boss is ready for you,” Felipe said.
The kid entered carrying a black backpack.
“Over here.” Abreu pointed at a coffee table before him where a black, tablet-sized metal box with a white X drawn on it lay atop it.
The kid moved to the coffee table.
Abreu addressed the kid. “It’s very simple. Put this in your backpack.” He pointed to the metal box. “When you get the signal, just ride up to the car, get off your bike, take off your backpack, take this out of your backpack, slide your skinny ass under the car right under the driver's door, and stick the white X side to the floorplate. You got it?”
“Yes, boss,” the kid said.
“Which side do you stick to the floorplate?”
“The side with the white X on it, boss.”
“One more thing,” Abreu said. “And this is VERY important. The magnet that holds this in place to the floorplate is super-powerful. And if you let it stick to the car door or something else metal while you’re trying to put it on, you’re skinny-ass little arms aren’t going to be strong enough to pull it back off. So make sure you get it right.”
“Yes, boss.”
CHAPTER 50
Cardoza’s Private Lakeside Estate
Lake Tranquility
8:36 AM
Romário—captain of Cardoza’s first Brazilian Ghost Crew who led the rescue of the Kozlov brothers at the Brazil-Venezuela border—and the captains of the two other operational Ghost Crews—stood together outside their barracks building watching their crew members boarding a large, white, unmarked bus. Like their fellow boys, they all wore identical black tactical tee shirts, black tactical pants, black tactical boots and carried weapons.
Cardoza—styling a tailored, slim-fit black suit over a white silk shirt, a blood-red silk tie, and black leather dress shoes approached his captains with Dimitri alongside.
When he reached them, they came to attention.
“Your crews are ready to leave?” Cardoza said.
The captains in unison: “Yes, boss.”
“Very well. Get on board. I’ll see you at the rendezvous point and give you my final instructions.”
The captains
in unison: “Yes, boss.”
The captains ran to the bus and boarded.
A moment later, it pulled away.
Cardoza watched the bus with sorrowful eyes as it made the long drive toward the front gate. “Dimitri, when they come back, call an assembly with them and all the other students. Tell them the school is closing forever, and I am leaving the country forever. Send them back home with 50,000 reais each. Tell them I said to forget everything they’ve learned here and to try and grow up to be true, generous, men of honor and make their mothers proud.”
CHAPTER 51
Galeão International Airport
Rio de Janeiro
Short-Term Parking Lot
9:18 AM
“Ok,” Maximillian said from his mobile store, “here are the binoculars, bolt cutters, wire cutters, handcuffs, belly chain, and ankle shackles.”
Molka placed the items in her black gear bag. Just as she had at the lake op, she outfitted in her black mock turtleneck, black jeans, and tac boots with her contacts in and her old pilot’s watch strapped to her left wrist. Her hair was styled in a high ponytail except this time she swept her bangs right to left to keep her aiming eye clear.
Maximillian moved to the truck’s left-side shelves, opened a drawer, and removed a Ruger .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol and a black carbon fiber behind-the-back holster. “And your favorites. I cleaned and lubricated it after the little swim you took it on.”
“Thanks.” Molka tucked the holstered weapon inside the waistband behind her back. “And again, sorry about that.”
“Things happen.” Maximillian bent, opened a lower drawer, and removed a compact, semi-automatic rifle. “And a Colt M4 Commando with a 3X Prism Scope.” He handed the weapon to Molka along with a loaded 20-round magazine. Cute little thing, isn’t it?”
Molka admired the weapon and placed it and the mag in her gear bag. “Cute and deadly.”
“Now, is there anything else?”
“Just one more item. Do you have any hollow points for the Ruger in stock here?”
“Yes, I do,” Maximillian said. “But that particular type of ammo is very hard to come by here. Which means I have to charge a premium leasing fee of triple the price of regular ammo. So I’ll tell you something I would tell all my preferred customers—which you are rapidly becoming—and that is: don’t pay the extra fee and just stick with the regular .45 caliber over the hollow points. Unless you plan on killing someone.”
Molka removed a cash wad from her front pocket. “I’ll pay the extra fee.”
CHAPTER 52
Fantasy World
Permanently Closed Amusement Park
West Zone of Rio de Janeiro
12:23 PM
Molka’s briefing claimed the old park occupied 300 acres. It didn’t say whether that included two massive parking lots conveniently located adjacent to the park’s east and west side entrances.
Of course, these conveniences were unavailable for Molka’s stealth mission which meant the closest place she could conceal her rented, blue, windowless van was in a shopping plaza parking lot almost a kilometer away.
Molka exited the van into the sticky, early afternoon warmth, slung the loaded black gear bag—to which she added two bottled waters—over her left shoulder and headed down a sidewalk running alongside a four-lane road that ran past the park.
When she approached the Fantasy World site, she expected to see the parking lots being used by other businesses, but the location sat in a somewhat remote area with little else around other than several undeveloped lots and a closed hotel.
Molka reached and trekked across the park’s east side parking lot, surprised by the good condition the white-lined asphalt surface maintained after over 10 years of disuse. Maybe the disuse itself acted as its preserver.
The once gleaming white, tall masonry walls surrounding the park didn’t fare as well, though. The tropical climate’s inevitable green moss staining and a post-closing razor wire topper made it an uninviting sight.
Molka reached the east side entrance. The original ticket purchasing booths fronting the admittance turnstiles had been removed, leaving a 50-meter-wide opening in the wall.
A prison-high, chain-link fence topped with more razor wire closed that gap. And only a centrally located, padlock secured, chain-link gate allowed access.
Molka examined the padlock: cheap. Maybe all the bankrupt owner could afford. Using the bolt cutters to pop off the lock or the wire cutters to make an entrance hole wouldn’t be a problem. But she didn’t want to give the arriving Cardoza or Abreu any thoughts about someone else being inside for their meeting. Finding a more obscure breaching point would be better. Like perhaps a service entrance.
She walked along the wall toward the park’s south end. It took a full 10-minutes at a fast pace to round the corner, but the sweat she wiped from her forehead on her sleeve was worth it.
An entrance door in the wall had been ripped from its hinges at some point and replaced by a piece of chain link fence crudely riveted in place. She removed the wire cutters from her bag, made a quick Molka-sized hole in the barrier, and stepped through.
Several flat-roofed, service-type buildings once painted light green stood before Molka. She walked around them and into the park’s public area to find the overhead view photo in her briefing—taken during the park’s operational heyday—bore scant resemblance to the contemporary reality.
The wide pedestrian walkways had been infiltrated by tall weeds from every crack and breakage. The vivid colored buildings which housed the various rides and restaurants and shops faded to weak pastels with generous peeling and crumbling. And in the park’s far corner, its featured ride, a tall, twisting, steel roller coaster, carried a grayish pallor streaked with rust.
Molka headed toward the centrally located “Fantasy Castle.” A three-story structure with six faux pointed spires atop it to mimic something from medieval days. Raziela’s briefing notes suggested that if Molka could climb into one of the spires, she would be in position to observe the Cardoza-Abreu meeting location from less than 30 meters.
She entered the castle’s spacious ground floor, whose layout indicated it once contained shops and restaurants. Open window frames stood over piled glass shards once covering them and graffiti coated every wall. The CV and IDI initials dominated most of it.
Urine reek permeated the air.
The access door to the stairs leading to the castle’s spires didn’t need to be breached because it no longer existed.
Molka trotted up three landings worth when the stairs ended in an empty room below the spires. A lookup showed the spires to be hollow, plywood-covered metal frames. Darn.
But to the positive, in the space she stood, glass-free window openings on all four sides still gave her the views she needed.
She removed the binoculars from the gear bag and focused them on “Main Street,” which ran through a section of the park named “Old Brazil.” The wide, red brick street—also colonized by weeds—ran north-south for about a quarter kilometer between buildings designed to represent an earlier era. And about halfway down the street sat the specific Cardoza-Abreu meeting spot known as the “Wishing Well:” a large, circular, hip-high well made from real, white stone blocks.
Molka lowered the binoculars and viewed the floor. The corners held more empty beer cans and urine reek. As she debated whether it was clean enough to rest the gear bag on, a vehicle’s movement out in the east side parking lot caught her eye. She placed the gear bag on the floor, raised the binoculars, and focused them on Cardoza’s black BMW speeding across the lot and parking in the nearest space adjacent to the east side entrance.
Molka viewed her watch: 12: 55PM.
Why is he so early?
She focused back on the BMW. Cardoza—in a tailored black suit—and Leonardo—wearing a black tee shirt and black pants—exited the vehicle and looked toward the parking lot entrance.
A moment later, a large, white, unmarked bus ente
red the parking lot and sped toward Cardoza’s position. The bus stopped parallel to the BMW, and the front and rear passenger doors folded open.
Jumping from both exits, Molka counted 24 late teenaged, thin to wiry-built, Hispanic and black males. Each sported an identical buzzed haircut, black tactical tee shirts, black tactical pants, and black tactical boots. Twenty-one carried AK-47s, and three carried light machine guns.
Cardoza brought his Ghost Crews for security.
Ha. Guess I wasn’t needed to safeguard him after all.
As the emptied bus sped away toward the parking lot exit, the boys formed into three, eight boy units and stood at attention.
Leonardo retrieved bolt cutters from the BMW’s trunk, moved to the gate in the east side entrance, and severed the padlock securing it.
Cardoza addressed the boys for a moment and then they ran in formation through the opening and into the park, with Cardoza and Leonardo following them at a brisk pace.
Molka moved to the window opening in the space’s opposite side and picked up the Ghost Crews running into a building—designed to mimic an old-time movie theater—located at the southmost end of Main Street.
Cardoza and Leonardo joined them a moment later.
Molka lowered her binoculars. Interesting. Bringing extra security when you’re carrying six million reais would be a reasonable precaution. But why show up three hours early and conceal them? Probably because you didn’t want Abreu to know about them. Very interesting.
Molka turned around and moved toward the gear bag for a bottled water. Before she reached it, more movement in the east side parking lot caught her attention.
A skinny teenaged Hispanic male rode a BMX-type bike across the parking lot in a white tee shirt and denim shorts. Strapped to his back was a black backpack and, on his head, he wore a white ball cap and a green bandana covering his face.