Beer, Bait, and Ammo

by Harper, Chap

  Hank poured his third cup of coffee and looked at his cell phone where about ten messages were posted, all from those group leaders in the field. Several units were posted at the edge of the swamp directly behind the big store. One message just said, “Good luck, baby.” It was from his girlfriend, who was also one of his lieutenants. The relationship was an open secret in the police department. Eventually, one of them would have to go. If this operation went well, Hank might be offered a job with ATF, and maybe it would solve the problem of sleeping with one of his lieutenants. He hoped the relationship would last, but two of his marriages had not survived the police work. It was really tough on marital bliss.

  Suddenly there was a flicker on the screen and the inside of the warehouse illuminated, reflecting on people moving around by the firing range. The Second Coming would not have produced greater excitement within the van.

  Hank called the men in the field and told them about the golden moment: a time when the UPS truck backed up, opened its doors, and at least six weapons were loaded onto the truck. Behind the opened warehouse doors, the secret vault would be exposed and vulnerable. Hank also had the presence of mind to call Jim Webb in Little Rock and tell him to prepare his officers.

  Patiently, Hank watched the multiple screens and listened to Tony in his office until he moved to another area. Nicco opened the vault and supervised which weapons were to be packed and shipped. They were placed on a long table and boxed, taped, labeled, and stacked near the door. Hank counted twelve workers on the floor and two armed guards near the door. He was unsure if more workers were in other parts of the building or in the vault. There was a sound and the two guards moved to the double metal doors and opened them. The UPS driver came in and was handed an invoice or delivery list for the weapons. Hurriedly, the packers started moving the boxes onto the truck. Hank waited until six boxes were on the truck and then he shouted into the microphone.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Hank was high on adrenalin and now could only watch as the well-planned raid took place. Twenty ATF agents raced up the loading platform and through the back door. They were immediately met with automatic machine gun fire from AR-15s using .223 rounds that can penetrate normal body armor. The rounds can go between the fabric but not the metal plates inserted in pouches in the vests. Several of the bulletproof vests were compromised, and at least two ATF agents who had not been protected by the metal plates were wounded. All kept fighting, as the wounds were minor. The ATF agents, however, were using something much more powerful. Ten of them were using converted BARs with 91-round top-loading drum magazines designed by the Polish army after World War II. The BARs never lost favor with the ATF, and they loved the modification. With the powerful 30.06 cartridges, the bullets ripped through doors, tables, and human flesh. The rest of the agents had M14s with big 7.62 rounds and 20 round clips. None of the ATF or FBI forces had any of the small round weapons used in Vietnam or Afghanistan. The Alcohol, Tobacco and Fire Arms Agency didn’t believe in them. They should know about guns if anybody did.

  Tony Evola came down the steps from an upper office with a TEC-9 and opened up on the invading ATF men. Some were hit but returned fire with several of the BARs, almost cutting him in half. The two guards who had fired the AR-15 were lying dead on the floor. From the hallway, behind a pile of hay bales for archery practice, two AK-47s sprayed the area. One of the ATF men was hit on a metal plate, and it partly penetrated and knocked him down. By this time, all the ATF SWAT team had entered the building. The men took cover wherever they could and started returning fire. The overwhelming fire from powerful weapons penetrated the bales of hay and blew both of Tony’s guards down the hallway.

  Behind them, a MAC-10 opened up and caught them off guard, striking and wounding four of the officers. Some were hit with the small arm fire, and one had a serious head wound. The shooter was Nicco Evola, and he was running to shut the door for the arsenal. The BARs cut him down, but not before he pushed the button that closed the heavy concrete and steel doors.

  Popping sounds were heard at the front of the store as the sheriff’s officers and some of the New Orleans police officers crashed through the front door and found a couple of employees willing to engage them. Hank was with them and quickly rushed to the back of the store to assess the situation. Behind him paramedics rushed to the aid of the downed agents. Smoke filled the area from all the rounds fired, and repeated muzzle blasts near the hay bales started a small fire.

  Hank smelled freshly fired rounds and blood as he entered the area where the firefight had taken place. Blood from the injured combatants covered the floor. Some of the wounds inflicted on the ATF officers were serious. Thankfully, they were getting immediate medical attention from medics that entered from the back door. The ATF agent with the head wound hadn’t been so lucky. He was staring upward, not moving. “None of this was worth that man’s life,” Hank thought.

  Hank saw that Nicco was lying over the sandbags at the end of the shooting range and the doors to the secret vault were closed. He asked a couple of his men to follow him to the area where Nicco lay. He instructed them to carry Nicco’s body over to where Hank had opened the lighted control panel. As they moved the body forward, Hank grabbed Nicco’s limp right hand and pressed it against the green glowing light. There was a sound from within the mechanism as the doors began to open. The body was then handed over to medics who were now collecting bodies and marking where they fell for the crime scene identification. The three men walked into the vault.

  Lights from the ceiling and from the walls generated a warm bright light everywhere. It was apparent that some of the lights remained on all the time to keep the moisture down and retard the formation of rust on the weapons. The rooms were sectioned off by long gun racks, and shelves containing ammo for those weapons were below them. The weapons were staggered from small to large cartridge size. Large was relative, considering that they had cannon shells and equipment to fire them.

  “My God! A lot of governments out there can’t boast of an arsenal like this,” Hank said. “My guess is that some countries buy their weapons here.”

  As they explored the monstrous collection of guns and artillery, it became clear Tony and Nicco were international arms dealers—organized crime was just a sideline. One room was just for missiles. He recognized Stinger, Sidewinder, Tomahawk, and parts for SAM missiles. Hank had no doubt that Tony probably did supply countries with all their weaponry needs. He was close to a waterway and could ship unnoticed all over the world. Hank then invited the ATF and FBI advisors to inventory the entire storage area. He put in a call to Jim to fill him in on the raid and let him know they were likely to find any kind of weapon during the Arkansas raid.

  Jim Webb put down the phone after hearing one of the ATF officers was killed and learning of the possible weapons in Arkansas.

  “Jesus H. Christ! he said to himself. I hope we can do it by the book. We can’t make any fucking mistakes.” He started making calls. It was now 4:15 in the morning. He didn’t have much time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lester took the call at somewhere after 4 a.m. in the kitchen where he was already having coffee. Debi was asleep, and there was no reason to wake her. His instruction from Jim was to meet about a mile east of the bait store on a side road out of the view of traffic on highway 270 and wait until everyone assembled. All the Garland County Sheriff’s Department personnel were headed out at the same time, equipped with full body armor and automatic weapons.

  By this time Lester had heard about the ATF using modified Browning Automatic Rifles and M14s and wished instead for the impotent AR-15s with the small .223 rounds he could surround with the BARS. He and Little Richard were taking along their MAC-11 just to spray some rounds if needed. Everyone would be issued gas masks since they planned to shoot canisters into the bait shop if necessary. Shotguns were already in the patrol cars with plenty of buckshot and slugs on board.

  Sheriff Adams had told everyone to meet at the sheriff’s office at
5:30 a.m. and pair up. He and Rich would be together. Becca would be with one of the lieutenants, and Mike Adams would partner with the head ATF agent so the forces could be coordinated. A SWAT team from the Hot Springs Police Department was on standby as backup. It seemed to Lester that this was the biggest police action in the history of the state.

  After suiting up, he woke Debi and kissed her gently. She panicked when she suddenly realized he had on full body armor.

  “Oh, my God! It’s on, isn’t it?”

  “Afraid so. The big raid in Chalmette was a big success, thanks to you girls hiding the cameras. Once we finish this operation, Hot Springs will be a little safer. We’ll have overwhelming forces on the ground today, along with a couple helicopters. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine.”

  “Sure, I should suddenly not care if you live or die,” Debi said sarcastically.

  “I care and want to come back home to you.”

  “Then make sure you do.” Debi held her crying until Lester left the apartment.

  Lester kissed her and drove his SUV to the Sheriff’s office where he teamed up with Rich and the rest of the department. There wasn’t anyone he would rather be with in a firefight than Rich. The ATF and FBI were already on their way to the staging site. Two ambulances were headed to the meeting places on Crystal Springs Road. Lester couldn’t help but be excited about the raid. It was always an adrenalin rush, even though he knew the dangers. But this time, he had no idea about the weaponry that would be aimed at him and his fellow officers.

  The bait store opened at 7 a.m. since it sold bait to eager fishermen. They were going to surround the little building with patrol cars at just after 8 a.m. They were coordinating with the big raid at the S.G. Crystals warehouse that would start at the same time. The news agencies in New Orleans had all agreed to not release the story until 8:15 a.m.

  There was a chance that Spider could get a call from someone in New Orleans. She was not expected at the raid since she rarely showed up until afternoon. There was a tail on her Hummer, but the agent following suspected she now had a rental. In other words, she had lost her tail. So had Stick, but most assumed he would be at S.G.

  As Stick drove to the warehouse in a grey minivan, he saw a Garland County Sheriff’s patrol car pull off on Crystal Springs Road. He didn’t think anything about it since it was their county and they patrolled the area frequently. As he passed his bait store, he noticed the new Beer, Bait and Ammo neon lights were on and his employee’s car was parked out front. Only Doug’s Mustang was parked in the back. Stick had gotten a text the day before that Larry’s Jeep was in the shop for repairs. The truth was, it was in a wrecking yard waiting on the insurance adjuster to be shocked out of his mind. Never had he seen a car cut in half by a machine gun. Larry wasn’t sure his insurance would pay, but it was unlikely the policy had a clause saying, “If your Jeep is cut in half by a Gatlin gun, it won’t be covered.”

  Stick drove on to the road that led to the compound and failed to see Jake’s hide covered in camo far up in the trees just west of the electrified fence. His cherry picker lift had been towed in and placed far back in the trees, high enough to see over the whole area. Jake had found Stick’s deer stand and estimated the shot would be around two hundred yards. He knew he would have only one shot before Stick was on him.

  He was in the cherry picker with large pieces of steel propped in front of him. He watched Stick enter through the gate. Stick pulled up in his rental car and waved at the guard, who had most of his head buried in a Hustler magazine. The guard didn’t show enough of his face to concern Stick. If his face had been exposed, Stick would have known it wasn’t his employee since he had hired them all. He could see another guard in the distance walking the perimeter with his back towards Stick. Other employees were lining up to come through the gate, so the guard just left it open and waved people through.

  As Stick entered the building, it started raining, and he could hear thunder in the distance. The day didn’t appear to be any different than any other day, and he began to go through the orders and invoices on his desk. There was an order for a M48 machine gun and another for five AK-47s. Immediately, he faxed the order over to the bait store. In a few minutes, he got a call from Doug.

  “Boss, we only got three AKs. Do you have some there you might want to trade out for AR-15s or something?” Doug asked.

  “We got plenty here to trade out. I’ll bring them by about noon. We don’t need to ship them until tomorrow. I’ll see if Tony has some,” Stick said and dialed the Super Store in Chalmette. He got the answering machine so he left the order for ten AK-47s, one of his most popular guns.

  Spider was up, showered and dressed for the day. She had enjoyed her night with Stick and was curious what he thought about it. Spider wondered why she did it. Maybe it was to get a little closer to someone since she couldn’t have Nicky. As she was about to leave to have breakfast at Hester’s, her cell phone rang. It was not a number she recognized, but the prefix was from the New Orleans area. She took a chance and answered it.

  “Hello. Who is this?” Spider asked.

  “Your cousin, Gino Matranga.”

  “Gino, I haven’t heard your name in a while. What’s up?”

  “I wanted you to know that Tony’s store was raided early this morning. He and Nicco and a couple of his other sons were killed. It was the ATF and FBI and some of the locals. Just wanted to warn you—you’re next. I gotta go. Good luck.”

  “Ahh—thanks, Gino.”

  The time was 8:20 a.m. She had no idea that both raids were already taking place. She tried to call Stick, but there was no answer. She tried the bait store with the same result. She had the rental car in back of her condo and probably could sneak out without being followed. Where would she go? She had heard that the massage parlor was being watched along with the two strip clubs. What would Frankie think if she was arrested? He knew she did some of the family’s business, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. Going back to New Orleans as a crime family war was about to break out had very little appeal.

  She wondered if Debi had left Lester’s apartment yet to go to work. She knew her small BMW convertible. Spider ran out the back of her condo and jumped in the rental car, a white Dodge minivan, about as far from her normal choice of transportation as possible. She covered her head in a scarf and blew by the black car parked near the entrance to her condo. It didn’t follow her. She pulled up to Lester’s apartment as Debi was locking up and walking to her car. Spider pulled in next to her and got out. With her gun pointed at Debi, she took the keys from her hand.

  “Sweetie, let’s go back inside,” Spider said and motioned for her to walk back to the apartment.

  “You must be Spider, the lady that takes advantage of men recovering from brain operations.” Debi had a knack for turning fear into anger, and this encounter was no exception.

  “He needed a bath and seemed to enjoy the experience. He’s a handsome man,” Spider said, as she unlocked Lester’s apartment and followed Debi inside.

  “He said you were pretty. How come you aren’t married to some rich dude?” Debi asked as she sat down on the couch. Spider pulled up a dining room chair and sat across from her with the Beretta 9mm aimed in Debi’s direction.

  “I was. He cheated on me, and even worse, he cheated on one of the other families in town.”

  “Sorry. I don’t guess Lester really cheated on me since he wasn’t in his right mind.”

  “Think what you want, dear, but it isn’t hard for me to get guys to do what I want—or should I say, what they want?”

  “So, Spider, what are you going to do with me?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t have a lot of options right now. I’m guessing all my places are being raided. The most important lawman in the area is fighting the big war while his sweetheart has a gun pointed at her. Let’s just say you’re a very important asset to me right now. When Lester finds out he’ll do anything to get you back.”

  Spid
er got up, went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Would you like a beer, some wine, or maybe bottled water while we wait?”

  “Why don’t I fix us a cup of coffee, Spider? It’s already hot…just turned off the pot.”

  “I’ll get it. And call me Angel. The Spider part was because everyone thought I had my husband killed. Turns out I didn’t.”

  The two beautiful girls had coffee. Both wondered how they had turned out so different. One became a professional speech therapist and the other a career criminal. Although their backgrounds were of interest to each other, there was little doubt in Debi’s mind that the blond, former beauty queen would kill her without batting an eye. It would be a long time before Lester called and neither really knew what would happen after that.

  Lester and Rich met with six other patrol cars and five ATF vehicles and a couple of paramed units on Crystal Springs Road not far from the resort.

  “Lester, do you think Mike will approve our office party on one of the houseboat rentals at the marina here?” Rich asked.

  “Why not? It’s only seven thousand a week for an eighty-foot boat,” Lester said.

  Mike Adams walked up with Becca and several other officers.