The Harvesters

by William J Manning

  He lets out a subdued sigh and plops back down in the chair.

  “If you and I are going to work together, you must learn your station and not rise above it.”

  “It appears Gabriella has turned Radomir into her bitch,” Jerry says.

  “Yeah, all to get me to walk away.”

  “It’s been a long time since I was a cop, but I know if you and Munroe don’t tell your supervisors about this, your cases against Radomir will be wrecked, and he walks along with Doctor Merryweather.”

  “I know.”

  Gabriella extends her hand. “So, do we have an accord?”

  He’s hesitant at first, but he extends his hand and shakes hers. “What if your methods don’t deter Lobos or Munroe? They go rogue and try to shut us down, anyway?”

  “It will work. Trust me, you don’t kill someone like Devora or Munroe; you will just chum the waters for the sharks, and the Feds will come down on you with extreme violence.”

  “I hope you’re right, but if none of your ideas work, I am killing them both. Because if your plan doesn’t deter them, we’re fucked regardless.”

  “It will work, Mr. Volkov. Just stick to the plan, please. Don’t live up to that sadistic reputation you have.”

  The meeting concludes, and The Russians leave first and then Gabriella and her people depart from the cabin.

  My phone vibrates with a text. It’s Munroe.

  Where the hell are you?

  We need to talk meet me at your hotel room.

  Uh, okay.

  Gabriella and Radomir climb into their cars and drive off down the dark, narrow dirt road.

  I let out a frustrated sigh as we creep back to our vehicles just a mile down the path. “I hate this city.”

  “You and me both, but its home to me.”

  “Thanks for letting me know this, Jerry.”

  “Hey, no problem. By the way, good job on shutting down the Harvesters.”

  “Thanks. Now we just need to nail Radomir.”

  “What about Trevino?”

  “One crime boss at a time, Jerry.”

  “Come on, you can follow me out of here.”

  “Lead the way.” I climb into my Charger and crank the engine.

  Ocean Surf, Hotel

  I wrap my knuckles on the door, and Munroe answers the door. “Devora, what did you need to talk to me about?”

  I step into the room. “We gotta big problem.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, we,” I sit down at the table, rubbing my forehead.

  She closes the door and locks it and sits down on the opposite side of the table. “What’s going on?”

  “Gabriella and Radomir have become allies, it seems.”

  “What? I don’t understand they’re at war with each other, they’ve been slaughtering each other since I been here. Now you’re telling me they’re allies?”

  “Gabriella was just using us to wipe out the Harvesters to refine Radomir’s business practices. Now she doesn’t want us around. In fact, she wants us gone.”

  “Goddamn it, Devora!”

  “It confirms what I suspected she was using me so she could find them and kill our suspects. She called it refining Radomir’s business model.”

  “I still can’t fathom why you would even work with her?”

  “She didn’t really give me a choice, Sarah.”

  She places her hands on her head. “Jesus Christ! We are screwed.”

  “Brace yourself. It gets worse. Gabriella has stuff on both our pasts.”

  “What stuff?”

  “She has information you tampered with evidence to get a serial rapist sent to prison.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “Shit!”

  “When I was undercover infiltrating the Vargas Cartel, Gabriella was Juan Vargas’s rival. She helped me shut him down, and she also has knowledge of my relationship with her Sicario Santos. It was purely sexual.”

  Her eyes turn to slits. “You mean to tell me we have to drop this case because you couldn’t keep your legs closed on the job?”

  I light up a smoke. “Let’s not forget you tampering with evidence to get a conviction.”

  “Did you kill people for her, Devora?”

  “I had to, to avoid blowing my cover, and it has bothered me every day since then.”

  “Jesus, Devora. Your boss ran an operation like this?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

  “It was a joint operation with the CIA and DEA. CIA swept it under the rug.”

  She shakes her head. “It doesn’t surprise me the CIA had a hand in that shit.”

  “We have to call our bosses and inform them of this.”

  “What! No, if we tell them, Devora, they’ll pull us off this case.”

  I’m about to speak when my cell rings. “It’s Gabriella,” I answer the call.

  “Good Evening, Special Agent Lobos. Is Special Agent Munroe there with you? If so, put me on speaker?”

  I switch the cell to speaker. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay, good. First, I would like to thank you and Munroe for helping me stop the Harvesters; as you know doubt heard tonight in my conversation with Radomir, you helped me refine his business model.”

  “How’d ‘you know I was there?”

  “My snipers knew you were out there, and I told them to leave you alone. That being said, I assume you heard what’s going to happen to you and Munroe if you don’t back off?”

  “You’re going to expose us?” Munroe chimes in.

  “If you two do not walk away from Radomir, yes.”

  “What happened to Radomir being your most hated enemy?” I ask.

  “Destroying the Harvesters was my only goal, and you two helped me tremendously. Doctor Merryweather is on his way to prison for life, and the others are dead. I’d call that a win for all parties involved. That being said, I no longer require your services, so you two may go about your business.”

  “You think we’re just going to walk away?” Munroe blurts out.

  “Let me be clear: if one of you fails to heed my warning, I will expose the both of you to the media. You will be a three-time celebrity, Lobos.”

  “We’ll comply, Ms. Trevino, don’t worry.”

  Munroe throws her hands up and storms out on to the balcony.

  “Glad we have an understanding, Agent Lobos. I will send Santos your love,” she laughs and hangs up.

  Fucking bitch.

  I scroll to my speed dial list and call Tanner. “Go ahead, Lobos.”

  “This case just turned to shit, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “Gabriella has dirt on me from my undercover days, like the stuff I had to do to not blow my cover. She’s got dirt on Munroe too. She also has knowledge of my short-lived relationship with her Sicario.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  “If we don’t back off, she’s going to burn both of us.”

  “Well, I have to pull you off the case, Devora. You’re compromised. I’m putting another agent on this case.”

  “What happens to Merryweather and the Catfishers I arrested? Will they be cut loose?”

  “I don’t know. I need to speak with the DA and see if we can fix the damage to this case. In the meantime, pack your bags you’re going back to Tampa. Lobos, please obey my orders; any more involvement, in this case, could further damage it.”

  “I got it.” I hang up the cell.

  Munroe enters the room, her eyes filled with fury. “That was my director. He just pulled me off the case too. Desk duty for me.”

  “Same here. I’m going to go pack my bags and head home.”

  “Before you go, I want to know something.”

  “What?”

  “Did you know all this was going to come to a head when Gabriella entered the picture?”

  “I owed her a favor, and she threatened to kill my loved ones if I didn’t repay her by limiting my investigation to the Har
vesters, so yes, I knew.”

  She storms over and punches me in the jaw, knocking me to the floor. “You’re a piece of shit, Devora. You’re not fit to wear a fucking badge!”

  I get to my feet, clutching my jaw. “So I’ve been told.”

  As I close the door, she screams, “Fuck!”

  Chapter 30

  Blue Dolphin Resort

  I step through the door and the first thing I grab is the half-full bottle of bourbon and plop down on my couch and take a big gulp and let out a long sigh. I lean my head back on the sofa. It frustrates part of me my past sabotaged the case, and the other part of me is feeling relief that I no longer have to wear that DEA badge on my belt anymore. Having to wear that felt like having a tumor on my hip. I take another swig, grab my bottle of Xanax and chase it with a big gulp of bourbon. I’m such a fuckup. My choices fucked this case, and because of that, Merryweather and those Catfishers may walk along with Radomir walking away.

  I take another swig, and the room spins, forcing me to collapse on the bed. Staring at the DEA badge in a trance state. I never should’ve come back to this city. I should’ve let Raul sleep in the goddamn bed he made. But no, I had to be the good fucking sister. In the end, Jerry was right. Family is overrated and will fuck you over in the end. I take another swig, and blackness descends over me.

  ***

  My cell rings, jolting me out of my drunk coma. I lean forward and lazily grab it off my coffee table, seeing its 7pm.

  Shit, I was out for a while.

  “What do you want, Jerry?”

  “Lobos, where are you? I’ve been calling you like crazy.”

  “Brass kicked Munroe and me off the case, so I’m getting drunk and going to head back to Tampa tomorrow.”

  “So you’re just gonna pack up and leave?”

  “What am I supposed to do? We go after Radomir; any evidence I turn up that connects him to the Harvesters will be irrelevant. My past fucked this case.”

  “So Merryweather is gonna walk along with the Catfishers?”

  “My boss is gonna try to put another agent on the case and try to salvage it. But if he can’t, then I guess the case is a wrap.” I prop my feet on the table. “I never should’ve come down here, Jerry. This town was always neck-deep in shit.”

  “So that’s it, you’re just giving up letting Radomir and the Trevino Cartel poison the streets of Miami?”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do? I’m not DEA anymore. I can’t go around solving cases in Miami as Tampa PD.”

  “Fuck the DEA and TPD. Come work for me.”

  “I don’t have a PI license.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll list you as PI in training.”

  “It’s against protocol.”

  “Don’t try that with me, Lobos. You always were the one to bend the rules.”

  These bastards killed my brother and Deputy Roth and a good agent; if I lose my career as a cop over this, so be it. Radomir and Gabriella can’t be allowed to conduct their refined business practices.

  “To hell with it, I’m on my way.”

  “Meet me at my houseboat or my office, as I call it.”

  “Got it.” I hang up the phone and leave the hotel room, grabbing my DEA badge on the way out.

  I don’t know why I grabbed the badge guess I can chalk it up to muscle memory, like an OCD tic.

  Chapter 31

  Jerry’s houseboat

  Jerry’s case files and photographs scattered on his coffee table in the center of the living room. Its cases, he’s built on both Radomir and Gabriella. He points at a photograph. “Here’s Volkov’s people offloading illegal small arms at the port of Miami.” His finger moves to another photo of Trevino’s people offloading drugs from speed boats in Marathon, Florida. “There’s Gabriella’s people offloading their product.”

  “Cocaine?”

  “Meth and cocaine other times its money.”

  “How many times of the week would you say it comes in?”

  “Three times a week.”

  I lean forward, steepling my hands, studying the pictures. Here’s Radomir red-handed, and I can’t even touch him with the evidence I have. It’s the same situation with Gabriella.

  “What are you thinking, Lobos?”

  “We can’t use any of this evidence, so what I’m thinking is we torch Gabriella’s drugs and money. We make her think Radomir is going back on his deal now that I’m out of the picture.”

  “Get them fighting each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This could work. I mean, there has to still be an intense tension between Volkov and Trevino.”

  “Yeah. Or she gets a hint that it was me and exposes us, in which case I don’t give a fuck. I want both of them shut down.”

  The sound of the door shutting makes me draw my gun toward the entrance. I lower the Sig when I realize it’s Munroe.

  “I knew it was weird you were calling the quits so easily.”

  “What’re you doing here, Sarah?”

  “I want in on whatever it is you two are planning.”

  “Forget it. You don’t want in on this. Go home, Sarah. How’d ‘you even find me, anyway?”

  She beams a half-smile. “I slipped a tracker in your jacket when you were using the bathroom at the café.”

  “Figures.”

  “Fucking Feds, man. They never fucking change, Lobos.”

  I glare at her. “No, they don’t. Well, Sarah, since you’re here, you may as well get in on the party. Tell me, are you comfortable with a little bit of subterfuge and sabotage using Gabriella and Radomir’s paranoia against them?”

  “Well, our evidence is useless, so we may as well go the pillaging route,” Munroe says.

  “Good, then we won’t have to worry about you getting concerned about procedure.”

  “Devora, if you were ever expecting that out of me, then you were sadly mistaken.”

  “I know, but just making sure you’re the same agent who would bend the rules all in the name of making life a living hell for scum bags.”

  “Just so long as we’re not the ones doing the killing,” she adds.

  “Nah. They’ll be killing each other, if we play this right, we won’t need a single bullet.”

  “So what are we ruining?”

  “Radomir and Gabriella have a ceasefire, and you know as well as I do, ceasefires are a paper bag in a rainstorm. So if we torch Gabriella’s drug drops or her money drops, it raises a lot of suspicion on Radomir.”

  “So, you wanna get them fighting again, is that it?”

  “That’s the heart of the idea, yeah.”

  “When’s their next drop?” Munroe says.

  “Today’s Monday, so their next drop will be Wednesday.”

  Munroe raises her hand. “So, I have to bring up the elephant in the room.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “These guys are obviously going to be armed and ready to die for that drop. In this little sabotage op, how exactly are we going to avoid killing them?”

  Jerry places two paintball guns on the coffee table.

  Munroe stares at him, confused. “So we’re going to shoot them with paintball guns?”

  “Filled with pepper balls. The kind police use on rioters and some stubborn protesters who won’t obey a property ordinance.” Jerry adds.

  “Okay, well, let’s plan our attack,” I say.

  Marathon, Florida

  Wednesday

  We’re crouched down in the high grass on the beach, waiting for the drop to happen; it’s in the dead hours of the night, the occasional sea breeze plays with my hair. Heat lightning spiders through the clouds, lighting up the sky with an orange hue.

  “You sure this is the right spot?” Munroe says.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, loading pepper balls into the tank on the side of the paintball gun.

  A speed boat races up to the beach and docks on the shoreline. Four men jump out of the craft carrying duffle bags
in each hand. We slip our bandanas over our faces. “Wait for them to meet the recipients of the drugs, and then we hit them. Munroe, you keep that M4 handy in case stuff gets out of hand,” I say.

  She flicks the safety off the rifle. “Got it.”

  The delivery crew reaches the recipients in a nearby parking lot that’s dimly lit, with only a single streetlight illuminating the meeting spot.

  “Let’s move people,” I whisper.

  Jerry and I bring the paintball guns to our shoulders and unleash a volley of paintballs, hitting them in the face. They fall to the ground screaming, putting their hands over their eyes. A Narco yanks a shotgun from his pick-up, but I put a ball in his face. His shotgun roars into the night as he falls to the ground, groaning in pain. Jerry picks up their guns and tosses them in a nearby trash can. Munroe and I collect the bags to pile them up. She soaks them in lighter fluid; I toss a match and the bags go up like a Viking funeral.

  One narco tries to stand up. “You will all die for this, Pinche Cabron!” he says, straining to see who we are.

  Munroe socks him in the jaw with the butt of her rifle. “Dasvidanya, ublyudok,” Munroe says, racing back to our car.

  We climb into the car and pull our masks off. “Nice sell on the Russian, Munroe,” I say.

  “Dasvidanya, bastard. I thought of it on the fly.”

  Jerry glances over the seat. “You could’ve mentioned you spoke Russian earlier.”

  “You didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell,” her voice smug.

  “Look, let’s get out of here. Somebody will have definitely heard that shotgun go off.”

  Sure enough, no sooner than he puts the car into gear, we hear sirens racing toward our position. He slams his foot on the gas and leaves the area in his dust. As we’re heading down the road, police SUVs surround the area. He glances in the rearview. “We’re good they didn’t make us.”