The Harvesters

by William J Manning

  ***

  We stake out her house, planning our attack. The security is back at full capacity, which tells me Gabriella’s home.

  “So how are we doing this, Devora?”

  “Every damn one of ‘em.”

  “I mean our plan of attack.”

  “Kill them all.”

  “Simple, I like it.”

  I slip on my bandanna. “Good, then let’s go,” I say, climbing out of the car.

  I draw my switchblade and stroll up to the guard. “Hey, honey, this is private property.”

  I shove the blade into his gut, and he lurches over his face twists in agony. Then I plunge the knife into his carotid, and he collapses to the ground, choking and gasping, clutching the side of his neck. I wipe the blade on my pants leg. I shoulder the RPG, and the launcher lets out a sharp hiss. The rocket sails into the mansion, showering the yard with dust and bricks, leaving a gaping hole. Floodlights light up the property, and alarm’s wail. Narco soldiers rush out of the house armed with MP5s and FN rifles.

  “Jesus, Devora, what the fuck are you doing,” Jerry says over the earpiece. I ignore him and load another rocket. The first shot was to draw them out, second is for them.

  I zero the sights on the group of men examining the damage and searching for an intruder. I squeeze the trigger, and the projectile flies into the midst of them. Shrapnel fillets them fertilizing Gabriella’s lawn with their body parts. I throw the launcher down and continue down the alleyway, peering down the red dot sight of the HK. A Narco steps into my field of fire. Pfft, pfft, two rounds slam into his chest before he could react. I stop at the edge of the wall and peek around the corner, and just as I’m about to cap riflemen on the patio, gunshots ring out. Bullets snap over my head. I drop to my knees, whipping to my six, and shoot the Narco behind me in the chest, putting him down. I pull the pin on a frag and lob it on the patio. The grenade explodes, filling the area with the sound of glass and screams. I hail Jerry on the radio. “How’s it going on your end?”

  “Good, I just capped a few racing toward the front of the house. What the hell were those explosions on the front of the house?”

  “RPG.”

  “… Jesus. You weren’t kidding about any means necessary.”

  “Get moving.”

  “Copy that.”

  I rush toward the patio and duck down behind it for cover and wait on Jerry. A few minutes later, he emerges around the side of the house and joins me. “Let’s get this over with.” We advance through the sliding glass door. He moves right, and I move left; the dining room’s clear of hostiles. Jerry’s suppressed shotgun lets out a loud Phut! “Scratched another baddie off the list.”

  Muzzle flashes light up a dark room across from the living room. I dive behind the couch as bullets shatter a curio cabinet, slinging chunks of wood and glass raining down on the floor. I stick my rifle over the couch and fire blindly. My rounds hit nothing but air. A few seconds later, the narco returns fire, blowing the stuffing out of the sofa.

  This’ll fix his ass. I yank the pin off a grenade and toss it into the room. The grenade explodes, filling the living room with a cloud of dust. Advancing to the room to confirm my kill, several men rush down the steps with MP5s. They aim their weapons at me, Jerry intervenes and eviscerates them with his shotgun, plastering their blood on the alabaster marble wall.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He gives the thumbs up. “Don’t mention it.”

  We checked all the rooms on the ground floor, and they’re clear. We take the war upstairs, and Jerry takes point, and I bring up the rear, covering his six as we head up the spiral staircase. Reaching the top of the steps, Jerry moves right. Heading left, peering down my sights as I advance down the dim hallway. I come to a door, and there’s panicked breathing on the other side. I’m about to put several rounds through the door when automatic fire blows out chunks of wood from the door. A few rounds struck my vest, snatching the wind out of me. I collapse to the floor, heaving, trying to catch my breath. The door flies open, and I yank my Sig and put a round through his face, caking the door frame with his brains. I force myself to my feet, trying to catch my breath. Automatic fire strafes the hallway, I dive into the bedroom. Transitioning back to my rifle, I do a tactical reload. One of them appears at the door. My rifle bucks against my shoulder, sending three rounds through his chest. He stumbles back against the wall and slides down the white marble, leaving a blood smear.

  Jerry rushes past the doorway, blazing his shotgun. I join him out in the hall and we form a two-person firing team, pinning them down in the room. I tap him on the shoulder. “Frag out,” I whisper. I pull the pin on the grenade and toss it into the room, and we duck into a bathroom. The explosion rocks the house. We continue to advance in the room. Jerry and I enter the room; the shooter is missing a leg, trying to crawl for his revolver. Jerry cocks the shotgun and sends buckshot through his back, putting the last nail in his coffin.

  We make our way to Gabriella’s office and stack up on the door. I give the count down with my fingers.

  3.2.1

  We burst into the room. I fire a round winging Gabriella in the shoulder; she shrieks, clutching her shoulder. Jerry and Mateo fire at the same time. The shotgun blows out Mateo’s intestines. His round strikes Jerry in the bicep.

  No!

  I level my rifle at Mateo and send two rounds into his chest and one last round through his head, finishing the 12 gauge’s job. Gabriella is slumped in her chair, whimpering and groaning in pain. I walk around the desk, leering at her.

  She winces in pain. “Who the fuck are you?” she moans.

  I yank my mask off, staring at her like a wolf staring at a helpless lamb. “Devora?” She hisses. “You just killed the rest of your loved ones.”

  I snatch her by the hair of the head, punching her in the nose repeatedly. “You’re going to suffer for what you did to Greg. You’re going to suffer badly.”

  Sirens wail in the distance. She smiles with blood dripping from her nose. “You better make it quick, Lobos. Sounds like someone is coming to piss on your parade.”

  I shoot her in her other shoulder, her body tenses up, and she howls in pain. “Fuck you!” she screams and spits in my face.

  I shoot her in both of her legs she screeches, writhing in the chair. “Anything original to say?”

  “You kill me, you kill your loved ones and yourself, Puta!”

  I slap her with the barrel of my pistol. “Then I’ll kill them just like I’m going to kill you.”

  She laughs, though bloodied teeth. “You better make it fast, sweetie.”

  My jaw clenches with rage as I press the forty caliber to her forehead. Fury pulsates through my arm, causing my arm to tremble.

  “You’re a killer, Lobos. An executioner. You killed all these men; why stop at me? C’mon! Become Cortana again become that executioner the DEA and CIA allowed you to become. You’re more like Santos than you realize, Cortana.”

  Red and blue lights illuminate the office. She smiles. “Your time is up, Cortana.”

  My finger inches the trigger back when a voice calls out. It’s Tanner. “Lobos, stop!”

  My jaw tenses with rage. “She killed Greg.”

  “I know, but if you execute her, I will have to charge you with murder.”

  Damn that policy of due process.

  “Thank you, Officers. For saving me from this psychopath with a badge.”

  Tanner glowers at her. “Don’t relax just yet? We gotta warrant to search your property, Ms. Trevino.”

  I whip my body around at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Stopping you from doing something stupid.”

  “Bit late to stop me now, don’t you think?”

  He glances around the room. “No, all I see is an agent who was forced to defend herself while conducting an investigation.”

  “I want to see that warrant, Mr. DEA.”

  He slams the copy of the warrant on her desk. “Don�
�t you worry, Ms. Trevino, the warrant is real.”

  “How the hell did you get a judge to sign off on a warrant to search her home?” I whisper.

  “Santos is still alive. He provided us with video evidence of large quantities of cocaine in a nearby warehouse that’s tied to a dummy corporation that she owns.”

  She laughs. “Pfft! That proves nothing.” She scoffs. “You two will hear from my attorneys. You barged into my home, killed my security detail and murdered my son!” she growls.

  “Your son shouldn’t have fucking shot me, bitch.” Jerry groans.

  “Who is this man, Lobos?”

  “That’s the PI I’ve been working with. Jerry Dermot.”

  “Somebody call EMS for this man.”

  “Yes, sir.” The agent replies.

  Munroe marches up to us wearing an FBI jacket and vest. “You two have got to see this.”

  Why am I not surprised Munroe had a hand in interrupting Gabriella’s execution?

  I follow her down the stairs and toward the back of the house where we come to a giant steel door in a room with no furniture. The door’s already opened, and what I see twists my stomach into knots, and horror fills my eyes. The room is full of women living in tightly packed living quarters wearing worn clothes, some of them are barely clothed. Some of these women are barely fourteen years old. Paramedics wrap them in blankets and escort them out to give them medical checks,

  “Who are these women?” I ask while not wanting to know.

  “Gabriella’s drug mules and they’re also sex workers, is what I found out from talking to one of them.”

  “I’d like to see Gabriella’s lawyers try to defend this shit in court.”

  “She’s done, Lobos. This shit will be the end of her, and then we can get back to focusing on Radomir.” She turns to Tanner. “This may hang Radomir along with Gabriella.”

  “How do you figure, Munroe?”

  “Because some of these women have his brand on their backs.”

  Gotta love it when crime bosses get so full of themselves they put a brand label on their merchandise.

  “We still need a Federal warrant to go after Radomir,” Tanner says.

  I cross my arms. “We better move quick. News will travel fast about Gabriella’s downfall. I don’t want that asshole fleeing the country.” I leave the room and head back to Gabriella and smirk at her.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  I place my hands on my hips. “You know, you may weasel your way out of the drug cache in the warehouse, but you won’t the dozens of girls you have packed into a vault in your house. Anything you wanna say about that?”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m not saying anything else till I speak to my attorney.”

  “Oh, and to throw more salt on your wounds. Some of those girls are barely fourteen years old. The federal government loves to burn people like you down. By the way, you hung Radomir out to dry too; some of those girls have his own personal brand on them.”

  She laughs. “It’s funny, you think you actually accomplished something? There’ll be thousands more like me in the future, selling drugs, girls, and guns. You can only delay the flow, but never stop it, nor the demand for people to indulge in self-destruction and easy sex. It’s just the way of the world, chica, and in my world you’re the wolf or the lamb victim or killer.”

  “I know the war on drugs and human trafficking is a game in futility, but the least I can do is buy thousands another day on this earth by putting people like you in prison.” I read her, her rights, and cuff her.

  “You think I’m going to let it go? You killed my son, Lobos?”

  “Oh good here. I was worried my expectations would not be met.”

  SWAT grabs her by the arm and escorts her downstairs to be transported to FBI HQ.

  “Enjoy your new home, Gabby.”

  She looks over her shoulder with a sneer. “This is not over, Lobos.”

  Munroe walks up to me with the CIRG team. “Warrant is processing lets head to Radomir’s club and get him.”

  “Let’s go.” Munroe and I pile into the Dodge and follow the MRAP to Volkov’s nightclub.

  “Devora, I didn’t expect you and Jerry to survive if I’m being honest. You got some skills.”

  “Eh, it’s called luck, and one day it’s gonna run out.”

  Time to end this once and for all. Radomir can leave in cuffs or in a meat sack; I don’t give a damn.

  Chapter 37

  Red Harvest Club

  We disembark from the vehicles; the crowd stares at us with concerned eyes as we set up a perimeter outside. I turn to Munroe. “Did the Warrant come in yet?”

  “Still pending.”

  “Shit!”

  “Patience, Devora.”

  “Patience is going to help him slip out the backdoor and right out of the country.”

  Her cell dings. “Okay, Warrant is live. Let’s take him down. Remember, guys, the place is full of unarmed civilians, so watch your fire.”

  We storm into the club, and the crowd screams in terror over the Heavy metal music playing and ducks to the floor; some of them scramble under tables. One man on the second-floor terrace draws a pistol. “Gun, Gun!” I shoulder my HK and put several rounds into his chest, and he staggers over the railing. His body slams violently on the tile floor. Another group of hostiles form up on the balcony with AKs rain lead on us. My Sig cracks off several rounds just before ducking behind the bar. SWAT darts for cover behind a secondary bar. The mobsters continue their shower of bullets. I raise up from the bar and open fire while they’re focused on SWAT. A storm of lead forces me back behind cover. Bullets shatter the bottles on the shelf, dumping glass and liquor on me.

  Shit! This is alcohol abuse.

  Munroe’s M4 lets off several three-round bursts. Striking one suspect in the neck. The rest duck for cover.

  I press on my earpiece. “It would appear Radomir has chosen to leave here in a bag.”

  “Then I say we oblige him, Lobos.”

  “What’s your position? I can’t see you.”

  “I’m hunkered down in the DJ booth. Want me to drop a sick beat?”

  “Ha, ha,” I reply with sarcasm.

  SWAT launches several grenades on the balcony. There’s a succession of explosions and bright flashes—the hostiles on the second-floor collapse clutching their ears. We advance up the flight of stairs in the building’s corner on the right side of the dance floor.

  SWAT rushes to the subdued men and secures them in zip ties.

  One of them tries to draw a sidearm, but I dash forward and slap him in the nose with the butt of my rifle.

  He falls backward, clutching his nose. “Fuck you, Suka!”

  “Where’s Radomir?”

  “Fuck you, suka! Fuck your whore mother.”

  I snatch him by the hair of the head, pressing my Forty Cal under his chin. “You wanna repeat that, asshole?”

  “Blyat! Radomir is in back office.” He frantically points toward a pair of gun barrel gray metal doors. “Getting loaded on speed. We tried to get the stupid fuck to leave, but he kept screaming about he don’t fear cops. The man has lost his shit since Gabriella went down.” He spits blood on the floor. “He ruined by putting his brand on those fucking bitches. Arrogant prick.”

  I shove him away. “Well, Munroe. We gotta barricaded speed freak situation.”

  “It’s good he barricaded himself. We don’t have to worry about a car chase now.” She turns to the element leader and tells him to get sharpshooters on the office.

  “You got it.”

  Munroe and I head down the hall to the double doors. We position ourselves on opposite sides of the doors.

  “You may as well come out, Mr. Volkov. The building’s surrounded. We got sharpshooters zeroing in on you as we speak,” I say.

  He blasts a baseball-sized hole through the door with what sounds like a high caliber handgun.

  And that’s why you don’t stand in front of the d
oor when talking to a suspect.

  “Fuck you! You don’t take Radomir Volkov alive. You will have to kill me, you fucking cocksuckers.” He fires another round through the door.

  “Mr. Volkov, you keep firing rounds at us through the door, and I can make that arrangement for you.”

  He blows another gaping hole through the door. “Oh, you think you can take, Radomir Volkov! Well, come and get it! I will die on my feet, not on my knees like a whore.”

  “This is overwatch. I’m in position and have a clear shot of the suspect. Waiting for your go order.”

  “Copy that,” Munroe says.

  “Mr. Volkov, there’s no way out of this. You may as well come out. You can be walked out or carried out; it makes no damn difference to us.”

  “I do not surrender. Death before dishonor, Suka!”

  “Your last chance, Radomir,” Munroe says. “Put the weapon down and come out with your hands up.”

  “Oh, you want me to come out, baby? Okay, I’m coming out with a nice present for you, baby!”

  I grip my gun tighter, and we slowly back away from the door, keeping our guns trained on the door.

  “Agent Munroe,” the sniper says. “Suspect is about to exit the room with a belt-fed weapon. Strongly advise you let me take the shot.”

  “Shit! Take the shot! Take the shot!”

  Radomir yanks the door open. Aiming the belt-fed PKM light machine gun at us, eyes beat red and manic from all the speed. “Let’s go to hell!” he growls, laughing maniacally. A red mist jets out the side of his head, and his body falls to the floor, and the loud crack of the rifle fills the air.

  I let out a sigh of relief. I’m damn glad he didn’t get going with that meat grinder.

  “Suspect down!” I call out over the radio.

  I push the weapon away from his reach. “Alright, Devora. Let’s get forensics to come in and tear this place apart.”

  “Personally, I don’t see a point in it. He’s dead; justice is served. However, we got to make the brass and DA happy, so let’s get them down here.”

  “Yeah, that pesky procedure is always rearing its ugly head.”

  Radomir did as I predicted: he wouldn’t surrender if cornered. He would go down fighting; however, when an FBI sniper has you in his crosshairs, you will not have time to get a good battle going. That being said, I’m glad his brains fertilized the floor. A man like him has no right to live.