The Harvesters: A Detective Devora Lobos Novel

by William J Manning

  “Yeah, because you were such a fucking boy scout. Let’s move.”

  Chapter 11

  Den Lounge

  The bar has an industrial ambiance to it; its low lighting and black oak bar top, the brick walls and rustic shelves complement its Industrial vibe. I spot a gangly, clean-shaven man in a T-shirt and blue jeans wearing a pair of round specs.

  “That’s him, Devi,” Jerry says.

  We sit across from him at the table. He stares at us with suspicion. “Are you the woman whom I spoke with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Special Agent Lobos of the DEA.”

  “DEA? I’m not involved in drugs. What the hell is this?”

  “Correct, you’re not; however, the people you deal with killed a fellow agent of mine, and they’re pushing meth and H out on the streets and chopping people up, selling them for parts.”

  “So far, Agent Lobos, you haven’t shown me how all this ties to me.”

  “I was getting to that.” I throw a copy of his emails in front of him.

  His eyes grow big, and his jaw drops. “Y-you hacked my computer. On what authority what judge signed off on this?”

  “Calm down. No one signed off on this. I took it upon myself to do this.”

  “Agent Lobos, you have violated the constitution and the privacy act. You have broken the law, and I will see to it you’re fired and thrown in prison for this.”

  I shoot a sarcastic grin at him. “Mr. Mayor, don’t lecture me about the law when you paid the Harvesters to empty a twenty-nine-year-old single mother of two kids who is now going to end up with whatever fucked up family the state picks for them and for what? So your alcoholic wife can have more time on this earth to indulge in her goddamn addiction?”

  He feigns shock. “What? They told me the organs came from homeless people, people that have no life.”

  The rich always shit on the poor. It’s been this way since the dawn of humanity.

  My jaw tightens. “Right, because homeless people make it okay, no one gives a shit about them, right?”

  “I can’t believe I voted for you, you fucking ghoul,” Jerry hisses.

  He slumps down in the chair, exhaling. “I didn’t want to do this, but my wife was so sick doctors said the only thing that would fix her is a new liver. She’s all I have that matters in this world.”

  The more this fucker talks, the more I want to put two in his head and call it a night, but I’m not the person I was pretending to be in the cartel.

  “What you didn’t want is irrelevant. You killed an innocent woman so your wife can go on drinking herself into a stupor every night. Your wife didn’t even attempt to change; she just continued her old life as usual.”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like when doctors tell you her liver is failing, and they put her on the waiting list for a liver transplant and just tell you best of luck.” He places his hands on his face, sobbing. “Hospitals do not treat alcoholics as a priority on an organ donor list.”

  “No, I get it. Your wife made bad lifestyle choices, so you had a single mother of two murdered and cut open in some back alleyway so your wife can continue her lifestyle with a brand new liver to wreck. That about the size of it, yeah?” I glance at Jerry. “What do you think we should do with this top-shelf piece of shit?”

  “I say we make him a celebrity.”

  “I’d rather take him out back and blow his goddamn head off.”

  His eyes frantically look at us, and he sweats bullets, and his face turns flush. “Please! I was just trying to save my wife.” He sobs. “I didn’t want to lose her!”

  My eyes narrow. “On second thought, you’re right shooting him would just bury his crimes… yeah, you know what? I think he could win an Oscar for this.”

  A brief chuckle escapes Jerry’s mouth. “Yeah. This will jump start his political career.”

  He wipes the tears from his face. “Okay, goddamn it! What the hell do you want from me? What?”

  “You’re going to atone for your sins, Mr. Mayor. You’re going to work with the DEA, and you’re going to give us all the information top to bottom on the Russian Mafia and the Harvesters.”

  He angrily digs his cell out of his pocket. “I am calling my lawyer. You, assholes, will not blackmail me,” he hisses.

  “Go ahead, but you should know while you’re talking to your attorney the information we have on you will be leaked all over the internet and the local news channels ending your political career within 24 hours, but by all means, call your attorney it’s your right after all.”

  He reluctantly hangs up the cell and scowls at us. “Fine, I will cooperate. Just keep this out of the media, please.”

  “Smart move, Mr. Mayor.”

  “So, what do you want to know?”

  “You’re coming back to my hotel. Act normal.” I escort him out of the café and put him in my car.

  Goddamn it, Raul. You really have gotten yourself in a mess.

  Chapter 12

  My brother stares at the mayor in shock. “Mr. Mayor?”

  “Oh, God!” The Mayor’s voice sinks to dread. “Agent Lobos, you killed me, you, stupid fucking bitch!”

  I slam him down on the bed. “Sit your ass down! Shut up.”

  “Raul, wait outside while we talk to the mayor.”

  “Sure thing, Dev.”

  “Don’t you understand? He is with them. He is the man I talked to about getting a liver for my wife.”

  “Nice try, Mr. Mayor.”

  His eyes widen. “Oh, God, look past your damn biases, or we’re both dead! That man is a killer!”

  I backhand him. “Cut the bullshit and tell me about the Harvester’s operation.”

  He glances at the door in fear. “T-there are three doctors. Russians have a market selling black market organs to people who can afford to skip the waiting list.”

  “Where do the Russians get their product?”

  “They used to camp out, outside gyms, but now they went remote, now they have resorted to catfishing people.”

  I shift my head to the side. “Catfishing? As in tricking people on dating apps?”

  “Yes, Russians have a racket using dating apps and not just for straight dating apps either, they even use gay and lesbian dating and transgender dating apps too.”

  “Dating apps can’t be the only way they lure people.”

  “Agent Lobos, you really underestimate how many people are using dating apps these days. How many people are really desperate to find that special someone to complete their lives.”

  People go on dates hoping to meet their soul mate, but find the grim reaper waiting for them. The digital age makes it easier for predators to bait their prey.

  “The internet has corrupted dating, I swear.” I cross my arms. “What’s the name of these sites?”

  “Eternal love dot org, Trans-love.com, gay&lesbianmingle.com.”

  Jerry scoffs. “I miss the fucking nineties.”

  “They post a photo of an attractive woman or man to lure the interested party. Models they hired are called Catfishers.”

  “How many models are they?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Do the models know what they’re being used for?” Jerry asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Going on six months now.”

  “Six months!” I hiss.

  “They are hard to zero in on. They shut down the website after a few weeks and make another one to keep people from getting wise to their act.”

  “There has to be an ongoing investigation about the missing people.”

  “There was.”

  I cross my arms and glower at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Investigators turned up no trace evidence, so they filed in the cold case archives.”

  “Who were the officers on the case?”

  “D
etective Emma Roth and Detective Jack Nolan.”

  “Where can I find them?”

  “Roth is working as a Sheriff Deputy up in Collier County in Everglades City. Nolan is working as a bartender on South Beach in a Tiki hut.”

  “How do you know so much about their lives after the case?”

  “I kept tabs on them to make sure they didn’t kick the hornet’s nest again. That was me paying back the Russians for their help.”

  “Why were they ordered to dump the case?”

  “Because they were about to expose some powerful people in this city.”

  “Who’s involved?”

  “I want protection before I finger these people.”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  “No, I want it in writing.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Did you forget our little arrangement? Jerry, make him famous.”

  “You got it.”

  “Wait!”

  “Hold on, Jerry. He just had a momentary lapse in judgement.”

  “I will tell you who they are. Police Commissioner Gerald Tobin and…” There’s a knock at the hotel door.

  “Raul?” I say. “What do you need?”

  “Sorry, Dev. I need to use the can.”

  I roll my eyes. “Make it quick, Raul.”

  “Yep,” he says, stepping between us.

  I turn back to the mayor. “Go on.”

  “Lobos!” Dermot scream. A gunshot fills the room, ringing my ears. The mayor’s head explodes like a melon, plastering his head on the wall.

  I stare at Raul in shock as tears fill my eyes. “R-Raul?” my voice breaks.

  Jerry tries to break free of Raul’s hold, but Raul smacks him in the head with the gun. Knocking him to the floor. I draw my gun.

  “Don’t!” Raul grits his teeth. “Please, Devi. Just don’t.” Tears form in his eyes.

  Donovan burst into the Hotel room levels his gun at Raul.

  “No, wait” — Raul panics and a deafening pop fills the room. Donovan’s brains splatter across the wall. His body collapses to the ground. I aim my Sig at him and Raul’s thumb yanks the hammer back, aiming the smoking revolver at me, eyes red with tears. “I don’t wanna kill you, Devi!” his voice breaks.

  “Raul… why? I-I came down here to get you out of the hole you dug yourself in. Now you’re buried.”

  “Sorry, but I told you to go back to Tampa. Go home, Devi.” He darts out the door.

  I slump down to my knees, paralyzed from the shock of witnessing what a monster my brother has turned into. “Lobos, he’s had it. The Mayor’s gone.”

  I grasp a clump of my hair heaving and my body shakes as I cry uncontrollably. “I should’ve, I should’ve kept my goddamn ass in Tampa hovering over dead bodies, but no! I had to come down here and be a fucking hero to my brother.”

  He stands, wincing, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I told you, honor thy family is overrated.” He groans.

  I scowl. “You think this is a fucking joke?”

  “Not at all. By the way, marvelous job on getting your gun out and stopping him.”

  “He’s my brother! I can’t just gun him down.”

  “He stopped being your brother the minute he shot the mayor, Devi! Family’s gonna get you killed!”

  I shove him away. “Fuck you!” I throw my hands up. “I gotta call this in, and after I give my statement, I’m going back to Tampa.”

  “What?”

  “Did I fucking stutter? The whole point I got mixed up in this shit to begin with was to save my brother’s life, but now there’s no reason for me to keep working this case. I’m turning in my badge and hitting the road.”

  “Just like the last time, huh? The water gets rough and you run back to shore.”

  I grit my teeth and thrust my finger in his face. “Hey, fuck you! You and my husband were the cause of me having to skip town last time.”

  “So that’s it, huh? Your brother turned out to be a Class A piece of shit; now you’re gonna blow town and let the Harvesters keep snatching innocent victims off the street.”

  “Not my fucking problem.”

  He winces. “You’re serious?”

  “Get the fuck off the crime scene and go back to your little houseboat.”

  He throws his hands up. “Fine, but remember this, while you’re sulking over your piece of shit, brother, other people’s brothers and sisters are being snatched off the street. Just deposit my money into my account.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get your fucking money.” My nostrils flare with rage as I glare at him, leaving the room. It’s time I quit this case and this fucking city.

  Chapter 13

  Slumped in the chair, I watch the Crime Scene Techs examine the bodies and the aftermath of failing to know my brother.

  Tanner motions for me to step outside. “Agent, Lobos. We got us a shitstorm here, another dead DEA Agent along with the mayor dead. Your brother’s now implicated in one DEA agent’s death and one he killed for sure, and political assassination. This is a nightmare for us.”

  A category five shitstorm.

  “I can’t believe my brother is so far gone.”

  “Yeah, about that… this case has blown up bigger than I wanted, so I want you to lie low.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m on my way back to Tampa tonight.”

  “What?”

  “My brother is fucked in the head; he’s beyond saving. There’s no reason for me to stay here.”

  “So, you’re just going to abandon the case? What about stopping the Harvesters?”

  “I’m sure you got some good agents that need a case.” I slap my badge in his hand and leave the hotel room.

  He stops me halfway to my car. “What has happened to you, Lobos?”

  “I will not be the one who sends my brother to prison for the rest of his life.”

  “Wait!” he walks up to me. “I know sending your brother to prison is going to rip your heart out, but he’s responsible for the death of the Mayor and two fellow agents. Are you just going to walk away from that? From your former partner, he killed?”

  I glower at him through cigarette smoke.

  He briefly stares at the badge. “If you can just walk away and go back home like nothing happened here, then clearly you’re not the agent I remember. You’re not the same agent who was disgusted by that kid that was burned alive in that oil drum. Has the booze finally rotted your brain?”

  I think about slugging him in the jaw, but I take a long drag of my smoke and flick the cigarette at his feet. “Go to hell.” I climb into my car and slam the door.

  He hands me the badge. “Looks like you beat me there considering your state lately.”

  I toss the badge in my seat and speed off, leaving rubber on the pavement.

  ***

  I puff on a smoke drifting down the Ocean Drive strip; the humid air wafts through the interior of my car, filling it with the scent of the sea. The sunset illuminates my car with an orange glare. I put my visor down and slip on my sunglasses.

  I can’t seem to get the image out of my head of Raul shooting the mayor and Donovan. I take a drag from my cigarette and blow smoke out of my nostrils. Just because they’re family doesn’t mean you know them. I should’ve listened to that hitman and Jerry and said, you know what? They’re right; I need to just head back to Tampa and go back to hovering over dead bodies. But I didn’t.

  I park in the half-empty beach parking lot and rest my head on my steering wheel. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wishing what my brother did was just a nightmare, and I’ll just wake up, but this kind of nightmare you don’t wake up from. Gulping my entire flask of bourbon till my body succumbs to the liquor-induced coma.

  ***

  I wake up to the sound of two kids playing on the beach, a boy and a girl… siblings. Watching them play with their super soakers on the beach reminds me of my brother on our days at the beach. We ran out of water, so it was a race to the water’s edge to refill as quickly as possible. My
brother knew how to fill the water tank quicker than me, so he’d got off the first shot.

  What happened to you, Raul? The brother I knew would’ve killed himself before harming anyone.

  I take off my shoes and socks and walk out into the sand, filling the sand between my toes. I dig my feet deep into the wet sand. Tears pour out of my eyes as images of us building a large sandcastle flash in my mind. I borrow a kid’s bucket and shovel. I build a castle and dig a trench to create a mote. My tears disappear in the wet sand as I make a person out of the mud and have them placed outside of the castle with no bridge. I leave the children’s tools and head back to my car. The Raul I built sandcastles with died somewhere in his life; it’s my responsibility to stop him and the people he works for. I was wrong about my brother, and it got a former partner killed and his wife widowed. I’m batting a thousand lately.

  I sit down in my car and slip my shoes back on and call up Tanner. “Lobos, I figured you’d be half back to Tampa by now.”

  “I vouched for Raul. I told you there’s no way he’s a killer, and I fucked up, sir.”

  “Lobos, he’s your brother. How were you supposed to know he was going to kill someone?”

  “Exactly, he’s my brother. I should’ve known him better.”

  “You and Raul kind of drifted apart for a bit, so there’s no telling what kind of darkness grabbed hold of him during that time. Fame and money can turn people into fiends.”

  “I just wish I could’ve seen what a psycho he had become.”

  “Lobos, we’re trained to spot sociopaths and liars, but it’s not always easy when their family or someone we deeply care about.”

  “Yeah. So, what’s our next move, sir?”

  He sighs. “There’s the agent I remember.”

  “I can’t stand leaving a case open.”

  That’s right, I may bitch moan and groan, but I can’t stand an unsolved case. It’s like a type of OCD.

  “Well, the plan of using your brother as our inside man went out the window, so go with your original plan and look up those cops who worked that cold case. Welcome back again, Special Agent Lobos.”