“We definitely got mansion money now, my nigga,” Tommy said.
Tre stood up when he saw Pistol and L-Geez walk into the restaurant.
“Yo, what’s up, Pistol?”
“You know this nigga, Tre?” Tommy Guns asked.
“Yeah, he good peoples. We in business together.”
Tommy greeted the two niggas and shook their hands before they sat down to get down to business.
“So who has the cocaine or 2.4 Ms?” Tommy asked.
“I got the work. We can get the money because our folks been hitting us up. We just wanted to wait to link up with you,” L-Geez said.
Pistol looked at Tommy Guns and thought that he looked familiar.
“Mike, did anyone ever tell you that you look like that nigga Tommy Guns?” Pistol asked.
Tommy started laughing hard. “Nah, little nigga, I never heard that one before,” he said, not feeling like it was time to let them in on what was going on.
The crew sat back and enjoyed the Jamaican meal of jerk chicken, curry goat, oxtails, rice, beans, cabbage, and a fresh salad on the side. They chased it all down with Jamaican colas. While they ate, they talked business and secured future deals.
“I want y’all to focus on locking this city and state down and to expand into Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, Jacksonville, and more. It’s time to eat!” Tommy said, grooming the young squad.
Tre’s cell phone sounded off, and he saw that it was Ra Ra.
“This is Ra Ra. What’s up, folk?”
Tommy shook his head. “Not over the airwaves,” he reminded Tre.
“You know me, I’m doing my numbers and living this life a little better by the day . . . I’ll be in the States soon. I’ma stop through to holla at ya . . . See ya when ya come through, folk,” Tre said before hanging up the phone. “He’s coming through soon, he said. So it’ll all be a good reunion,” Tre said with a smile.
They finished up their food and then made their way back to their whips. As they stood talking briefly about where they were going to meet up, screeching tires and abrupt gunfire erupted and got their immediate attention. At the same time, Tre saw his homie Jay drop from slugs that tracked him down. A car full of Jamaicans with fully automatic weapons yelled and shot at them from their car windows.
“Yo, man! Him a dead man walking fo’ real!”
The whole crew returned fire. They wanted to gun down the dreadlock muthafuckas with their superstitions.
“OG, you got beef with these niggas?” Tre asked.
“Nah, little nigga. Do you?”
“I don’t fuck with them. They do them and I do me,” Tre said in between firing rounds back at them.
“Toma! Toma! Die tu cabrons!” Raven yelled while squeezing the trigger and unleashing multiple rounds.
She killed one of the dreads and then shifted her weapons around for more action. Tommy Guns brought his twin nickel-plated .45 Desert Eagles into view and squeezed off rounds. He dropped the mother of these Jamaican niggas with chest shots that breached his vital organs and left him with no chance of survival. At the sight of him falling, the other dreadlock niggas started spraying their Uzis in Tommy Guns’s direction, forcing him to take cover.
“Bumblaclot! I’ll kill ‘em dead fo’ sure!” the Jamaican cat yelled out.
“What the fuck are they talking about?” Tre asked.
They all shot back at the Jamaican muthafuckas, with their slugs crashing into their faces and making their brains leap out the other side. It brought a halt to their gangsta shit. There was only one still standing firm until he ran out of bullets. He tried to run, but Raven popped up in front of him. She fired slugs into his chest, which thrust him back and punctured his lungs at the same time.
Although he was still breathing, she ran down on him and looked into his eyes. She was the prettiest thing he had seen in awhile. She was a natural beauty but the angel of death. She then raised her guns in view and fired off into both his eye sockets, abruptly exploding his eyes and killing him instantly.
Just when they thought it was over another car turned the corner loud and fast.
“Drive by!” L-Geez yelled out when he saw the car coming with a Jamaican nigga hanging out the window.
Everyone shifted their attention and fired toward the crazy nigga hanging out of the window with a 12-gauge shotgun, firing roaring loudly as each buckshot sprayed in their direction.
“Kill all of these muthafucking dreadlock niggas!” Tommy Guns yelled.
They focused their shots and killed the driver, which forced a loud crash that ejected the nigga from the front seat through the windshield killing him instantly.
The last Jamaican in the back seat tried to slide out of the car and run, but he knew that he was alone and outnumbered.
“Papi, he’s trying to run!” Raven yelled out to Tre.
He quickly turned around and busted shots into the nigga’s back, dropping him where he stood. They all ran down on him and saw that he was still alive. He wanted to know why they were shooting at them. Raven saw that he was going for his gun on his waist, until she put her foot on his hand and aimed her guns at him.
“Don’t even think about it, punta!” she said, eyeing him down while ready to pull the triggers.
The Jamaican’s eyes lit up as Tommy Guns came into view as if he had seen a ghost.
“Yo, bumblaclot! Him a dead man walking before ya!”
“What the fuck you talking about?” Pistol said, now also aiming his gun at him.
“Da man have many faces and lives ya don’t know.”
“This nigga talking that voodoo bullshit!” Tommy said.
“Oye, viejo, give me the word and he’s dead!” Raven said standing by.
“Ya can’t kill me, ya know. I’m going to always live through the earth!”
“Raven, kill this nigga!” Tommy said before he turned to Tre. “Kill this nigga and his crew twice so they don’t have a chance of coming back.”
Tre did just that. He killed the man and fired off multiple shots into all of their heads before leaving the crime scene and scared onlookers behind.
~ ~ ~
At 1:09 p.m. at the White House, the FBI director, Homeland Security director, and Head Secret Service agent Mark Wallace were all sitting in front of the president explaining the facts of the case. They further briefed him on what had happened with Agent Miles and his family. The president listened to the three men before him who represented the nation’s best interests. He now had an obligation to resolve the matter. The president arranged a meeting with all his joint chiefs of staff to discuss the situation and to get to the bottom of it.
“Gentlemen, we don’t need a war on our hands inside our own government. This is unacceptable. I will get resolve once I speak with our military’s elite to see what they know of this.”
“We appreciate the time you’re taking, Mr. President. These agents and their families need closure from this horrifying ordeal.”
CHAPTER 16
AT 7:02 P.M. the president was in the West Wing meeting with all of the military heads to discuss the matter.
“Gentlemen, from what has been brought to my attention regarding the four agents and one agent’s family, the men doing this are trained elites from within our government. I would like to know if any of your men have taken part in this?”
The men all shook their heads no.
“From my knowledge, none of my men were involved,” marine four-star General Thompson replied.
“We need to resolve this situation. We cannot have our own government killing off Federal agents. It’s political genocide. The CIA and other agencies may be responsible for these rogue acts. I want answers, men, and I needed them yesterday.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” they all chimed in, standing and saluting the president as he exited the room.
The joint military generals and admiral all knew they needed to assemble an elite group of soldiers to contain this problem that had reached the White Hous
e. They informed their men about the level of seriousness and who their targets could be. The marines, navy, air force, and army all brought together their best men to form the Elite Force. The group met at an undisclosed location for a mission and weapons check, where they all received their tactical gear together.
Meanwhile back at the White House, the president was sitting in the study watching the flames in the fireplace as thoughts of what had taken place filled his mind. He knew he could not afford to allow this to continue. The president also thought about how American voters would frown upon how close he was with powerful people, and especially at how he used to laugh with the men who brought Rakman into play to create his plots of terror. He could not afford to be exposed, so he felt it was best that all those involved be silenced forever, because no one was going to jeopardize his position of absolute power.
CHAPTER 17
SENATOR CAINE WAS enjoying dinner with a female associate at 6:09 at the sidewalk cafe under the umbrella, which shielded them from the California sun.
“Sir, would you care for another glass of wine?” the waiter said as he walked up to their table.
“Um, I think I’ll go for something a little stronger this time around. Let me get a double shot of Jack Daniels on the rocks.”
“Yes, sir. Anything for the lady?”
“Bring her another glass of red wine, please.”
The waiter walked away, leaving the senator to discuss with his female associate about the scheme behind the agents being killed and what he knew of the men on the inside of the unfolding conspiracy. Instinct made him halt the conversation as he started looking around. He felt as if he was being watched—and he was. He took notice of a Crown Victoria parked across the street with a microphone pointed in his direction listening to their conversation. His heart started beating fast as he feared the worst. What’s going to happen? he thought, trying not to panic.
He turned back to his lady friend wanting to alert her, since he did not know how long they had been watched or how much information they had gathered listening to him. The men in the car did not know that they had been seen. The senator continued on as if they were not there.
“Here are your drinks. Jack for the gentleman and red wine for the lady,” the waiter said when he appeared.
“Young man, can I see your pen for a second?” the senator asked.
“Yes, sir. Here you go.”
The senator wrote on a napkin about the men across the street.
“Young man, you’re a good waiter. What’s your name?”
“Ray, sir.”
“Nice job, Ray. Interesting accent, too,” he said, creating small talk since his nerves were getting the best of him.
“My accent is from Georgia, sir.”
“Well, Ray, I’m going to make sure I leave you a nice tip and let the owner here know that you’re an asset to their business.”
The waiter walked away, leaving them to continue with their meal. Senator Caine then picked up his glass of Jack.
“This is for the road and exposing the truth,” he said before quickly drinking the double shot and feeling its warmth go down. “Ahh, the warm feeling of Jack going down. There’s nothing like it.”
“The wine is great, too. I’ll pay for dinner to take some of the stress off of you,” the reporter said.
“No, no! I insist on covering this bill,” he responded as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
The waiter returned and saw that their evening was winding down.
“How were your meal and drinks? Was everything to your liking?”
“Yes! We’re just ready to pay and leave. Some-thing came up.”
The waiter handed the senator the leather checkbook with the bill enclosed for privacy. At the same time, the senator reached for his heart. He felt a constricting yet sharp pain burn in his chest. His eyes widened, fearing death was on its way. He struggled to hold on as the sharp pain took over his body. The reporter screamed for help, adding to his fear that something had gone terribly wrong. He fell from the chair heaving that he wanted to live and wanted to say more. However, his end was now. His body shook violently before coming to a rest as life escaped his flesh.
The agencies had sent Ra Ra to take the senator out. They knew he frequented the restaurant, so tainting his drink with a chemical compound that induced a heart attack was an easy way to take him out.
Ra Ra calmly walked away when the agents in the car across the street saw him slide off to the side street of the restaurant. They realized that his actions were not something an employee would do in the middle of a man having a heart attack.
“Hey! Stop right there!” the agents yelled out, running after Ra Ra.
Ra Ra could not afford to be compromised, so he stopped running and turned around. He swiftly fired off silenced rounds that dropped the two agents who were pursuing him, stopping them dead in their tracks. He did not stick around to see if they were alive. Ra Ra took off running until he was picked up by a driver sent from the agencies.
CHAPTER 18
IN EL PASO, Tommy Guns was dressed as a Muslim in full garb and kufi when he knocked on Rakman’s wife’s door with his .44 Magnum concealed ready to take him out. His daughter came to the door.
“Can I help you?”
“As-salamu alaykum, sister. My name is McMum A Shukar. I’m wondering if your father is home.”
It was strange to her since no one ever came to their house asking for her father.
“He is not, but can I take a message?” she asked, wanting to know more about the man standing at their door.
“Let him know a good friend from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, stopped by.”
She nodded her head and looked at him as she closed the door. He turned around and walked back toward his car that was parked blocks away. At the same time, he paid attention to all the passing cars. He spotted Rakman in a gold Lexus LS600. In his adrenaline-filled excitement, he fired off multiple shots at the passing car, with slugs slamming into the frame and alerting Rakman of the oncoming bullets.
Rakman quickly turned to see who was firing on him, and in that very instant, he made eye contact with Tommy Guns, who he thought was dead just like the rest of the nation did. He raced off in his car knowing he could not return to the house anytime soon. So, he figured he would lay low and out of sight.
Tommy ran toward his car, knowing that the police would be on the scene fast. He mashed the gas to get away from the area thinking about how bad he wanted to kill this muthafucka.
~ ~ ~
California Governor Rendell was at his home in a gated community gathering papers to be mailed out to protect himself over the unfolding schemes. He knew what had taken place with Senator Caine and the agents who were shot when they chased a suspect. He knew it was just a matter of time before someone came for him. It was inevitable, which is why he ordered more security to prevent what he could.
At 8:15 p.m., a black minivan pulled into the community in front of the governor’s home, blasting music and disturbing the quiet residents. Security immediately approached the van with guns in hand and told the driver to move. As soon as the security closed in on the van, it took off and raced out of the community. It was the perfect distraction for the two assassins to enter the mansion, where they swept through each room and took out all security guards and staff members.
Once all the rooms had been secured, they made their way into the governor’s study. In the moment he saw the two men before him, he knew the end was mere seconds away.
“This isn’t personal, sir. It’s simply a job,” the man said, knowing the governor knew exactly who they were.
They cleared his desk of the paperwork and letters he was attempting to mail out to all the media outlets. They then forced him to write a suicide note before they handed him a gun with one bullet in it.
“Take the gun, sir. You already know what to do with it.”
Each of the trained men had their silenced weapons pointed at him in c
ase he wanted to shift the gun. He nervously held the gun while shaking and crying as he placed it to his temple with his finger resting on the trigger. He realized that the compromised situation he was in was fucked up. Even if he tried to shift his weapon, he would only get off one shot. He knew he could not kill himself, so he set down the gun.
Immediately, Ra Ra pumped a silenced round into the governor’s temple before taking the other gun and firing it out the window to alert the security. He then placed the gun back into the governor’s hand before the two men made their escape and left the scene. By the time the guards had woken up, the governor was dead from an apparent suicide.
CHAPTER 19
CTA DIRECTOR PRICE was fast asleep at his home in Lincoln, Nebraska, at 10:02 p.m. when he heard his dogs barking wildly as if someone was in his home. Being in the field and knowing the line of business he was in made him paranoid and alert. He immediately grabbed his 9mm from the nightstand and got out of bed to see what was going on. He moved quietly toward the bedroom door. However, he did not know the Elite Force was already in his home, some of them already in the bedroom standing behind him.
One of the agents fired silenced tranquilizer darts into his sleeping wife to keep her down, and then one into the director’s back that dropped him where he stood. They staged his body, tying a rope around his neck and then securing him to the balcony overlooking the living room. They then tossed him over, snapping his neck from the abrupt force of his falling body, which killed him instantly and made his death appear to be a suicide. He never had a chance against the trained group of men and their skill set to take out and contain all targets. Before they left, they set a forged handwritten suicide note beneath his body.
~ ~ ~
The DO of the NSA was also sleeping in his home at 12:01 a.m., until he was awakened by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed up against his face from the silenced MK5. As he opened his eyes, he zoomed in on all of the men in fatigues, the night-vision goggles, and the silenced weapons. He did not question how they got past his security system, because it was America’s finest before him. They hit him with a tranquilizer dart before injecting his arm with a high dose of raw uncut heroin. The hot shot raced through his body. His heart sped up and gave him the greatest feeling of euphoric sensation before it stopped, and a gasp of air released as he was no more.
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