Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “And we’re certain that this is the international source of the KXDs’ contraband?” I didn’t want to sound skeptical. But my role had been to gather intel on the source, and I never did. Within the last two days, I started to make enough progress to get close enough to Steele and Bard, but I still didn’t know much. So it made no sense how the OIO had obtained this information.

  “The tip we received about the train system, Steele’s disappearance, and the bags of drugs you’ve delivered have been instrumental in piecing this together,” Jablonsky said. “Not to mention the cartel’s intervention the night the Lords made a move against you.”

  “The cartel harvests its drugs from a specific region. Certain environmental elements are present at the molecular level, and others are more easily recognizable, like the tags on the packaging. Plus, once we determined the method of transport, we followed the trains back to locations near the border. The DEA had already been investigating, and once we agreed to work together, they tracked the mules that were crossing the border, expelling the drugs, and then shipping them via passenger rail,” Cooper offered. “Our job was no longer identifying and stopping the international source. It was to stop the local trade. Bard has created an extensive web with dozens of dealers.”

  “The problem isn’t just the drugs,” Jablonsky chimed in. “It’s the military-grade armaments. Those were also sent from Bard’s cartel connections. But the more disconcerting fact is that a few months back, the PD’s evidence locker was broken into. They kept this information in-house, but one of our friends mentioned that a stockpile of Russian assault rifles, automatic machine pistols, and a dozen or so grenade launchers went missing. Agent Lawson and the rest of our tech team analyzed their footage.” Cooper dialed up the grainy, security cam feed while Mark continued to speak. “Do any of these men look familiar to you?”

  While their faces were obscured, I’d recognize Francisco’s build and walk anywhere. “Steele,” I hissed.

  “That’s what we thought. Lawson ran a comparison, but it wasn’t conclusive enough for a judge. So that’s another reason we’re being careful. We’re set to move, but we don’t know what we might be moving into. From Cooper’s previous estimates on contraband imports, they might have had dozens of weapons at their disposal before they plundered the evidence warehouse. Now,” Mark sucked in a breath and shook his head, “they could have hundreds. You’ve mentioned the labyrinthine way Bard set up his personal residence. Do you think he also uses booby traps?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. Bard is a security nut with a ton of high-end shit.” Thinking back, I considered the weaponry I’d seen at his place and throughout the various KXD bases. “Here’s everything I know.” And I proceeded to divulge information on every location and interaction, drawing and diagramming on top of the blueprints that had been pulled for each of the four locations the tactical teams planned to raid.

  Thirty-six

  “Are you sure you want to be a part of this?” Jablonsky whispered in my ear. We were in TacOps, getting outfitted with body armor, assault weapons, and raid gear. “You don’t have to join us on this venture. You can hang back.”

  “Do you remember what happened the last time I hung back?” I snapped, reaching for a black ski mask. “Don’t worry, I won’t compromise myself. I’m just another government drone sent to carry out a specific task. Plus, I’m the only one who’s been inside. You need me on-site.”

  “Parker,” Cooper called, and Mark jerked his head in that direction and clapped me on the back.

  “Sir?” I asked, leaning over Cooper’s shoulder at the diagram of the KXDs’ lab.

  “The most confusing location seems to be the basement apartment that Bard inhabits. But since you’ve visited on multiple occasions, that’s the location you will lead a team to breach. The lab seems pretty straightforward. The processing center behind the diner might be tricky, but from your report, it won’t matter who goes in. We’re basically blind, regardless.” He flipped to the final location. “And the coffee shop will be a straight up bust. Once we make the arrests, we’ll search for hidden rooms or underground areas, but I don’t expect to find anything. If Steele hadn’t taken you there, we probably wouldn’t have realized it was a property held by the so-called corporation that Bard created.”

  “How many assets does DeAngelo Bard possess?” I mused, speaking more to myself than the other agents, but Lucca answered anyway.

  “You’d be surprised. A few of the accountants are reviewing it, but he’s invested in real estate capital. Basically, his business exists only on paper. But it’s allowed him to buy various types of locations and the buildings that house different businesses, like the diner and laundromat. His business,” Lucca made air quotes around the word, “partially owns six other properties: the apartment building where he resides, the building where your cover lived, the diner, laundromat, a warehouse near the train depot, and the Black Cat.”

  “So you already knew that the strip joint was KXD territory when you sent me in, but you didn’t share?” I queried, feeling like I’d been jerked around.

  “His business’s name isn’t anything recognizable. We only discovered it after checking into property records and commonalities based upon the locations you visited with Steele.” Lucca read the question in my eyes. “During the previous seven months, a few CIs tipped us that the KXDs were dealing out of the Black Cat. It’s why you were sent to infiltrate that particular club and how we knew to squeeze the manager into stepping down before you could be hired. We couldn’t trust anyone inside that establishment, so we had to get creative.”

  I snorted. “You didn’t think I’d get hired on my good looks and natural rhythm?”

  “Parker,” Cooper interjected, probably forgetting my sarcastic streak, “there is no reason to discuss these matters now. Nothing indicates your cover was ever compromised. So may we get back to the matter at hand?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  “You are up-to-date on tactical maneuvers, right?” Cooper asked, assessing the teams assembled. After I nodded, he continued. “You won’t be the first one through the door, but you’ll be somewhere near the front. You’ll instruct and divert the team as the rooms and hallways branch out. Okay?” I nodded again, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll perform a final radio check before reaching the locations. At precisely sixteen hundred hours, we’ll commence the breach. Assume anyone you encounter to be hostile, but do your best to perform non-lethal takedowns if at all possible,” Jablonsky ordered, fastening the OIO emblazoned vest over his dress shirt. “A lot is riding on this, so we’re doing everything by the book. Are there any questions?”

  No one said a word, so we disbanded to the different vehicles to make the trek to the scouted locations. Before the van even stopped, I pulled the mask over my face, making sure my vision wasn’t impeded by the thick fabric. At least if I was gassed again, it would provide some protection; although, I really didn’t want to have to relive that experience. My eyes were still sore and red.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, feeling the pre-op euphoria kick in, “before we breach, you need to know that there’s a potential friendly inside. Detective Derek Heathcliff is undercover as Eric ‘Hotshot’ Hall. His photo was passed around during prep. Let’s try not to burn his cover or take him out with friendly fire. Okay?”

  “Sure, Parker,” one of the guys replied, “but all bets are off if he fires first.” I gave him a glare, rocking back and forth as I rode out the adrenaline surge and false bravado that came with the ratcheting of half a dozen different slides. “We move in three.”

  I glanced out the tiny window on the back door. The two KXD lookouts weren’t at their normal perch. Bard must have known someone was coming for him. He probably assumed it’d be the police. Not that it really made a difference. He was facing federal and state charges, and it’d be decades before he saw the light of day again. So it wouldn’t matte
r who brought him into custody.

  “Stay on my six,” the tactical commander ordered, opening the back door and moving purposefully toward the staircase that led to Bard’s basement apartment. Another man jumped out of the van, and I followed with three more bringing up the rear. The two in the back made sure no one snuck up behind us as we broke through the door and entered Bard’s domain.

  Immediately, an alarm blared. Obviously, the key code reader served a purpose besides decoration. As usual, the foyer was dark, and we moved down the narrow hallway. The close quarters forced us to bunch together, making the entire team easy pickings for a single grenade. Thankfully, the KXDs weren’t that smart. Flashlight beams bounced off the walls and surfaces as we continued to move deeper inside.

  “Two hallways lead out of this room,” I said into the mouthpiece attached to the clip in my ear. And the commander signaled for the team to break up. Two men went to the right. I had never gone in that direction, but based on the blueprints, the OIO assumed it led to a kitchen and dining room. “Doorways on both sides,” I said as we entered the left hallway.

  Before we could begin clearing each room, light erupted at the end of the corridor. The man held a fully automatic handgun with an extended magazine and opened fire. We scattered, bursting through the doors on both sides of the hall.

  Scanning the interior of the room while gunfire echoed in the hallway, I recognized it as the room where Derek stitched up the wounded KXD member. No one was inside, and I caught the eye of the other agent across the doorframe. He peered out the door, ducking inside when bullets ripped through the nearby wall. As soon as there was a pause in the gunfire, he leaned out the door, taking aim and firing three shots. Another three-shot burst sounded from the other side of the hallway, and then footsteps resumed on the previously intended course. So much for non-lethal force.

  The two rooms we’d just used for cover were clear, and we repeated the process with another two rooms. From my recollection, we were nearing Bard’s private quarters. It was almost like an apartment within an apartment within a maze. And the blueprints were practically useless. Bard had customized the space for his own protection and security. If he wasn’t a bad guy and a paranoid lunatic, he’d be my kind of interior designer.

  “Look alive,” the commander’s voice echoed in my ear as two of the men held a position in the hallway and another worked to decrypt the scanner to Bard’s quarters.

  A shotgun blast ripped through the door, narrowly missing the first agent who entered. Sliding to a cover position behind the sofa, I focused my aim on the kitchenette, positive I’d seen movement behind the island countertop. Scattershot pummeled into the couch, piercing the cushioning. Ducking, I rolled toward the kitchen while the other agent already inside moved deeper into the room. I lost sight of the two agents in the hallway as I crouched along the side of the island, partially in the line of fire of the shotgunner. Luckily, he was distracted, and I pressed my cheek against the wood, inhaling and holding my breath as I turned to aim.

  The gang member hiding within the kitchenette didn’t notice and stood up straight, preparing to take a shot at the tactical team member that had just neutralized the other gunman.

  “Drop it,” I ordered, my finger already partially pressing the trigger. He spun, intent on shooting me, and I fired. The body armor he wore took the brunt of the impact, but the shot still knocked him off his feet. I stood over him, kicking his gun out of reach and aiming at his face. “Turn around.”

  He made a move for a handgun at his hip, and I kicked him hard enough to flip him over. Immediately, I knelt down, pressing the muzzle of my gun to the back of his neck and confiscating his side arm. Then I cuffed him. He tried to buck backward, and I hit him with the butt of my gun to gain compliance. More shots echoed through the room, and I dove back behind the counter, leaving the cuffed gangbanger dazed on the floor.

  “Clear.” The word reverberated through my earpiece, and slowly, I stood. Three gangbangers were cuffed on the floor. Another one was clutching his bloody arm. And one of our agents was down. “Ambulances en route. No sign of Bard,” the commander’s voice rang in my ear, but after the gunfire, the words sounded muted.

  Two team members rounded up the KXDs, keeping them in a contained space until additional support and medical teams could arrive. The rest of our team appeared in the door, having cleared the other areas of the basement apartment and dragging two other gang members with them. The commander was on the ground next to the downed agent. I didn’t know his name, but he was one of the tactical team. His shoulder, neck, and cheek were riddled with pellets, but the damage seemed minimal considering the vast majority of the shotgun round had impacted against the Kevlar.

  “Shit.” I swallowed a lungful of air as the commander sat him up against a wall, ripping the Velcro away and examining the injury before applying pressure. That was close. Too damn close. I turned away, spinning on the group of KXD members who likely wore higher grade body armor than we did. “Where the hell is Bard?”

  One of them looked up and chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Damn straight.” I grabbed the smartass by the collar and dragged him to his feet.

  One of the other agents moved to intervene but the commander called him off, “Stand down and let her work.” We made eye contact briefly, agreeing to a silent pact that I wouldn’t break the rules or this guy’s face.

  “We’re going for a walk,” I said, shoving him back into the hallway. “Someone ought to install recess lighting. The place is pitch, and we both know that plenty of bad things happen in the dark.”

  He snickered, amused. “You can’t touch me. You’re not allowed.”

  “We’ll see.” I led him back into the front room, the same place Bard had used to interrogate me. Divide and conquer. “Sit down.” I grabbed his handcuffed wrists and pulled him backward, forcing him into a high-backed chair with his arms around the backrest. “Where’s Shakespeare?”

  He lifted his shoulders in as close to a shrug as he could manage from his current position. “Dunno.”

  “Did he run away like a little bitch and leave you and your group of friends to take the heat?” He glared but didn’t respond. “Bard has eyes everywhere, so here’s what’s about to happen. I’m gonna personally walk you out of here and make a huge show of giving you special treatment. And someone is bound to see it, especially in this neighborhood. And Bard will kill you because of it.”

  “You can’t do that,” he spat.

  “Sure, we can,” one of the agents said, stepping into the room. “We wouldn’t want to risk violating any of your rights, so we’ll make sure to take mighty fine care of you. Your friends in the other room are going to get suspicious the longer we keep you here. And we’ll make it look real good. Trust us, we do this for a living.”

  The gang member started to fidget, cursing under his breath. He shifted his gaze, putting on an indifferent façade. “Whatever. No one will ever believe I was a snitch. I’m no snitch.”

  “Fine, take your chances.” I watched the way his eyes followed me around the room, like there was something I wasn’t supposed to find. “Then again, I’m guessing with the security measures Shakespeare utilizes, there’s probably a hidden cache of drugs or stockpiled weapons on the premises. Hell, he might even have an escape route.”

  The gang member snorted, a grin erupting on his face. “You’re about to find out.”

  Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire sprayed the room, and the other agent dove on me, knocking us flat on the ground, as bullets ripped through the air where I’d been standing seconds earlier. A wet, sucking scream filled the room, and the already dim lighting went completely out. A door creaked, and a group of men rushed out of a hidden alcove. Instantly, I was up and moving after them, my gun in front of me.

  Bard, Steele, and two others were on the move. They cleared the front door before I made it past the foyer. Radioing for assistance, back-up was on the way, and if they were close enoug
h, they might be in a position to stop the escaping men.

  Focusing on Bard, I saw him slide behind the wheel of a parked car while the other three continued on foot. It was diversion tactics 101, but I wouldn’t settle with taking down his second-in-command. The men on foot split again, and I aimed and fired at the car, taking out the back window and two tires. Bard was barely out of the parking space when the rims squealed against the asphalt and flashing lights blocked his intended path.

  Left with no choice, he launched himself out the passenger’s side door and took off down an alley. I pursued on foot, hearing the radio buzz in my ear that we were in pursuit of a suspect. One of the agents was trailing behind, but I had a greater head start and was on Bard within thirty feet. I grabbed the hood of his jacket, and the tug caused him to slide on the accumulated slush. His momentum propelled him forward as his feet tangled up, and we tumbled together in a heap. He reached for his gun, and I wrestled his arm upward before he could fire. He knocked his forearm and elbow into the side of my face, but I refused to loosen my grip as we twisted on the ground.

  Finally, I gained enough leverage to stand, performing a perfect arm bar to incapacitate him while the other agent cuffed him and hauled him back to the government vehicles. I remained silent, fearing Bard would recognize my voice. Hopefully, the tactical gear and ski mask disguised my true identity from the leader of the KXDs.

  Thirty-seven

  “We’ve had a very productive day,” Jablonsky said as I swiveled in my chair, working out the nervous energy and nausea that always followed the adrenaline rush. “A couple of our agents had to get a few stitches, but there were no serious injuries reported on our end. We’ve confiscated sixty kilos worth of narcotics and discovered a cache of illegal firearms. It’s been one hell of a payday, folks.”

  “I didn’t realize you were planning to open your own drug running business,” I remarked, the words leaving my mouth without my brain considering their inappropriateness.