Termination Order: A Team Reaper Thriller Page 4

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Good. Go and see what you can find out.”

  The Sunshine Club

  When they walked inside the club, Kane was well conscious of the M17 tucked into the back of his jeans. Before the security guard at the front door could check him, Kane flashed the Worldwide Drug Initiative identification in front of his face.

  “We’re here to see Tom,” he’d told him.

  “What about?”

  “That’s our business.”

  The big man had stepped aside, and the three of them entered. Loud music assailed their ears, and the normal crush of dancers on the floor was non-existent. The track that was playing finished and it was followed by the booming of the DJ’s voice which seemed overly extreme considering the current state of the room.

  Even though the crowd was thin, a stale sweat stench still hung heavily in the air.

  “It’s kind of quiet in here,” Cara said, wrinkling her nose. “Not like I expected.”

  They reached the bar, and a girl in a singlet top and jeans approached them. “Can I help you?”

  “We’re looking for Tom,” Kane told her.

  “Who are you?”

  Kane showed his credentials. She nodded and said, “I’ll get him.”

  A few minutes later Tom appeared. He took one look at Axe and said, “You’re him. Remy’s brother?”

  Axe nodded. “I am.”

  “I only saw pictures of you.”

  “I knew nothing of you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “We want to see CCTV footage of the night Remy died,” Kane said.

  “I’m not sure I can …”

  Kane showed him his credentials and said, “Now.”

  Tom took them out back to a small office where everything was set up. Cara said, “Quiet night out there?”

  “Someone dying in a club will do that,” he said bluntly.

  Tom found the CCTV footage, and they watched it in silence. They saw Dominik come into shot near the bar and then keep walking toward the door. “That’s the guy who bought the drinks, there.”

  They then saw people start to move toward where Remy and the others were. Tom paused it. “You don’t want to watch it from here.”

  Kane said, “Rewind it.”

  Tom did and then hit play. They got to the bit where Dominik bought the drinks. He’d been served by Tom. The four of them watched it further and saw him pick up the tray and walk away from the bar. Cara frowned. “I didn’t see him put anything in any of the drinks. He blocked the view of the camera.”

  “Is there another angle?” Kane asked.

  Tom hit keys on the keyboard, and the view changed. They could see him more clearly now. They watched on, the beers arrived, and Dominik went to pick up the tray. As he did so, he waved his hand over the top of it and then grabbed it with both hands.

  “He’s good,” Kane said. “I’d say he’s done this more than once.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Axe rumbled.

  They watched on further to where he arrived at the table again. He held out the tray and let the girls take their own drinks. “Son of a bitch,” Cara said in disbelief. “Remy wasn’t his target. They all were. It was like Russian roulette. Remy just happened to be the unlucky one who grabbed the wrong beer.”

  “But why?” Tom asked.

  “MDMA can be used as a date-rape drug. Unlike Rohypnol, MDMA stimulates the victim and overcomes all the inhibitions that they would normally have. Unfortunately, it looks like Remy chose the wrong drink and had a bad reaction to it.”

  Kane said, “Bring up the camera at the door. I want to see if he came in alone.”

  Tom’s fingers punched at the keys again, and a vision of the outside came up in a panoramic view. People came and went in a constant stream, all checked by security. Then Dominik appeared, flanked by two men. They walked past the line and up to the security guard. Had a discussion and the big guy stepped aside to let them in.

  Just as they were about to enter, three more men appeared. Nothing like the others. These guys had gang literally tattooed all over them.

  “Who are they?” Axe asked.

  Tom frowned. “Gangbangers. Hang on.” He worked the keyboard, and the picture zoomed in. He focused on the tattoos and drew in a sharp breath. “They’re El Diablos.”

  “Who the fuck are they?” Axe snapped.

  “They’re bad. They’re really bad. They do everything from drug trafficking to extortion and murder.”

  They watched on as words were traded between the two groups and then Dominik walked away from the head of the line with them. The security guard watched them go. One of the gangbangers noticed his gaze and said something to him. The security guard turned away.

  In the background, Kane saw things exchanged. Even though the picture was grainy, it wasn’t hard to tell that it was a drug deal. Once done, they all shook hands and went their separate ways.

  “They seem awfully friendly,” Cara said. “Especially if these guys are meant to be so tough and all.”

  “They are, believe me,” Tom assured them.

  “So that’s where the son of a bitch got the Ecstasy from,” Axe growled.

  “It still doesn’t tell us who he is,” Kane said. “Can you give us a copy of that please, Tom?”

  Tom nodded.

  Reaper turned to the others. “If we give this to Slick, he might be able to come up with something.”

  “What about that El Diablo fucker?” Axe asked.

  “Slick should be able to get us a name.”

  “Why don’t we just go and rattle his fucking cage?” Axe growled.

  Tom snorted with sarcasm, drawing the built-up wrath of Axe. He took a couple of steps toward the barman and began to drag him from his chair. “You got something to say, motherfucker? Huh? Come on, spill. Then I’ll ram your teeth down your fucking throat.”

  Kane grabbed his friend and pulled him away. “Easy, big feller. You weren’t the only one who lost something here. He did too, remember? Just cool it.”

  Axe whirled and hissed, “Fuck you! She was my sister. She was all the family I had left.”

  Reaper grabbed him by the shoulders. “We’re your family too, Axe. You’ve still got us, buddy.”

  “Shit,” Axe said and looked at Tom. “Sorry, man.”

  For the first time, Tom’s face showed some emotion, but it quickly disappeared when he said, “You can’t just go in and confront these guys. It’s like signing your own death warrant.”

  Kane nodded. “First we’ll see what Slick has to say. Then we’ll go rattle his cage.”

  Chapter 4

  West Coast Motel

  East Los Angeles

  According to Slick, the El Diablos were a clique of the 18th Street Gang. A more brutal, bloody, violent clique of an already brutal gang. The 18th Street gang started near 18th Street and Union Avenue in the Rampart District of Los Angeles. Originally, they had been part of the Clanton 14 gang. Some of the gang members wanted to form a new part of the gang called Clanton 18 and allow immigrants to join. But the idea was rejected, so they split anyway and became the 18th Street Gang. Thus, condemning both gangs to a bitter rivalry.

  It was said that the 18th Street Gang had up to sixty thousand members across the US. The El Diablos were killers. To get in, there was only one way. You had to kill a member of a rival gang. To get out, you had to be dead. There was no other way.

  “You’d do well to stay away from these guys, Reaper,” he said.

  Thurston could see in his eyes that the warning had fallen on deaf ears. Instead, Kane said, “Tell me about the guys in the picture.”

  A small pointer fell on the picture on the laptop screen. Swift said, “I have no idea who the young Don Johnson here is. I’ve tried, but I can’t get a fix on him anywhere. I even tried the name Dominik and came up empty. My guess is he lied about his name.”

  “Christ,” Kane heard Thurston swear. He looked
at Axe whose face remained passive.

  “What about the gangbangers?”

  “I told you to leave it be, Reaper. They’re bad.”

  “Spill, Slick.”

  A picture of a young Hispanic man came up on the computer screen. He was armed with two MAC-11s and had tattoos on his arms. His smile was highlighted by a gold tooth. Swift’s voice said, “This is El Martillo. The Hammer. He’s the El Diablos’ shot-caller.”

  “Their what?” Axe asked.

  “Shot-caller. Their boss. That’s what they call them.”

  “Uh huh. Where do we find him?” asked Axe.

  “They have a house in a South L.A. neighborhood. Cops stay away from it unless they have to go in there. And even then, they take S.W.A.T. with them.”

  “Can you get us an address?” Kane asked.

  “You can’t seriously be considering going in there?” Swift said.

  Kane said, “Not considering, going. Get us that address.”

  Thurston said, “I’ll make a call and see if I can get you all some gear. Something more than your M17s.”

  “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

  “Get some rest. You’ll go tonight. Once Slick gets us an address, I’ll see if we can pull an aerial view of it. Just understand this,” her expression grew grim. “Once you go in there, you’re on your own. There’s no air support, no QRF, nothing. Unless I can find some comms gear, you won’t even have that. Copy?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cara said, “General, could you see if you can get me some kind of weapon I can use for overwatch? I’m going to be more useful that way. If things go south, I can send a few lightning bolts their way.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, though I can’t promise anything. Now, get the hell out of here so I can make some calls.”

  They all went back to their rooms. Kane was only in his for five minutes when there was a soft knock at the door. He opened it, and Cara was standing there. She said, “You got a minute?”

  “Sure, come on in.”

  She entered and instantly screwed up her nose. “Yours smells just as bad as mine.”

  Kane chuckled. “Like someone shit in here?”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  She sat on his bed and crossed her legs. There was a look of concern on her face. Kane asked, “What is it?”

  “I’m worried about Axe,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Come on, Reaper. You know why. He’s just lost his sister, and now we’re going into a damned hot zone where we’ll all need clear heads.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Kane said dismissively.

  Cara didn’t like it. “Don’t do that, Reaper. ‘He’ll be fine’ won’t fucking cut it.”

  “What do you want me to do, Cara? Bench him?”

  She shook her head. “No. But you need to find out where his head is at. Talk to him. And if he’s not squared away, then bench him.”

  Kane nodded. “All right. I’ll talk to him.”

  “And if he ain’t right?”

  “I’ll bench him.”

  Cara nodded. “Good enough.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s about it.”

  “Then, as the boss said, get some rest.”

  Cara paused.

  “There is something else, isn’t there?”

  Cara sighed. She studied his face which still bore signs of their previous mission. “Do you want to talk about the last op? You’ve not said anything about it since we finished.”

  “No. Nothing to say.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “They just about killed you, Reaper. The CIA burned you. Aren’t you just a little bit pissed?”

  “Nothing I can do about it. Just concentrate on the here and now.”

  Nodding, Cara said, “All right then. I’ll see you after.”

  She started toward the door.

  “Cara?”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “Thanks for caring.”

  “Someone has to or all you big macho shitheads would have endless psychological issues.” She smiled. “Oops! Too late.”

  “Get out of here.”

  Late that afternoon when they all met in Thurston’s room, all the equipment she could gather was there waiting on her bed. Off the top were two MP5SDs complete with their integrated silencers.

  The MP5s came with four spare fully-loaded, thirty-round magazines, and the fire selector on the side of them could be set to either safe, semi-automatic, burst, or full auto. They also had the reputation of being one of the most accurate weapons of their type.

  Cara’s wish had been answered too. Beside the MP5s was a new M110A1 as it was known in the U.S. military. The weapon itself had started to be rolled out after testing in 2017. It was made by Heckler and Koch as a variant of the G28 and HK417 combined. It was the nominated replacement for the M110 SASS and came with a mounted scope, bipod, and a suppressor. Well, as suppressed as it could be.

  Beside it lay two twenty-round box magazines, fully-loaded. The A1 only had two firing modes; safe and semi-auto. Forty rounds were all that Cara would require.

  Further along the bed were three tactical vests and comm sets. Kane nodded. “The boss has done well.”

  “It’s all I could manage on short notice,” Thurston said by way of apology.

  Cara picked up the A1. “This is sweet, ma’am. I like this. Any chance …?”

  “It’s going back when we’ve finished,” Thurston said. “There’s no NVGs.”

  “I think we’ll manage,” Kane said. “Axe?”

  “Yeah. We’ll kick some ass with these.”

  Thurston’s expression hardened. Her gaze focused on the big ex-recon marine. “You’re not there to kick ass, Axe. You’re there to get answers. If I have any inkling to the contrary, I’ll bench you and go myself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She sighed and directed them to the small table. On it was a picture of the area where they would be inserting. One of the buildings had a circle around it. “OK. This is where our boy hides out. An old furniture factory. This whole block is slated for redevelopment. Except once the El Diablos moved in, all progress went on hold.”

  Kane studied the picture in silence for two full minutes. Beside him, Cara did the same. After he was done, he glanced up at her. “What do you think?”

  She stabbed a finger at the building across the street. It seemed to have a flat rooftop accessible from the street via an external stairway. “I can set up there.”

  He nodded and used his own finger as a pointer. “We’ll leave our transport in the alley on the blindside of the building and walk in on foot. Once we reach the front, we’ll have to cross the street fast. Cara, you hit the streetlights before we go.”

  “Copy.”

  “Every one of the assholes is going to be carrying,” Axe said. “More than likely we’ll have to put one or more of them down before we even get inside.”

  “If we have to,” Kane agreed. “Cara, if shit goes south, you need to keep an exfil route open for us.”

  “All right, Reaper.”

  “Listen, you three,” Thurston interrupted. “Just because you make it back to your vehicle doesn’t mean you’re home free. The El Diablos control a whole lot of territory around there. Say around ten blocks in either direction. And they’ll be heavily armed. If you get in the shit, I can’t help you. The cops won’t go in there after dark.”

  Kane stared her in the eye. “We’ve got this, ma’am.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  Chapter 5

  El Diablo Territory

  Los Angeles

  “Reaper One, comms check. Over.”

  “Copy, Reaper One,” Thurston replied, hating the fact that she was more or less flying blind.

  “Reaper Team about to move to the target, Bravo. Will remain on VOX. Out.”

  VOX was short for Voice Operated Exchange. It worked when it picked up a sound instead
of the users having to push the usual transmit button. Which meant that every time one of the team spoke, Thurston would hear it. It wasn’t the same as having a drone or satellite overhead, but at least she had ears on.

  Kane adjusted his tactical vest and made sure his M17 was secure. He checked the magazine on the MP5 and made sure there was a 9mm round in the breach. He turned and saw Cara slapping home the box magazine on the A1 and closing the ejector which in turn loaded a 7.62 bullet into it ready to fire.

  The alley where they were parked was dark, whereas, at both ends, orange street lights cast their dull glow. To get the SUV to where it was stopped, they had to weave through mounds of rubbish. As they’d driven along it, a dog had bolted in front of the vehicle, disturbed from where it had its nose buried in a rotting pile. The main problem was, the end of the alley towards which the SUV was pointing was blocked by a wrecked car, which meant they would have to reverse out. Quite a feat if they were under fire.

  “You ready?” Kane asked them.

  “Yes,” Cara answered.

  “Axe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. Bravo. Reaper Team moving.”

  “Copy, Reaper One.”

  Kane brought the MP5 up and started along the alley toward the wrecked car. Cara behind him, while Axe brought up the rear. When they reached the vehicle, they could see that it had once been a Chevy. Now, however, all its windows were gone, the wheels too, every panel was dented, and the interior had been carved up and stripped.

  Reaper eased a glance around the corner and found the street empty. He moved as far as the stairs and waited for Cara. “This is your stop,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” she grunted and started up the narrow metal rungs.

  Once Cara had reached the top, she made her way to the front of the roof. Crouching down, she dropped the legs of the bipod, resting it on the ledge, and did a quick sweep of the immediate area.

  “Looks like they’ve got themselves a bit of a rave going on, Reaper,” Cara said into her mike. “I’ve got loud music, and five tangos out front. Three looked to be armed with Mac Elevens.”