Chapter 22
The Mechanic had made great strides at renovating and reconditioning the outdated facility. In a matter of only two weeks, he and his team of assigned technicians had installed six heavy duty automobile lifts, a new conveyor belt drive, a maintenance elevator, and two isolation labs. Various light fixtures and the electrical panel were updated to code. The entire lower level had been converted into a bomb shelter lined with lead panels and a panic room door.
The Headman’s overseer office was outfitted with the necessary wiring and routers to serve as the central hub for the warehouse’s wifi, security cameras, and computer servers. The Mechanic had installed a blind wall on the southern wall that would obscure the Headman’s actual office from view. This room would also be equipped with a perimeter alarm and a hidden door for private entry and exits.
Other Headhunter recruits were busy on the exterior of the building hanging advertising signs, updating lighting and applying fresh paint to various surfaces. The building had undergone a major transformation and was beginning to take on the appearance of a legitimate shipping corporation. The project was moving along ahead of schedule and it would only be another week before products could be both synthesized and shipped from the site. The rear overhead garage door opened to allow a box truck to enter. The driver backed into one of the service bays and two additional delivery men emerged from the back of the truck wielding hand trucks.
“Excuse me, but where would you like us to unload the petroleum products? We’ve got thirty cases of heavy weight motor oil.”
The mechanic waved at the worker and then sent a headhunter named Ramirez to see to the situation. At about the same time, a tractor-trailer hauling a steam shovel and two large oil tanks pulled up in the back lot.
“Excellent, the gas pump and tank installation team is here.” He rubbed his hands together happily and walked out the exit door.
“Hi! Are you the guy we see about burying these fuel tanks?”
“That would be me. Will you also be laying the concrete and installing the pumps? I had specifically requested a team that could do it all.” The driver reached down and produced a written work order outlining the extent of their job participation.
“This document gives the details of our involvement. It also provides you with a tentative timeline. We will be doing the digging. In about an hour our electricians and plumbers will be working together to outfit the tanks for fuel dispersal. Afterward, a team of masons will be sealing the pad so that tomorrow our installation technicians can install the pumps and overhang. A fuel truck is scheduled for a 1500 hour delivery tomorrow. It says here that you require diesel and a 93 octane gasoline. Does all that meet your approval?”
The Mechanic took the form from the driver and scanned over the details and then focused on the name of the fuel company.
“I don’t recognize this fuel supplier. Are they new?”
“Who is this Hiss Oil? Look, buddy, the job went out to bid and they came in with the best price and reputation. They’ve been distributing petrol to the midwest and southern states for over a decade now.” The driver looked at his wristwatch and reached for a pen to hand to the burly man dressed in an automotive jumpsuit.
“Look I don’t mean any disrespect, but can I get a signature so we can start digging? We’re on a strict time frame.” The Mechanic took the pen and signed at the bottom of the last page then handed the contract back to the driver.
“Alright, there’s an area marked with hazard cones on the southern side of the building where the gas tanks are slated for installation. I’ll be by around 1600 hours to check on your progress.” The driver smiled and put the truck back in gear.
“Don’t worry our part will be done by then and the second team will be here.” He waved and drove off towards the southern side. The Mechanic watched as the tractor-trailer parked and the passenger exited the cab to unchain the steam shovel. A dump truck and a backhoe drove around the back of the complex a few moments later and parked near the dig site. Each vehicle team was quick to get to work excavating the area. The hired technician walked back into the warehouse in order to oversee and direct the activities taking place inside. Mr. Skee would be pleased and if things continued to progress at this pace, he would be deserving of a bonus.
As Charles exited Bacro industries he was visibly frazzled. On the way down the elevator, he had already sent off two private messages instructing Gristle to meet him in the parking garage with a unit of Headhunter Stormtroopers. An ice cream truck with the “Yummy Bunny” logo was parked in the lot awaiting his arrival as he exited the double glass doors. His second in command was standing just outside and escorted him to the back of the ice cream truck. After he opened the latched door, both men entered the rear of the vehicle where six heavily armored soldiers dressed in black and gold with bug-like helmets brandished IWI Tavors. The men immediately rose in order to salute their commanding officers.
“Sit down, sit down!”
The troopers immediately sat down holding their assault rifles firmly across their knees.
“We have an issue that needs to be taken care of immediately. We need to pay the Weasel a visit a little earlier than planned and I want answers.”
The tone of his voice indicated that he meant business.
“Get me that little bottom-feeding scumbag on the horn now!”
Danimal took out his phone and dialed the contact’s number on speaker. the line trilled once, twice and a third time before the man answered.
“Yeah, what is it? I’m kind of busy.”
The voice was gruff and hinted at being mildly annoyed.
“Hello, Rodney.” The cartel leader’s demeanor had steadied and calmed by this time and no longer indicated his underlying rage.
“It’s the Headman.”
The voice on the other end immediately softened its tone.
“Oh, um..I’m sorry, boss. To what do I owe the pleasure? I mean.. aren’t we supposed to be meeting up later on today?”
“Plans have changed. We need to move things up. I need to see you now. You’ll need to stop what you’re doing and meet me at the location.”
“But boss, I’ve got other clients waiting. I...I can’t just blow them off.”
“Have someone else handle it. I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t make me wait.” He ended the phone call and looked over at his constituents. “He either answers all my questions, or we take him out today!”
“Boss is there something else going on mon? I know the Weasel is a character, but he’s not that much of a threat.”
The well-dressed man turned abruptly and pulled out his gold-plated gun aiming it directly at his second-in-command’s face.
“Do you dare question my actions? Jimmy the Leech is dead! I heard the whole thing go down over the phone. It ended with some unknown player calling me out to the docks for a talk. I don’t find this to be a coincidence as it comes on the heels of your previous argument with the Dreadnok pirate! Learn to shut your mouth and take orders!”
Gristle immediately threw up his hands in surrender and made no move to retaliate. The stormtroopers in attendance made no move to assist.
“I...I’m sorry, boss. I wasn’t aware of the situation. I came as soon as you requested. Please. Haven’t I always been a loyal supporter? I’ll take care of this.”
“No. No, you won’t. You’ve done enough already.”
“But boss...” With the gun still inches from his face, the Headman glared at him while speaking through clenched teeth.
“I’ll take care of it. You’ll make sure the mess doesn’t get any bigger. Am I understood?”
Gristle offered up no further resistance.
“Yes, boss.”
“Alright, let’s go pay the Weasel a little visit. Gristle you’re driving me. Epsilon, take off your helmet and trail us in another vehicle to the site. Once we get there, put on your private comm links. If I say the word ‘blindspot’ that’s your cue to move in and remove the threat. Any questions?”
The squadron and Gristle all answered in unison.
“No Headman, for your reign is supreme!”
There was no conversation between the two drug dealers on the way over to the meeting. Charles had entered into a meditative trance clearly going over multiple scenarios in his head prior to meeting with the slippery asset. He wanted answers and wasn’t afraid to use excessive force get them, but if the altercation could be avoided and the asset spared, that scenario was acceptable as well. Gristle announced their arrival then put the car in park and opened the rear door for his boss.
The Headman scanned the area for any signs of deception. Two cars were parked outside of the tiny rustic bar. Each vehicle showed telltale signs that their owners were in the street business being adorned with a few inconspicuous window decals or bumper stickers that only other gang members or rivals would notice.
“How I despise those foreign imports and their lowered suspensions. What a waste of a car!”
Gristle did little more than nod as continued to scan the area for any signs of deception. The two men walked into the bar to find their asset sitting comfortably at a side table. Five other thugs sat strategically around the room clearly packing heat, ready to spring into action should things go sideways. The alleged traitor stood up as he recognized the Headman entering the establishment.
“Hello Charles, so good to see you again.” The Headman smiled and motioned for the man to sit.
“Hello, Rodney. Or should I say, hello, Weasel?”
“Whoah, Whoah! No need to get derogatory. I assure you I have been nothing but loyal to your organization. In fact, I initially asked to meet with you to discuss a new client and a possible increase to my share of the take.”
“Don’t play coy with me. There’s been a situation and I need to know who’s behind it?”
The Headman pulled out a knife from his belt and stabbed it into the wood of the table before the man. The room remained calm although, he thought he heard the faint sound of a gun safety being switched off.
The Weasel shifted uncomfortably but made no move to attack instead he placed his hands up above the table in full view of his visitor.
“I assure you, I know nothing about any incidents and wouldn’t dare make a move against you, boss. I honestly only want my fair share of the profit.”
Charles narrowed his eyes and relaxed his posture as he took a seat in front of the man. Gristle remained standing off to his boss’ right, but more than ready to draw his weapon if needed.
The Headman after sitting started over.
“There has been a situation in Jersey and at least one of my informants is dead. Are you assuring me that you, and no one at your disposal, have any information on this?”
The Weasel shook his head in response, but another voice answered from the side of the room.
“And what if he did? What are you really going to do about it, huh?”
The Headman and everyone else in the room turned to regard the speaker.
“I don’t even know that guy. I swear. He was sitting here when we arrived having a drink.”
The Headman leaned in across the table and through gritted teeth made an accusation.
“And neither you nor your men thought to clear the room when you got here?”
The Weasel could do little more than shrug.
“And who pray tell, do I have the privilege of addressing?” He turned back to the man across the table. “Our meeting is adjourned. You and your boys can leave. Shows over.”
“No one is leaving! Every foot soldier in the room drew their gun and trained it on the stranger at the bar. The man didn’t make any move to draw a weapon and continued smoking his cigarette.
“I was sent here with a message for the lot of you. These streets belong to Vargus so you need to either join us or step aside. My boss grows tired of you and your so-called Headhunters thinking the drug business is theirs.”
His tone was even and confident.
The Headman had heard the name Vargus, but they were a South American cartel with few if any ties to the United States. He stood up and approached the seated man.
“Vargus, you say? Never heard of them. Let me ask you this friend. Was it your employer who took out Jimmy the Leech? Because if he did, we have a problem.”
“Like I said before, what if we did?” The shadowy man now turned his steely gaze upon the well-dressed man. “Here’s the deal, I walk out of here unscathed, or you’re all dead.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, it is. Look up at the rafters. See the Christmas lights?”
The Headman looked upwards.
“Ever seen purple bulbs before? Those purple lights are a string of detonators. The room is wired to explode with enough force to kill everyone here and anyone parked outside in the parking lot. So, what shall I tell my employer?”
The Headman looked around the room one more time and contemplated his options before responding. He had planned for a gunfight, not a bomb, and if his adversary really wanted him dead, he would have done it already.
“Tell him, I look forward to our meeting tonight.” He tipped his hat at the man and walked casually towards the door. “Come on boys. Time to go.”
“I said no one is leaving!”
“Oh, dear boy. I’m not a no one and I am leaving. Cheerio chap.”
The Headman wanted to turn and put a bullet right in the arrogant man’s head but restrained himself as he didn’t know the nature of the bomb’s detonator. The other men in the room followed his lead calling the man’s bluff. As the last man exited the bar, there was a crackling and popping sound.
“Everyone get down!”
Everyone immediately hit the dirt as the building erupted in a giant fireball behind them. Gristle jumped and used his body to shield his boss as the shockwave knocked both men from their feet. A second explosion occurred about thirty seconds later indicating the building’s gas line had also ignited. One of the Weasel’s henchman lay very still to his left while a second man was screaming and rolling around frantically in order to put out the flames that had engulfed his clothes. Six heavily armored Stormtroopers appeared within moments in order to protect their fallen comrades. One grabbed the body of the fallen man on the ground quickly carrying him to the safety of the armored ice cream truck. Gristle quickly helped his boss up to his feet.
“Are you alright boss?”
The well-dressed man looked down at the dirt that now soiled his expensive designer suit, and pushed off the help of his second in command.
“Find out everything you can about this Vargus guy. This means war!”
No comments:
Post a Comment