The hit had been thorough and after several hours of investigation, fifteen bodies were recovered from on or around the pier. Three additional bodies had been dredged out of the bay. Many of the victim’s remains showed fewer than two bullet wounds, and two of the cadavers had their brains splattered by what was most likely a sniper rifle.
“This was a planned assault and ambush. Body armor or not, these men never stood a chance.” Bulletproof placed a laser-emitting device on the ground and adjusted its trajectory to match the suspected flight plan of the headshot that had dropped the body laying before him. “There were two well-concealed sniper nests. One there, the other one there.” He swung the laser beam and allowed it to land on the two sights while instructing Shockwave and Claymore to inspect the areas for any other clues as to the identities of the shooters. “They planned for every possible scenario. Including their enemy's possible escape plan.” He then pointed to a dead body slumped over the steering wheel of the speedboat still fastened to the lower pier.
A few minutes later, Shockwave returned with several spent bullet casings in his hands. “I found several more of those distinct bullet casings up there. Each has the engraving HH on it.”
“HH? I’ll eat my flack vest if that doesn’t stand for the Headhunters. Are they really that arrogant?” Mayday inquired.
“You’ve seen the footage pulled by Bombstrike. Do you need any other affirmation? The Headman is a pompous and arrogant individual. He would want everyone to know that his organization had taken out the Vargus Syndicate. He’s sending them all a clear message.”
“What’s that? That he’s a fashion disaster?” Muskrat’s joke elicited a slight chuckle from those in attendance, but little more.
“Be that as it may. He clearly isn’t hiding this hit and truth be told, if this is his level of accuracy, then he’s more dangerous than ever.” The Major’s solemn response was supported by sheer body count alone.
“Bulletproof, I found some more of those DHM bullet casings behind these crates.” The team went over to investigate “This appears to be the escape route used by the Headman and Gristle. The trail of spent casings continues off to the left and then back into the center of the road. Tire marks match that of a Lincoln Navigator with twenty-two-inch tires. Luxurious, but still able to blend in easily with the neighborhood. The other vehicle as you can see, a top-of-the-line Cadillac Escalade, never left the meeting zone.” Cutter’s assessment made sense.
“If you ask me, it looks more like swiss cheese.”
“Again with the jokes Muskrat? Did anyone find any identification on any of these other goons?”
“What can I say, Major? It’s just who I am.”
“Anyone else?”
“Negative Major. The last guy didn’t even have fingerprints.” Longarm’s response unnerved the veteran soldier.
“Well, we know that these two unfortunate souls are Manual Vargus and his little brother, Victor. These guys have been on the DEA’s radar for nearly a decade, but we have no record of the rest of these guys.”
“They’re probably just hired muscle. Come on Bulletproof, it’s not all bad. Maybe the Headhunters did us all a favor by taking these guys out.”
“I’d like to agree with you, Muskrat, but this isn’t good. With the Vargus Syndicate out of the picture, the stage is now set for a turf war involving rival drug factions for control of their area. We also don’t know who, if anyone from the Vargus Syndicate, survived this bloodbath. Any survivors will most likely regroup and seek revenge.
I would wager that the Headman is far from done here and will be making another play for dominance over the region if he isn’t already orchestrating another hit as we speak. Bombstrike, where are we with the satellite tracking?”
The attractive blonde-haired, forward observer looked up briefly from her computer screen to address the Major’s question. “Give me another couple of minutes to splice all of this together for you, sir.” She went back to clicking away on her keyboard. “Laserbeams! I got it! Take a look at this. By triangulating the signal of the twelve tactical and government satellites in the area, and downloading their content which I ran through using a face and vehicle-recognition algorithm.”
“Layman's terms Bombstrike, please.”
“Alright, alright. I forgot that you guys don’t speak my lingo. I was able to piece together a time-lapse video of the Lincoln Navigator’s route after it left the gunfight.”
“Well, let’s see it. Where did our suspects end up?”
“The last piece of footage I was able to retrieve put the vehicle heading east on Route 80, crossing the GWB and heading into Connecticut. But, that wasn’t before they made a pit stop about eight blocks from here.”
“Excellent work, Bombstrike! Do you have a twenty?”
“No, but what I do have is a satellite image of the building they entered and when they came back out.” The technical prowess of the computer hacker had given the team a clear view of the last place the Headman and his cronies had been. “Upon cross-referencing the image with real estate information and known databases of property sales, I was able to determine that the building landlord was none other than our dearly-departed dastardly drug demon, Manual Vargas. I love alliteration!”
Many in close proximity to the final comment rolled their eyes.
“The address please?”
“Oh yeah, 248 Port Street.”
“Well, that means one of two things.” Bulletproof’s glance was enough to refocus the team and was stern in his delivery.
“Yeah, that’s either the location of our next crime scene or where we’ll find Headman’s newest allies.” I was quick in my assessment of the situation and the other members of the D.E.F. nodded in agreement.
“We’ll need to get a tactical team over to that address pronto. If there’s anyone there that’s still alive, they might be able to help us piece together the next steps in the Headhunter’s plan.
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