Family Ch. 04

"I would agree with the assessment," I mused, "whoever is behind the attacks on my family is well aware of the military doctrine, they are even using Che Guevara's strict tactics. I would start my search in the nearest Barnes and Noble, Agent. Look for a bearded guy with tight jeans and an inability to change a tire."

"I would," Elvis laughed, "except for this one tiny detail. 'An attack on one is an attack on all,' you remember telling me that?" Before I could reply, Elvis continued, "see, whoever is attacking your family, by now would have received harsh punishment and retribution, same with the families that had sworn allegiance to yours so many years ago. Yet here you sit, quietly."

"Its hard to defend ourselves while we have the might of the federal government at our doorstep," I quipped.

"Do you have an umbrella?" Elvis asked, "so that I could cover myself from all the bullshit that is raining down on me. Or maybe I will need to get a new bullshit detector, because mine seems to have been broken. For the past months, you have faced us down without hesitation, without fear, and without reservations. Every time you thought we were getting closer, you simply threw a bone for us to chase, and for the sake of our friendship I chased it. But D, you're all out of bones. And I am tired of chasing."

"Yup," I replied, "and that is why we are here, today. My friend, I am afraid that you and I will be meeting in a battlefield, but maybe in opposite sides. I know who set this entire thing into motion, I know who has stolen money from my family, I know who tried to set my family to fall, and I know who put my brother in a position to be put behind bars." I sat up and looked into Elvis' eyes, "I am ready for retribution, for complete destruction of my enemies. There will be blood, a lot of it."

"It's like I told you," Elvis replied, "if you take the wrong side of the law, I will be there to stop you."

"You will try, my friend," I replied, coldness in my voice, "but I am afraid that you will fail. I am afraid that you will put yourself between me and my enemies, and I will go through you to get to them without hesitation."

"You have nothing to be afraid of, my friend," Elvis replied, the same coldness in his voice, "it is a certainty of where I will stand, in the side of the law. I will stand there against anyone, including you, and if you have to put me down or I have to put you down, then it is just another part of the life we both lead."

"Don't do this, Elvis," I implored, "I will put you down."

"You'll try," he replied as he stood, "and if the time comes, so will I."

...

"Capo Bastone," I said, "is everything ready?"

"Yes, boss," Francisco replied as he made sure that the last of his men was fully equipped. Each of them wore a black suit, complimented with a black bulletproof vest that covered their chest, along with arm and leg extenders. A bullet proof helmet with night vision goggles and an assortment of semi-automatic weapons along with reliable side arms completed the outfit.

"Remember the layout," I replied, "if anything is wrong, I will give you a call. Unless you hear from me, the operation is to begin precisely on the arranged time. Be careful, brother, you have a good woman waiting for you to return to her."

"Thank you," he replied, "and thank you for calling me brother. I know that you have treated me as such for as long as I have known you, but this is the first time that you have said it, and I want you to know that I appreciate it." We shook hands, "make sure you take care of yourself, I think your end of this little operation is the more dangerous part of it all. If you have misread Elvis, our entire plan will fall apart at the seams."

"We'll be fine," I replied, "bring back all my boys."

...

"I can't believe he is so fucking cocky that he would try to do this," Agent Presley said as he grabbed his bulletproof vest. "This is not the meticulous planning that I had expected from him."

"Maybe his past wins have gotten to his head," Agent Davis said as he adjusted his own equipment, "absolute power corrupts absolute."

"Make sure that the men know that they are not to fire unless placed in a threatening position," Presley replied, "we don't want to give their attorney any maneuvering room by going off script. I want this to go by the books."

"That shouldn't be a problem with us," Davis said, Presley knew what he meant with that statement. It was not a secret how close he and D had been, but Davis was unaware of the declaration of war that they had given each other.

"No problem on my end" Elvis replied as he pulled the charging handle of the M4. "Move out."

As their unmarked vehicles moved into place, Presley felt the excitement of the battlefield begin to take him. This was a feeling that he had grown addicted to, he knew it in his heart. Facing D, the legendary bearded demon of Fallujah, gave him a feeling in his stomach that reminded him of his first date. His lips were dry, and regardless of the times that he ran his tongue through his lips they remained dry. He was nervous. Anxious. Good feelings for a man that wanted to stay alive.

"You doing alright?" Agent Davis interrupted Presley's internal monologue.

"Fine," Presley replied, "is everyone in place?"

"Yup," he replied, "we are just waiting for the signal."

"As soon as I give it," Presley replied, "we have to move fast." No sooner had he said those words that he saw the vehicles moving into place. He quietly saw D as he walked back and forth talking to his men, he had always done this right before a raid. Presley saw the men that were around D exposed their weapons in order to make sure that they were fully loaded.

"It looks like they are getting ready," Davis said, "should we move in now?"

"No," Presley said, "we have to wait for them to move into the property. Until then, make sure that the boys are standing by." D continued to look at every man, Presley knew what he was doing. D had always done the same routine before a move. He would give a pep talk to the men, make sure that each of them were properly equipped, and assure them that their plan was the best possible one. He would always lead them into the raid himself, that was exactly what Elvis was waiting for before he would send his men in.

"It looks like this is gonna happen soon," Davis said. Just then, D gave his men the signal and they moved in unison toward the property.

"Go, go, go!" Presley replied as his own crew emerged from the vehicles. As the federal agents moved into the property, following the same path that D's men had taken, Presley was focused on finding D. If he could get to him first he could try to take him in without killing him. Davis followed close behind, he was giving instructions to the rest of the men as Presley lead the way into the large house. As they walked down the hallway, Presley could see bodies laid about the halls, D had done a great job training his men.

"One, move to the left, two stay with us," Davis directed his men, "go."

"Clear!" Voices repeated from behind them as they continued to move deeper and deeper into the house, the perspiration began to fog Presley's goggles. His breathing was steady, his hands were firmly grasping the weapon, his heartbeats were steady as they reached the main door. Quickly, two men moved with the battering ram while the rest of the squad stacked against the wall. Holding up three fingers, Presley gestured to the men, he lowered one finger as the men pulled the battering ram as far back as they could. He dropped one more finger as the battering ran was moved forward, he pumped his fist just as the battering ram collided with the door.

"FEDERAL AGENTS!" Voices rang out in the room, "ON THE FLOOR!" The same voices added. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!" The voices added as the trained squad moved into the room, each weapon pointed at a man inside the room. Presley saw that D and another man sat in a large sofa, each with a drink in their hands.

"I said on the ground," Presley said as he pointed his weapon at D, he reached out and grabbed him by the shirt before throwing him down. Davis had done the same to the man that had been sitting with D on the couch. "Secure the weapons!"

"Weapons?" D asked aloud, a laugh barely contained.

"Shut the fuck up," Presley replied, "you fucked up, D. I told you not to cross to the other side, but you just couldn't help yourself, could you? You dumb son of a bitch."

"CLEAR!" Voices rang around the room as more than a dozen men lay on the ground, hands behind their heads.

"Shit," Davis said as he looked at D.

"What?!" Presley was now more than annoyed at the situation, his friend had crossed the line, he had used his training and joined the criminal element. Presley felt betrayed until he saw the same thing that Davis had been looking at.

"Is that a fucking paintball gun?!"

"What the fuck is going on here, Agent Presley?" D asked, a smirk etched in his face.

"You just lead a group of mercenaries in a raid against this private home," Davis began, "each of you was highly armed and equipped for a siege." As Davis reached to grab the vest that one of the men was wearing did he realize the type of vest that it was. It was no more than a simple plastic vest designed to prevent bruising when receiving a shot from a well-aimed paintball. "Oh, fuck," he added.

"Wanna tell me what you are doing here, D?" Presley asked as he picked him up. Quietly he led the man outside the house, "just what the fuck was this all about?"

"War games, Agent Presley," D replied, "we each take turns doing this type of thing. It is all in fun, and well organized. If you would reach my attorney, he will let you know that the legal paperwork allowing us to enter the premises has been signed off by both myself and Mr. Salvato."

"I could have fucking killed you," Presley replied, using his knife to cut the zip ties that had been used to bind D's hands behind his back. "You play a dangerous game."

"Nah," D smiled, "I knew that.." he could not finish the statement as a bullet tore through him. Without much movement, he collapsed onto the ground, a crimson ribbon followed his path toward the ground. The smirk on his face had been replaced by a blank expression as he fell forward.

"SNIPER!!" Presley screamed as he threw himself on top of his friend's body. D was coughing blood as he tried to move himself to his side, Presley helped him to reach a position of comfort. "Davis, get counter sniper teams here, NOW!" Without thinking, he moved to his friend and began to rip open the clothing in order to expose the wound, he reached into his load bearing vest and removed a field dressing.

"Elvis," D began to speak in interrupted gasps, "reach out to Francisco." His bloody cough interrupted him, "tell him: they finally show themselves." Presley held on to his friend as the latter slipped into unconsciousness, blood covered his entire upper body.

Without realizing it, Presley screamed at the top of his lungs, the anguish of a man clearly defined with each syllable that departed his mouth. Without realizing it, tears rolled from his eyes as he screamed in a voice loud enough to wake the dead: "MEDIC!!"