The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (17 page)

Bruce’s mind was racing. “So, we’re going to learn how to use this energy? Anyone can do it?”

Keion nodded. “Tapping into the energy fields requires impressive focus as well as the harmony of mind, body, and soul. Every person is different, but theoretically, anyone has the potential to do it.” Peter appeared to be just as excited by this news as Bruce was. “However, so few achieve it due to the sheer dedication involved. People can train a lifetime and still not attain it. Martial arts attempts the union of these three elements of self and, thus, is a gateway to manipulating this energy.” Keion looked at the two boys. “You two are a long way from that level, but I will tell you this. When Chester introduced me to both of you, I sensed great potential. Natural ability plays a role in developing these skills. Natural ability and good old-fashioned hard work. I have faith that you two will make progress in leaps and bounds.”

Bruce exhaled deeply. He had never felt more certain about anything in his life. At this moment in time, this was where he was meant to be. Bruce knew the years to come would be instrumental in his growth, and he was going to make the most of it.
He was home
.

***

Scorcher was slouched in his leather chair, feeling thoroughly depressed from sheer boredom. He was at the Chital Co. Tower in Manhattan; he had his top floor office to himself at the moment. Hachiuma had taken the reigns of his operation, and as of late, Scorcher had nothing much to do but keep his chair warm. The unexpected beeping from his desk intercom jarred him alert. He hit the button:

“Yeah?”

“You know what time it is.”

Scorcher’s eye lit up. “Lomez, thank God... An end to the boredom!” Lomez’s Halloween party was in just a few days.

“Put on your booties and head on down. We’ll fly out to L.A. tonight. Need to tell your papa you’re gone for the rest of the week?”

Scorcher scoffed. “Hell no, papa’s busy being a colossal red-haired douche. Believe it or not, things have actually gotten worse since he started calling the shots. Let the whole empire collapse around him, for all I care—he’ll take the heat for it, not me.”

Lomez laughed. “You seem to be wound up pretty tight there, buddy. This weekend is
exactly
what you need.”

“No kidding. I’ll be in Pennsylvania in time for a pre-flight dinner. Cook up something gamey.”

***

Thursday, October 28th, 1999

Nearly three weeks had passed since Hachiuma arrived in New York. With the change of command, aggression from Scorcher’s outfit subsided to barely a whisper, and rivals in New York’s criminal underworld were quick to pick up on it. One by one, Scorcher’s expansions into Queens were being picked apart by Solly’s men.

The Seaberg Lounge in Queens
: owned and operated by associates of Jack Solly. Thursday evenings brought in a higher class of criminal. Oswalt Fletcher was seated at a table with Zerneck Wells, the Solly brothers, and a slew of women. They were celebrating several small victories that effectively crushed Scorcher’s opposition in Queens. The application of Oswalt’s police resources with the street intel and muscle from Solly’s side was proving itself a force to be reckoned with. Oswalt had already earned the respect of Solly’s men in a few short weeks.

“Cheers to the man of the hour!” Lucas Solly raised Oswalt’s good arm like the winning boxer after a fight.

“Here, here!” The table cheered and fired back tequila shots. Oswalt laughed and thanked everyone. He was feeling lightheaded. Mark Solly patted him on the back as everyone sat back down. Oswalt was decked out in brand new threads: a navy-blue wool-cashmere suit. He couldn’t dare dream of owning such lavish clothing before signing on with Solly. Just for saying yes, Solly had given him a sizable amount of spending money. It was funny, really... Despite being physically weakened at the moment, he had never felt more powerful in his life. Oswalt sipped on his drink.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

Oswalt looked over to the beautiful blonde woman who was seated beside him, touching his shoulder. Her finger ran down the length of his arm sling. She stared longingly at him with big blue eyes. “No, not really.” Oswalt inexplicably spaced out. He quickly took a big sip from his scotch glass. “Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Tiffany!”

Oswalt smirked foolishly. “Right...
Tiffany
.”

“How did it happen?”

Oswalt cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Happened on duty. A fight with a big...mean guy...”

Tiffany looked amazed. “Oh wow, were you scared?”

“Nah,” lied Oswalt, puffing out his chest. “The adrenaline just pushes the fear right out of you.”

Mark leaned in. “Don’t worry about him—you should see the other guy.”

“How’s the other guy?” Tiffany asked.

“He’s dead,” Oswalt stated casually. Tiffany’s mouth dropped open.

“He deserved it,” Lucas added. He took a bite from the gourmet roast beef sandwich in his hand. “He was a scumbag murderer that pulled a gun on Oswalt.”

“Oh...well then, good for you!” Tiffany replied cheerfully.

One of Solly’s associates walked over to their table. He whispered something to Lucas, who nodded in acknowledgement. “Oswalt—” Lucas dropped his sandwich onto his plate and signalled for them to get up. “Backroom. Something’s come up.”

Oswalt scratched at his temple. “Oh...yeah okay, let’s go.”

Mark smiled. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies.”

Zerneck raised a glass; his other arm was around his lady friend. “I’ll stay back here, if you don’t need me.” He was working a very stiff drink.

“Yeah, we can handle this,” Lucas replied. “You stay put.” Oswalt and the Solly brothers stood up.

“What’s this about, Lucas?” Oswalt asked.

“You’ll see.”

They walked through the lounge. It was mostly booths and tables, but there was a small dance floor with several couples dancing, as well as a few drunken stragglers. They entered the storeroom. The temperature inside was cool, and the walls were lined with shelves holding bottles of alcohol. Oswalt raised an eyebrow at the sight which was waiting for him. “What the hell is this?” Two of Solly’s men were in the storeroom with another figure, who was crumpled on the ground, with his arms tied behind his back. A walking cane was on the floor next to him. The man looked up; his face was bloodied. Oswalt stared. Despite his disfigurement, he recognized the man. “You were at Mr. Perkins’ apartment…with Rufus.”

The man sneered. “Yeah, and you’re the asshole cop that shot me in the leg. And I see you’re working with these lowlife Solly brothers. Getting your wheels greased, copper? How much are they paying you?”

“This is Ian Domner,” Lucas explained. “The boys found him at one of Scorcher’s chop shops they shut down this afternoon. After a round of ‘questioning’, they pieced together some of his story and they realized he’s one of the pricks that tried to kill Jeffrey Perkins.”

Oswalt’s eyes darted from Solly’s men to Domner as a stark realization sunk in. He turned to Lucas. “How much does he know? Why the hell did they want me to talk with him?”

Lucas smiled. “They thought you would like to see him, so they brought him to you gift-wrapped. He did take shots at you and your partner, after all.”

“But I can’t be seen by him with everyone here,” Oswalt whispered urgently. “Once he’s in custody, this could blow back on me!”

Solly’s grunt smiled grimly. “Don’t worry.
It won’t
.” He handed Oswalt a silenced gun. “You don’t want to be using your police issue for this.”

Ian looked apprehensively at the gun in Oswalt’s hand. Mark and Lucas watched Oswalt as he turned the weapon over in his hands. “I’m not going to do this.”

Lucas leaned in and whispered in Oswalt’s ear: “This shit-heel was ready to kill you and your partner. He’s a
menace
.”

“No. I don’t want this fool’s blood on my hands.” Oswalt held the gun by the silenced barrel and handed it back to the grunt. The Solly brothers exchanged glances.

Ian laughed and shook his head. “Despite hanging with this trash, I knew you were a good cop. But even still, I’m going to make your life a living hell. Once I’m in jail, I’ll make sure you join me in there.”

Oswalt could not believe the gall of this man. His temper ignited. Oswalt advanced on Ian and stomped on his thigh, causing Ian to scream out in agony. “Is your leg healing up well?!” Oswalt snarled. Ian cursed at him repeatedly. “What’s that?!” Oswalt bellowed. “I can’t hear you!” He dug his heel in.

“Stop, STOP!” Ian begged.

Oswalt took his foot off and spat on him. “You scumbag, you deserve to die.” Oswalt made his way to the storeroom door.

“So, what’s going to happen to this Ian Domner?” Solly’s grunt asked.

“Do with him as you will,” Oswalt muttered. The Solly brothers grinned at each other, then led the way out of the storeroom. Solly’s grunt cocked back the silenced gun.

Ian’s eyes bulged. “Hey! HEY! You can’t leave me here! You’re a cop, for god’s sake—they’re going to kill me!”

Oswalt glanced over his shoulder. “You brought this on yourself when you decided to become a tool for Scorcher. My drink’s getting warm—excuse me.” He left the storeroom and closed the door behind him.

***

On the other end of New York City, Hachiuma led his entourage to the top floor office of the Chital Co. Tower. It was becoming the popular destination for fiends and scoundrels. Hachiuma took his place behind the cherry wood desk, choosing to stand instead of sit. His three Thai mercenaries were ever vigilant by his side. One by one, Scorcher’s men filed in. Most did not look happy with their new commander. Tony Calzone was accompanied by Ramon Salazar and several mob soldiers and grunts. Tony looked particularly infuriated.

“I’ve called you all here to give an update on our situation,” Hachiuma informed.

“What’s there to update?” Tony muttered under his breath to Ramon. “We’re up shit creek without a paddle.”

Hachiuma’s eyes scoured the room. “Where’s Scorcher? Turly?”

Samuel Turly was in the front of the pack with his arms folded. “No idea. I don’t keep tabs on him.”

“It doesn’t matter. He can be filled in later. So far, things are moving smoothly—” Tony was unable to hold back a derisive laugh. Hachiuma’s eyes flickered to Tony. “You have something to say, Italian?”

Tony glanced back at his soldiers behind him, and his confidence grew. “You’re kidding, right? Nothing has gone smoothly since you started calling the shots. You told us to sit on our asses so that all our enemies can just converge around us and pick us apart!”

Gregory Pike stared at Tony.
W
hen did this worm get a spine?
 

“Do you have any idea—how much territory we’ve lost in the last two weeks?!” Tony shouted.

Hachiuma smiled. “Minor setbacks.”

“Really? Solly basically wiped out every expansion we had in Queens. That’s a major freakin’ setback, in my opinion.”

“Well, luckily for us, your opinion is worth the same as what’s dropped into a toilet.”

Tony scowled and stifled his rant.

Hachiuma continued: “We’ve reached out to the drug trade in Staten Island, and we’ve cut a deal. They’re working for us now.”

“Hah!” Pike laughed. “You turned that bloated sack of crap Elmo Burns?”

 “In a manner of speaking,” Ulysses Frost growled. “It was either kick up a portion to us, or we cut the fat bastard open.”

“An offer he couldn’t refuse... The best way to do business.” Pike paused to smile at the thought. “How much?”

“Half his gross every month,” Turly replied.

Pike grinned. “Very nice.”

“Elmo Burns will be of some use to us,” Hachiuma stated. “On Monday, Elmo Burns will stop all transactions with Solly and his partners. Solly’s trade lines with the South American drug cartels will dissolve and eventually cease to exist.”

“Monday?” Tony scoffed. “Why not right now?”

“Because he won’t follow through until I give the order.”

“So give the order!” Tony demanded.

“No. We’re going to make him feel the sting all at once. Severe financial crippling from many avenues so that there is no room for recovery. When it happens simultaneously, there will be no mistake in Solly’s mind what’s happening. Which brings us to the second order of business. Four days from now, Solly will be depositing valuable securities into the New York City First Bank. We’re going to take them. It is likely that his two sons will be the ones to make the deposit.”

“And you know all this how?” Tony questioned.

“We have recently acquired a spy within his ranks, who has been gathering intel for us.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Hachiuma placed his fingertips on the desk and stared intensely at the group. “Monday morning, we’ll be ready. The exact time when they go will be given to us on the day—and then we’re going to empty Solly’s vault. Tony, you and your men will be going to First Bank to collect the goods.”

“Fine by me. What’s the exit strategy?”

“I’ll be outside the bank,” Turly replied. “You bring everything to me—and then you go back inside the bank.”

“Say what?”

“This is one part robbery, one part hostage taking,” Hachiuma informed.

“The hell do we need hostages for?” Tony asked.

“Bait,” Hachiuma stated simply.  “And what better bait is there for a fool like Kasparov? A man who thrives on the need to save people... I’ll personally be in the bank this Monday when he comes to play the hero...and it will be his last time.”

Hachiuma walked around the desk, towards his men. “Any other questions?” Hachiuma was now standing directly in front of Tony, who began to sweat a little. Tony stared back determinedly as Hachiuma looked down upon him. Suddenly, Hachiuma grabbed Tony by the throat and lifted him off the ground with one hand. Tony gagged and spluttered. Hachiuma squeezed his fingers around Tony’s neck. Tony’s soldiers exchanged glances, uncertain what to do. Some wanted to intervene, but Ramon raised his hand to stay them. Hachiuma threw Tony into his entourage with such force that several of them fell down with Tony like bowling pins.