Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 226



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Chupacabra

“Pedro comes out with a gun!”

I jumped out of the driver’s seat and shouted at the guy running out of the office.

Already, the green laser dot extending from my Glock was imprinted on his torso, but I waited for Decker to come running out from the passenger seat.

Before he joins us, if Pedro shoots first, I’m going to put ten .40 caliber rounds in his head.

However, Decker quickly joined in, aiming his Benelli M4 shotgun at Pedro.

“Juan Pedro! We are federal agents! Drop your guns now!”

Despite my warning to surrender, he lives up to my expectations.

Pedro pointed his gun at us from the doorway, about ten feet away, while cursing in Spanish.

At this distance, I could probably shove a .40 caliber bullet into the pores around that little shit’s nose, but unfortunately, I’d have to give in to a rubber bullet.

Boom! Clang!

A rubber bullet fired from Decker’s shotgun hits the bastard in the face.

I’d like to remodel the face with slugs instead of rubber bullets, but for the sake of further investigation into the human trafficking network, I can’t afford to turn these bastards into blood cakes.

Then, Preston and O’Connor burst out of the rear door of the Bearcat and threw flashbang grenades into the office.

Then, we heard some noise coming from inside the office, and Team Leader Decker and I took advantage of the gap to enter.

Lopez and the guy in the suit had their arms around their heads, as if they knew the flashbang was going to go off.

Since these were ‘dummy flashbangs’, there was no explosion of course, and the two men soon noticed it.

Lopez takes a gun out of his pocket and points it at his own head.

You don’t want to be locked up in a federal prison and live until mushrooms start growing on your body.

Are you trying to get out of this situation so easily?

pop!

The rubber bullet fired by Team Leader Decker hit the back of the guy’s head.

Then, as his Benelli shotgun barrel and my Glock barrel pointed at the suit-clad Tango, a spectacle awaited us that made us flinch.

David Osmond, the human trafficking broker Johansson had identified, was seen holding a grenade.

Osmond is already looking at us, holding an M67 grenade with the safety clip and pin removed, ready to explode at any moment.

The kid keeps his gaze fixed on us and extends his hand towards the girl lying on the sofa.

Then, after a moment of fumbling, he grabbed the child’s arm, immediately lifted the child up, and carried him in front of him.

Just the sight of him treating such a small and weak child like a burden made me want to kill him right away.

I put the laser on the guy’s forehead and got ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

The way things are right now, I really want to empty an entire magazine into that kid’s head.

“Everyone, back off! If you do anything stupid to me, neither the child nor any of us will be able to survive here!”

Me, Team Leader Decker, and Preston were aiming our guns at the devil’s child, who was standing with the 22nd child as a shield.

“I told you all to stand back! Can’t you hear me?”

We didn’t budge even in the face of his bullshit.

About 40 minutes ago, the Black Hornet that Team Leader Dawson had sent flying into the warehouse was standing on top of the office’s air conditioner, watching the situation here.

Osmond was a madman nicknamed ‘The Grenade Thrower’.

When American and Mexican enforcement teams rush in to a smuggling or immigration crime scene, they are known for throwing a few grenades and running away without regard to the situation.

So we came up with a ‘Plan B’, assuming that this kid was going to throw a grenade when we came in here.

Now I didn’t know if I should put that thing into practice.

I looked into that kid’s eyes and I had a gut feeling that eventually that kid’s grenade would explode.

So, I was going to order the agents stationed at the entrance to the office to implement Plan B, but there was no need to do so.

Because that old Osmond moved first.

“Perk!”

With a single sound, the bastard comes out and throws a grenade towards Team Leader Decker.

Then, with one hand he held the child as a shield, while with the other he tried to draw the pistol from behind his waist.

Do you really not know that if this thing explodes, you’ll get a blood clot too?

This is truly an amazing, crazy world of children!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In less than a second, I fired three shots straight into the middle of his face, blowing his nose and forehead apart.

Before Osmond’s helpless body could even hit the office floor, I ran over to him and hugged the girl.

Then, he leapt towards the corner of the office and looked over his shoulder.

Already, Team Leader Decker had picked up a grenade and tossed it to Preston, who was standing outside the door, and Preston threw it into the vehicle through the driver’s side door of the Bearcat.

Immediately afterwards, Preston shouted as he quickly closed the driver’s door.

“Fire in the hole!”

Boom!

The sound of a grenade exploding echoed through the warehouse, and the vibrations could be felt through the floor.

The surprised girl started crying, and I couldn’t comfort her and went back to checking the situation at the rear.

Team Leader Decker and Preston were picking themselves up from the ground, and beyond them, the Bearcat was engulfed in smoke.

Our Plan B didn’t fail, as we saw smoke rising from the gun turret on top of the hull.

All of this happened in less than 30 seconds, I wonder if I was fucking dreaming.

* * *

“Shit! Director Coulson is going to eat me alive. Shh! Shh! Fucking shh!”

As I muttered while looking at the Bearcat, which was still smoking, my teammates burst into laughter.

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I laughed along, but I still can’t get over the shock of seeing a grenade with its safety pin and safety handle removed rolling around right before my eyes.

The sight of the safety handle detaching from the grenade body and a thumb-sized spring popping out from the center of the body was just surreal, damn it.

As I was replaying the scene in my head, looking at Bearcat and holding the hand of the girl who was clinging to my leg, I heard Lopez’s scream from inside the office.

While waiting for the Wisconsin Sheriff’s Department vehicle to round up and transport these trafficking ring members, the Jack and the Beanstalk gang took a moment to relax with Lopez and Pedro.

Those apostles of justice need to get all the information they need out of here before the Sheriff’s Department, FBI, and pediatrics get here, and then get out of here as quickly as possible.

Because civilians who aren’t even federal agents are wielding guns and causing a scene in this mess, anyone who sees it will be in chaos.

In particular, if word of their activities reaches the ears of State Department officials, it could spill over to me through the federal government’s chain of command.

“Kim, are you okay?”

Preston approaches me and asks.

I said to him as he stared at the girl.

“Hello, Jo! This is our 22nd lady.”

Preston knelt on one knee in front of the girl.

Then, the shy child takes a firm hold of my hand and steps back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon. All the signors here are here to protect you.”

Preston speaks to the boy in perfect Spanish and pulls a Snickers chocolate bar out of the compartment on his plate carrier.

The child accepted it, saying thank you in a barely audible voice.

When Preston saw that the child was unable to open the chocolate bar wrapper, he brought it back and opened the outer packaging for the child.

As the child begins to eat the Snickers with his two tiny hands, Preston looks at him with a smile on his face.

I stared at the sixteen men lying face down on the floor, handcuffed and flex cuffed, in the middle of the warehouse.

Our team members were watching them from the perimeter, and outside the shattered and collapsed warehouse front door, we could see the flashing lights of our second Bearcat.

But then, a little while later, Preston, who was watching the child, spoke to me.

“Before Dawson called me to Chicago, he told me the story about Kim.”

I look at him, and he continues speaking, still kneeling on one knee in front of the child.

“There was this one federal taxpayer who had never been anywhere near the military, and he would jump around like a crazy Superman whenever he saw people in danger. He said he was the most crazy person I’d ever seen in a long time, and he told me to come to Chicago and see him. So I signed up for SWAT.”

I just chuckled at that.

That was a very Dawson-like expression.

I looked down at the kid eating the Snickers and asked him.

“So, how about seeing me up close and personal, Joe?”

Preston smiles and answers in a small voice.

“You really are a crazy person, Kim.”

He looked up at me after saying that, and we smiled at each other and nodded.

“Ahhhhh!”

This time, Pedro’s screams were heard from inside the office.

At that sound, the men held captive inside the warehouse looked even more terrified, and some of them started screaming for help in English and Spanish.

Agents from the FBI Wisconsin office are still an hour away from arriving, and the sheriff’s department and local SWAT team are expected to arrive at least 30 minutes later.

Until then, I hope those kids are as scared as possible.

Preston and I enjoyed this peaceful moment, quietly watching the kid eat his Snickers.

But, a little later, Amy’s voice, who was guarding the outside of the warehouse, was heard on the wireless network.

“Kim! There are suspicious vehicles approaching the warehouse! Get the personnel out!”

The team members who heard the message on the wireless network looked at me, and I made a hand signal telling them to go out of the warehouse.

“Joe, take the child and wait here!”

“Razor that!”

When I received Preston’s HK416 rifle and replaced the magazine with a new one, Mr. Johansson ran out of the office and shouted.

“Damn, there’s six SUVs and minivans surrounding the warehouse, Kim!”

Johansson also appears to have grasped the situation through the CCTV footage inside the office.

He and David Cole came out with sawed-off shotguns and ran towards the warehouse front door.

On our way there, Team Leader Decker and Strauss joined us, and soon the four of us were out of the warehouse.

Then, bright headlights poured down before our eyes.

I open my eyes and look ahead, and see six vehicles stopped on the other side of the road, with people getting out of them.

Our Bearcat was parked facing across the road, and Team Leader Dawson was watching them from the gun turret position with his anti-material rifle in the firing position.

Amy, Randall, Romano, and Lambert were keeping an eye out around Bearcat, and we joined them.

“Damn, isn’t this another one of those warm ones?”

Amy speaks in a low voice, and it feels like the words of the strong older sister will soon become reality.

Three or four men got out of six vehicles, all carrying pistols or machine guns.

There were easily over 20 of them standing in a row, from left to right, facing us.

It was as if they were trying to create an atmosphere where they were going to shoot us if we didn’t give them what they wanted right away.

A moment later, a sound that makes the atmosphere even more sinister comes out of Johansson’s mouth.

“Hello, sir! See that guy standing in the middle of the SUV? What’s the ‘Chupacabra’ doing here?”

At those words, Amy and I turned our gazes to where Johansson had been talking, and he explained in a small voice.

“Chupacabra is the nickname of Paulo Guerrero, the leader of the Guerrero Cartel, one of the three cartels that control the Juarez (Mexican border city). Damn, he’s on American soil right now… What the hell are the American and Mexican border guards doing?”

While we are amazed by Mr. Johansson’s explanation, some of Chupacabra’s men start crossing the road.

Team Leader Dawson, who was watching the scene, shouts from the radio.

“Before they build a siege line, we might have to launch a preemptive strike to create an escape route! What should we do, Kim?”

Just as he was asking for a tactical decision, someone from the Mercedes SUV raised a hand in our direction.

What the hell is going on now?

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