Recluse:The Induction

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bangu Penitentiary Complex, Wednesday, 12:53pm.

  The two heavily manned black metallic gates looked menacing, opening and closing every few minutes in the hot and dry midday weather. A blue faded signpost was stuck up against a thick redbrick wall separating the entrance and exit points. Within the brick wall, stood a registration office, inside, two armed officers checking papers of those who walked or drove in and out of the complex. The full length of the notorious Bangu Prison gate lay protected from the sun’s heat by a thick cement canopy and as Rodriquez continued watching unobserved inside a discreet vehicle parked across the street, a talkie in his left hand, he noticed it was frantic outside the prison complex. The place was swarming with Policia Militardo Estado do Rio de Janeiro (PMERJ) -Rio state's military police brandishing assault rifles.

  Rodriquez knew exactly who they were, officers of the Fourteenth Battalion in charge of the entire Bangu district led by Major Mauricio de Carvalho. If the Intel supplied by Miguel’s sources was authentic enough, they were here on express orders to transfer one prisoner only, Marcelo. It was quite unusual to involve this many officers but given the caliber of prisoner about to emerge from the heavily fortified ash grey walls, Rodriquez felt it was only right that the directorate of prisons here take all the necessary precautions. As he continued to observe the commotion outside, his eyes shifted to the surveillance cameras aiming for cars passing through the prison's main entrance and exit points.

  He was startled by Ramona’s voice on the talkie bringing with it a dispatch signal to all units. Rodriquez also noticed the strain in her voice, and the hissing crackling sound in the background. She was aboard a Helicopter. On the chopper’s exterior, plastered neatly on both sides, was a fake Rede Globo Logo. The iconic Television news channel’s logo had a glossy white round exterior, rectangular multicolored wave effects, and an earth shaped silver ball sitting in the middle which glittered from the sun’s rays as the chopper hovered over the prison.

  ‘Go Ahead.’ He answered into the talkie, his heart pelting within him. For a brief moment he envisioned her expressionless face and that spicy fragrance she always wore.

  ‘Target leaving the Penitenciária Alfredo Trajan block headed towards exit amidst heavy Police deployment. Clear.’

  ‘Roger that.’ He answered. It was time.

  Rodriquez quickly removed his phone from the side pocket of his Black Batalhao de Operacoes Policiais Especiais –Special Forces (BOPE) uniform supplied by Miguel. It had the rank of a Colonel. He immediately dialed his trusted friend back at the damp, Selton ‘Selli’ Mello.

  ‘Hey Selli, we are good to go.’

  ‘Alright’ replied Selton.

  He heard a click in his ear before the line went silent. Just as he tucked the phone back into the trouser side pocket, the prison exit gates swung open and out stormed a Nissan double cabin pickup. The truck was dotted in the light and dark grey Military Police colors with PMERJ inscriptions stamped on its doors. It was closely followed by another armored vehicle of the same make and color, and then another in quick succession. Rodriquez counted three vehicles in total. The exact number his Intel had given him. The point car’s occupants according to his Intel were Captain David Cesar Diniz who was seated in the front. Seated with him, was his driver, a sergeant and three privates at the rear. First Lieutenant Orlando Noqueira together with three sergeants and the prisoner were squeezed into the Middle vehicle and in the last vehicle sat Major Mauricio de Carvalho, a sergeant on the wheel flanked by two privates in the back seat. The convoy was headed for the BR-101 express way via the R. Ouro Branco, 475.

  Rodriquez jammed the rented grey Renault’s gears and floored the accelerator. He had to get to the express way ahead of the convoy. As he thundered through the midday traffic on the Avenue Jambeiro, high in the skies above him, through the Renaults front windscreen, he could see the chopper angled, rattling. Its glass windows kept reflecting brightly the sun’s rays into his eyes.

  ‘Target is heading southeast on the Ouro Branco towards the Poços de Caldas.’ Ramona’s strained voice came on the talkie which kept dancing on the Renault’s dashboard.

  ‘Target taking the first left onto the Poços de Caldas, target has turned left onto the Rua Luiz Beltrão, target heading straight for Praça Saiqui.’

  ‘Target is moving straight on Rua Cairuçu.’

  ‘Target has made a turn right onto Avenue Jambeiro.’

  Rodriquez knew he was now ahead of them, his heart was pounding even faster and he felt his body perspire. Tightening his grip around the Renault’s thick black steering wheel, he floored the accelerator. Two hundred and forty meters later, he swung left onto Estrada Intendente Magalhães, taking a sharp right onto R. Xavier Curado, his mind was racing now. The words Miguel had spoken to him earlier filled his head, ‘A window of opportunity has been presented to us. You asked for him, now here’s your chance, your last shot. Make it count.’ He made a left turn joining the R. João Vicente, and his brow furrowed. He was in the slowest lane. He had to do something. He zigzagged the Renault through the traffic drawing heckles and hooting for the next one kilometer before turning right onto Avenue Duque de Caxias. He was almost there. He could feel his nerves tingle with excitement.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’Antonio Francisco Oliviera’s voice cut into the talkie. Rodriquez reached out and took the talkie in his left hand.

  ‘I’m at the ramp on the left side of BR-116B.’ he answered.

  ‘Follow BR-101 to Avenue Brasil, find us at exit eighteen facing São Paulo BR-116. We are waiting for you, and Rodriquez,’

  ‘Yes?’ Rodriquez answered back nervous.

  ‘This better work or I will have your head.’

  Exit eighteen was still some five minutes’ drive away and as he sped towards the Rendezvous point, his mind pondered where the convoy might be before intercept.

  ‘Do you know who I am?’ Rodriquez casually asked a startled Major Mauricio de Carvalho, who seemed rather shocked that he and his men had suddenly and unceremoniously been stopped by an all-black Caveirão assault van parked in the middle of the expressway. The emblem of the Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais (BOPE) prominently displayed on the side of the vehicle. It had blocked all traffic flow on the busy road.

  ‘No Colonel I don’t.’ The Major nervously replied still seated in the front of the Nissan double cabin pickup.

  ‘Well, I’m Colonel David Monteiro and I'm in charge of the Tactical Intervention Unit of the BOPE. I have express orders from General Luiz Costa da Mota, Chief of the General Staff of the Military Police to personally transfer the criminal in your possession to Presidente Prudente Super max.’ said Rodriquez, his gaze fixed on the Major. The BOPE logo plastered on the side of his black uniform, the colonel insignia gracing both his shoulders, and the silver plated Taurus pistol dangling on his waist, he could see, were doing most of the talking.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry colonel but…’the Major began to protest, a frightened expression plastered on his face.

  ‘You have a problem with that?’ Rodriquez interjected, his large brown eyes staring fixedly down at Major Mauricio.

  Rodriquez knew that in order to get his way, he had to lay claim to an even higher authority, one higher than General Luiz Costa da Mota. The commander in Chief of the entire Brazilian military.

  ‘Major Mauricio, this is now a matter of national security. The president is personally interested in this criminal. We have reliable information that there are people, highly placed in this administration who have in the past been involved with this man and do not want him to see the light of day in court. These same people got wind of his transfer and have laid a trap, which am afraid, you and your men are ill prepared to deal with.’ Rodriquez watched the man’s face turn pale.

  ‘And, we also have cause to believe that you have a mole in your team. So, for your own good, let us take it from here.’

  It’s fine. You can have him.
’

  The Major had finally cracked.

  ‘You are a wise man Mauricio. Very few have the wisdom and courage to do what you are doing.’ Said Rodriquez before turning around and signaling his team. The black Caveirão assault van’s metallic door slid open and first to emerge from the van and take position was Sergeant Marco Camargo, Taís Santoro Ramos, Almeida Pacheco, Constable Miguel Santos, Perito Lázaro Villar, João Batista da Rocha –a.k.a Alves, and finally Rodriquez’ boss, Antonio Francisco Oliviera. All were clad in black uniforms, black helmets and black gaggles covering their hooded faces. The fake ‘BOPE’ officers held Heckler and Koch Sniper Rifles, M16 and MP5 submachine guns aimed directly at the three parked vehicles and their occupants.

  Major Mauricio bellowed orders into his talkie before a nervous First Lieutenant Orlando Noqueira emerged from the middle vehicle rapidly approaching his superiors’ car. Rodriquez could see a look of alarm flash across his lean face.

  ‘Sir, did you say we should hand the prisoner over to these men?’

  ‘Yes, you heard right, Orders from above.’

  ‘Yes Major.’

  More orders were shouted, and the rear door of the middle vehicle flew open. A private dressed in the light and dark grey military fatigue emerged. Rodriquez could see the private’s right arm held onto a benelli shotgun, his left arm pulling on to two handcuffed hands covered in dark blue long sleeves. Strapless brown leather boots were first to step out measuredly onto the hot tarmac before the full figure in shape of a man emerged from the vehicle. The man, Rodriquez observed appeared frail but rigid. He wore a light brown khaki uniform clad atop the blue sleeves shirt, and as the BOPE team frisked and shoved him hurriedly towards the open Caveirão doors, Rodriquez felt his heart blast away inside his chest. He bit his lower lip trying to control the anger rising inside him. He had to stay calm or he run the risk of blowing the entire operation. 'Stay calm, Rodriquez, Keep it together!' he ordered.

  Something about the man’s face seemed rather odd. Rodriquez couldn’t quite place it. He had high cheekbones and dark almond-shaped eyes which seemed to smile amidst the entire fracas going on around him. How Rodriquez wanted to get his hands on him. Images of his daughter began clouding his mind.

  ‘Colonel Monteiro.’

  Miguel’s voice came back into his head, this time it was almost a shout, 'make it count!'

  ‘Colonel Monteiro!’ The Major was calling out to him.

  ‘Yes am listening.’

  ‘You may want to take this.’

  Rodriquez froze as the Major’s hand stretched out the talkie to him. This meant trouble.

  The Caveirão was parked a few meters away. If he tried to run, the Major and his escorts would certainly cut him down in a matter of seconds. He and his colleagues from the Polícia Civil now posing as BOPE had meticulously planned and fine-tuned Operation sting. Selli, the ‘damp’ expert was to hack into the Military police communication lines rendering them ineffective for at least thirty minutes. Had he failed? If Selli had failed, Rodriquez didn’t want to think of the consequences.

  ‘Colonel Monteiro, here on line.’ He spoke, not knowing who or what to expect at the other end of the line.

  ‘Colonel Monteiro’ a familiar deep husky voice came out of the talkie.

  ‘This is the Secretary of Public Security for the State of Rio de Janeiro, senior superintendent Miguel Almeida.’

  ‘Go ahead Mister Secretary.’ A relieved Rodriquez answered back into the Major’s talkie.