004 - Irajá Safe House
Episode 004 of the Boy From Ipanema series - Stab Unit™
RIO DE JANEIRO
IRAJÁ SAFE HOUSE
Several beat up cars are parked in front of the pink house. A couple of scrawny PUNKS in the street fly a paper, homemade kite.
No one notices the small car as it parks several doors down.
Inside the car, TWO MUSCULAR BODYGUARDS fasten silencers onto their Beretta 9mms.
Both men busy themselves dressing in white shirts with black ties, and black pants. One of the men buttons his top button and then adjusts a small badge on the front of his shirt.
Polícia.
The thugs conceal their guns as they silently approach the house. They open the gate and enter the small garden area. One goes to the back of the house the other approaches the front door.
Loud Black Thrash Metal music screams from one of the rooms inside the house.
Inside, an overweight, underpaid, gringo AGENT, sits quietly playing Sudoku when he hears something at the front door.
He reaches for his gun.
Too late.
The fake polícia kicks through the door and the gun spits twice ripping the agent's throat apart and blasting him backwards.
The man makes sure of the kill, removes the agent's watch, wallet and cash, then quickly makes for the bedrooms.
The fake polícia busts through the door and enters with his gun at the ready.
Seated on a small bed reading a magazine is Monica Cordeiro. She has cotton stuffed into her ears.
The man motions for her to follow him into the hallway. He stops at the second bedroom and quickly opens the door.
Canfield sits on a wicker chair with a gagged mouth - his arms tied behind him. He looks up at the bodyguard and a flash of recognition glints from his eyes.
He looks relieved - like he's about to be rescued.
The thug fires twice. One to the chest, one to the head.
Monica screams and puts her hands over her face. The second polícia wrestles the girl outside.
U.S. CONSULATE CONFERENCE ROOM
The room is silent and eerily sterile.
At the far end of the room a projector displays a picture of Marcello Nuves' body lying on an examination table. It looks as if the inside of his head has been totally eaten away.
Four people sit around the mahogany table. At the head of the table, Halliday twirls a pen around in his fingers.
To his right sits Kendall from Washington, who whispers something into the ear of a stunning brunette, in her 30's, seated to his right.
JAN BOLTON. She carefully examines her notes.
Then she continues with her briefing.
“--As it's something I've never seen or dealt with before - I would like to enlist the help of a specialist... Dr. Jaír Suarez.
A picture flashes on the wall of the geneticist.
“He's the foremost expert on genetic mutation. He could be very useful.”
Across the table is a twenties-something, wanna-be rock star who smacks his gum and who's having a hard time keeping quiet. MOSES.
He types on his laptop as if writing a research paper. He's the technology nerd for the team.
BAM!
The door blasts open and Rusty rushes in and throws the manilla envelope of photos onto the table.
“It's Cordeiro!” he announces, panting.
Everyone stares up at him in shock. Moses even stops typing.
HALLIDAY feigns a calm he no longer possesses.
“Welcome to our briefing. What's Cordeiro?”
Halliday picks up the envelop and peers inside.
“Nuves. Cordeiro had him kil--”
JAN interrupts, “Actually, we don't know--”
“Had him killed,” he finishes with a grimmace.
He shoots her a fiery glare. Then he softens. They lock eyes.
They share a moment of remembrance and attraction. Rusty notices her stunning beauty.
“Sorry, Jan... Nuves was last seen at Cordeiro's ranch the day of the match.”
KENDALL interjects, “The wha--?”
“Maracaná,” Halliday says. “Where did you get these photos?”
“Meyerbeer. He's been up at Cordeiro's Ranch all week, just in case.”
The room goes quiet - waiting for Halliday to make a decision.
Halliday leans over the table and rests on both fists. He lets his head hang down. After a moment he looks up at Rusty.
“Show me,” he says.
Rusty tosses the flash drive to Moses, who takes over the projector and fumbles for the right files.
Rusty stands at the front patiently waiting. Picture after picture spews out of the projector and onto the wall. After a few photos come and go—
“Stop! That's it.”
He marches to the wall and points to the soccer star's half body.
“This is the day of the match. It's also Cordeiro's daughter coming out of that car.”
“That's the girl you apprehended in Friburgo? The one speaking with the explosives expert, Antonio Carlos?” asks Halliday.
“Exactly,” says Rusty.
Halliday strides across the room and pulls the flash drive out of the computer and pockets it.
He turns quickly back to Rusty.
“Go! Bring her in--”
Rusty bolts for the door. He pats Jan's arm on the way out.
Everyone else is a bit confused.
JAN tries to compose herself. “But, we didn't even--”
“He's getting you the only link we have to who's behind Nuves' death,” responds Halliday.
Kendall leans back in his chair. An informal protest.
Jan nods her head slightly, trying to proceed. “But we need to find out exactly what it was that killed him! It looks like it was a new virus or bacteria that none of us has seen. And it's lethal! We're not even sure how or if it spreads. And if it does - we need to find out if it's airborne or not. Not to mention how we're going to handle the logistics of protecting the city if this thing's contagious!”
Halliday seems distracted and in deep thought for a moment.
“Give me and Moses everything you know. Then get back to Sao Cristovao morgue and find out exactly what this virus thing really is and what the locals are doing to fix it. Then you can find Dr. Suarez and get him on board,” he says.
She points to a chair as a command, not a suggestion. “Have a seat. We've a lot to go over.”
RUSTY'S CAR
The huge, orange sun sets quickly behind the filter of smog and polution.
Rusty lets Meyerbeer drive as he busies himself loading the handguns and wrenching silencers onto the barrels. Two hand grenades stare up at him from the bottom of the duffel bag.
“Thanks for bringing the bag. Thought of everything, didn't you?”
Meyerbeer smiles showing every tooth in his mouth.
IRAJÁ SAFE HOUSE
Nighttime consumes the safe house. The street is creepily quiet as they pull up.
Rusty scans both sides of the street. No action or movement.
He motions to Meyerbeer to follow and they approach the front door. Rusty readies his gun and raps softly on the front door - "shave and a haircut".
Music blares from one of the rooms, but there is no response to the signal.
Meyerbeer prepares himself by taking a knee behind and to the right of Rusty who gives a brutal kick.
CRASH!
The door blows back and Rusty disappears into the darkness. Meyerbeer rises and follows quickly.
They enter the kitchen and see the bloody mess that was once an agent. Meyerbeer fights back the gag reflex and quickly looks away.
Rusty motions for him to continue down the hall. He floats on the balls of his feet and catches up to Meyerbeer just as he enters Canfield's room.
Canfield's body and chair lay tipped over on the floor. An enormous pool of blood engulfs the floor. Canfield's brains decorate the wall.
Meyerbeer diverts his eyes and heads for the other bedroom, but Rusty moves closer to examine the body.
After a moment, Meyerbeer reenters and shakes his head.
Nao está, cara.
The vein on Rusty's forehead pulses with anger. He kicks the blasting boom box - putting and end to the grotesque, deafening music. “They knew she was here... Check the rest of the house. Make sure we're alone.”
Meyerbeer zips off as Rusty grabs his cell phone.
HALLIDAY'S OFFICE
Halliday sits stewing on something at his desk. An internal debate rips through his mind. The cell phone jars him out of a funk.
He picks it up and speaks slowly, dream-like.
“Rusty. Do you have her?”
Long pause.
Halliday sits back hard in his leather chair. He rubs his free hand violently through his hair. He swallows hard but is finally able to speak.
“Looks like it's time to hear what Canfield has to--”
His face goes white. After a brief moment of denial, he nods his head and seems to understand.
“Where are you headed?.. Call me when you get there.”
Halliday slowly hangs up his cell phone. He thinks for a brief moment. Then he slinks out of the chair and pours himself a stiff one. He chugs it down, and then dials another number.
“They're coming... Two... Rusty and Meyerbeer. Be careful. They're good.”
RANCH, RIO DE JANEIRO HILLSIDE
The two ATV's race up a steep incline. Rusty and Meyerbeer avoid hitting several STREET RAT BOYS from the cardboard neighborhood as they zip to the top of the favela.
They dart off of the main dirt road and further up the hill into the denser foliage. Meyerbeer leads the way. Rusty shifts to a lower gear and the engine whines.
The narrow dirt path winds dizzily into the jungle on the hillside. It follows a dried up river bed and forms a half-pipe made of rock and dirt.
Out of nowhere, four more ATV's join the trail and pursue Rusty and Meyerbeer with vengeance.
Rusty switches to a higher gear and tries to outrun them.
A blinding light flashes into the sky above them. A bright flare giving away their position.
Suddenly, three more ATV's and riders with guns appear up ahead of Rusty on the peak of the hill.
Bullets rip past his left ear.
Rusty veers to the right, jerking off of the trail and into the thicker undergrowth.
Meyerbeer follows closely behind. They aim for the top of the hill and to the right of their assassins.
The Polaris screams madly underneath Rusty as the hill steepens. Rusty tries to reach into the duffel-bag on his back with little success.
Spotlights search the bushes for sight of the Cons-Op agents.
The path ahead gets barren and rocky. Staying ahead of the search lights, Rusty approaches the edge of a volcanic rock cliff.
He looks over the edge and his knees go week from the sight.
A straight drop off for nearly one-half mile with massive boulders at the bottom.
About one-hundred feet down and to the right a grove of thick mango and palm trees on a narrow ridge lead down the cliff on a less steep incline.
Rusty shuts down the ATV as Meyerbeer quickly approaches. Meyerbeer's shoulder bleeds heavily from a bullet wound. He too gets off of the ATV and they break into the duffel bag.
Meyerbeer looks over the edge.
“Nossa! Scared of heights, meu?”
“Ya think? Here, let me wrap your shoulder.”
(continued below…)
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Stab Unit - Case Files to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.