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Some of us, like myself, write a blog and engage in activist journalism from behind bars. Others spend their time penning letters and novels. Aspiring novelist Sonny Lofton IV, shares for you the first chapter from his upcoming novel “The Asset.” It is the first in an action series about Mason Steele, lead detective for the National Bureau of Special Crimes, as he risks life and limb to take down some of the world’s most dangerous drug kingpins. You may reach Sonny J at the address at the end of this post.

–Christopher–

 

Chapter I  The Asset
By Sonny J

It was a typical summer afternoon in downtown Miami, as heavy traffic filled busy streets and the usual, sticky heat permeated every inch of the vibrant city. Tall palm trees barely swayed in mild winds.

The azure from clear skies mixed with smoldering sunlight illuminating the picturesque city below. Down on Biscayne Boulevard, just about every shop and boutique catered to a variety of people. Most of the area’s biggest hot spots remained closed throughout the day. Making the back storage room of the famed, Club Neon the perfect place to conduct a million dollar drug deal.

At least that’s what all four men were hoping for.

“Welcome,” greeted Mateo, as one of his gunmen finished checking Mason Steele for weapons.

The 28 year old Mateo Sarcoza was not only a ruthless drug dealer; he was also the younger brother of one of Miami’s most notorious cartel members: Miguel Sarcoza.

The two Mexican born brothers had long been suspected of distributing the bad fentanyl that had been connected to over one hundred overdose deaths; all throughout the Miami and South Beach area.

The younger brother, Mateo, was widely known for his heavy partying and constant rune ins with the law, and had become an early target for local and NBSC authorities tasked with investigating the deaths. Which, didn’t sit to well with the older brother, Miguel.

Though with a powerful legal team and no leads connecting either of the two brothers to the bad fentanyl, an arrest was beginning to seem impossible for law enforcement.

That is, until Mason Steele hopped on the case.

The rough, tough and musclebound undercover agent, Mason Steele had mostly been known for his work as lead detective for the National Bureau of Special Crimes; better known as, the NBSC.

However, after stepping down to go undercover so he could pursue his archenemy, Cecil Camara, who had fled to Las Vegas; the highly regarded crime fighter decided to stay undercover and help NBSC’S intelligence division take down some of the world’s most dangerous criminals.

Besides, Cecil Camara was now serving four consecutive life sentences in a maximum security prison. And! On top of that, NBSC Field Director, Jack Conrad had made Mason Steele an offer that he couldn’t refuse.

Ironically, it was the same offer that now had the light complexioned, tattooed and bald-headed agent face-to-face with three high ranking members of the Coza Cartel.

Mateo Sarcoza wore a light hearted, flower print silk shirt with white slacks. His beige designer loafers were meant to bring out the rest of his outfit. Yet, it was Mateo’s smooth goatee and slicked back, dark hair that stood out the most.

Mason Steele, with his large black beard and usual dark sunglasses, analyzed all three men to get a better feel of whom might pose a bigger threat; just in case the deal went south before he had a chance to complete the mission.

Mateo Sarcoza, who stood just to the left of Mason, wasn’t brandishing a weapon like the other two. Regardless. The calculated crime fighter still wasn’t for certain if Mateo was armed, or not.

As for his two henchmen? Both proudly wielded G26 assault rifles; fully equipped with massive round drum attachments. Made it clearly obvious who would be the most trouble if, and when, bullets started to fly.

Mason Steele still wasn’t worried.

With one of the heavily armed gunmen posted right behind Mateo, and the other one just a few feet away to Mason’s right. The cool and calm agent knew he had a fighting chance if, and when, he had to take all three of them out.

“As always, Mateo,” Mason replied. Making sure to stay extra close to the man on his right.

Mason Steele was wearing a thin, light green shirt with designer jeans. He also kept a clean, bald head and large black beard that always helped his ‘undercover persona.’ Though judging by his small gold necklace and diamond pinky ring, it appeared as if the skilled agent was trying to look the part of a fashionable hustler.

Mateo Sarcoza paused before he spoke his next words. He had been in the illegal drug business for a long time, now. And knew not to rush when dealing with a man considered to be a first-time buyer.

“So tell me, Mr. Ray Azimut. What makes you so sure you can take my business to the next level?” Mateo asked.

“Like I said. I don’t just deal here in Miami.” Mason said in a stern voice. His aggressive, yet calm tone was confident with each word. “I also represent some pretty wealthy buyers from overseas. Legitimate businessmen who deal strictly with crypto. It’s clean; it’s safe; and you don’t have to worry about some bullshit paper trail.” Mason explained.

“Overseas, where?” questioned Mateo.

The concerned fentanyl dealer knew that if the man across from him was a cop, then his cleaver interrogation would surely be enough to expose his true identity.

However, Mason Steele was quick on his toes as he calmly replied and said, “Amsterdam, mostly. Along with some different areas in the UK.”

“Wow,” Mateo crooned. “With that type of clientele you should already have a supplier.”

“Which I do.” Mason admitted. “But it’s starting to get a little difficult always trying to get product from Central America, up to the U.S… Shid, with you? I can minimize the risk of transportation, and, I’ll be paying 2K less per key.”

“Don’t get cocky, Mason.” Agent Cooke stated, who was a block away inside of a white, unmarked sprinter van.

NBSC Field Agent, Patrick Cooke, who had been in charge of leading the investigation, was a 61 year-old white man who breathed law enforcement. He was also one of the few agents who had experience in International Espionage. Which might have explained his clean shaved appearance that made him look more like a retired salesman, than it did a 30-year veteran of the bureau.

“2K less per key?” Mateo repeated. “So let me guess. That makes this deal the perfect opportunity for the both of us?”

“Like I said, amigo. If my people like your product, then there’s more money to be made.” Mason calmly stated, with more of his stern confidence. “So yeah, I would definitely say that it’s the perfect opportunity for the both of us. Shid, I might even buy you a brand-new Porsche,” added Mason.

The sudden notion of making more money, undetected, seemed to ease Mateo’s suspicion. “Right,” he replied, taking a step closer to Mason. “I like that. Making more money; meeting new clients; no paper trails…”

The two men exchanged a brief grin.

Back inside the sprinter van. NBSC Field Agent, Patrick Cooke was starting to get a bad reception from Mason’s earpiece.

“Come on! It was just working fine,” Murphy stated.

“Where’d they get this crap, from a yard sale?” Growled Cooke to no one in particular, as Murphy and another agent watched Mason’s every move on two different security monitors.

“Let’s see if this helps any.”

Agent Murphy’s careless decision to flip a switch on a board then touch a ‘dial icon’, somehow caused Mason’s earpiece to malfunction even worse.

The technical mishap instantly sent a pulsating vibe right through the undercover agent’s brain, as he tried to play it off.

Mateo Sarcoza immediately grew suspicious, “You alright, my friend?” he asked. His question quickly putting the two gunmen on high alert ,as the one to the right seemed as if he wanted to raise his weapon.

The wise and highly trained, Mason Steele suddenly found himself in a situation; one where he could either delay the inevitable, or, feed the inner beast deep inside of him and quickly take control of the situation. Using brute force.

The lethal agent automatically chose the latter of the two.

And as soon as he did it was like the entire room froze. And in that split second, Mason Steele quickly unleashed a fury of violent attacks: first; he struck Mateo Sarcoza with a right punch so fast and so powerful, the fentanyl dealer instantaneously flew back into the gunman behind him. Second; as the gunman to Mason’s right attempted to raise his assault rifle, Mason, with his left hand, spun around and grabbed the top of the barrel as he yanked it hard towards him. Setting up the gunman for a bone crushing right elbow that landed flush across his cheek bone.

The force from Mason’s elbow sounded like a car crashing into the man’s face. It was also enough for the vicious agent to snatch the gun away in the process.

Nonetheless, by the time Mason had control of it, he was just then noticing that Mateo had rolled out of his fall and had suddenly retrieved a large, chrome handgun from the back of his waist.

The gunman who was behind Mateo was also back on his feet, and quickly readjusting his weapon. Everything was happening so fast. Yet, for Mason it seemed to be moving so slow.

“Kill him!” Mateo shouted, still a little woozy as he began to aim his weapon.

Agent Cooke and the other two officers rushed out of the Sprinter Van, weapons in hand.

“Move! Move! Get out of the way!” Cooke yelled at pedestrians, as all three agents ran down the street readying their assault rifles.

Agent Patrick Cooke had been faced with this type of horror in the past; having a fellow lawman not only in danger, though also in dire need of assistance. Which ultimately made the experienced officer run even faster. However, before any of the three men could breach the front of the nightclub, out of nowhere, rapid gunfire began to ring out from inside the back.

As the gunman to Mason’s left attempted to raise his weapon, he was immediately met with the full force from the agent’s newly acquired assault rifle.

Mason couldn’t believe the power of the compact machine gun. With one pull of the trigger, the high grade, fully automatic G26 instantly let off a barrage of deafening rounds, that ripped right through the gunman.

Mason let go of the trigger long enough, just so he could slam the butt of the gun flush into the face of the goon who was getting up to his right. The blow was crucial; as the man let out a nasty grunt then fell hard to the ground.

Wherein after, Mason Steele had suddenly noticed that Mateo Sarcoza had gotten to his feet, and now he had his gun pointed right at him.

The half-conscious, Mateo let off three cracking shots at the elusive crime fighter. While he, himself slowly stumbled towards the back exit door.

Mason Steele, now on high alert, quickly ducked back behind a steel beam and returned fire.

But it was too late.

As slugs from the assault rifle poked holes in the back of the nightclub, Mason had suddenly realized that Mateo had already escaped out the back door.

“Cuff his a** and secure this building!” he shouted at Cooke, as the three officers finally stormed the back storage area.

Outside, in back of Club Neon, a black Porsche was parked next to a red Ferrari. Mason knew that Mateo was headed straight for the Porsche, and that if he didn’t react fast, the crazed fentanyl dealer just might actually get away.

“I’m going after, Mateo!” Mason boldly informed Cooke, as he hurried and rushed out of the back door; only to be blinded by the bright, afternoon sun.

Mason immediately raised his arm to help block the sunlight. Which also helped him catch a quick glimpse of the Porsche making a wild right turn at the end of the alley.

With time running out the determined, undercover agent hurried and hopped in the red Ferrari. He then sped out, slammed the exotic sports car in drive, and shot to the end of the alley. Then right into traffic.

“Come on you son of a…” Mason hissed at ongoing motorists, hoping that Mateo hadn’t gotten too far.

However, in spite of all the cars going a steady pace, Mason Steele was able to see the exotic sports car weaving in and out of traffic. And with a construction crew hard at work in the distance, pressure was beginning to mount.

The undercover agent knew that if he didn’t stop the psychopath for whom he was chasing, some innocent person might very well end up being the dealer’s next victim. And Mason was damn determined not to let that happen.

The fierce crime fighter began to perspire as the red Ferrari quickly hit speeds over 100 KMH; causing the high grade automobile to roar like a wild beast as he, himself was forced to weave in and out of traffic.

Regardless, with an intersection not too far ahead, Mason had no choice but to ease up on the gas pedal, while Mateo Sarcoza shot through the 4-way intersection, like a rocket.

Tires screeched and motorists slammed on their brakes trying to avoid the black Porsche. Which only caused several accidents along the way.

At that moment, everything seemed to slow for Mason Steele, as he quickly focused on the wreckage in front of him. Then suddenly, without hesitation, the bald and bearded agent swerved and dodged one vehicle; then another. Then one more, as the crime fighter’s superior driving skills instantly had him back in pursuit of, Mateo Sarcoza; who was now in the process of knocking over orange street cones while being cursed at by road workers.

Traffic in the next lane started to slow out of fear. And Mason Steele was finally able to kick it into sixth gear and catch up to the black sports car.

“Pull over, Mateo, before somebody gets killed!” Mason shouted. Waving the huge, black .45 semiautomatic at the Porsche’s passenger window.

Mateo shouted back. Yet, was muted by the thin glass. Forcing the highly trained agent to guess what the madman had just uttered.

He tried.

Though during his days in the academy, Mason Steele had chosen to take part in very few lip reading classes. Whereas, the ones he did attend, gave the seasoned lawman the impression that he had caught on rather quickly. He also thought that the uncanny talent would never be of any use.

Until now.

And if Mason’s lip reading skills were serving him correctly, the crazed fentanyl dealer in the black Porsche had just uttered the words, “Go f**k yourself!”

The frustrated and fed up agent had finally had enough.

As Mateo Sarcoza attempted to speed off, the relentless crime fighter immediately opened fire at the Porsche’s passenger window.

The three quick rounds that Mason let off cracked loud, as glass instantaneously shattered on the pricy coupe. And in the midst of it all, the deadly agent had soon realized that he must have hit Mateo, with the way the car lost control, spun out, catching the side of the median as the compact automobile suddenly lifted off the ground.

With gravity now automatically taking over, the force from the constant wind caused the Porsche to do a series of acrobatic flips, landing hard on its top.

Anxious and upset, Mason Steele slowed the Ferrari until it stopped 15 feet from the smoking wreckage. He took his time getting out of the car, as he clutched the .45 tight in his right hand.

“I’m a kill you, you son of a…” Mateo tried to shout. Spitting blood and glass out of his mouth while he slowly crawled from the driver’s window.

The undercover agent stopped dead in his tracks, set his sights, then quickly closed in on the feeble drug dealer. Without hesitation mason Steele fired two fatal shots that tore through Mateo’s skull. The impact so powerful, the dealer was dead before he knew what hit him.

Mason immediately snapped out of his murderous trance. With the sun still beaming through his sunglasses, and traffic now slowing to witness the carnage, the vicious crime fighter knew it was time to go.

*You may reach Sonny J through prison messaging app GTL GettingOut:

Harrison Lofton IV #515-249
ODRC Madison Correctional Institution

Or by mail:

Harrison Lofton #515-249
Madison Correctional Institution
P.O. Box 740
London, Ohio 43140-0740