Badge, Bullets and Blood

By Henry Silva

Detectives Bobby Olivares and Brent Olson work as partners for the Hawaiian Island Police Department. Dedicated to solving crimes, upholding the law, and saving citizens, these two find creative ways to make sure justice is served. Sometimes those solutions aren't always approved by the higher-ups, until the cases are cracked wide open and the p

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958030691

Henry Silva

Henry (Hank) J. Silva was born on the island of Oahu three months before the Pearl Harbor attack December 7, 1941. He obtained a college degree in criminal justice and followed a police career as his grandfather before him when he became a police officer in 1966.

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Badge, Bullets and Blood

Copyright © 2022 by Henry Silva

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of ReadersMagnet, LLC.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I

Bad Guys Are Coming

CHAPTER II

Deadly Planning

CHAPTER III

An Older Gentleman Killer

CHAPTER IV

After Action Chatter

CHAPTER V

Intel Gathering and

Disinformation to the Feds

CHAPTER VI

Bad Guys and X Cop Spill Blood

CHAPTER VII

A Toast, After Action and New Intel

CHAPTER VIII

A Fed is for Executions and

Planned Hits

CHAPTER IX

Will the Virgins Meet Them in Hell

CHAPTER X

Aftermath of Hits and

Task Force Confusion

CHApter XI

Combined Informational Sources

CHAPTER XII

The Drone Killing

CHAPTER XIII

The Big Marijuana Shipment

CHAPTER XIV

I Am A Warrior, Not a Loser

CHAPTER XV

The Airport Hit

CHAPTER XVI

The Aftermath of a Mistake

CHAPTER XVII

The Gun Shop Burglary

CHAPTER XVIII

The Search, Recovery

and the Information

CHAPTER XIX

The Sting

CHAPTER XX

Deflection and Preparation

CHAPTER XXI

Intelligent Gathering Sources

CHAPTER XXII

The Plan Formulation

CHAPTER XXIII

Trying to Find the

Answer and Listening

CHAPTER XXIV

Targets

CHAPTER XXV

Actions for War on a U.S. State

CHAPTER XXVI

A Plan is Developed

CHAPTER XXVII

Evil People Want to

Buy Guns for Evil Purposes

CHAPTER XXVIII

After the Fact

CHAPTER XXIX

Silence the Traitor Informant

CHAPTER XXX

The Big Event in Motion

INTRODUCTION

When local cops are joined by a JFSTTF [Joint Federal and State Terrorist Task Force] a serious problem has been noted. Routine felonies and occasional murders start to take a back seat. The targeted State of Hawaii by a Militant Islamist group based in the Middle East, but with soldiers located in the United States and a bunch in the state of Hawaii in particular have to be brought under control. It is particularly disturbing when the Mexican Mafia starts participating in unlawful activities with the Jihadists. It really takes off in the first ebook, The Balls The Badge and the Bull Sh-t and the action continues into, Badge, Bullets and Blood.

The bad guys picked the wrong cop family to pick on for starters. Retired cops known as the Old Boys Squad’ start hit teams to rid the island of those that targeted the assassination of a hot dog Detective because he prevented the Jihadists from building their first Mosque on the island of Hawaii. The shootouts lead into the retired cops getting involved, including John Olivares, the retired father of Detective Bobby Olivares and the shoot-em ups get hot and heavy.

With the use of confidential informants, covert plots, misinformation, shrewd and bold gun fights including assassinations, innovative killing techniques and the using of drones for kills, there is a lot for the bad guys to be worried and concerned about. Of course for stress relief, there are always pranks and hanky-panky taking place. With all this going on there is still time for some good undercover work stings, like selling stolen guns to jihadists. Well, selling, not really. They got busted.

I REMEMBER THEM OFTEN,

THEY WERE PART OF

MY FOUNDATION AND I LOVE THEM

[Pappy] John Silva, you gave so much.

[Pappy] Detective Henry Silva, Honolulu PD.

You are one of my hero’s.

CHAPTER I

Bad Guys Are Coming

Because of two prior attempts on his life by Radical Extremist Muslims and his just receiving a telephone call from Ahmed Mahammad Al Uwari, aka, Ricardo, he knew that his life was in danger. He had been marked for death because he had prevented a Mosque from being built in his community and had verbally insulted and mocked a high ranking Muslim Cleric, who had ties to terrorist organizations.

What Detective Bobby Olivares was really concerned about was the safety of his wife and children. In the first assassination attempt by the terrorists hit team, Olivares and his partner, Detective Brent Olson, had killed four of the terrorists in a vicious shootout. It took place in a well-known golf course parking lot. There was another terrorist hit man who was supposed to be doing a stake out on a female County Building Department employee, who was also instrumental in preventing the Mosque from being built. He was never located and it was believed he left the island using a false name. The Building Department employee was also marked for death.

Ahmed Mahammad Al Uwari, aka Ricardo, was the planner and lead terrorist for their cause on the island of Hawaii. He had been told the value of a harvested marijuana crop should be in the $100,000 plus range and the owners hidden stash of cash could amount to $200,000 to $400,000. Just prior to the rip off, Uwari was called back to the Middle East.

Because of this he was not present during the event. The rip off was actually a police set up. Five of Uwari’s associates were killed in a police ambush. He now had a vendetta and this vendetta was supported by his superiors. It was to make an example of theHawaii Detective and as many of his associates as possible. He had informed Olivares in a phone call that he was on his way back to Hawaii, to carry out his assignment. It was chilling, to say the least.

Olivares made several copies of the telephone conversation with Uwari. He immediately sent them to his good friend, FBI agent Kent Rogers and his Chief of Police, Paul Fergerson Francis. He also made copies he would play for his immediate superiors, fellow Detectives and other Officers who worked in his district. Then a few copies were made for the police officers, who worked in the districts where the majority of the radical extremists operated and for the department’s Intelligence Unit.

Olivares did not have a lot of time to ponder on the telephone conversation. He knew that this was serious stuff. He was reluctant to call his dad. His dad had been retired from the Police Department for many years. He was an older guy now having exceeded his 74th birthday. His father was a great dad and grandfather. In his later years he mostly hung out with a bunch of other older cops and shooters who belonged to his gun club and gym.

Most of them knew him to be a really tough cop in his younger days. When he gained rank he was known as a cops, cop. In the upper echelons of his rank in his career he continued to be a cops, cop. He always protected his boys. Only a few very close friends who had worked the streets with him, actually knew just how dangerous this old man could be. He knew he had to tell his dad of what was going on. His dad would want him to let him know. He reluctantly picked up the telephone and dialed his dad’s phone number.

John Olivares lived in a remote cabin on a piece of acreage, in a mostly unpopulated area on the slopes of Hualalai mountain of the Big Island. He only came into town to shop, shoot, socialize, go to the gym and spend some time with family. Social events were not his thing. He had moved to the mountain retreat with his Rottweiler dog after his wife had died a few years earlier. He was hardly ever bothered by his Viet Nam War memories.

He was a kick ass grunt, shot a bunch of Cong and had seen many men die and many more seriously wounded.

As a squad leader he was well known for his ferociousness when it came time for battle.

He seldom had the haunting dreams any more. In fact it had been over a year since his last one. On the first ring John Olivares picked up the telephone. He wondered if it was one of his sons or one of his buddies that was calling him. If it was a political or send us some money call, he knew exactly just what to do. He would tell the caller that he had to tie up his dog and that he would be right back. Then he would leave the telephone on the table and go about whatever he was doing. After about 10 minutes he would replace the receiver. No one would hold on that long, even for money.

On the first ring, John Olivares said, This is John, and waited for a long second then heard, Howzit. He recognized his sons voice immediately. Hey, boy, what’s going on? What kind of trouble are you making today? Bobby Olivares responded with an, Are you busy right now, dad? The senior immediately picked up on his son’s seriousness and said, Is everybody OK, what’s going on? It’s the Radical Muslims. I am going to play a disk recording for you. I made this recording about a half hour ago. It is from that terrorist that didn’t make it to the shootout in Volcano. We talked about him before, the one that tried to get by as a Mexican using the name, Ricardo. I remember you telling me about him Bobby. He’s the lucky prick who didn’t get his ass shot off because he blitzed back to the Middle East just before the shootout. Too bad, the dipshit would be better off dead. Dad, I am going to put the telephone by the speaker so that you can hear everything. Here goes.

In a few seconds the senior Olivares heard the rag heads accented voice and listened intently to what the terrorist had to say. When the conversation had ended between his son and the Muslim terrorist he had an adrenalin rush. He understood the perspective that it wouldn’t be very long before there was some sort of action taken. "Tom and I will get together and put a plan into the making. I am going to need some satellite photos of where this guy will be staying. We’ll need some Intel on his routine movements. I don’t want you to be anywhere near the action on this one. We will make a plan to do him and a few bodyguards and then a plan to kill a whole bunch of those pricks.

"Tom and I will work a small team approach and if we think that we need more, we’ll get more people involved. Actually maybe we shouldn’t be saying too much over the phone.

I’ll talk to you when you get here tomorrow. Bobby Olivares, in a low voice said, I think you’re right. Thanks Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care."

John Olivares was at his best when there was a crisis. He was cool headed and had a way of calming others. It was sort of a front, because in his gut he would be boiling. However, most would never have guessed. The main reason for this is when he got irritated about small matters, he usually let everyone know about his displeasure. His mannerisms were like those of a pissed-off drill sergeant in those situations. He thought of an overall basic plan to get started on. It was not easy to do at this time with little knowledge of the target.

A proper response was necessary for a successful mission. He knew that this mission, like some of the others that he participated in were to be done under the radar. He said to himself, For now I better check my equipment and assets. I really don’t know where this is going to lead to at this time.

The old man walked up to his Rottweiler who was lying just inside the front door. The dog was immediately all eyes and ears as his master moved, waiting for some type of sign that would indicate how he could please his master. He said, "Tank, go make a perimeter check. The dog quickly got to his feet and was out the door before it could be fully opened. The dog circled the cabin at about 50 feet out, just inside the perimeter fence that stretched out in a rectangle at about 75 feet from the sides of the residence. The fence was to keep the horses and cattle that grazed in the outer perimeter pasture away from the house. It was a hog wire fence that was five feet high and had two tight strands of barb wire above it. That was to deter other types of critters. After circling the cabin the dog came back to his waiting master who now gave him a neck rub and a biscuit treat.

The dog’s mannerisms indicated there was no unusual threat to be concerned about.

Feeling secure, John Olivares closed the door and walked to the center of the cabin.

In an unusual motion he lifted the edge of his coffee table. It was on a small throw rug about five feet by six feet. The table and stiff rug, after raised, revealed a wooden floor that matched the rest of his living room floor. Placing a disguised magnet over a corner of where the table leg had been resting, a click was heard and a square portion of the floor raised up about an inch. It was then lifted high showing a wooden stair case leading into a room below. John Olivares slowly made his way down the steep steps into a small basement room. He turned on a light switch that also activated an air vent and an overhead fan.

For a moment he admired his collection of 20 plus rifles and shotguns and a rack of 16 handguns. With the two that he kept upstairs, and the one hidden in his car, that made him own 19 handguns. Most were registered as required by law. There were also those ‘emergency use weapons’ for unforeseen circumstances. They were not registered anywhere. Some of the rifles and shotguns looked like typical hunting weapons. Then there were the ‘black’ guns. They looked all business. It was a little harder to distinguish the, ‘for fun’ handguns from the strictly ‘for business’ revolvers and pistols.

His attention then went to his security camera screens which gave him a screen showing his front door’s interior side. The other four screens showed the surroundings of his cabin.

After viewing the screens he knew that everything was secure. If that was not the case, his dog Tank would have given him a warning with his deep large dog voice. He looked at the 7 lockers in which he stored ammunition for all of his weapons. He opened each door, just to make sure that everything was neat, marked properly and accessible for immediate retrieval. A small bench with his reloading presses, primers, bullets and casings of assorted calibers was glanced at. He also looked at the shelves that contained several cans of gun powder which were suited for various handgun and rifle loads. He then opened 2 drawers that was about 6 inches top to bottom, 3 feet wide and 34 inches deep. He admired all of the assorted magazines for his rifles and pistols along with other assorted gun parts.

He thought to himself, I’ll have to start loading some magazines tomorrow. I know for sure that I am prepared for a small war. If these camel jockey’s want to play war, I will accommodate them. They just don’t know who they are playing games with. They might know a little about killing, but I know a lot about killing. They are amateurs at tactics which is their flaw. I am a seasoned professional. He then made a silent vow. Ricardo or Uwari or whatever you want to call yourself, if you want to harm an Olivares, especially one that is dear to me, you have no idea what I am going to do to you besides kill you.

Then John Olivares started getting that special warm feeling he always got before he went into battle.

As he exited the stairs and re-entered the living room he found his dog’s eyes on alert, staring at him. He said in a quick excited voice, Tank, where are the bad guys? The dog jumped to his feet and turned to face the front door making excited, ‘I want to bite something noises’. It was followed with, Good boy Tank, that’s my good boy. Let’s go check for bad guys.

Then the older retired cop opened the door and commanded to the dog, Go find those bad guys. The dog was on complete alert looking for someone, anyone that he could find for his owner. He ran back and forth, looking out and beyond and taking in deep sniffs of the air through his nose, trying to smell an enemy. The dog looked back and saw his owner entering the yard and walking toward the gate, while placing a pistol into his belt.

The dog was comforted when the old man said Good dog. You scared the bad guys away, good boy, follow me. The Rottweiler came to the heals of his owner and followed the old cop to some ironwood trees about 80 yards from the southwest corner of the cabin.

The area was unmarked but for an old rusted metal bucket laying sideways on the ground.

It would never be suspected as a marker. John Olivares did a mental check of what was located within two large plastic tubes with end covers that were buried about two feet into the ground. He recalled the inventory as, nine sticks of dynamite, eight caps and about

500 feet of detonator cord. There were also two coils of copper wire on four 100 feet spools that were separated from an electrical plunger detonator. The tubes contained twelve containers each with five pounds of black powder. Each of the different explosives were compartmentalized for safety purposes, especially the dynamite, which leaks with age. The site looked undisturbed from his last check of about two months prior.

Not to break any routine, Tank approached the rusted bucket and lifted his right leg, causing a rush of warm yellow water to splash upon the bucket. It was a ritual. The old cop then said Good boy, then with the dog looking on, proceeded to complete the ritual between his dog and himself and urinated upon the bucket. When completed, both dog and John Olivares slowly walked back to the cabin.

Thinking to himself as he walked, he believed he was armed properly. He could end anything they might need to be acted upon that the rags heads might have to offer. He felt contented about the equipment, but was uneasy about not having a plan in place. His mind started thinking of imaginary scenarios and how he would handle each. The walk was slow and deliberate. When back at the front porch, he sat on a step and his dog immediately came to him and placed his large head in the chest area of his master. Tank was petted and John had his face licked. It was a warrior’s love relationship. Each would die for the other. No hesitation, no questions asked. It was just a fact, between the two.

The evening was beautiful. It was a bit cool at the 2,400 foot elevation in the higher mountain area. The sun would be setting soon. As he fondled his big dog, he reflected on an old thought he had carried for years. Someone once told him, If you really want to know who cares for you in your household, just put your wife your kids and your dog in the trunk of your car for an hour. When you open your trunk, just see who is going to be happy and kiss you. Oh how true he thought with a smile on his face. Let’s go make some dinner for the dog and the old man John Olivares said to Tank. His ears were now perked and the short tail was waggling at a fast rate as both owner and dog got up and walked into the cabin.

John Olivares sat down on his favorite leather recliner and picked up the telephone and dialed his friend Thomas Anderson also known as Uncle Tom, to his family and friends.

Tom’s wife Pamela picked up the phone with her normal answering manner, Aloha, this is Pam. Hi there good looking, is that old man that you live with there? "Oh, hi, John.

He’s in the den, I’ll get him for you, hang on a second. Hey buddy, how are you doing? I’m doing OK for an old guy. I have some important stuff that I need to talk to you about and I can’t say anything over the telephone. Would you be available to come over tomorrow afternoon, about four? No problem, are you all right? I’m good, we’ll talk tomorrow. All right, I’ll be there at four. Do you want me to pick up anything for you since I’m coming up? Yea, stop at the store and pick me up two chicken lau lau’s and a bag of poi. I have a yearning for them. Thanks for asking. Ok old man, I’ll see you tomorrow. How in the hell do you expect me to sleep wondering what this shit is all about?" The two older men laughing, then hung up their phones.

It was a routine early November morning with the temperature being 70 degrees at sea level and 61 degrees at 2,400 feet near John Olivares cabin. Being a longtime spiritual man, one of the first things that he did was his morning prayers. He included his immediate family and then his closest ancestors including his parents, grandparents and uncles and aunties. He also included his police friends alive and dead. After getting out of the bathroom, he noted it was five minutes past 7:00AM., with he then making his coffee for the day and preparing his dog’s morning meal. The dog always got his food first in the morning. Then John Olivares would make a couple of fried eggs over medium along with some brown rice and some turkey bacon. However, prior to eating his main course, he had a bowl of fruit consisting of strawberries, blueberries and a few cherries.

He tried to make his meals nutritious and tasty.At 9:15AM., the telephone rang. He answered and recognized the voice of his Detective son. Dad I should be at your house in about 15 minutes. I am going to bring Brent with me. Brent Olson was Bobby Olivares partner for several years and they tackled all of their policing tasks together. They socialized with their families and were like brothers.

The old man really liked Brent knowing what he and his son had been through together while policemen. He also respected the rugged veteran because he was one tough son-of- a-bitch and was the perfect one to protect his son in a bad situation. He was always there for Bobby and the kids. The old man said, Would you guys like me to cook up some breakfast for you? No dad, but thanks anyway, we had an earlier breakfast. Some hot coffee would be nice though. It will be ready for you guys when you arrive. See you soon dad.

Tank went on alert mode, a low growl emitted from his mouth, and his ears perked upward as best as a Rottweiler’s could. He walked to the front door looking in the direction of the unpaved driveway leading to the cabin. John Olivares knew who was coming but he had not heard the sound of the oncoming car. His ears were nowhere as good as the dogs. He walked to the dog, petted him and said. Good boy. He opened the door and allowed the dog to walk down the steps from the porch and it was then that he heard the vehicle of his son below the cabin in the trees. It soon came into view and he looked at his dog Tank saying, It’s OK big boy, it’s Bobby. He’s a good guy. The dog looked at him, then gave a warning bark in the direction of the oncoming vehicle just to let everyone know the big dog was very much aware of what was going on.

The old man pressed the electronic buttoned device that opened the metal gate to the perimeter fence and allowed the car to enter the immediate cabin property. Tank was along side the car barking occasionally with much intimidation. Bobby Olivares opened his door window and called out to the dog. It’s me big boy. Tank, are you protecting that old man? Upon hearing the voice that was well known to the dog, his composure went from, ‘bad dog on alert and I want a piece of you’ to, ‘it’s a friend mode’ with his tail wagging and his happy prancing along side the car. After the car stopped and Bobby Olivares and Brent Olson got out, the dog was all over Bobby for hugs and much petting in that special place. The same affection was given to the big dog by Brent. Then they walked up the steps to the cabin where both men hugged the old retired cop before they entered. Both grabbed their waiting coffee before they sat down at the kitchen table.

Bobby Olivares removed about four inches of paper work consisting of reports, maps, photos and link charts from his brief case. Is this the son-of-a-bitch? said John Olivares when he saw a 9 X 14 inch photo of Ahmed Mahammad Al Uwari. Bobby responded in a hateful voice, Yes dad, that is the asshole that wants to kill your son. Well I just don’t think that I am going to let him do that. This ugly cuss is closer to meeting Allah than he even dreams. Do any of your bosses know about this? Bobby told his dad, I let Captain Kiliikipi listen to the tape last night. After the Captain talked to the Chief, he called me and wanted to hear the tape too, so I played it for him. Oh yea, Bruce Wise listened to the tape this morning. Wise was a fellow detective and