Chapter 15: Rundown at the Vineyard

After an overnight stay at the Mount Zonah Medical Center to be treated for a strained shoulder and cracked rib sustained during his car accident on the Elysian Fields Freeway, Detective Harrison had managed to get word to both Lieutenant Wong and Detective Xander to update them on the situation regarding the De Santa Family. After being unable to reach Franklin Clinton by phone, the third call he made that morning after being discharged was to Michael De Santa himself to set up a sit-down so they could continue their upfront conversation they had started at Michael's house the previous morning.

Marlowe Valley Vineyard
Buen Vino Road, Tongva Hills
The Next Day
10:00 AM

Michael agreed to meet with Harrison at the Marlowe Valley Vineyard. This very prosperous winery and vineyard was located on its own private road and was nestled between the vast Tongva Hills between the Los Santos city limits and the nearby rural region of Blaine County. Being the only vineyard in the area, the destination was ideal for both casual wine drinkers and serious wine aficionados alike.

Dressed in the same suit jacket, light blue button-down undershirt, blue jeans, and blue sneakers he had been wearing the previous day, Harrison found Michael sitting at one of the outdoor tables and joined him as the latter of the two men nursed a glass of one of the vineyard's famous house made red wines. Michael was dressed in a plain gray suit with dark slip-on loafers.

"You look like hell", Michael candidly said.

Though frustrated, Harrison dryly chuckled. "I quite literally bust my ass to help you and Franklin save your son and your stupid boat from thieves and would-be kidnappers and that's the first thing you say to me?" he replied.

Michael took a big sip of his wine as he caught on to the detective's noticeable discontent with the situation. "Sorry", he said with a more perceptible amount of remorse in his tone, "You hanging in there?"

"I guess so", Harrison replied, "The force from the airbag strained the shit out of my shoulder and cracked one of my ribs, but at least I'm alive and in one piece."

"You come straight from the hospital?" Michael asked, "I see that you're still wearing the same stuff as you were yesterday."

"Yeah", Harrison said, "I just got discharged no more than forty-five minutes ago. However, the ten hours I spent in a hospital bed at Mount Zonah were not wasted. I asked my partner to bring me my laptop and spent most of that time trying to dig up information on our adversaries from the freeway."

The detective then reached inside his jacket and produced a six-page printed document, sliding it across the table to Michael. "I found out who Jimmy tried to sell your yacht to", Harrison continued, "and the assholes he apparently brought along as his muscle."

Michael sat forward in his chair and eyed the documents. "Vlado Marks?" he inquired, "Who the hell is that?"

"According to Interpol", Harrison began to explain, "He's apparently a forty-three-year-old grunt and gun-for-hire from Velika Plana, Serbia. Keep reading and you'll see that almost every gun runner, drug trafficker, and people smuggler in Eastern Europe has employed him at one time or another. He's wanted in at least six or seven countries on that side of the world for one nasty offense or another."

"What about the guys he brought with him?" Michael asked.

"All members of the Ballas", Harrison replied, "They all had last known addresses in South Los Santos. Two guys died, but one guy survived with a broken back and right arm after Franklin tossed him off the yacht. He's in the jail ward at Central Los Santos Medical Center, refusing to answer any questions without a lawyer."

"What would some Serbian gun-for-hire and some Ballas want with Jimmy and my boat?" Michael asked.

"A pair of LSPD patrol cops found the stolen semi-truck that they were using to tow the boat ditched on Chupacabra Street on Elysian Island", Harrison explained, "Marks apparently left his cell phone on the dashboard in the cab before he took off. Apparently, he responded to Jimmy's ad for the boat using a fake Lifeinvader profile and snatched both him and the boat when he showed up for the meet."

"Any luck finding my boat or this Marks guy?" Michael asked.

"I reached out to all the federal law enforcement agencies that are responsible for overseeing things on the docks near Elysian Island", Harrison said, "I managed to get though to our local office of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. The NCIS agent I spoke to said that they're working with the Coast Guard to lock down the docks and search for him. I'm guessing that they're still continuing those efforts as we speak."

"What about my boat?" Michael reiterated.

"That, unfortunately, is the other bit of bad news" Harrison regretfully said, "the NCIS team found your boat stripped and chopped for parts in the Los Santos Marine dry dock warehouse not far from where the stolen truck was ditched."

Michael sighed deeply and lowered his head. "Shit", he muttered, "I paid close to fifty-grand for that damn thing. Is there any good news?"

"Both the Feds and the LSPD are on the war path looking for Vlado Marks", Harrison replied, "My bosses are pissed that my pursuit of him resulted in my getting hurt in that accident, so I doubt he'll get a warm reception from my people when we find him."

Michael cleared his throat. "Look, Detective" he said, "I'm sorry I came off as kind of an asshole when you first showed up. I'm sorry you got hurt, but I am very grateful you helped us save my son. He's a lazy little shit sometimes, but he's still my boy."

"I hear you", Harrison replied, "And there's no need to thank me. I was just doing my job."

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" Michael asked.

"Actually", Harrison said, "There is. I need you to call Alan Saguaro at the U.S. Attorney's Office. I need you to give him permission to divulge some of the information about you and your family's true identities so I can explain everything to my boss and Judge Fowler. This will really help get my partner out of the hot water that he's in right now."

"I get what you're driving at, man" Michael replied, "But we were told from the get-go that if anything about who we really are were to somehow get out in the open, we all could really be in some life-threateningly deep shit."

Harrison put his hands up. "This will be a closed and private conference", he explained, "It will just be me, my partner, our lieutenant, Mister Saguaro, and Judge Fowler in the room. Nothing that gets said will go beyond the closed doors of that conference room. I'll do everything I can to ensure that, I promise."

Michael sat back in his chair and sipped his wine as he contemplated the detective's request. "Alright", he finally said, "I'll call Saguaro as soon as I get back home."

Now reassured, Harrison extended a hand to Michael. "Great", he said, "I really appreciate this, Michael. And I know my partner will, too. In return, if there's anything you need, you can call me anytime, day or night."

"Will do", Michael said.

"Have you heard from Franklin?" Harrison asked.

"Oh yeah", Michael replied, "I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you when you first got here. Franklin sent me a text message earlier this morning. He said to say that he's sorry for not being able to make it. I guess his Aunt Denise is all up his ass about something and they had some sort of big blowout this morning. He must not be in the mood, what with that and all that happened yesterday."

"That's understandable", Harrison said, "If you hear from him again, tell him to call me, would you?"

"You got it", Michael replied.

Harrison got up from his chair and nodded to Michael. "Thanks again, Michael. I'll see you around."

Apartment Building of Troy Harrison
1561 San Vitas Street
West Vinewood
One Hour Later

Because Lieutenant Wong had ordered him to take the next two days off to recuperate from his injuries, Harrison drove the silver 1998 Pontiac Grand Prix he had rented to his comfortably low-end apartment building. The detective's basic but still cozy domicile sat on the second floor of a very dated green building on San Vitas Street in West Vinewood. Harrison parked the Grand Prix in his assigned space in the building's small two-car garage and made his way around to the building's front doors.

It was here that Harrison was surprised to find Anna Barakova sitting on his front steps. Dressed in a black denim jacket, dirty blue jeans, and white slip-ons, she held what looked like an official LSPD case file folder in her hand.

"Hi", Harrison said warmly.

"Hi", Anna said in just as equally genial a tone as she stood to her feet, "Adam called and told me about your accident. Are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be, sweetie" Harrison replied, "I strained my left shoulder and cracked my left lower rib. The lieutenant wants me to take it easy at home for a few days. Do you want to come up with me?"

"I wish I had the time", Anna said with her tone now turning to one of reluctance, "Unfortunately, this isn't entirely a personal visit. I just wanted to give you a heads up about something and then I'm due back at the lab."

"About what?" Harrison inquired.

Anna handed him the case file folder. "The ballistics lab finally finished analyzing all those expended rounds from that Vespucci Beach alleyway shooting", she began to explain, "Like I had originally thought when I was working the scene that day, a lot of the handgun bullets did come from a forty-five-caliber handgun, most likely a Smith and Wesson. However, the real kicker is on the bottom page of that report."

An intrigued Harrison flipped to the report's final page. "The forty-five-caliber rounds match the bullet pulled from one of the dead Ballas on the freeway right before I had my accident", he said out loud as he read the page.

"So, the question is", Anna said, "Who exactly was it who was firing off rounds on the freeway that day?"

Harrison smirked nervously. "I honestly don't know for sure, Anna" he replied, "That whole thing was so insanely chaotic. I mean, we're talking dudes being tossed off a yacht while it was being towed away at sixty miles per hour!"

Anna thought for a moment and then nodded. "Okay", she said, "I'll go with that. But you should know that I'm going to have to include that response in my official report and send it off to Lieutenant Wong. You may have some questions to answer later."

"And I'm okay with that", Harrison confidently replied, "Thanks for the heads up."

Anna put a comforting hand on her beau's shoulder. "You're welcome", she said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

With that, Harrison momentarily leaned forward and kissed Anna's forehead. "I'm good, dear" he said, "I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Count on it", Anna replied as she started walking back up the sidewalk toward her waiting car.

Harrison watched her walk away for a moment before putting his key in the front door. As he did so, he sighed deeply as he silently and internally shuffled his thoughts around in his head.