CHAPTER 4—Swarm

Tommy Vercetti leaned forward in his chair and pulled the ringing phone from its receiver. He calmly put the earpiece up to his head and listened as he continued to type on the new computer he had just installed on his desk. "Tommy Vercetti here, what do you want?"

A Haitian voice coming through the phone caused Tommy to jump slightly in his chair. "Don't be so casual, Tommy," the voice said through the line. "And stop looking around trying to find me, you'll never be able to do it."

Tommy's head ceased moving and he flicked his eyes to the window behind him, trying to find out who was watching him. But all he could see outside was the roaring ocean, and he couldn't hear the beating of helicopter blades, which meant his tormentor wasn't flying anywhere. He quickly realized he was in a bit of a situation. "What do you want?" he snarled into the receiver. "I'm a very busy man."

"I can see that, working so diligently on your computer. My boys on Ross Island have told me that you are a highly-skilled man in what you do, but I don't know if you can resist my offer, Mr. Vercetti." The Haitian man sounded almost happy at Tommy's discomfort. "I have a proposition for you, Thomas. The Haitians need money from you to work our magic, and since we can't get it for ourselves, we want you to do it. As long as you do everything I tell you to do, you won't be harmed."

"And how do you think you can hurt me?" Tommy barked into the phone. "I can't see you anywhere."

"Ah, but I can see you, Mr. Vercetti, and I don't think you like that," the man drawled in his Americanized Haitian accent. Sometimes, Tommy found it hard to understand him because of it. "That Haitian your man Beretto killed was my brother, and even though I didn't like him very much, the whole thing still pisses me off, Tommy."

"You still haven't told me what you want," Tommy pointed out.

"Ah, yes, but first, to make sure you realize the bonds of control I have over your mansion, I will demonstrate my power."

"Your power?"

"Yes, my power. I don't think you realize what I can do. I have very powerful guns, my friend. My rifles can zoom in ten times further than yours can. And if you so much as breathe wrong," the man's voice turned ice cold, dripping contempt, "I will put a bullet through your skull and you won't even know what hit you. I have a man of my own on the gun as we speak. Please, don't force me to use him."

"Just tell me what you want!"

"The demonstration is approaching..."

One of Tommy's favorite men, a guy named Brad Jayme, walked through the door. Brad Jayme had joined the gang very recently, he was somewhat young in his late twenties, but he was a good man. Very reliable, if you needed him to be somewhere, rest assured he'd be there. He was an expert marksman and a skilled fighter. But as he walked through the door, he saw Tommy's eyes jerk wide and the boss called out, "Brad! Duck!"

The Haitian lowered his binoculars and said, "Fire!" to the man next to him. The hitman placed his finger on the trigger, sighted on his target, and held his breath. Seconds later, he squeezed, and the gun kicked against his shoulder.

The window just behind Tommy shattered and he threw himself to the floor before the sniper could fire again. A neat hole formed right in the center of Brad's chest. His eyes went wide with surprise just after impact, his body went rigid, and he fell backwards, nailed before he even knew what hit him.

Tommy crawled forward on his stomach as two more gunshots rang out and smashed a picture and a vase in the room. On the phone, the Haitian's voice could be heard, "You're surrounded, Tommy, there's no escape for you or any of your men! Give up now, and we will show amnesty! The Haitians' day has come!"

Pain shot through his skull as Tommy threw himself away from a fourth shot and knocked his head against the side table near his main desk. He pulled the phone onto the ground by its cord and clicked off the line. He dialed seven numbers and barked into the phone, "They've surrounded us, the Haitians are going to bring the Vercetti Empire crumbling to the ground."

The voice that came through was Avery's. "What do you want us to do, Tommy?"

"Anything! Just so long as the guards can't kill me!" He ran to the door, careful to stay low to avoid the sniper, and slammed both his doors closed. He locked them and then barred the way with several large chairs and tables. Anything trying to get through would have quite a bit of difficulty with that kind of obstacle in the way. Tommy opened a drawer on his desk, pulled out an Uzi 9mm. The gun may not fire as fast as some of the lighter uzis, but this one packed a wallop. He made sure he was barred in, propped himself against the wall, and waited for the worst.

On the heli-pad on the roof of the Vercetti Estate, gang men came running onto the rooftop as a blue-painted Haitian Maverick helicopter descended. A man named Travis Skinner, the same one from the airport, led the charge. Automatic weapons fire roared as both sides sprayed the masses. Eight men dropped from the helicopter, and each Haitian was heavily armored under their clothing. They took bullets like nothing had struck them, and continued to fire. Skinner clutched his leg as a burst struck it, and when he tried to regain his composure, a Haitian struck him across the face with his gun. Skinner fell to the ground and someone shot him in the face. The bullet grazed his cheek as he slumped to the ground.

The Haitians continued their attack, with six men left. The one in the lead kicked in the door and motioned his men through. He listened on his boom-mounted comm-link, hearing the following words from the Haitian underling, Ali, "I was injured by Tommy's boys on Prawn Island. If it's the last thing I do, I will make him pay for what his men did to me. No mercy on this place, kill them all—but bring Mr. Vercetti to me, understand?"

Aware that Ali couldn't see him, but not really caring, the leader nodded and responded, "I understand, sir. We will bring the leader back in one piece. Out." The line went dead, and the Haitian man motioned his forces into the building. They quickly filed in, and he followed them.

Jason Beretto pulled up in his car, having just retrieved the money from the Haitians. He had been planning on showing Tommy himself, but was startled as he pulled into the dirt driveway. Three Haitian Voodoo cars were parked out front, and several Haitian men themselves were standing around, holding shotguns and speaking into radios. The front door had obviously been kicked in, and Jason could hear the sounds of battle coming from inside. He revved the engine and floored it. The car lurched forward and sent up dirt in its tracks.

One Haitian turned and began to fire his gun, but was hit before he could move. Blood squirted up behind the Infernus as it halted. Jason snatched his Ingram Mac 10 from the seat next to him and rolled down the window. He pulled the trigger and swept the gun around the cars, watching the last three men fall in puddles of their own blood. Jason grabbed the baseball bat from his case, slung the gun over his shoulder, and proceeded into the estate.

Once inside, he knew what had happened: the Haitians had raided from the cars he had seen parked outside. Two men stood near the doors, and Jason made to deal with them. He could see others fighting up on the balcony, but they were too busy in the pitched firefight going on to notice him. Jason swung the bat as hard as he could and caved the face of the first guy. The second man made to attack, and lashed out with his gun. Jason ducked under the blow, came up with an upper-cut to the chin, and then tripped his adversary. The man's skull cracked on the wall and he twisted and fell to the floor.

Jason looked toward Tommy's office, and saw both doors slammed closed. He realized the boss had obviously locked himself in, and ceased worrying about Vercetti. Jason raised his gun and took aim at one of the men trying to bust in the door—there were three of them. The pistol kicked against the palm of his hand, and he saw one man fall, shot through the spinal cord. Another bang followed, this time to the head as Jason sprinted up the steps. He pulled out his bat and landed a blow to the third guy, knocking him flat.

Mario came running over, followed by several Vercetti Gang boys. All of them were bleeding in one place or another—Mario himself had a nasty cut on his left temple. "We have to get Tommy out of here. No telling where the snipers are. Skinner was up on the roof—" he jerked his gun up, "—but I haven't heard from him in too long. I don't like it, Mr. Beretto."

"Will you just call me Jason?" Jason snarled and reloaded his .45 as he made for the stairs leading up to the heli-pad. "I think we've managed to push them out of this place, but, from what I can hear, there's still fighting on the roof." Jason's theory proved correct, as soon as they got near the roof, gunshots and auto-fire could be heard clearly, meaning the battle was well underway. As they got topside, Jason fired his gun twice, watched two Haitian men fall, and saw Skinner on the ground.

His leg was bleeding badly, and there was a deep cut just by his left eye. He had obviously been shot but not killed. Jason leaned down, ordered some men to help him and carry him back inside. Jason straightened and fired his pistol until the ammo was gone. By this time, the roof was secure, and the last of Tommy's men sprinted back into the estate.

"Hey, Ber-eh, Jason?" Mario said as he came running up. "What made you stay to save Skinner like that? I think Tommy would leave any of us behind if it were up to him. We're kind of disposable to him, if you know what I mean. He's got it made, and we mean nothing to him."

"Mario, why don't you go shoot yourself? Don't expect any different treatment from me than what Tommy gives out. Just, go back inside and try not to swallow your tongue or anything." Jason had finally decided he didn't like Mario very much. Despite Tommy's opinions, the man seemed like a freak, and Jason frankly didn't want anything more to do with him. Seconds later, Jason arrived outside Tommy's office and watched as the doors swung open.

Tommy was in a rage. "How dare they raid my mansion! This is Tommy Vercetti they're messing with! I'm sick of this crap, Beretto! I want you to take care of it! Go into Little Haiti for me, and find a little shack owned by a woman named Auntie Poulet. You might find some answers from her!"

"You want me to go now?"

"No," Tommy said, starting to calm himself. "Get some rest, Beretto. You'll need it. I want you to break into every Haitian house until you find her. Get her to tell you what she wants from me, since she leads this Haitian crap. Find out what they're planning and how they're gonna do it. I want all the answers by tomorrow night. Swing by my mansion with this information and there might be a sweet deal for you. Understood?"

"Yeah, got it." Jason dropped his Colt .45 back into his pants pocket, shouldered the baseball bat, and walked out the door. Tommy wanted to know what the Haitians were up to? Jason was just the man for the job. On his way back to the Links View Hotel, Jason stopped by Ammu-Nation and stocked up on Colt .45 ammo, along with an Uzi 9mm. In addition, he purchased a set of body armor he could wear under his shirt. The Haitians wouldn't know what hit them.

Jason shook rainwater out of his eyes as he crossed the street and drew his Colt .45 pistol. Ever since he had returned to Vice City from Liberty, everything had been going his way. He couldn't believe his luck that the Haitians had decided to attack Vercetti's empire just now. The timing couldn't have been more perfect—and if Jason could pull this off, he would be a made man. Tommy Vercetti, the criminal owner of Vice, would owe him a huge favor. And above all that, he'd get to show that punk Mario what he could do.

As these thoughts passed through his head, all Jason's attention was focused on the house he was heading for—the one he knew to belonged to Auntie Poulet. For the past day, he had scoured Vice City, looking for answers and generally beating people up until they told him what he wanted to know. A full day's hard work had finally led him to this worn-out house, where he knew the Haitian ganglord would be waiting inside. As he watched the Voodoo car parked outside and noticed the hydraulics (it was sitting very high off the ground), he felt something hit the back of his head and his world went black...

"Mr. Beretto, you be waking up for me, eh?"

It was a woman's voice. Jason felt himself return to consciousness and his eyes fluttered open. Standing right in front of him was a huge woman with large busts and a small head. She was Haitian, and obviously Auntie Poulet. "I got a deal for you, Jason."

"How do you know my name?" Jason asked, still groggy.

"We took this from your pocket," she said, holding up Jason's driver's license. "And we also know that you work for Tommy Vercetti." Jason now noticed, as she leaned in close to him, that she was very old, probably in her seventies. Understandable, since she had been pretty old when Tommy met her back in eighty-six. Huge bags of skin hung under her eyes, and she looked very worn-out. Hard to believe she was a ruthless killer (even though she herself didn't do the killing). "Tommy is going to betray you, Jason. And we know why. You're getting to be too smart for him, and he thinks you need to be taken care of."

"How do you know this?"

"I have my ways," Poulet said as she stood and paced the room. "We tapped his lines after breaking into the estate, and now we can listen in on everything he says. He promised Skinner that if you failed on this mission, he would get the opportunity to kill you."

"Skinner?"

"Aye, Jason. The big man's gonna let Travis Skinner do his dirty work."

"Which is—?" Jason prompted as he felt some of the grogginess leaving him.

"Killing you."

"But I thought everything was going fine. Why would he want to kill me?"

"Don't ask me a crazy man's motives, Jason. But just be warned, never try to mess with me again. I know why you're here, you want to know what I've got in store for Vice City. Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out after it's already too late. So, enjoy a little rest and happy morning."

Poulet stepped aside, and another Haitian man stepped forward. He was holding a Colt M4, and planned to use it. He brought the weapon back over his head, and then struck Jason's head, knocking him out yet again. Before he slipped away, he thought he heard the following exchange:

"Is everything set?"

"Yes. Ross Island, here we come."

The heat of the following day awoke Jason from his slumber. He rolled over, felt his arm leave any kind of surface, and his eyes snapped open as a breeze caught his shirt and ruffled it. A breeze? Jason jumped backwards and realized he was lying on a building. They had placed him right at the edge, so that any movement while he was unconscious would sent him plummeting to the street below. Only a miracle he hadn't fallen.

Jason was just wondering how he would get down from the building when a helicopter flew in and roared over his head. Wind whipped up all around him and took his breath away. He shaded his eyes from the glare and saw Skinner at the controls to the helicopter. He released a rope ladder, and Jason scaled in it seconds.

"Nice to have you back, eh, Jason?" Skinner said as he reeled the ladder back in. "We got word that Poulet ambushed you not long after it happened. British guy named Paul told us around midnight, and Tommy ordered a city-wide search after they learned Poulet had disposed of you. Glad I finally found you—I was assigned to aerial work. Let's get back to the mansion, and tell all that you know to Mr. V."

The helicopter's blades roared faster and faster, Skinner pulled the helicopter into the sky, and they flew for Tommy's estate. Even though Skinner didn't notice, Jason shot the man glares all the way on the return trip. He would make sure to deal with that one sooner or later.

The comfortable armchair made Tommy's office more inviting. Jason leaned back and folded his hands behind his head as he listened to the boss speak. Several others were present at this meeting—Avery Carrington, Ken Rosenberg, Kent Paul, Mario, Travis Skinner, and Jason himself. Tommy was very angry that Jason had failed, but was willing to accept failure at least once in someone's career. He almost expected it.

"I can't let this crap go on much longer in my city," Tommy said hotly. "Those Haitians know how to push all my buttons. We can't afford to be losing money like this—protection is one thing, but we can't stop them forever!" Tommy snarled and sat down at his desk. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the six men standing before him. "Anyone know what to do? I don't want to let these Haitians push us around. I've owned Vice for thirteen years now, why give it up to these push-overs?"

"They hardly seem like push-overs," Rosenberg said, fixing the glasses on his face. "After everything they've done here, I can't believe you can still call them push-overs."

"That's what they are!" Tommy almost screamed. "And if you can't see that, maybe you shouldn't be working with me. I don't know what it is, they have some kind of tactic that makes them sound stronger than they are."

"We know they're working to expand from Little Haiti," Jason said.

It was Avery's turn to speak, "And Mitch Baker told me he's seen them in his turf. Way out of their usual territory. If you ask me, it's getting a little out of hand."

"Agreed," Tommy said. He sat back down in his chair and wrote something down. "Has anyone heard anything about where they might be operating? Like, a section of town, some state, or anything like that? I know someone here must know something."

Jason shrugged. "I've heard them mention Ross Island several times." He massaged the gun in his pocket. "Maybe they've set up something there. Something to get their funds off the ground, or some kind of allies, maybe?"

"Perhaps," Tommy said as he picked up the phone. There was quiet for several seconds, and then Tommy talked into it. "Drake, it's Vercetti here...yeah, doing pretty fine, except for the Haitian prob—yeah, working on it. The new guy got here okay, but I..." Here, Jason wondered if he was 'the new guy.' Probably. "Anyway, Ross Island...you got anything on it?" More hesitation. "Yeah, we think the Haitians are connected with the place somehow. Maybe setting up an operation or linking with allies. You know anything?" Pause. "Uh-huh...uh-huh...yeah...no...yeah, thanks, Drake. See ya, soon." Tommy hung up the phone and looked at those sitting around him.

"Jason, Skinner, Mario...pack your bags. You three are going to Ross Island."

"You'll need some weapons," Kent Paul said, standing up from his chair and pulling out a piece of paper. "I know where you can get some. There's a shop called Phil's Place over in Little Haiti, here's the address," Paul wrote down the number, "and I know the guy that works there. Really good guy, knows lots about guns. He'll give you what you need."

"All I want you to do is buy some C4. Understand?" Tommy asked.

Jason nodded. "Got it. But what do we need C4 for?"

"Your first job on Ross Island, Beretto," Tommy replied, completely ignoring the question. "Now get packing!"