by Frank Perry
never wanted to know who accompanied him.
The plane departed at four with the pilot and Ramon in the cockpit, because Peña’s girlfriend was frightened of the big body guard. For his part, Ramon smiled to himself over the effect he had on his boss’s women. He had the same effect on most men. Peña abstained from drinking on the two-hour flight, but his partner had several glasses of white wine. She was just a child in many ways. She enjoyed the high-rolling lifestyle, travelling with Peña even if he was twenty years older. He gave her everything she wanted and took little in return, just her affections.
When they arrived at Las Vegas, a large white limousine was waiting. Ramon sat in front again, while Peña sat in the back, groping his girl on the way to the Bellagio. When they arrived at the grand entrance to the most luxurious new Vegas hotel Peña said, “Here, my dear, take my credit card and check in.” He handed her some freshly folded hundreds, “And here’s a grand to play with while I go do my business. We’re staying in the bridal suite on the top floor. Enjoy yourself, go to the pool, play the tables, do whatever you want, and I’ll return late tonight for dinner and a show.”
She kissed him passionately. “I’ll be all warmed up for you tonight, Luca.” The hotel valet already had their bags on his cart and escorted her inside as the car departed.
An hour later, Peña and Ramon were driving down a dusty dirt road toward an old borax mine to meet Victor Morales, his Nevada distributor. When they arrived, Morales had unexpectedly brought two men with him. Morales wore a business suit, but the other two looked like common laborers or border gangsters. Peña told the driver to stop over a hundred feet away. Morales’s men moved toward opposite ends of his car, partially concealing them and the weapons hidden from sight.
Ramon exited the car first then Peña opened the rear door on the opposite side after Ramon moved closer to Morales.
Morales ignored Ramon, addressing only Peña, “Hola, mi Amigo. What a pleasant surprise.”
Peña smiled, but didn’t say anything until closer to Morales motioning with his hand. “Hello, Victor. Who are your friends?”
Morales looked left then right at the two ugly Mexicans, standing erect behind the car. “Who, them? Just some friends I brought along in case there was a party.” Meetings like this were rare, and Morales had reason to be nervous.
“Victor, I’m surprised. When we met before, you and I were nice and friendly without all the muscle.”
“In the past, Luca, we met at some nice club, not out in the middle of nowhere.”
Peña smiled and looked down, kicking some loose dirt. “Well that’s a good observation, Victor.”
While this dialogue was happening, Ramon moved closer, beside the car, almost even with the two Mexicans who looked at him nervously. Victor was concentrating on Peña without concern about his two hired killers. Peña looked up as though ready to speak when Ramon pulled his gun and shot the nearest man. The second man grabbed a shotgun that was leaning against the car and ran several paces across the dirt before stopping to aim and shoot. The shot had no effect. Ramon laughed at the ignorant fool shooting a cut barrel shotgun that loses all effect after fifty feet. The sawed-off barrel was designed for close quarter scattering effect and was useless at this range. Ramon stood, aimed and fired his 357 magnum, hitting the man in the torso. He then walked to the first man who lay wounded on the ground looking bewildered and pleading. The attack had not been provoked, they had not threated anyone. Ramon caught them by surprise. Even though he would have preferred his knife, he smiled then fired twice into the Mexican’s face.
Victor was stunned by the cold-blooded attack and unable to move while Ramon walked to the second man who was crawling, leaving a trail of blood. Ramon fired twice through his upper spine before turning to walk toward Morales.
Morales was petrified by the cold blooded murders. Executing men was nothing new to him, but it wasn’t expected this time, not immediately, and not his men. He’d killed several people who upset him in the past, but never had anyone as brazen as Ramon draw down on two men and dispatch them like flies without provocation. He backed away as Ramon approached, until Peña signaled Ramon to stop. Ramon pressed the release button on his SIG, dropping the magazine and reloaded the gun in less than one second, careful not to take his eyes from him.
Peña spoke calmly, “Victor, Victor. Now there is no reason to be so jumpy. If these men were friends, then I am truly sorry. You see, Ramon is my guardian angel and doesn’t like others with guns around me. Do you have a gun, Victor?”
Morales was stunned, nodding, “Yeah, Luca. I got a gun.”
“Okay, Victor. I suggest that you lay in on the ground very carefully so that Ramon isn’t nervous. Please use your off hand.”
Victor awkwardly fumbled with his left hand to remove the gun from his left-side shoulder holster. Ramon stood balanced to shoot if anything alarmed him. Victor looked like he could cry. He lifted the gun free in an exaggerated movement, holding it in his fingertips. He bent down and set it on the dirt then stood up.
“That’s better.” Peña had a small smile on his face.
Morales looked nervously between Peña and Ramon. “Luca! What’s this about?”
“Well, Victor, I’m glad that you asked. You see, Victor, you haven’t taken much of my product recently, but I read how Nevada is moving a lot of stuff. That means you. What am I to think?”
“Look, Luca. I don’t know what you want from me. Maybe someone is moving in on me.”
Peña was condescending. “Victor, you know that’s not true. Why would you allow that to happen? You were the main man in Nevada before I recruited you. I know you’re still the main man.”
Morales continued to sweat profusely in the desert heat but didn’t speak. Peña spoke again. “Look, Victor, I have a beautiful young woman waiting to have dinner with me, so we shouldn’t waste time. I just wanted to tell you that I’m reorganizing. You and I both know that you’re now working for Mojo. Don’t try to deny it. I believe it, which is all that matter’s under the circumstances. So, consider this your termination notice.” He nodded at Ramon, who shot Morales in the legs. The bullet went through both thighs.
Morales fell to the ground in agony, screaming. “Luca, Luca, please!” Ramon came closer and kicked the gun away then holstered his own weapon. Peña stepped backward, to avoid any blood spatters as Ramon finished the job with his knife, working slowly. The screaming and blood flow continued for several minutes as Ramon sliced away. Morales eventually went silent from the pain or blood loss. Peña supervised to the end from a distance then told Ramon to leave the mess as a warning to anyone else trying to break from him. “Ramon, it’s time to go, I have a date and you need some new clothes my friend. I hope you enjoyed this as much as me.”
Stubbs
Congressman Douglas Stubbs had his office in the basement of the Rayburn building. Office locations were a status symbol, defining much about how the delegates were regarded in Congress. Stubbs was serving his first term but had strong mentorship and support from the rest of the San Diego Republican delegation. His father had been mayor of the city and helped launch careers for the more senior Congressmen while Douglas was still in school. Stubbs served as a majority member on the powerful House Appropriations Committee (HAC). He would be vital to supporting the liberalization of drugs in California. It was an uphill battle for Hunter, since the conservative platform was based on harsh drug enforcement, even after debilitating capital losses and devastating drug-related gang violence.
Hunter waited patiently for Mickey Wallace, one of Stubbs’ legislative Assistants, to finish her first meeting of the morning. The receptionist offered him coffee, which he declined. This was standard procedure with Mickey, so he never scheduled meetings closely following visits to Stubbs’ office.
At ten-fifteen, Mickey opened one of the doors into the small lobby area where Hunter waited and said goodbye to a g
roup of Asian gentlemen. She saw him and extended her hand. “Hunter, how are you today. Come on in.”
She escorted him to her small cubicle, which was crammed into an office with several other legislative assistants. “So, what brings you by today?”
Mickey was short and stocky, and had the demeanor of a tough disciplinarian. She worked for another congressman for ten years before Stubbs was elected, and her old boss was not. She had curly brown hair which accentuated her round face and double chin -- much too early in life. She made no effort to dress fashionably and seemed to enjoy projecting a “hard ass” attitude.
“Hi, Mickey, thanks for seeing me on short notice. I wanted to know if you looked at the SAC language I sent over about legalizing certain illicit drugs.”
“Hunter. You know we have a problem with it.”
“Mickey, I know that, but it’s something the voters in California would support.”
“Not in our district.”
“I think you could be wrong. Have you ever canvased them with this idea and explained the benefits.”
“Look, Hunter, we can’t support a bill that looks soft on drugs.”
“Mickey, it’s not soft on drugs. It shifts the emphasis to municipal law enforcement like all other substance abuse and to education instead of fighting at a national level.