The Cartel Takedown

by Frank Dorn

  “Billy will not be happy.”

  “No he is not.”

  Earl finished his drink, opened his bottom drawer and pulled out another jar, refilling both their glasses and finishing off the jar himself.

  “I’ll call him.”

  “May I suggest waiting until after the U N hearings?”

  “I don’t suppose you can cut to the chase.”

  “Latest reports indicate naval assets from the Atlantic and Pacific fleets are heading for the problem area.”

  “So the government is involved now.”

  “The ships are from several nations including but not limited to Great Britain, China, Russia, and Argentina.”

  “Is that all?”

  “It gets worse. Akhim and Brandie may have been falsely, at least in this instance, identified as agents of our government which could put their lives at risk, and I cannot reach Charlie. That’s all.”

  “That’s enough. Any good news?”

  “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  Betty finished her drink and stood up. “Wait until tomorrow. We’ll find out.”

  ~*~

  Charlie had time for three more drinks before his ride arrived. The man would not be getting a good review from him. He despised anyone who wasn’t punctual.

  The bartender, on the other hand, deserved a good tip. He had greeted Charlie, served him promptly, and chatted just long enough to determine that Charlie wanted to be left alone. After that he filled Charlie’s glass almost as soon as it was empty, and he had a generous pour. What more could he ask for? The man deserved a good tip and Charlie left one.

  He followed the driver around the side of the building. Odd. Normally, in a place like this, they’d just leave the car at the door. Ah well, Charlie wasn’t driving so to each his own. The street light was out. Street lights were never out here.

  Charlie dove and rolled next to the building. He hit emergency call button then his emergency police call, and set off his telephone’s siren alarm app.

  The so-called Ubur driver cursed and charged him, but the next thing Charlie reached for was his Bullpup. It didn’t look like much of a handgun, but the hole it would leave didn’t care. Next to his computers, it was his weapon of choice.

  The driver skidded to a stop, turned and ran. By the time Charlie had turned off the alarm, hit all clear for his personal and police trouble reports, and pocketed his sidearm he had peeled out of the driveway and was racing away. Not that Charlie cared. He had satellites, cell phone towers, and security cameras tracking and recording everything that car and driver did.

  An hour and a half later Charlie had talked to the police, drunk four more shots (they were on the house) and grabbed a cab.

  The ride home was quiet. The cab dropped him three blocks from his apartment. He walked eight blocks, backtracking and watching. By the time he reached his door he was ready for bed. Until he saw his apartment.

  12. 12

  Earl Graham sat at his desk, his palms resting on its polished surface. His computer was off and he did not want to turn it on. His secretary was already at her desk when he arrived and she was scowling. When he said hello she had snapped “I’m busy.” She hadn’t even looked up.

  Something in the world of Graham Enterprises was very very wrong. Sighing he turned on his computer, half expecting to see Charlie’s puppy avatar. The icon was in the upper right hand corner, but it was dimmed.

  Charlie was off line. Charlie was never off line. This was worse than he thought. He needed intel, and only Betty could tell him what was going on and she was in the middle of dealing with it. He sent out a message to all on site staff that he was not to be disturbed, then called the head of the news department and requested staff members be placed at all locations that might lead someone past his secretary, and make sure they diverted them.

  “Mister Graham that is a main thoroughfare. Your office is the nexus on this floor. Nobody can get anywhere without going past-”

  “Have them go downstairs and come up the other side. Have them climb out onto a windowsill and shimmy their way across. No one goes down that hall. Is that clear?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hung up, and leaned back in his chair. Betty always had coffee waiting for him except for today. He missed that cup of coffee. He wanted it. He was willing to get it himself, except that he would have to leave his office to get it.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes. Sometimes the best thing to do is to wait until somebody told you something. He hated waiting and he was not very good at it. He could feel a headache coming on.

  It was going to be a long day.

  ~*~

  There are ride services on the Dark Web. Sort of like Uber or Lyft, but with certain benefits. Need an untraceable vehicle? A getaway driver? Someone experienced in drive by shootings? There are ride services for that.

  Charlie needed a ride. He sat alone in an airport hotel room with a new laptop watching as the driver he had chased off from his favorite watering hole directed two hooded people who were loading his computers into a rental truck. He already knew the truck had been rented by Atherton Moore Willsley, Charlie was almost certain it was the man’s real name.

  That meant that the two hooded figures were his sons. One was thirteen and the other fourteen. They had lived in the area for just over three years. The boys were as different as night and day. One was athletic and popular, the other was bookish and nerdy. The older boy, the athlete, protected and promoted his brother. The younger helped his older brother, and his teammates, with homework. The two boys liked each other, and their friends, and their school.

  All of that was about to come to a crashing end.

  Charlie had followed the truck via security cameras to the Willsley home which was a basement studio apartment. It was located on a bad street in a bad neighborhood. If there was a cheaper place to live that didn’t involve squatting it wasn’t in this city.

  The truck was parked at the door, and still loaded with Charlie’s gear. He had landed a micro drone on a roof across the street, and was watching for them to make a move. Willsley’s car was nowhere to be seen, and his infrared camera showed that the boys had gone to bed.

  It was past time to make his move. He hit send. Minutes later his burner phone buzzed.

  “Yeah.”

  “You need a ride?”

  “Right now.”

  “It’ll cost.”

  “I’ll pay three bitcoin. One up front, two on completion.”

  “Done.”

  Fifteen minutes later and Charlie was standing beside a dumpster located behind a warehouse. A dark grey sedan stopped. Not until the car was off and the driver out did Charlie show himself. The two men studied each other. Charlie was clearly not what the driver expected. The driver, however was exactly what Charlie had hoped for. He was well over six feet tall, lean and muscled, with a scowl that looked like a scar.

  “You ready?”

  “Are you?”

  Charlie got into the passenger seat. “Shut up and drive.”

  False dawn was just brightening the sky when they stopped behind the rental truck. The driver turned to Charlie. “What’s the deal?”

  “We go in, you handle the wetware, and I take the truck.”

  The driver nodded, touched the bulge in his jacket with his right hand, and grabbed the car door handle with his left.

  “Wait!”

  The driver froze.

  “I’ll go in with you. I have to check on them first.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “It is now. You want to back out?”

  The driver gave the barest shake of his head.

  Charlie got out. “Then lets go, and no noise unless I say so.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Shut the hell up about the deal.”

  Silently they went down the steps to the apartment’s front door. It was a bathroom door,
locked, but it could be picked with a nail file, or a nail, or a dime. Charlie had a dime. They found the father asleep in a ratty recliner. The boys were asleep on a fold out couch. They shared a blanket, but no sheets or pillows.

  Charlie signaled for quiet, and tiptoed to the kitchen area, which consisted of a microwave and a fridge cube. There was nothing in the fridge, and just five slices of bread in a bag on the counter.

  The nicest thing in the apartment was a piece of junk ancient computer. The case was missing, and it had been tweaked by someone with more enthusiasm than knowledge, but to Charlie’s discerning eye it showed promise. There was a history textbook open beside it. Charlie picked it up and dropped it on the floor. The thud had the desired effect, waking the residents.

  The driver reached into his jacket and removed a very large handgun.

  “That isn’t necessary. At least not yet.” Charlie said quietly, and the driver put the gun away.

  “Good morning Mr. Willsley, boys. You seem to have accidentally moved some of my equipment.”

  The older boy looked ready to fight. Charlie glanced at him, then the driver. The driver sat at the foot of the bed, his hand inside his jacket and his eyes locked on the boys.

  “I told you anyone with that kind of gear would know how to track it.”

  “Shut up!” The father said. “Please, they didn’t know anything about this. It’s my fault. Just let them go.”

  “I can’t do that. You see, they have seen us, and I’ve got video footage of them loading my computers into your rental truck. Besides that you have cost me a great deal of money and time. I don’t care about the money, but I can’t afford the time. You three are going to make that up to me.”

  The driver turned and gaped at Charlie like he’d grown a second head. Charlie ignored him.

  “Willsley will drive the truck and his boys back to my apartment. You will haul the equipment back up to my apartment and you will set it up just as it was under my – our supervision. Is that understood.”

  The two boys and father all talked at once. The driver took out his gun and they immediately fell silent. Once they were quiet, Charlie continued.

  “This isn’t open for debate. Get dressed. We leave in two minutes.”

  The driver lead truck down back roads until they reached Charlie’s apartment complex. The morning rush was just beginning. The driver leaned over the wheel, hands at ten and two o’clock.

  “Man that’s cold. Making them unload the goods before you kill them.”

  Charlie sat in the back seat, trying to nap. The comment roused him. “Shut up and drive. When we get there you supervise the unloading.” He drifted back to sleep.

  The kids and the old man worked to unload the truck while the driver watched and Charlie slept. When they were on the last load the driver woke Charlie.

  “They’re done.”

  “Good.”

  “Now what?”

  “What’s their names?”

  “What?”

  “What are the children’s names?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Charlie turned and lead the way to his apartment. Inside the youngest boy was finishing up the wiring. Charlie was impressed. He had his way of doing things and this kid had figured it out. Either that or he remembered. It didn’t matter. The kid was good. A few of his specialized pieces lay untouched. Charlie looked from them to the young man. He looked at the floor, then met Charlie’s gaze.

  “I didn’t know enough about them to even hook them up. I figured best leave them alone rather than make a mess of it.” He looked down again and mumbled. “Make more a mess of it.”

  Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of bills. He peeled off a fifty and handed it to the driver. “Coffee, orange juice, eggs, bacon, muffins, the works. The driver gave him the stink eye, but nodded and left. Then he knelt beside the young man.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jim. My brother’s Chuck. Same as my dad.”

  “Good names. How about if I show you how to hook ‘em up.”

  ~*~

  Earl’s head was throbbing and his stomach growing. It was well past lunch and Charlie wasn’t online and Betty was still at the receptionist’s desk. He was about to throw caution to the wind and go into the reception area when there was a single knock and the door popped open. Betty walked in, shoulders back, head up, and smiling. She carried a cafeteria tray with a carafe of coffee, a sandwich, and a salad.

  “I’m sorry I forgot your coffee this morning. It has been hectic.”

  “Anything I should know about?”

  “Yes. Charlie will be back online shortly, Akhim and Brandie are going to a banquet, and you have an interview in twenty minutes.”

  Earl nearly spit out his sandwich. He calmed himself, swallowed, and asked “Really. What is the interview about?”

  “You’re canceling a movie. The Jungle Has Teeth.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh you know, artistic differences, poor box office projections, budget overruns, the usual. I’ve written up your talking points. You can pick them up on your way to studio three.”

  The coffee was just hotter than luke warm which was fine with Earl. He gulped three cups, took two bites of salad, and headed for studio three while studying his notes.

  13. 13

  The village was an odd mixture of mobile homes, adobe buildings, and palm frond huts built on raised wooden platforms. There was a central plaza which was filled with long tables and benches. Colorful ribbons and banners were strung between buildings. The tables were with large bright green leaves. The eclectic effect was charming.

  Women dressed in colorful blouses and long skirts were busily laying out plates, bowls, and cups. Children followed along with wooden spoons and two pronged forks. Everyone was laughing and talking in several languages. Spanish, Portuguese, English, and a few indigenous languages. Birds cawed and sang from the surrounding trees. The cacophony was almost musical.

  Great kettles were filled with bubbling soups or stews were suspended above a long pit filled with banked glowing embers. Animals roasted on spits beside them. A lone child turned the spits slowly, one in each hand. He looked longingly at the children playing in the rows between the tables and benches.

  A few soldiers hung around the perimeter, smoking and watching. Brandie and Akhim, arm in arm, strolled into the village, their heads close together. They stopped talking and smiled politely to the soldiers as they passed, then resumed their hushed conversation.

  “Have you heard from Charlie yet?”

  “No. I did get a message from Earl Graham’s secretary just after lunch.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Charlie suffered a setback but will be back online shortly, and we’re supposed to watch Earl Graham’s interview.”

  “Is she aware of the severe limits of cable and TV satellite here?”

  “She doesn’t seem to care.”

  “We could get a pirated video stream if Charlie was on line.”

  “His screw ups got us into this mess in the first place.”

  “To be fair, our screw ups helped.”

  “And then he disappeared. No, we’re on our own.”

  “You’re not on your own as long as I’m here.”

  “Oh please.” Brandie pulled away, but kept walking with Akhim. “We are on our own and we, you and I and nobody else, need a plan.”

  “James Dean said no man is an island.”

  “John Donne.”

  “John who?”

  “Donne. He said no man is an island.”

  Akhim stopped. “Really. What band was he with?”

  Brandie walked away from him and knelt beside the boy turning the spits.

  “Hi. That looks like hard work.”

  “It’s boring.”

  She ruffled his head and gave him a hug. The boy smiled.

  “Oh I don’t know, it looks like fun. Can I try?”

  Suddenly
shy, he nodded. She took his place and began turning the spits. “Am I doing it right? Not to fast and not too slow?”

  He nodded again. Brandie smiled. “Why don’t you go play for a while. I’ll stay here.”

  Surreptitiously she studied the layout of the village and the placement of soldiers. They looked relaxed. Relaxed and out of place. It dawned on her that they weren’t guarding anything. They were girl watching. Watching and waiting for the women to finish work so they could move in and flirt with them uninterrupted. Fools. The women would work all through the banquet. If they wanted to flirt they should move in now and offer to help.