Dos

by Allen Gamboa

  “Salazar! Salazar, where the fuck are you, esé?” A drunken voice came from one of the apartment's back rooms followed by more smashing and crashing noises. “Salazar, you puta!”

  “Hey!” Nero shouted as he trained his pistol on the dark shape that stumbled out of one of the back bedrooms. “Stay where you are!”

  “Ha!” The man chuckled as he moved into the dim light. Nero could see it was Domingo. The cartel lieutenant was carrying a tequila bottle in one hand and a Barbie doll in the other. “Salazar's pet. What are you staring at soldado?”

  “You need to leave Domingo.”

  “What? Are you going to shoot me, pet?” Domingo grinned through yellowed teeth as he took a big swig from the bottle.

  “Yes.” Nero smirked as he still held the pistol in the cartel lieutenant’s direction. “Right through that nasty smile of yours.”

  “I see.” Domingo wiped the tequila off his lips. He could see in Nero’s eyes that the ex-soldier wouldn’t think twice about putting around between his eyes. “You win soldado.” He tossed the Barbie doll onto a couch. “Do you know what your boss is into? Check it out, esé,” he said, nodding to one of the rooms he’d broken into. “Don’t shoot…. pet. I’m going.”

  Nero just nodded as Domingo fumbled his drunken way out of the cartel captain’s apartment.

  Once he was outside, Nero made sure that the butt hurt lieutenant was well on his way back to the courtyard. Nero stepped back inside and assessed the damage Domingo had caused. Lamps and tables were strewn across the floor along with some glasses and plates. The Barbie Domingo had tossed was pretty weird and what did he mean by what his boss was into? Nero, intrigued, looked into one of the bedrooms. Inside the first one he saw a standard bedroom, no surprises. It was the second room that surprised the shit out of him.

  If Nero didn’t know any better he’d have thought it was some young and rich white girl's bedroom. All the pink and frill and dozens—dozens—of Barbie dolls. The former soldier dropped his pistol to his side in amazement. Salazar was a bad man. He’d killed many men and even been in several prisons. What the hell was this? Nero chuckled aloud and shook his head. I guess you never really know someone.

  As Nero started to exit the room, he had a thought. His daughters would definitely love to have a Barbie doll. What the hell? He was leaving anyway. Salazar wouldn’t say anything to his men for fear of being exposed. Nero quickly searched the ranks of the dolls for the gaudiest, most expensive looking ones. The first one Nero picked was Salazar’s newest addition to his collection. The next one Nero grabbed, was the cartel boss’s favorite.

  THE DICK WHISPERER

  CAMACHO’S HACIENDA

  “Robert, Robert,” Salazar said soothingly as he nudged Camacho’s cheek with one of his ostrich skin booted feet. “Stop your crying. It makes you look like a little bitch.”

  “Please,” Camacho blubbered. “Please, mama…”

  “Let me show you what your dear mama likes.” He unzipped his fly and began urinating all over Camacho’s head. “I’ve been wanting to do this a long time, Bob.”

  “Sal…Salazar!” Camacho spat as he tried to move his face away from the new boss' hot urine stream. Salazar finished, chuckled, and zipped himself up, dramatically wiping his hands on Bob’s back.

  “Bet you didn’t know that about old Gloria. She’s a freak.” He knelt down next to his former employer. “That’s how many animals show dominance to weaker ones. I bet you didn’t know that. I also know for sure you didn’t know this—Lugo Quezada. Remember him? You thought he was trying to muscle in on your Tijuana trade. You had me kill him. Well, I didn’t just kill him.” He grabbed Camacho by his urine soaked hair and pulled his face up to meet his. “I killed his whole family. Raped his daughters and cut of his little boy’s heads. Real fun stuff. You remember that? Hell, Bob, Lugo was an ally of yours. He wasn’t ripping you off. It was me. I had you believing he was doing the skimming and the whole time it was me.” He dropped Camacho’s head back to the ground and wiped his wet hands on the man’s pant leg. “I did that with the mesa bosses too. Manipulated everyone. Your mother? She’s deep in my pocket. Bitch is going to die on her way home tonight.”

  “No!” Bob’s eyes grew wide as he slobbered.

  “Yes.” Salazar nodded. “Yes. I have been grooming your mother for years. Years. Now the bitch is bending over for me and she doesn’t even know it. Bob, who do you think got you the reputation as the butcher? It was me.” He laughed. “Esé, I killed so many of your supporters that I was able to isolate you and take the business right from under you and your dumb ass mother. Old lady wanted the power and my dick so bad she threw you under the bus.” Salazar removed a switchblade knife from his suit jacket and flicked it open. “You know, I used to fuck my sister until she got too old. Working for you is like fucking your own sister. It gets boring and tiring.” He grabbed Camacho’s fly and gave the zipper a big yank.

  “Fuck you, Salazar!” Robert growled as he started to come out of his drug induced haze. “Cut me loose now or I will have Dirty Sanchez feed you to the Iceman!”

  “Relax, Bob, I’m going to take your balls for a trophy. Maybe I can have Dirty Sanchez stuff them for me!”

  “No!” Camacho screamed and struggled as Salazar started to pull his pants down.

  “Don’t fight me Bob!” He slammed the handle of the knife hard on Camacho’s forehead, stunning him. “This won’t hurt too much,” Salazar said, gripping the Butcher's penis.

  “Drop the cock and let go of the knife!” Morgan ordered as both teams converged in the spacious hacienda living room.

  Salazar instantly dropped the knife to the tile floor and released his grip on Camacho’s quickly shrinking privates. The new cartel boss dropped to his knees and raised his hands in the air so the soldiers wouldn’t shoot him. Camacho breathed a big sigh of relief as the two teams secured the interior of the hacienda.

  “Bet you never ever thought you’d say that, Sarge,” Cross said as she fixed her rifle on Salazar.

  “Nope.” Morgan glanced down at Camacho. “Hope I never have to say it ever again either. That our man?” he asked Hale, who was kneeling next to Bob the Butcher.

  “That’s him,” Hale said, looking at one of the three small photos that were strapped to the inside of his forearm. “Bob the Butcher in the flesh.”

  “Robert Camacho!” He spat as Salazar’s urine ran down his cheeks.

  “Or piss face,” Cross said, still watching the bigger cartel man. “I guess the other guy is one of our snitches.”

  “Roger that.” Morgan nodded as he glanced around at the rest of the team. Redwood, Amatuzo, Duley, and Snake were watching the entrance and exits while Travis kept an eye on the staircase. The rest of the team’s stood covering the two cartel men.

  “I am glad you stopped that freak before he cut off that dude’s cock,” Doc Kegy told Morgan as he kept his rifle aimed at Salazar. “I’m not in the mood to do combat triage on some guy's junk.”

  “That’s the least of our worries. Where the hell is Alpha?” Morgan tapped on his headset. “Alpha leader, Bravo One.” Silence. “Alpha leader, Bravo One.” Still silence. “Alpha Two, Bravo One?”

  “Shit.” Vanelli shook his head.

  “Try the chopper,” Hale said, waving to Redwood and Duley. “Come with me; we’ll check Alpha’s entrance.”

  “Roger.” Morgan nodded as the three soldiers left to look for their missing team members. Bravo had been able to reach the target but Alpha not showing up or answering on the comm was a really bad sign. The sergeant tried to hail the helicopter with no response.

  “No sign of Alpha,” Hale said as he returned to the living room with the others. “Any luck with the bird?”

  “Negative.”

  “This ain’t good, Sarge,” Duley said, moving back to watch the courtyard doors with Snake. “We need to book.”

  “I got a bad feeling,” Redwood said as he peered through some curtains out to the front o
f the courtyard.

  “Look, my name is Antonio Benito Salazar, I believe you know who I am,” the cartel man said, clearing his throat.

  “Yeah.” Morgan showed him the photo taped to his forearm. “Not photogenic are you? Where is the other snitch?”

  “You mean informer? Can I put my hands down?”

  “No, keep them up. Where is the other… snitch?”

  “You mean Gloria?” Salazar looked down at Camacho with a shit-eating grin. “She should be at the car lot getting ready to leave.”

  “What?” Camacho tried to pull loose from his ties. “What the fuck are you saying, Salazar?”

  “I’m saying, you puta, your mother was the one that turned you into the Americans. It was an easy way to remove you from power and score points with our American friends.”

  “No!” Tears streamed from his eyes. Camacho’s whole world felt like it had exploded inwards. He felt dizzy and the room seemed to spin as he tried to fathom the depth of his mother's betrayal. “You lie, you son of a bitch!” Camacho quickly tried to sit up but was shoved back to the ground by Cross.

  “Stay down smelly,” she ordered.

  “It is true, Bob. Your mother and I set this all up. Maybe you can send her a Mother's Day card from whatever hole they put you in.” Salazar chuckled.

  “Enough, rat,” Hale said, walking over to where Morgan and the others stood. “We need to go, Bravo One.”

  “Zip tie up the snitch,” Morgan told Cross.

  “Wait, I’m no snitch, I’m a businessman,” Salazar pleaded.

  “First,”—Hale pointed the barrel of his pistol at Camacho’s exposed genitals—“someone has got to zip him up.”

  “Be my guest.” Morgan nodded.

  “I was thinking the dick whisperer there.” He shoved Salazar forward. “Zip your buddy up. Any fast moves and you are a dead man. I don’t care who you are. Comprende?”

  “This is no way to treat a friend,” Salazar said.

  “We’re not friends. Zip his nasty ass up so we can go.”

  “You are lucky, my friend, that you have the guns.” He reached over and distastefully tucked the cartel boss back inside his pants.

  Morgan pulled a small roll of speed tape out of his pack. “We need to make this look convincing, business man. We wouldn’t want your people to know what a rat you really are, right?” He ripped a piece of tape free as Cross secured Salazar’s wrist. “Smile.” The sergeant slapped the tape across the cartel man’s face. What a bitch it was going to be when someone yanked it off taking all his mustache hair with it.

  “We better make this look authentic.” Hale slammed his pistol across Salazar's face, knocking him out cold. The thug tumbled heavily onto the tile floor.

  “Good job, Bravo Two.” Morgan smirked. “Here I thought you were all straight laced and shit.”

  “What about me?” Camacho asked from the floor where he lay. “Listen, I have millions. It can be yours.”

  “Do you have eight hundred million?” Morgan asked as he signaled the soldiers to get ready to move.

  “No. I have five hundred million.”

  “That’s too bad.” He tore a piece of tape off the roll and slapped it roughly over the disposed drug lord's mouth. After he secured the roll in his pack, he grabbed Bob up in one arm and jerked him to his feet. “Keep as quiet as possible, Camacho, or I will put a bullet in every square inch of you. Understand?”

  “Mmmmm, mmmm,” Camacho mumbled as he nodded his head. The cartel boss continued to hope he could still buy his way out of it. He thought for sure that Salazar had been lying to him about his mama but deep down inside, he knew it was true.

  “Listen up,” Morgan said into his headset. “Alpha has been compromised. I don’t know what the hell happened but it’s just us now. We’ll go out the way my squad came in and egress through the back gate to the LZ. Any bad guys in our way, we put down. I can only assume Alpha has been eliminated.” He glanced around at his team. “Redwood, you take point. Travis you cover our asses. Cross, this POS is your charge. Let’s move!”

  YOU’RE A BIG FUCKING HERO

  CAMACHO’S COMPOUND

  With all the chaos going on inside, Black simply walked out the back gate of the compound and into the surrounding hillside. He pulled his cell phone out of his slacks pocket and clicked it on. Behind him, he could hear the tinny echoes of muzak bouncing off the big adobe walls. Black smirked to himself, happy to leave his old business partners with a little gift of muzak. In the dark, behind the compound, Black set his case down on the ground and glanced at his watch. Before he could slide his sleeve back over the expensive timepiece, four men clad in black assault gear emerged from the thick scrub brush. Black smiled as he handed his case to one of the mercenaries.

  “Right on time, as usual,” the millionaire said to the man closest to him.

  “That is what you pay us for, Mister Black,” the leader of the four mercenaries said as he pulled his night vision goggles down around his neck. He took the case from his employer and handed it off to one of his other men.

  “You haven’t disappointed me yet, Baasch.” Black looked over the big German’s shoulder. “Which way we headed?”

  “Okane.” Baasch nodded at the smaller Japanese mercenary who quickly led the small group in the direction they needed to go. “Stay close to me, Mister Black.” Baasch pulled his night vision back on. “Your boy isn’t too far away.”

  “Very good,” Black said, following closely behind the mercenary commander. “I could have used you and your men for security in there. I think it was a mistake on my part depending on the locals.” He shrugged. “Next time your team is coming with me. I could have used your, uh, expertise.”

  “My men are at your service anytime, sir.”

  “I know.”

  Okane, the Japanese mercenary, quickly raised a hand for them to halt. Baasch stopped and put a gloved hand on Black’s shoulder. The millionaire followed the team down as they knelt in the cover of the brush. A few yards from them, Kubicek lay on his belly guarding the landing zone. Baasch chuckled as he realized the soldier was facing away from the compound.

  “Dumbshit is facing the wrong way,” the German said into his mic.

  “You sure we can’t kill him?” Okane asked.

  Baasch glanced over at Black. Their boss just rolled his eyes and slowly shook his head. The German smirked and tilted his head a little. Black again shook his head and mouthed the word ‘no’. Baasch shrugged and again spoke into his throat mic. “Boss says no.”

  “Too bad,” said Okane, genuine disappointment in his voice.

  “Just sneak up on that asshole like before.”

  “Roger.”

  “Watch this, sir,” Baasch whispered to Black. “This is what your money buys.”

  “I’m not buying Kubicek’s military skills,” Black said as he watched the smaller hired gun slowly move up on the unaware soldier. “I’m buying his ambition and his family ties. I have you if I need someone taken out.”

  Okane had once again succeeded in getting the upper hand on the lieutenant. Once the mercenary had disarmed Kubicek, he signaled the other four in.

  “Lieutenant Kubicek,” Black said cordially as the group approached the soldier's position. “So good to see you.”

  “Mister Black.” Kubicek grunted as Okane pulled him to his feet. “What the hell is this?”

  “These are some of my security men. They saved you from getting those manicured hands of yours dirty tonight.”

  “What about Bravo team?” Kubicek said, pulling himself free from Okane’s grip.

  “They won’t make it out of the compound or Mexico. You, lieutenant—or should I say… Senator? You will be the hero of the day. The only member of this mission to survive. You’ll be a big fucking hero.” Black patted him on the back.

  “What about Camacho?”

  “He won’t make it out of the compound either. Salazar will be sure that Camacho dies along with your soldier buddi
es. This whole incident will be a good thing for both of us. You’ll get a political career and I’ll get another ally in the Senate. It’s a good thing, John; don’t fret about your buddies.”

  “I couldn't give a shit about them.” Kubicek looked around at the mercenaries. “I just don’t want this thing blowing up in my face.”

  “If it blows up in your face, it’ll blow up in mine. That won’t happen, Kubicek. This will all be covered up and life will go on with a brand spanking new senator working hard for the American people and me.” Black smiled. ‘Now, you have your story?”

  “Yes. Camacho was killed in the crossfire along with the teams.”

  “Very good.” Black looked over at Baasch. “Make sure that case is secure, there’s important data in there I need. I didn’t get to finish everything I was working on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call in our ride. Have it take us to the yacht.”

  “Yes, sir.” The German turned his back on the group and began speaking into his mic. Black nodded at another one of his mercenaries and pointed at Kubicek.

  "We need to make this look as authentic as possible. DuPont, will you please shoot the lieutenant in the leg… twice.”

  Kubicek’s eyes grew wide. “Wait!”

  “Just wound him, DuPont.”

  “Sir.” The French mercenary quickly drew his nine millimeter pistol and fired two rounds into the thigh and calf of the lieutenant. Kubicek fell to the ground clutching his bleeding leg.

  “Why?” he sobbed.

  “That’s good for a purple heart at the least.” Black could hear the rotors of his private helicopter growing close. “We have to sell this, John. Make people believe.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Kubicek cried as he rocked back and forth trying to stop the bleeding. “You fucking shot me. I’m going to die!”