Ice Cold

by Mark Graham

  Ice kind of liked the dry heat in Yuma so he decided he’d spend the day, and another night and leave when he was ready in the morning. He always called this his recovery stage after a job. No demands, no place he had to go, or anything he had to do. While driving he usually got a book CD or listened to music with his mind as far away from his work as he could. After a short drive he found another motel that seemed a lot nicer than the last one, and found this one had a much better pool. For the rest of the day Ice just kind of hung out. He got a paperback and read part of it and took time to take a nice swim in the pool. During the rest of the day he read the rest of his book while lounging next to the pool.

  On his way to the motel earlier he had passed what looked like a great steak house. He went back to it and had a really good steak, along with American fries, a salad and a couple beers. When returning to the motel he saw there was a nice bar and grill only a couple hundred yards from the motel. He drove to the motel and parked his car and walked back to the bar and grill.

  When sitting down at the bar he didn’t realize how late it was. It was still light out but by the wall clock it said it was 8:30. Ice knew all bar times were set 15 minutes or even 30 later then the real time. That way they could be sure everybody was out by the legal time limit.

  The crowd wasn’t too big, but he could see quite a few people coming and going. He moved to the end of the bar and watched two guys playing pool. Apparently the guy sitting around the corner from him was friends with the other two. All three had high and tight haircuts and Ice remembered there was a Marine Air Base not far outside of Yuma. The guy who lost the game sat down next to the guy at the bar, and the sitting guy had his turn to play. Reminded Ice of the time he and his friends went out before being shipped out to Desert Storm.

  “You want another of those?” the bartender asked. When Ice nodded, another Jack Daniels and water was placed in front of him. Ice asked for a glass of water too. He had learned from his past he had to refrain from drinking to much so as to have all his faculties. Although at the time, he felt all might be okay, especially with the three who were his so called brothers in the Corps. They didn’t know it, but he did.

  “Hey old dude!” the winner of the last game hollered at him, “You want to play a game and try your luck?” The kid seemed a little tightened up, and seemed like he might be looking for new challenges and seeking higher heights of being an ass-hole.

  “Not right now son,” he responded with a smirk on his face.

  “Son!!!!! Who you callin’ son dude? My dad was a Marine and you ain’t no dad of mine.”

  “I was in the Marine Corps too son, no offense intended,” Ice calmly replied trying to keep out of any kind of altercation.

  “Where did you go when you went?” the guy sitting on the bar stool asked.

  “Desert storm, forced recon,” Ice answered.

  “Oh fuck you dude. You ain’t no forced recon, those guys are kick ass. I see some gray around those temples dude,” the third of the group answered in a real smart ass manner.

  “Hey guys,” Ice responded, “I’m not looking for any problems. I just stopped in to have a few drinks, go back to my motel, get a good nights sleep and be on my way in the morning.

  “Kind of a chicken-shit then aren’t you, ya wanna-be Marine,” the first guy said moving closer to him. “We’re shipping out to Iraq in a few days and we’re definitely glad some one like you won’t be whining and crying when you’re just off the helicopter and twist your ankle and will want to spend months recovering in sick bay!”

  Ice knew they weren’t shipping out because no Marine ever shipped out of Yuma, Arizona. They may be getting orders to go to another base, then shipped out but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

  “Listen Marine, I’ve tried to be nice and was even hoping to play a game or two later after I digested my food. But . . . please don’t assume anything. You can’t and you won’t ever kick my ass.” It was his turn to give the shit-eating grin.

  “Well you mother-fucker,” the man started to say as he pulled his que stick up to jab at Ice’s face. Ice was too quick for him, grabbed the pool stick, and broke in half before the Marine got the last word out. The man made the mistake of taking a fighting stance and Ice hit him in the adam’s apple and the guy fell like a bag of manure.

  “Hey!, you can’t do that to him and get away with it” the guy said that was sitting. Both men grabbed a stance like they wanted to fight.

  Ice said calmly, “yes I can.” and proceeded. He whacked the closest guy with the end of the broken que stick opening his cheek to his teeth and immediately turn on the other and hit him along side the head with the blunt end of the stick. He turned back to the other guy who was still standing and looking at all the blood in his hands and Ice kicked him so hard the guy actually twirled around before going down. The third guy looked like he still might have some fight left in him so Ice came down with his foot with as much force as he could, and broke the guys knee into many, many pieces. When he had fallen he had got his leg caught up in one of the chairs which placed his knee several inches off the ground. The screams that followed were terrible. Ice threw the sticks down and turned to leave.

  The bar tender said, “Hey, you better stick around. The police are on their way.”

  “No way,” Ice said. “When the ambulance gets here tell them they need to do a trac on that guy choking or he will be dead in about four minutes. The other two if they can concentrate . . . well . . . tell them they’ll never make it in the Corps. With that Ice went back to all three and ripped the dog tags off of them, taking the tags with him. He rushed out the front door and got halfway back to the motel before he heard and could actually see the overhead lights to a couple cop cars and an ambulance. “Bless you my sons” he said under his breath, smiling and calmly walking back to the motel.

  He slept fitfully for about four hours and got up, jumped in the shower and grabbed his stuff and put it all in the trunk except for his gun and shoulder rig. He had picked up a light jacket to hide the gun but glad he did anyway because it was a little chilly out.

  He returned to the room and checked to insure he hadn’t left anything behind and took the sheets with him too, leaving no evidence of him being there. Just before getting to the highway he turned into a Waffle House where he knew he just had to have some of their pecan waffles.

  When returning home Ice found both of his dogs romping around the front yard. He had called his sister and she must have insured they would be there before he got home. Once in, the gate closed and he parked the car, and he actually got down and rough housed with both of his dog buddies. He was almost worn out when done and sent them on their way and they ran off looking for rabbits or anything else they could chase.

  On his dining room table he found a small pile of mail. He went through it, throwing the majority of it away, because it was junk mail.

  There was one envelope addressed to him as Mr. Ackerson in a woman’s hand writing. He opened the letter and read it. A Eva Harden was the caller. In short she told him that she had found out her husband has been involved with kiddy porn and sexually molesting several children in the area they lived. One of his better friends was a police officer there and her husband was a deacon of their church. She had heard from a friend of a friend that he might be able to help her find some one who might be able to stop her husband. She loved him but hating hearing about the children. Ice was a little worried that the woman knew his real name, but at least she was under the impression that he might be able to contact someone for her. At this point in time he knew he could not personally meet this Eva Harden. It was either true, a half truth, or someone was trying to set him up. It seemed that he felt that she recognized her voice, but forgot about it as fast as he thought about it.

  After the mail, Ice checked his protected e-mail site and read a short few messages from those who he dealt with. One was that he might be asked to do a favor for a politician and take care of a personal problem in Colorad
o. Another was just to tell him that one of his peers was alive and well but couldn’t check in with the Director because he was in a coma from being blown out of a second story apartment. It said he was alive but his appearance had been changed permanently. The third was a letter giving the where-abouts of Horacio for the past week. Evidently someone was doing some cover work for him. He realized he didn’t have a real long time to take care of the guy. He also knew the Director was aware of this because there was a code on the bottom of the page with the Director’s authority and knowing he knew all that was going as scheduled.

  The next day Ice called a guy by the name of Brad Hester. Brad was a lieutenant in the patrol division of the Maumee Police Department. He was thought to be an up and rising star at the department. Ice’s second brother who was older than him was the Deputy Chief of that department. Ice knew his brother was aware of some of the stuff he did. He felt suspicious that Brad might also know something what it seemed with Ice. However, he and Brad had made friends quickly when they met and learned each had been to Desert Storm doing the same job but in a different company. Ice thought “hell, he could have stood right beside me over there and I wouldn’t remember him. Our faces were all covered with that awful face and body paint, and every body was a month away, either way, from taking a shower. He did reach Brad and made plans to have lunch together at a great little sub-sandwich shop.

  Chapter Four

  The lunch with Brad went well. Both felt comfortable with each other; probably because they shared a little of the same pass being almost the same age. Ice was very careful in what he said to Brad because he didn’t want his friend to feel between a rock and hard place. To some Ice was a saint, but at the same time to others he was a very evil man, and thought of as being a rogue demon on the lose toward man kind.

  The subject of Horacio came up, of course since Ice brought the man up. Brad told Ice, or as he was known in Maumee, Steve, “He’s kind of an untouchable we have found,” Brad stated.

  “We know what he does, and we know who he does it with, but we can never get enough on him to bring him to court. He has too many go-betweens, and his operation is set up on levels of power. There has only been two times that we have found a witness to help us prosecute him. Both ended up dead in some nasty way. You can always tell where he is if you see his car. It’s a pimped out stretch Hummer all chromed out with the loudest and best amplifier system in town. The only thing we can get him for is playing his radio too loud.”

  “Who does he hang with Brad? Steve asked.

  “He has three main men and there are always at least two of them around,” Billy responded. A real, and I mean real, tough white guy who is in his early thirty’s. He usually has blue and green hair that is spiked at least a foot. With the high heeled boots he wears he’s at least seven foot tall and the hair-do makes him look like he’s about eight foot. Actually of the three he is probably the best trained. He did spend four years in special forces for the Army. And of course he goes by the name of “Spike”. His only weakness is that if he gets knocked off those shoes of his the game changes significantly.

  “The second guy is quite a bit smaller. Very, very dark, and can talk ‘nigger’ with the rest of them. Excuse the expression but he certainly is fully what I just said and will tell you the same thing. His street name is ‘Speed’ because back when he was younger he did a lot of speed. Horacio demands that anybody working for him cannot be a druggy, speed freak, or actively be using any drugs. He doesn’t mind drinking but none of his men better be getting drunk and un-reasonable or he’ll put them out, more than likely permanently. He doesn’t stand out. He’s only about five-eight, and just a little chunky. He dresses like you would typically see on TV of a black player. He always wears a black coat, jacket, or vest, and a black derby kind of a hat. He is quiet but is very good with a knife, and has been known to pull a sword out ever so often. No training that I know of. Just a stand up gang member kind of a guy. If he sees anything that looks like a cop his mouth goes shut and stays that way.”

  The third guy is a black guy too. A big guy with plenty of muscles and he’s proud of those muscles. He’ll always be in a t-shirt or a sleeveless shirt of some kind. He has tattoos, mostly tribal art on both arms and the front and back of his torso. I can get you a picture of him if you want. He’s been arrested several times for small things such as drunk driving, disorderly, assault and battery, and possession of stolen property. He’s only been in prison once but I know he never wants to go back and will either kill somebody so he doesn’t go back or do the suicide by cop thing. At times he seems like a keg ready to go off, but since working for Horacio he just kind of seems to hang out and play the part of a clown sometimes. All three love women, but we know Spike has gone both ways from time to time. When he commits rape it’s usually a man. I think it is one of those fear and control things. We’ve never had anybody who has reported him who was one of his victims.”

  “Happy bunch there then, isn’t it Brad?” Ice smirked with a smile. “Sounds like a really big party is going to go off some time or another.”

  “Yep, it’s one of those things that it isn’t if it happens but when it happens. Those are Horacio’s main men. He has at least a dozen supposed bad asses wanting to be one of his so called body guards. He’s a tough guy himself. Three burly bikers jumped him last year and he put all of them in the hospital. One of them got permanent brain damage. He isn’t a guy to play with. When he goes down it will be somebody who fights for life and death with no excuses for being in between.”

  “Sounds liked a challenge to me?” Ice both asked and stated.

  “Yeah, well I hope I’m no anywhere around when it does go down. It will be a blood bath for somebody, hopefully him, but all that will remain will be the dead and dying.”

  “Where’s he hang out?” Steve asked.

  Brad pointed at a fancy looking bar across the street. “He hangs out there a lot.

  When he does he sits back in the far back left corner at a large round table with his back to the wall. There’s alway chicks hanging out with him. Probably some of his whores. And yes, he always has at least two of the bad boys with him, and the third sometimes perched not too far a way just in case. He lives over at the Hotel just on the other side of the river. It’s a decent place and his room takes up a third of the top floor. He has three or four ways he can get out of the building and we think he may even have a tunnel or two in the basement. He’s a guy who has trust issues and he doesn’t even like the idea of a cop coming within a block of him. He does seem to just disappear when we do try to watch him.”

  The next day Ice went to the bar Horacio hung out at and ordered a beer. When looking around he saw only he and another guy at the end of the bar were there. He also noticed the walls covered in pictures, some of which looked very interesting to him. He went around looking at the pictures and when getting to the back where Horacio’s table was located, he took his time. When he knew no one was looking he slid a small cardboard box under the seat and made sure it was back far enough so nobody could see it. At this point he didn’t know if he was just going to blow Haracio up with a number of collateral deaths, or maybe just get the odds lower for later.

  He returned after dark and saw Horacio and a man that resembled what Speed was described as. Looking around some more he found the third guy of the group. He couldn’t be missed by all the muscles the man had and the muscular man kept an eye on Horacio all the time. Ice assumed he was the back-up from a distance, but he couldn’t see Spike anywhere, or even somebody who might be him with short hair or whatever. Ice couldn’t find him but then realized he was the only white man in the bar. Although there were a few white women in the bar there were also some Hispanics and Asians in attendance. Ice thought that maybe all in all this job might be more dangerous then the village was. That was a major event; a whole town. This was just one guy and perhaps a few to many little helpers. Ice decided he needed to change his plans.

  Ice l
eft the bar, turned left and headed down the sidewalk to his car. Ice was always checking where he was, and looking for any potential problems. This time he was surprised. He knew who the man was instantly who jumped out of a enclave to another store. Spike was all dressed out like Ice had learned before. He noticed instantly that the guy had at least a dozen piercings on his face, and a tattoo around his throat.

  His tall attacker pulled out a large Bowie type knife and took a stance to get the first blow in. Spike’s jab was hard and fast, and Ice was surprised at the long reach the man had. Ice twisted around and the knife cut through his jacket. At that point he knew the knife was very sharp, because the blade easily cut all the way down and through the seam.

  “Okay mother-fucker, I don’t know who you are but know you’ve been putting your nose in all the wrong places. I saw you this morning and when I saw your white face in there tonight, I knew you were up to more trouble than we want!” Spike shouted only loud enough for Ice to hear.

  Ice quickly looked around and saw a few cars going down the street and some pedestrians on the other side of the street. Spike took a wide swing on Ice trying to stab him in the head. Again Ice sidestepped, drew his .45 and shot Spike twice in the face. “And fuck you too!” Ice said as the tall dead man hit the cement.

  Almost immediately there were a dozen people crowding around. A person can’t discharge a .45 on a downtown street and think nobody would notice. What surprised Ice the most was that uniformed cops seemed to come out of no where, and told Ice he was under arrest. Ice relaxed and let the cop bounce him off the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back. Before putting the cuffs on him he grabbed Ice’s gun and handed it to his partner, who seemed to materialize about the same time.