Glenn sighed and gave Virgil a conspiratorial smile.
"Teddy thinks all I care about is women. He's right, of course, but I put up with it because I know he can't help himself. It was a pleasure meeting you, Virgil. I'd better skip the coffee and go on before Teddy asks if I'm wearing clean underwear in case I'm in an accident. He was my platoon leader and real mother-hen type, always pecking."
Glenn slapped Ted's chest and grinned. "I did put on clean underwear for the trip. See you, buddy."
Watching the pickup roll down the gravel drive, Virgil glanced at Ted. "I guess I shouldn't ask what that was about, huh?"
Ted shrugged. "Sure, you can ask. Glenn is goin' to recon our score sight. Dahlonega is just up the road about thirty miles. We got info that the score may go down in a week or so. We're getting ready."
Virgil glanced over his shoulder. "So this is where I'll be stayin' until it goes down?"
"This place? Naw, I got you somethin' better. You'll stay in Atlanta in a super nice apartment complex. Glenn lives there and really digs it."
"He sure dresses sharp . . . looks sophisticated. No wonder women want some of his action."
"Yeah, Glenn always dresses like that, but it's not just the clothes the women like. He's got a gift. I don't know what it is with him, but he can talk the talk that always works.
Never could figure it out. We walk into a bar on a hunt and the damn guy scores every time without even tryin'. Me, I end up with the ones that only look good after five beers.
Not Glenn; he gets a looker right off. The guy really pisses me sometimes for that, you know what I mean?"
Virgil nodded. "Yeah."
Ted shifted his gaze to his new recruit. "You a ladies' man, Virg?"
"Could never afford to be. I had an of lady when I was in the machine . . . picked her up during a tour in Korea. Man, don't make that mistake. Korean gals are out for one thing--more things. No sooner I get her to Fort Bragg, she wants her mama and sister to come over. Within six months I got a house full of her relatives all jabbering slope and eatin' kimche. Man, that stuff stinks. And party? Man, the woman could party hearty. America was too much for her .. . couldn't get enough of it. Big-screen TV, clothes, car, jewelry, she had to have it all. She didn't marry me for me, Ted, she married a ticket to ride on the American dream."
"So, what happened?"
"She OD'd on the U. S. of A. Read too much Cosmo and saw too much Oprah. She thought she could do better than a sergeant first class and started messin' with officers. One thing I draw the line at is messin' with officers. This 82nd Airborne West Point lieutenant thought she was foxy, right?
He was sneakin' around snoopin' and poopin', thinkin' he was cool about it. But shit, man, I'm a bad SF team sergeant with years of experience snoopin' and poopin'. He was dumb, really dumb, thinkin' he was cool and could outsnoop me. I caught them in his new car, a Mustang convertible no less. You shoulda seen his face when I laid my Beretta barrel on his forehead. He shit his pants--not cool anymore, uh-uh, Mr. West Point wasn't cool anymore."
"Why didn't you pop him?"
"Couldn't do it. Mr. Cool fainted on me. I couldn't kill a guy who had fainted on me. And anyways, the ol' lady was jumpin' around the seat like a chicken with its head cut off, 'cept she was screamin' slope. Never saw anything like it.
There she was half naked, throwin' herself around, squealin' and screamin' and jumpin' this way and that. I couldn't get her to stay still long enough to punch her out. I thought, screw it, she deserved fainted Mr. Cool West Point."
"That's heavy, Virg. I can see it, you know. I can see the whole thing in my mind--but a Mustang? How'd they screw in a Mustang?"
Virgil shrugged. "She was double-jointed, could squat on a dime. I watched them for a while thinkin' to myself, Look at that, will ya? She was wantin' it bad from Lieutenant Cool in his shiny Mustang. What, she didn't have a big screen TV already? She thinkin' Lieutenant Cool made more than a sergeant first class with seventeen years?"
"She stay with the lieutenant after they busted you?"
"Uh-uh, that officer got into big trouble, too."
"She go back to Korea?"
"What, and leave Oprah? Man, she wasn't goin' to leave the train. I heard when I was in the joint she married some leg first sergeant. She's ridin' that train again, her and her family all ridin' the dream train. Poor ol' top sergeant don't know, man. She'll ride him to death and get herself another ticket."
Sighing heavily, Ted shook his head. "That's sad, Virg.
I'm sorry, man."
Virgil dunked his doughnut again. "It's all over. I got my own ride now, right? So tell me about your 'misunderstanding' when you were in the machine. You bust an officer or somethin'?"
"No, nothin' that cool. I was too gung ho for that. I was a badass leading petty officer. Six years ago we had a mission down south, one of those surveillance missions on a suspected drug runner. It was a joint thing, us, the DEA, and the Air Force. Problem was, the DEA was in charge. They don't know shit about military ops. Anyway, they tell me to make an insertion just off this island close to Hondo. It was a setup; when we got into the bay, the druggies were layin' for us. It was bad. Six guys in my platoon bought it and three others including me were wounded. Guess who the DEA said fucked up? Yeah, me. In the board of inquiry I told 'em the DEA set us up. The DEA head guy said it wasn't so. They believed the DEA guy, and I got court-martialed. The Navy knew I got screwed on the deal, but still had to make it look good. I was busted down a grade and had to forfeit two months' pay--no bad time, though.
But it was still over for me in the SEALs after that. You know how it is? When you're the best, you can't go back to being just a blue-water sailor. I unassed the Navy rather than degrade myself. That's when my wife left me."
"Why'd she do that?" Virgil asked.
"The money, I guess. She stuck around as long as I brought home the bacon is all I can figure. As soon as I was charged, she forgot about that 'till death do us part' thing.
She split faster than a speedin' bullet and took the kids with her. She remarried about two years ago, some cracker in Texas. I figure the cowboy must be deaf. No way she could land another fish with that whine she's got unless the guy was deaf. Real high-pitched whine, like, `Teddeeeee, I neeeed some new clothes. Come on, Tedeeee, give meeeee some moneeeeey.' Drove me crazy, Virg."
"You're a ladies' man now, right?"
Ted let out a sigh. "Naw, I'm not cool like Glenn. I don't have the patience for the talk ya gotta talk. Once we're done, I'll go on the hunt for a classy broad. Little League and soccer fields is where ya find 'em."
"Little League and soccer fields?"
"It's a sure thing, Virg. Who do you think drops little Johnny off at practice? Yeah, Mommy. Man, there are so many divorced, rich, classy mommies in Atlanta you wouldn't believe it. The key is joinin' the right league. Get yourself into the league that comes from the rich side of town, you know, the big house additions. Mommies drive up in Lexuses and Mercedes there. Weather gets nice and Mommy watches her Johnny play ball and you can scope out the possibles, you know, cull the fat ones, ugly ones, and those with an attitude. Johnny tells ya if he has a dad or not so you know who your prospects are. Oh, hiya, Mrs. Classy, Johnny is doing real good, he's pickin' up the grounders great, or Johnny sure can kick that ball. Johnny tells me you're divorced . . . that's too bad. Look, I know it must be tough, you havin' to drive Johnny to practice. I'd be glad to drop by and pick him up for you and drop him off after practice. Man, that line works like a charm, Virg. Gets you in the door, so to speak. I'm tellin' ya, Little League and soccer fields is where it's at."
Virgil pulled on his chin. "Yeah, but it's kind of seasonal, isn't it? And when you learn to play soccer?"
"I don't know shit about soccer, but how hard can it be?
All ya gotta do is kick a ball."
Before Virgil could respond a dark green six-year-old Camaro pulled into the long drive. Ted lifted an eyebrow.
"Looks like our pretty boy made it after all. You keep an eye on him for me, Virg. He's Cuban, and you know how they are. He's a former Ranger and Delta Force guy, so he has his act together, but he ran into trouble and got kicked out. I don't know what for, but maybe it's 'cause of that hot blood of his."
Virgil gave Ted a deadpan look. "Delta guys have to take a psychological examination. I know; I had buddies go into Delta. Delta guys stay in control, Latino or not."
Ted shrugged. "Let's find out." He stood just as Ramon Lopez stepped out of the Camaro. "Up here, Ramon. Hey, I thought I told ya to get some decent clothes."
Wearing sharkskin slacks and a white shirt without a collar, Ramon took off his Ray-Ban shades and motioned to himself. "This is good shit, man. Sears' best, on sale. Check out the watch, a real chronograph with all the little numbers and shit, man. And check out my Florsheim shoes. Do I pass or do I gotta go to Wal-Mart?"
"At least you lost the ponytail. Get up here and meet Virgil. He's an ex--sergeant first class out of the SF. You two are going to be training together."
Ramon eyed the black man wearing overalls. "He don't look SF to me . . . looks like a dumbass farmer."
Unfazed, Virgil stuck out his hand. "Virgil Washington."
Ramon paused before taking his hand and spoke coldly.
"Ramon Juan Delgado y Lopez."
Ted spoke up, thinking he had better explain Virgil's appearance. "Ramon, Virgil here was in Leavenworth for the past six years for a misunderstanding of sorts. They busted him for attempted murder of an officer. Virgil caught a lieutenant banging his wife in a Mustang convertible."
Ramon looked into Virgil's eyes and slowly shook his head. "In a Mustang? No way."
Virgil shrugged. "She was Korean, could squat on a dime."
"Attempted murder, man? Why didn't you do the L-tee?", Ramon asked.
"He fainted."
Ted motioned to the third lawn chair. "Sit, Ramon. We were just talkin' about you. Tell us what really happened that got you busted out."
Ramon gave Ted a pained expression. "Ah, man, I don't like talkin' about it."
"Come on, Ramon, we're all being honest here," Ted said.
Ramon sighed. "I . . . I got caught making it with the C. O.'s wife."
Ted grinned. "The commander's ol' lady? Come on.
Don't shit us."
"It's not a war story, man. I was on my way up. I was going to be promoted to E-seven, but man, she was one hot lady."
"How in the hell you meet the C. O.'s wife?" Ted asked, not believing a word.
"I worked out a lot and she was there workin' out in the post gym, too. She was an aerobics instructor . . . lookin' good, man . . . had a body that made you sweat just lookin' at her. She came on to me, thought it was cool flirtin' with me, and her old man being the C. O. I couldn't help myself.
She was a lady, man . . . a real lady, but really fucked up in the head. I could tell, man. Dressed like a high school girl, ya know. Short skirts, tight blouses, always showin' off her body, and she had it to show, man. I'm talkin' tits out to here, man, and legs and ass you wouldn't believe. She got off on people starin' at her all the time. I should have known, man." ing up to the yarn. "The C. O. caught you doin' it to her?" Ted asked, warm from Richmond a day early and walks into the house and "No, man, her mama caught us! Her mama drove down hears her moanin' and groanin' while we're gettin it on in the bedroom. I'm just about to get it, and Mama walks in.
Like I said, the foxy lady is muy loco 'cause she keeps humpin' me, man, like it doesn't make any difference to her.
The mama is yelling for her to stop but she just pumps me faster. I'm tellin' ya, man, it was bad. I couldn't do anything but lay there and let her go for it. She finally gets off on me and then asks Mama if she wants some of my action. Mama says she's going to shoot me and leaves the room to find a gun. I booked, man. Left with only my pants."
"Oh, shit, then the C. O. finds out?" Ted asked.
"Oh, yeah. Mama ratted us out, but says I was raping her daughter. It was a done deal in two days, man. 'Course they couldn't pin the rape charge because she drove me to the house, but they had other shit they could use, conduct unbecoming and all that. I had a choice of court-martial or leave for the good of the service."
"Was she good?" Ted couldn't resist. "I mean she sure as hell had better been."
Ramon frowned and shook his head. "I could have been an E-seven and you askin' if she was good?"
Virgil patted the Cuban's arm. "Everything happens for the best . . . we're ridin' the train again, Ray. Big money and doin' what we do best. We gonna be ridin' high again."
Ramon gave the black man a cold stare. "You turn fag in the pen?" Virgil wrinkled his brow. "Naw, Ray, I was an E-seven sergeant first class, and it wasn't all that great is all. Ya didn't miss nothin' by not makin' the rank."
"My name is Ramon, not Ray, man. You got that?"
"I knew a Ramon in the pen. He was a fag," Virgil said, looking into the Cuban's eyes, showing he wasn't the least intimidated. "I can use one of your other names if you want.
Jose, Juan, Julio-what were they again?"
Ramon saw he wasn't going to bluff the older man but still kept his bad-news stare on him. "You call me what you want, Farmer John."
Ted relaxed; it would be all right now. The jockeying for position in the pack was something he had expected, but not quite so soon. A little snarl here and a nip there was just their way of staking out ground. Now 1 gotta know who wants to go all the way, he said to himself as he stood.
"Guys, it's time we talked about the op. . . . I told both of you it was going to be a score. It is, but now we have a change-we've got an added mission. The good news for both of you is that upon successful completion of both jobs you're both gonna be very rich men. How's a million bucks sound?"
Virgil whistled but Ramon stared hard at Ted. "What's the added mission, man?"
Ted returned the stare. "We're going to knock off a big player."
"Who?" Ramon asked suspiciously.
"Carlos Mendez."
Ramon backed up with a look of shock. "Mendez? You fuckin' loco, man?"
Ted wrinkled his brow. "Naw, I'm not crazy. We got good intell on the guy, his schedule, location of guards, everything we need. We can do it."
Ramon threw up his hands. "Mendez? I knew this was too good to be true! And shit, I cut off my ponytail, too, man. No way, not even for a million bucks."
Virgil sat calmly in his chair and slowly turned, looking at Ted. "You sure the intell on this player is good?"
"Yeah, it's all recent stuff," Ted said.
Ramon stared at Virgil. "Don't listen to this squid, man. It doesn't matter what he has. Mendez has an army protecting him and they all carry serious shit, man. I know all about Mendez. I worked for a player who was Mendez's competitor. Mendez is big shit, man, the biggest in Miami. He has people on the payroll everywhere. Even if we make the hit we'll never get out alive. He lives in a walled-in estate on Key Biscayne that'd take a division to storm ... no way we can get in."
"Yeah, but he's like you, Ramon," Ted said. "He's a sucker for strange poontang. He's got him some broads on the side he visits on his yacht. That's where we'll hit him."
Ramon smiled without humor. "You're crazy if you think that makes a difference. We'd still have to neutralize about twenty people to get to him. Where you goin' to get that kind of equipment and firepower, man?"
Ted motioned to the stacks of wood on the cement foundation. "Come on, let me show you somethin'." Without hesitation Ted began to walk toward the foundation. Virgil stood and patted Ramon's back. "I think for a chance at a million you ought to take a look at what the man has."
Ramon lowered his head and followed.
Ted stood on the foundation and pointed at a tarp as the two men approached. "I have some friends who gave me everything we might need to make the score. It's also enough to do the hit." He bent over and pulled back the tarp, revealing a trunk. He unlocked the padlock and swu
ng back the lid. "This is just a sample of what we got."
Virgil whistled, but Ramon leaned over for closer inspection. He picked up a silenced Mac-10 and pulled back the charging handle. "It's new," he said, and looked at the other weapons and equipment. "You didn't get this stuff at an army surplus store, man; it's all illegal. Who are these friends of yours?"
"You don't need to know," Ted said.
Ramon put the submachine gun back in the trunk and shook his head. "You're connected, man. You lied to me."
Ted stepped closer to the Cuban. "I don't lie to my teammates, you get that straight right now. I am not connected; I have friends, I told you that. That's just a sample of the hardware. I also have claymores, grenades, smoke, frags, incendiary, and gas. We've got demo, electric and nonelectric blasting caps, det cord, the newest night-vision gear, and all the soft gear we'll need. We've got good intell and I have the makings of a plan that'll be finalized in a week. So, are you in or out?"
Duty Bound (1995) Page 5