Holiday (The Falau Files Book 5)

by Mike Gomes

  “So, I am not a man to you. You think I am weak.”

  “You’re a boy, Joaquim. You’re not a man yet. You have time to enjoy being a boy. Don't be in a rush to get too old too fast.”

  “Go back in the house mom and let me take care of this. It will only take a minute.”

  “Why do you want to be with those other boys anyway?’ asked Falau interjecting without being asked.

  “Don’t talk about my friends. It is none of your business.”

  Falau shifted in his spot and looked back at Carlos and Candido who were walking away in the distance of the court yard.

  “They don't seem very supportive of you. They heard this whole thing go down and there they are walking the other way. Not the kind of guys I would put my trust in.”

  “What do you know about any of this? You have no idea what it is like to have to trust people in a place like this.”

  “Yes, I do. I was in the military. Special Forces. I totally understand the concept of placing your life in the hands of another man and him placing his life in your hands. I understand being in a foreign area and having only your friends around you. I also understand that seeing your friends die is nothing you want to experience in your life.”

  Joaquim fell silent and his balled up fist released its tension. His eyes widened and he looked for any hint that the big man was lying, but there was none to be found. His face held deadly serious.

  “You were Special Forces?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why not still? You’re young.”

  “I didn’t do well with so many rules.”

  “You work in that line of business still?”

  “No. I have seen enough dead people for a hundred life times. Now I just try to keep myself calm and get by day to day. It's a funny thing, but the memories of the people you hurt just don't go away. You kill someone or steal from them you can keep remembering their face. Shit like that haunts a man.”

  “Maybe you should get some medications.” said the boy condescendingly. “Besides, that is nothing that I am dealing with. Maybe I can just handle the situation better than most.”

  “No, you’re just lucky so far. You haven't found the one that sinks into your subconscious and eats away at you. Most guys in the Special Forces go to retirement because of the horrors of their past that they can’t get rid of. The enemy inside is worse than the one you can see. You have a chance to avoid it now if you step away and make something of yourself.”

  “Like I said before, this is no business of yours, American.” said the teenage boy. “You know what, I have had it with the both of you. Go shack up and screw the American if you want. Have your fun.”

  Pulling his arm away from his mother the boy walked off into the darkness frustrated and alone.

  Chapter 11

  The clank of the screen door shutting was followed by the heavier sound of the inner door closing with a slam making its point across the courtyard. The eyes from each apartment peeked out for the show that the new big man had put on with the toughs that had taken over the area. Nobody dared to come out and help the man but their eyes were all on him catching any glimpse they could from the front lights of their homes and the fire that still burned in the center of the court yard.

  The boy looked back over his shoulder seeing that his mother and the man she had befriended were no longer outside. He had hoped to see them walking back toward town, but instead, the man was in his home talking with his mother despite the warnings from the teenage boy. He had little to no effect on the ex-Special Forces soldier and the man didn't so much as bat an eye at the bravado of the young boy and that is what shook him the most. The locals in the courtyard had already started to steer clear of the boys that were taking control of things. They knew that they were no match for the force of all the boys together, but this man had no fear of any of them alone or as a group. He had overwhelming confidence in his ability and their lack of it.

  The boy scratched his head seeing the others that had grouped together at the opening to the courtyard.

  The patter of feet running toward him caused Joaquim to snap his head around with his fist ready for a fight only to see José running toward him with a large grin covering his face showing his age and inexperience with the world around him. The fourteen year old boy had both his parents and his family had a long history on the island. All they had ever known was the way things went on Madeira and they were happy to live in the manner that their ancestors did before them. Joaquim had a secret jealousy for José because the boy never thought he was poor. He felt he was middle class. He and his family did not compare themselves to the tourists who came in from around the world. They looked to their neighbors and saw people just like them, they felt privileged to live on an island where there may not have been a lot of money but there were good strong people willing to help each other out. Crime was low and there were jobs for anyone who was willing to put in a solid day’s work. The weather approached perfect and the views looked as if they were made by God himself for the artist to render on their canvases.

  “Hey.” said a huffing and puffing José. “I slid out the back door. My parents are watching TV. They will not even realize I have gone.”

  “That's great, José. You should go back home. Nothing happening tonight.”

  “What are you talking about? I was looking out the window and saw what the big man did to you and Carlos and Candido. It's time for that fucker to pay.”

  Joaquim's face crunched in on itself and he looked away from the young boy. The words from the boy did not settle well on him. José was talking beyond his years. He could not become involved in a fight with the big man or he would risk being killed by one punch. The cocky and aggressive attitude had no effect on Joaquim. All he could hear was loud talk from a small boy.

  “Just go home, José. There is nothing out here for you.”

  “Hey. It’s not your job to tell me to go home. I bet Carlos will want to see me. He knows I am down.”

  “What? Are you and your five-foot six munchkin body going to fight that big dude? I don’t think so. Just shut your mouth and go home.”

  “Fuck you, man!” snapped José taking off in a run that resembled how a younger sibling might run from an older one. The young boy headed for the others without looking back to see if Joaquim had taken strong offense to his disrespectful nature.

  Reaching the other boys, Joaquim saw them nursing their wounds given to them compliments of the big man that was back in his home right now doing who knows what with his mother.

  “This guy is no joke. Tells me he is special services when he was younger.” said Joaquim. “Never seen a man that doesn’t flinch at all.”

  “He is gonna flinch. When I get done with him there will be more than a flinch. That man is going to end up in a box. I got a treat for him.” said Carlos patting his hip with his hand and then going back to rubbing his elbow.

  “What are you talking about, Carlos?” asked Joaquim leaning forward looking down at the waist band of the oldest boy’s pants. “You are telling us you have some heat?”

  “Ya, I got some heat.” he said with force dripping from his words. His right hand drifted down and removed a Smith and Wesson 38 caliber snub-nosed revolver that looked as if it had had its best days behind it years ago. Joaquim immediately recognized the gun as the one he had seen in so many of the old movies. A Saturday night special is what they called them back in the states. Gangsters and police detectives would carry them, and they had a way of fitting gently into the palm of their hand leaving just the essential parts of the weapon exposed. There was no glitz or glamor to the gun. It was utilitarian in nature made more for close quarters fighting then hitting a target fifty yards away.

  “Where did you get that?” asked Candido sliding himself closer.

  “Can I hold it?” asked José wide eyed and reaching for the revolver.

  “No, you can’t hold it. This is for my use as boss of this gang. If we need to go to the e
xtreme, it is my job to do it like a real gangster.”

  “You're planning on killing that guy?” asked Joaquim. “A tourist not getting home could open up a whole mess we are not ready for.”

  “Fuck that!” snapped Carlos holding up the gun and pointing it at Joaquim. The boy’s face dropped, and his hands came up showing he was not going to be confrontational. “You see how that made you feel?”

  “Ya, man. I am sorry.”

  Carlos lowered the gun and put the hammer back in its resting position. “That is the feeling I want this guy to feel.” said Carlos pointing to Joaquim's home. “You tell your mom to stay away from that man. She does not want to get hit with any crossfire.”

  “You better not hit my mom with anything. You do that, and you will answer to me.”

  Carlos’s eyes narrowed and he slowly moved his head to look up at Joaquim's. “You listen to me little Jigsaw with the messed-up grill. You will never tell me how to run this group. If I want to take your mom out I will. If I want to take you out I will. I am the leader not you and you will not tell me or anyone part of this gang what to do. You’re not even a member.”

  “I keep asking and you keep saying no. I am ready to do whatever you want for me to get in. Go ahead jump me in. Give me an assignment, whatever you want, but I am ready.”

  “The way you challenged me shows me you’re not ready. Shows me your just talk and when it comes right down to it, you’re on the side of others before you are on our side. Your first family is right here if you want to be part of us not back in that crappy apartment. It’s up to you, Jigsaw.”

  Closing his mouth tight and making sure his lips covered his teeth Joaquim stood silently looking to the eighteen-year-old wondering what was the right move to make at this time.

  “What if I said your only way in was to take this gun and go do that guy and your mother right now. Would you do it?”

  “If that’s what I needed to do to get in the gang then ya, I would do it.”

  “I don’t think you have the stones. I think you’re talk, little boy, and no action.”

  “Hand me the gun.” said the steel eyes boy with his hand extended showing no shake at all.

  “You think you can do this?”

  “Just give me the gun and you will see.”

  Carlos reached out keeping the gun pointed at the boy and released his grip letting him pull the gun from his hand. He twisted the gun and placed it properly in his hand feeling the cool metal pressing against his flesh. The grip on the handle grabbed at his palm making the potential kick minimal and slips to be nonexistent.

  “Hey. Hey. Hey man, we can’t just go killing people all around here.” said a voice of reason in Candido. “There are witnesses everywhere that saw the earlier fights and know everything that happened. Unless we want to go live up in the mountains then we can’t shoot anyone tonight. You want to hit this fool, wait until New Year’s Eve. With all the fireworks at midnight you could shoot him then and nobody would know a thing.”

  “Besides, killing your own mom is just cold man.” said José with a tentative look overcoming his face.

  “In one year you’re going to lose that kind of thinking, little one. For now, you’re just learning.” said Carlos neglecting to look back at José and outstretching his arm to get his gun back.

  Reluctantly, Joaquim placed the firearm back in its owner’s hand. “So where did you get that. There is no market on the island.”

  “A worker on a ship that came in said he could get one for me in Lisbon and when he came back we made the sale. He could get us more than this little one. Inside of two years we will have triple the members, and everyone will be fully armed.” said Carlos holding the gun up to inspect it. “Then fools like that American will be nothing but a memory after they start running their mouths in a place that they don’t understand.”

  “He never gets off this island?’ asked Joaquim with a tentative sound in his voice.

  “He gets buried here before the New Year.”

  Chapter 12

  Despite the commotion of the night it was only 8:30pm and the gang of boys made their way down the path finding the paved roads that led into town. The walk into town was always better than the way back. It was downhill going in and heading back you fought the mountain asserting itself against your legs and back. Locals would gather at the bottom of steep streets and offer to carry tourists in chairs up the arduous roads looking for tips and handouts. At the top of the same streets other boys would have fashioned turbofans with wheels offering to drive the people back down when they were done with their sightseeing. It was honest work but something that the boys in the gang looked down upon. They knew the next hill over were men in their forties and fifties that started doing the same thing when they were kids and were still doing it. Smiling and kissing up to the tourists. Telling the old women how attractive they were with a flirting smile. It turned the stomach of Carlos who considered these men to be little more than dogs begging for a bone.

  José produced a half-consumed bottle of rum he got from the shelf in his parents’ home and presented it to the other boys who joyfully took it and patted him on the back. Getting alcohol was a tried and true method for José to gain favor with the boys. He couldn’t fight, and he couldn’t intimidate anyone that they ran into, but he could supply them with booze.

  Slugging off the bootleg repeatedly, the effects of the rum started to take effect as they hit the center of town. Holding the bottle up to check its remaining amount Joaquim could see less than a quarter of an inch splashing around and took the bold step of finishing it off for himself. Tossing the bottle to the bushes on the side of the road his blurred vision got the better of him and he misjudged the distance having the bottle shatter on the ground in front of the bushes. All eyes drew to the boys causing Carlos to bark out swearing in Portuguese at the tourists.

  “Olho do cu!”

  The boys laughed at the quizzical look on the tourists’ faces and how some reached for their phones to translate what the boy on the street had just said.

  “Let’s move.” said Candido still nursing his limp and using a stick as a makeshift cane.

  “Down this way. Let’s get with the locals and not the prissy white Europeans.” said Carlos drawing out his words.

  The boys worked their way off the center and onto the back roads in the city. Small local bars and shops popped up like in any city. They were all ground level with wide windows in the front. Many dropped down below street level making the most out of the basements they had.

  “You have been with us a long time now little Jigsaw.” said Carlos putting his arm around Joaquim and pulling him close. “You hate that name don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should, it's cruel. Nobody should have to carry that name around with them. If you get some cash, you can get the teeth fixed and we can call you movie star.”

  Joaquim let out a smile with his face looking directly to the floor. His shoulders had relaxed and the alcohol was causing him to feel more emotional than he normally would. “That would be good.”

  “But you gotta have money and you ain't going to have no money unless you’re with us.” Carlos patted the boy’s back hard and spun around in front of him with conviction and José behind him. “We talked about it, and we are opening the books and are willing to let you in the gang. You can be a founding father with us. We can build a name for the gang and a symbol like all the homies in east LA. We will be the next coming of total control.”

  “I told you before, I am ready. I was willing to off my mom and that fuck with her. What do I need to do?”

  “First, you need to cool down. You can’t do anything all filled up with piss and anger. Your mind needs to be cool and relaxed to do a piece of work and you need to know the rules.”

  “What rules?” questioned Joaquim.

  “SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” snapped Carlos pushing himself up close to Joaquim. “I was going to tell you, but you talk so damn much
, it will be your downfall. Just keep your mouth shut and listen.”

  The boy nodded his head and looked the leader in the eyes.

  “That’s better. The first rule is the biggest and that is, if you get caught you’re on your own. You don’t talk about the gang and you don’t give any names. You do that and you’re as good as dead. Loyalty must be the most important thing. If you must do time then you do it like a man and keep your mouth shut. Understand?”

  Again, the boy nodded his head showing he understood what Carlos was saying to him.

  “Rule two is you stay calm but move with a purpose. Don’t run or look crazy. Be cool and calm but with an objective. If you don’t do that, people see you coming a mile away. You just need to do those two things and you will be fine. Now you can talk.”

  Joaquim continued to nod his head in quiet assurance. His lips pressed firm and his eyes looked over the boys convinced this would not be a “jumping in” like so many of the gang’s had in the United States where a perspective member would have to fight several members of the gang at the same time to prove how strong they were. After the job that had been done on them by the big man at the courtyard, fighting was not in the cards.

  “You’re wondering what the job is aren’t you.” asked Carlos with a smile that turned to him biting his lower lip. “You’re right to be nervous because getting in with us and being an original gangster with us is not easy. You have to show yourself under pressure and how you can take it.”

  “I am ready.” said Joaquim still feeling the haze of the rum coursing through his body.

  Reaching into the back of his pants Carlos’s hand fell on the handle of the hand gun he had shown to the boys just an hour before. The gun slid slowly out of his pants and the hammer got caught slightly on the older boy’s untucked shirt. He rolled his wrist letting it loose and pulled the gun out in front of him holding it at face level between Joaquim and himself. The barrel was pointed to the sky and his finger lay on the trigger with disregard for an accidental firing of the weapon.