Green Ice: A Deadly High

by Christian Fletcher

“This guy says there is a dirt track that circles around the city,” Jorge explained. “It was used by traveling merchants a long time ago, before the highway was built. Apparently, it still exists but isn’t in the best of conditions. He’s explaining the route to follow.”

  “Way to go,” Mancini growled, pumping his fist.

  The trailer guy pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled a line across the map in a semi circle around La Paz. He pinpointed one particular spot in the center of a thin strip of water and spoke in a low tone.

  “Ah, that’s just great,” Jorge sighed. “He says we have to cross a small river but the bridge is very old and not very stable.”

  Trey looked over the map and the trailer guy proffered his hand. Trey shook it and nodded his appreciation. The trailer guy turned and headed back to his window counter.

  “Are we good to go?” Mancini asked. “Jorge has briefed me with the details of what that guy was saying.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Trey muttered, folding up the map. “We may well get around the city but I still don’t see how we’re going to take on those cartel guys, where Jorge’s pal is hiding out.”

  “Let’s worry about that when we get there,” Mancini said. “You ride in back, Leticia.”

  Leticia nodded and clambered inside the car next to Jorge. Mancini jumped in the passenger side and Trey handed him the map as he took his position in the driver’s side. The Thunderbird engine growled into life when Trey turned the key. They pulled back onto the highway, waving farewell to the trailer guy.

  Mancini unfolded the map on his lap and followed the route drawn crudely in pen ink.

  “This trail starts around a mile further down the road,” he said. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open for the turn.”

  “I hope this car can make it through the terrain,” Trey sighed. “From what that guy was saying, you need a SUV to get across the track, not a classic, fifty year old car, man. We’ll be totally fucked if we get a break down miles from anyplace.”

  “It’ll be fine, Trey,” Mancini said. “We don’t exactly have a whole number of options to choose from right now.”

  The driver of the bright yellow pickup truck got out of his cab and wandered over to the beverage trailer. He bought a coffee and a bottle of water then briefly conversed with the guy behind the counter. The trailer guy gestured once again, pointing down the highway. The pickup truck driver thanked him, took out a handgun from the back of his waistband, aimed at the trailer guy’s forehead and fired one round, killing him instantly.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Trey stopped the Thunderbird in the center of the highway. Both he and Mancini gazed at a narrow, dusty track to their right, leading across uneven, sandy barren ground. Mancini looked down at the map and back to the turning.

  “You think this is it?” Trey asked.

  “I guess it is,” Mancini muttered.

  “You think we can make it across there, man?”

  “We have to try,” Mancini sighed.

  “Ah, god help us,” Trey groaned. “Give me one of those cigarettes, will you? I guess I’m going to need one.”

  Mancini handed over a lit smoke and Trey put it between his lips before he turned the Thunderbird right onto the track. Jorge groaned as the rocking, side to side motion of the car jarred his ankle. Trey kept the speed to not much more than twenty miles an hour, hoping the rough terrain wouldn’t damage the car’s suspension.

  “Sorry, Jorge but you’re going to have to grin and bear this journey for a while,” Mancini said.

  “I think he’s going to have to do more bearing than grinning,” Trey said, with a smirk.

  “Or grimacing and bearing,” Mancini quipped.

  “What?”

  Mancini realized the humor was lost with Trey. “Forget about it. How long is this trail anyhow?”

  Trey glanced at Leticia behind him.

  “He didn’t say exactly,” she said. “But the trail meets the highway on the north side of the city.”

  Mancini studied the map and saw where the highway snaked around La Paz and connected with the coastal road. “Best guess is this trail goes on for around twenty miles before we hit the highway again. I just hope it leads us out beyond any police or military blockades.”

  “I just hope this car is still in one piece by the time we get there,” Trey huffed.

  The air became dryer and the temperature steadily increased as the sun rose further in the cloudless sky. Mancini glanced at the clock on the dash and saw the time was a little after seven a.m. and it was already stiflingly hot.

  Thirty long sweat ridden minutes ticked by as they drove along the dusty trail, running between patches of sparse scrub bush. Trey ground the Thunderbird to a halt when he saw the rickety wooden bridge ahead of them.

  “I guess this must be that bridge that guy was talking about. We should take a look at it before we try and cross it.”

  “Agreed,” Mancini muttered and got out of the car. Trey followed suit and they walked over to the old, unstable looking structure.

  “Wow, this old dog has seen better days,” Trey said, slapping an upright wooden pole at the mouth of the bridge.

  Mancini glanced below and saw a clear river running beneath the bridge, around ten feet below the wooden struts.

  “If the damn thing gives way, we won’t be able to get the car out of that ravine.”

  Trey looked at the river. “It don’t look too deep, man. At least there’s no chance of getting swept away in the water. Damn, it looks inviting down there, don’t it? I could easily jump into that cool water right now.”

  Mancini walked across the bridge to the opposite side then back again. “It seems solid enough but you’ll have to avoid those rotten parts at the edges.” He pointed to the decaying timber at the each side of the bridge. “If you drive squarely in the center, we should be okay.”

  “All right,” Trey agreed. “Let’s just go, man. I’m hot as hell out here in the boonies.”

  They returned to the Thunderbird and rolled gently forward. Mancini looked over the side of the car and shouted if Trey drew too close to the rotten edges. Slowly but surely, they crept their way across the wooden bridge.

  The driver of the yellow pickup truck watched the Thunderbird’s slow progress at a distance. He observed the proceedings through a pair of binoculars he’d liberated from a Highway Patrol Vehicle the previous day, soon after hijacking the yellow pickup truck. He’d allow them to reach their destination before making his presence known. They had to have a pressing reason to travel through infected territory and skirting around police blockades.

  “Maybe there’s a pot of gold at the end of this particular rainbow,” he muttered to himself.

  The Thunderbird snaked around in a semi circle following the trail. They crossed over onto a narrow concrete covered road and picked up the dirt track again a few miles further on from the bridge. Their mouths and throats were dry and the heat rose to a higher level. Trey kept an eye on the temperature gauge, as it had begun to crawl towards the red.

  Mancini consulted the map again and estimated their position. “Around another two miles and we’ll be off this damn trail,” he said.

  “Can’t come soon enough,” Trey groaned. “This god awful excuse for a road is killing my ride, man.”

  Jorge continued to moan in the backseat, crying out in pain when the car bounced through particularly deep pot holes or rolled over the top of high mounds.

  “Hang on in there, Jorge,” Mancini said. “Not far to go now.”

  “So much for finding him a bandage, man,” Trey muttered. “Not that I really give a crap.”

  “Where’s your sense of humanity, Trey?” Mancini asked.

  “I think I left it back down the damn road someplace.”

  The trail leveled out and Trey hit the brakes when they saw the highway’s blacktop running horizontally in front of them.

  “Which way now, man?”

  Mancini looked at the map and shrugg
ed. “I guess we should take a right turn.” He placed his finger on a spot on the map where the pen mark ended. “According to this, we should be here. The route should loop around and take us back onto the coastal road on the north side of La Paz.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Mancini sighed. He wasn’t sure about anything except surviving by means of total recklessness. “Try that route but stop if you see any blockades. I doubt we’ll be able to bullshit our way through again.”

  Trey pulled out onto the highway, turning right as instructed. The road was deserted and they could just about make out the buildings that formed the outskirts of La Paz, some miles in the distance to the west.

  The car gathered speed and Trey thankfully watched the temperature gauge return to normal. The rush of wind welcomingly cooled everybody in the vehicle.

  “You got any big plans for our strategy when we finally get to this place?” Trey asked.

  Mancini shrugged. “We’ll have to just see what the hell is going on when we get there.”

  “That doesn’t inspire me with a whole lot of confidence, man,” Trey muttered. “I want to get this shit over with.”

  “Roger that,” Mancini sighed. He checked all three of his firearms once again and sorted through the spare ammunition and magazines in the glove box. “We’ve got fifteen shotgun cartridges and two spare mags for the rifle and another two each for the Heckler and Koch handguns.”

  Trey turned his head. “Seriously? Is that enough?”

  “I don’t know, Trey. If these guys are still up and running, they’ll have all kinds of firepower at their disposal. We’ll just have to see how the land lies.”

  Mancini knew they didn’t possess either enough ammunition or manpower to commit to an all out assault on the cartel’s stronghold. With no backup and extremely limited resources, they’d struggle to cause their opponents much of a problem.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  A left turn on a bend in the road led to the coastal route Mancini was looking for. The sun shone over the blue sea, which was calm and crystal clear in the shallows at the edge of a sandy bay to the right. A few deserted wooden beach huts stood at the far side of the bay and rocky hills rose up against the shoreline behind the cove.

  “Man, that water looks awesome,” Trey sighed.

  “I’d love to go for a dip right now,” Leticia wailed.

  “Maybe when this is all over,” Mancini said.

  “I’d be happy if I had some pain killers,” Jorge groaned. “To hell with swimming in the sea.”

  Mancini turned in his seat. “Do you have a house number or a name for this place, Jorge? It’s important we see this through now.”

  Jorge squirmed in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Logrono said the place was named Casa del Sol Naciente – the House of the Rising Sun.”

  “We should try Luiz’s phone again before we come across the place,” Mancini said. “I want to try and get some intel on exactly what we’re dealing with right there. Logrono might want saving but I seriously doubt he’ll hand over that stash of green ice in a hurry, especially if he’s parted with a shit load of cash.”

  “You want me to pull over so you can call him?” Trey asked.

  Mancini nodded. “It might be worth a try.”

  Trey slowed the car and drove onto the dusty shoulder, bringing the vehicle to a gradual stop. He turned off the engine so the noise wouldn’t interrupt the impending phone conversation. Mancini fished in his pocket and handed his cell phone to Jorge.

  “I don’t have much battery life left so make it as quick as you can,” he said.

  Jorge took the phone and scrolled through the contacts. He selected Luiz’s number and hit the dial button. Jorge waited patiently while the call connected. He heard a bleeping sound and was told by a pre-recorded voice that it was not possible to connect his call. Jorge tried again with the same negative result. He looked at Mancini and shook his head.

  “No reply,” he sighed. “Either the phone is dead or has its battery run down, I’m afraid.” He handed the cell phone back to Mancini.

  “Okay, let’s go over what we know,” Mancini said, slipping the cell back in his pocket. “We haven’t spoken to Luiz, so we don’t even know if he’s alive or dead. Logrono said he was in trouble in the house and needed rescuing.” He turned to Jorge. “Do you know how many guys usually hang around at Logrono’s place?”

  Jorge shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to his house and I’ve never met the guy before. Luiz always dealt with him.”

  “So we don’t even know what this guy looks like?” Trey asked incredulously. “It seems to me like we’re going headlong into this thing, like an uninvited blind man crashing a wedding party.”

  “Pretty much,” Mancini sighed.

  The pickup truck driver watched the Thunderbird stop on the shoulder and he wondered what they were planning. He looked through his binoculars and saw the guy in the backseat, the one with a swollen ankle calling somebody on a phone. All four people in the car talked for a short while then set off on their journey again. The pickup truck driver fired up his vehicle and followed at a safe distance.

  “Keep your eyes open for any big place with high fences overlooking the sea,” Mancini said. “Logrono’s security perimeter may have back fired on him and he can’t get out of the grounds.”

  Trey slowed the vehicle as they drove by a large house on the ridge to their right.

  “You think that’s it, man?” he asked.

  Mancini studied the property. “Nah, that place is deserted and there’s not much in the way of security. The place is all open and there are no high walls or fences. It just doesn’t look right.”

  Trey accelerated away and slowed again when they spotted another larger house, set further back from the road. Mancini saw black, wrought iron railed fences stood on top of six foot high stone walls, making the total height around ten feet. The fences surrounded the sides and front of the property and a pair of tall wrought iron gates stood in the center of the front boundary. A narrow access road snaked up the ridge, leading to the tall gates.

  “This looks like the place,” Mancini said. He pointed to some white lettering fixed onto the wall to the left side of the gate. “Casa del Sol Naciente,” he read aloud. “This is definitely it, guys. Time to start the party.”

  “So what do you want me to do?” Trey asked. “Drive right on up to the front gates and ring the doorbell?”

  “No, stop the car someplace nearby and I’ll go and scout the area out and try and see what we’re up against.”

  “All right,” Trey agreed and rolled the Thunderbird forward.

  They drove around thirty yards and Trey pulled the vehicle over in a lay-by overlooking the sea. The landscape sloped downward from the road to a deserted sandy bay, with white parasols flapping in the sea breeze above chunky wooden tables. A café and bar stood to the left of the beach, with closed shutters covering the doors and windows.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Leticia said, taking in the tranquil scenery. “Why would anybody want to destroy what they have here by pedaling drugs?”

  Mancini shook his head. “Search me,” he sighed. “Let’s go find out what’s going down over at the House of the Rising Sun.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Mancini checked the shotgun and the semi automatic rifle again. He handed the shotgun to Trey as it would be ineffective for the task ahead. Trey took the weapon with an expression of apprehension.

  “I’ve never fired one of these bad boys before, man,” he said.

  “Hopefully, you won’t have to,” Mancini sighed. “I’ll take a look over Logrono’s place and if it’s all clear, I’ll go fetch the stash.”

  “That’s if the product is still inside the house,” Jorge chipped in.

  “That’s a chance we’re going to have to take,” Mancini snapped. He hadn’t considered the possibility Logrono, Luiz and the whole batch of green ice might not even be at the hous
e. Their mission would be thrown into total chaos if that particular scenario proved to be the case.

  Mancini climbed out of the car and slung the semi automatic rifle over his shoulder. It was time to go. He pointed to the shotgun in Trey’s hands.

  “Just point and pump if you have to fire but watch out for the recoil and for fuck’s sake don’t fire if anybody you don’t want to hit is real close. I’ll be right back if I hear any shooting, okay? If you get surrounded by hostiles, take off in the car and call me. I’ll meet up with you someplace safe later on.”

  Trey nodded. “Point and pump, got it.”

  “It’s loaded so don’t mess with it and spare cartridges are in the glove box but conserve the ammo. We don’t have a great deal to waste.”

  “All right, I hear you, man.” The irritation was evident in Trey’s tone. He respected Mancini but felt he was talking down to him a little. After all, he’d seen guys use pump action shotgun’s in the movies. How hard could firing one be?

  Mancini nodded and slapped the top of the passenger door. “See you in five.” He turned and headed for the foot of the ridge, on the opposite side of the road.

  Mancini gazed upwards at the house on top of the ridge and skirted around the access road. He jumped up the steep incline and crawled on his hands and knees over the rocky terrain. Thickly sprouting bushy plants allowed Mancini to grab at the foliage and pull himself up the slope. The sun beat down on his back and he felt sweat run between his shoulder blades. Some of the low growing shrubs uprooted from the ground in Mancini’s hands, causing him to slide a couple of feet back down the ridge. His feet grazed across the rocky surface underneath the foliage, as he desperately tried to gain a foot hold. Progress was painfully slow going.

  A welcomingly cooling breeze wafted from the sea as Mancini reached level ground beside the stone wall surrounding Logrono’s palatial property. His shirt was drenched with sweat and he wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve. He raised his arms and jumped, gripping hold of the iron railings above the stone wall. With his feet scrabbling up the stone surface, Mancini hauled himself upwards onto the narrow, six inch wide ledge on top of the wall in front of the railings. The overhanging branches of a tree near the wall provided some welcome shade and acted as some form of slight cover.