by Tom Ellis
“I understand Sir if I may ask, will there be any backlash from SAC Lane regarding my calling you.”
“Lane expected you to call. And you have acted in a professional manner in doing so. Harris, you understand the big picture here. I will tell Lane that you are completely on board with these changes. And that you will forward any information you may learn from you undercover operation, that might be of use to the gang task force.”
“What if Kroll checks in with information we can act on?”
“Advise me ASAP anytime day or night. I will decide how much response we can provide. I need to go now Harris.”
“Yes Sir, what if Kroll needs help?”
“Use your best judgment.”
Carter hung up the phone. Havelee realized she was out on a long thin limb. And Ron Kroll was at the end of it. She finished another cup of coffee and called Vargas.
El Jefe was not in a good mood. His bodyguards carried the idiot who hired the bus driver to a fenced area behind the luxurious estate in southern Sonora. El Jefe walked outside to a patio and took a chair next to an ornate table as he watched his bodyguards work. A servant brought him a glass of wine.
The bodyguards stripped the man to his briefs. His T-shirt was stuffed in his mouth to squelch the screams that would be forthcoming. The terror in his eyes gave El Jefe a modicum of satisfaction as he watched his guards throw the man down on the heavy timbers that formed a cross. El Jefe knew of no reference to compare his cross to the ones used by the Romans. His worked very well. The Romans would have been proud to have one as well constructed. The man writhed in pain when the guards drove the first large spike into his palms. El Jefe wasn’t sure where the Romans drove their spikes, so he instructed his men to use one in the palms and one in the wrists. Each foot would get a spike as well. He didn’t want his victims to fall off and break their necks. The only people El Jefe killed quickly were the messengers that brought him bad news. It was the least he could do, after all; the news wasn’t their fault.
His guards expertly drove the spikes using heavy sledgehammers. Missing would likely crush the body part. El Jefe believed in giving his staff the finest tools available. A small man wearing middle eastern dress stood nearby watching the process with obvious pleasure. He was clearly one of El Jefe’s favorites, if not the most favored. This Iraqi once worked in Sadam Hussein’s torture chambers. The little man burst into tears of gratitude when El Jefe once presented him with a brand new deep cycle DieHard truck battery and heavy gauge jumper cables. Recent business dealings with the terrorist organizations called for a trusted interpreter. The little torturer provided this service with accurate answers. Which, at times, led to the execution of his countrymen who lied to El Jefe. Other times resulted in El Jefe getting to watch the little man use the battery and jumper cables. The little Iraqi certainly knew the most sensitive parts of the human anatomy.
The guards rigged the block and tackle and pulled the cross upright. The Iraqi quickly stepped over and yanked the T-shirt from the victim’s mouth before the cross became vertical. El Jefe smiled at the screams. And at the thought of dressing his guards as Roman soldiers for these events. They were loyal men would do so immediately if commanded. El Jefe worried about offending their masculinity by ordering them to wear something that resembled a skirt. To El Jefe Roman soldiers were macho. Somehow two thousand years changed what looked macho to his guards.
A servant brought a cell phone to El Jefe. He could see the fear in the man’s eyes as he took the phone from him.
“How are you this fine day Senor Bradford?”
“Not well El Jefe. We were visited by the five fifty-six gang again last night.”
El Jefe’s expression changed to anger. “THE PUTA’S! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PUTA’S?” He yelled.
“One is dead; the rest of the women are gone, they were stolen by the five fifty-six gang. I have ten dead men here. They stole the machine gun truck as well. I have texted you a picture of the message they painted on the barn.”
“Bradford those bastards have cost me money. How are they finding out what we are doing?”
“We can’t ask the Mexicans you sent; they are dead. Only one Iranian or whatever he lives barely. He doesn’t have enough English or Spanish to converse. I suspect the turncoat died in the attack.”
“How did they get the women out of your barn and off your ranch?”
“I suspect they trucked them across the pastures.”
“The guards, what happened to the guards?”
“They were killed with silenced weapons. Another guard had his skull smashed.”
“Bradford, our final shipment comes from our middle eastern friends this week, as soon as the balloon goes behind the mountain. It will come and so will many guards. They will have your payment in cash. Use good men to keep this from being fucked up. Comprende?”
“Si El Jefe Si.”
“Good I will deal with those thieves in Tucson, they will be no more!”
El Jefe threw the cell phone at the cross.
The drug lord cursed and threw his wine glass. He got up and kicked over the chair and the table. A bodyguard returned with the servant.
El Jefe looked at the hapless household worker and saw the urine dripping from his trousers.
El Jefe pulled his Colt Government Model 1911 from his waistband. The ornate dark blue 38 super caliber weapon carried both gold and silver inlays and engraving. The pistol’s grips were silver and inlaid with a gold Aztec symbol. El Jefe racked back the slide chambering a round.
He shot the servant between the eyes.
Securing his pistol, he motioned for his Iraqi torturer. The man trotted over and bowed to his master.
“Ubay bring me Malmud! I need a bomb pronto!”
“Si El Jefe Si,” the torturer said as he bowed profusely backing away, before turning and trotting into the estate.
Ron Kroll knew he wouldn’t win any beauty contests with his purple and red swollen face. One look at the prostrate Porn Dude made Kroll think he got the better of the deal from whoever hit them. Dumas lay on his bed wearing only a T-shirt. He was moaning and holding an ice pack under his swollen testicles. They were bluer than his face.
“How the hell are you Pauli?” Bradford asked as he pulled on a pair of leather work gloves. This move made Kroll wonder what the former FBI agent was doing. Bradford pulled a pair of metal cutting shears from his back pocket and grabbed Porn Dude’s penis.
“NO BOSS NO NO DON’T BOSS NO PLEASE NO DON’T BOSS PLEASE!”
Bradford held Dumas’ tool in one hand and opened the shear with the other. He put the open blades around the base of Porn Dude’s dick. The man squirmed and tried to move away, Bradford held tighter and pushed on the blades.
“Listen to me you stupid oversexed son of a bitch. You killed one of El Jefe whores and let a damn street gang sneak up on us. If you thought with your brain instead of your dick, we wouldn’t be in deep shit with El Jefe. One more fuck up and you are going to have the shortest pecker in Arizona. Do you understand asshole?”
“Yeah, Boss! Please get those things away from me! Boss, I’m sorry Boss I won’t even jerk off anymore Boss please!”
“Just remember asshole. You won’t have anything to jerk if you do this shit again.”
Bradford gave another yank and shoved with the shears for emphasis. Dumas screamed.
Kroll shook his head and left the room. He encountered Numb Nuts in the hallway.
“Did the boss cut off Pauli’s dick? He said he was going to.”
“No not yet, but if he doesn’t keep it in pants, he will lose it,” Kroll said relieved he didn’t have to watch it happen.
Numb Nuts looked disappointed when he said. “Well, that won’t happen either. That man has only two toys. His dick and one of them damned computers. Don’t know which one he likes more.”
Kroll walked outside and sat on the porch waiting on Bradford. Whoever hit them last night was good, and it was an operation planned wit
h military precision. Ron Kroll didn’t think for a minute that a Latino street gang did it.
Bradford came out of the house and sat down next to Kroll.
“Ron I kind of wish you had killed that stupid son of a bitch last night.”
“Ash I wish I had been a few minutes earlier. I might have interrupted what was happening.”
“Those fucking gang bangers are smart. I remember seeing intelligence reports that said a lot of them had military training. They are bold. I just don’t know who the hell told them we are here. It has got to be someone in El Jefe’s camp.”
“I’ve seen the military training reports also. I don’t know if it extends to the planning it took to pull off what they did. My head has stopped spinning, and I’m seeing without blurring. I’m going to take the ATV for a ride around the ranch. Those bastards couldn’t have done this without leaving evidence of some kind. I want to know who we are dealing with.”
“Good idea. The big one happens as soon as the balloon goes down. El Jefe told me to expect it and a lot of guards. He doesn’t want any mistakes.”
“What the hell are we doing then, just providing him a base of operation?”
“That and a guide to deliver the package.”
“Who is the guide?”
“You and it is worth five million US dollars in cash, a way out of the country and a new identity.”
“Throw in another hundred and I’ll cut Dumas’s dick off for you.”
Bradford guffawed.
“I need that oversexed bastard’s computer and Spanish skills a little longer.”
“Ash have you ever considered El Jefe might be planning on double crossing us. Look at what has happened. First the trucks now the women. That bastard has got to be pissed.”
“Yeah I have. But to double cross us, El Jefe has to double cross a middle eastern terrorist group who is paying me twenty-five million to ensure the package gets delivered. El Jefe is getting twenty-five million as well. That is a lot of cash to lose just to double cross, someone. Money is El Jefe’s bottom line.”
“Mine too, but I hate to trust that bastard. Or a bunch of ragheads either.”
“El Jefe is a bastard alright. I think the ragheads have better business ethics. We will be careful.”
“When do I learn where I’m going?”
“When everything gets here. You might want to say goodbye to your whore in Nogales pretty soon. When this starts, I’m collecting everybody’s phones. Hope you understand, but I can’t take any chances.”
“I would do the same thing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well make sure the ATV has enough gas in it. I would want to see you walking around lost like that dumb ass Hillman.”
“You got that right,” Kroll said as he got up.
Buddy Russell drove up to the Double B Headquarters house. The oldest of the two girls was enjoying the attention of TR and Carson Bell, whom she started calling Abuelo the moment she met him. Russell entered the fenced area and walked up the steps to the verandah.
He watched the child feeding the mountain lion cub with a bottle. The oversized kitten was sucking greedily.
“This kid decided me and Miguel are her grandfathers and Estella is her Abuela,” Bell said.
“She named the cat Pepe and me Daddy,” TR added.
“Her name is Larcena Sells and is full blood member of the Apache Nation. She has a birth certificate in the back pocket of her jeans. She showed it to me earlier, and I called the San Carlos Reservation office. She is a known orphan; her parents died several years ago. She was last known to be living with a relative in Mexico. He, according to some of the rescued women, apparently sold her to the smugglers that brought her to the Rocking H Bar. Where, as you’ve heard she managed to escape along with a younger Mexican child known as Lupe. Andy Burns found them both in the desert, where Miss Larcena here was fighting off a coyote for that cat. Whose mother, according to Burns is dead. He spotted her body, while he was rescuing Larcena. Miss Larcena is twelve years old,” Russell said.
“Are all the women gone now?” Bell asked.
“Yes, they are in three separate shelters. One of the pastors has a contact in the immigration service. The pastor says there won’t be a problem getting any of them green cards. The children might be a little more difficult, but with someone to take of them, it can happen.”
“Good because I’m foster homing both of the little girls. The young one is already calling Miguel and Estella Abuelo and Abuela. I’m her gringo Abuela.” Bell said.
“Burns says Lupe’s mother died from being attacked and raped. The attacker was one of Bradford's people,” Russell said.
“Yes and I hope Burns hit the son of a bitch hard enough to kill him. For that matter, I wish he had taken out all of those bastards while he had the chance.”
“Between us, and no one else, I suspect he probably will before this over. Federal, state and local law enforcement aren’t going to help.”
“Works for me, I’ll pay for his bullets.”
“Speaking of federal here comes our favorite FBI agents or at least my favorite,” TR said.
Russell turned around and watched Havelee Harris park behind his truck. She and Vargas got out of their truck and walked to the porch.
Harris forgot her special agent demeanor and hugged TR. Larcena watched this. The lion kitten finished its bottle, and she proceeded to hand the bottle and the cat to Carson. Then she went over and hugged TR, who picked the child up.
“Who do we have here?” Havelee asked looking at the scruffy little girl who needed a bath and clean clothes.
“Larcena Sells, a rescued orphan who I intend to adopt. She is an Apache and is twelve years old.”
Larcena reached for Havelee’s hair. She stepped closer so the girl could reach it. Larcena examined Havelee’s blond locks intently. Blond hair was something novel to the child.
“Prieta.” She said, releasing Havelee’s hair.
“What did she say?” the agent asked.
“Pretty, she thinks your hair is pretty.
Larcena spoke to TR in rapid Spanish and then looked at Havelee smiling.
“What did she say?”
“She said I needed to marry you so you could be her mother.”
Havelee blushed. Larcena pointed at Ivalou and said something to TR in Spanish.
“I hope she is not suggesting bigamy,” Ivalou said smiling.
“No,’ TR answered. ‘She says you look like her friend Lupe’s mother. And Lupe’s mother is with Jesus.”
At that moment Estella and Miguel came from inside the house. Lupe was between them and saw Ivalou. The child screamed and ran toward Vargas.
“MADRE MADRE!”
Lupe jumped up, and Vargas managed to catch the girl and lift her into her arms.
“I’m not your Madre sweetheart.” The Latina agent told the girl. Lupe took Vargas arm and pushed up the light weight jacket sleeve. She intently examined Ivalou’s bare arm.
Tears gushed from the child’s eyes when she sobbed. “No mi Madre.”
Vargas bit her lip and blinked away tears as she hugged Lupe in her arms.
“I think somebody needs to come clean about what is going on,” Havelee said as she realized everybody had a guilty look except her and Vargas.
No one responded right away. Havelee walked over to a wicker couch and sat. Vargas carrying Lupe sat next to her. Larcena recovered her kitten from Carson Bell and snuggled in between the two agents.
“Talk, now,” Havelee ordered.
“Myself and a colleague assisted by Billy Butterfield and his girlfriend Bonita, rescued fifty-nine women and these two children from a white slavery operation last night. The youngest child’s mother was found dead, apparently at the hand of one of the traffickers. The women are safe in local shelters. Mr. Bell has agreed to keep the children in foster care here at the Double B Ranch.” Russell said.
Harris didn’t respond right away. Larcena handed her the kitten and s
aid, “mi Pepe.” Havelee held the cat and stroked its tan coat. The long tail and the color caused to her realize she was holding a purring mountain lion kitten.
“I don’t suppose these women were in a barn on a neighboring ranch?”
“I don’t remember where we found them. Only that we found them Special Agent Harris.” Russell answered.
“And these children are my adopted granddaughters,” Bell added.
“They are our adopted nieto,” Estella said forcefully.
Miguel nodded his ascent.
“And I’m going to raise this one as my daughter come hell or the FBI. And if you don’t like it Harris you can have my gun and creds now.” Ivalou said, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she hugged Lupe.
Havelee continued to pet the cat who was now asleep in her lap. Larcena laid her head against Havelee’s arm.
Everyone was looking at her waiting. Havelee raised her head from watching the kitten she continued to stroke with her right hand. She took Larcena’s hand in her left.
“After I graduated from the FBI academy my proud daddy hugged me and said, ‘Hav sweetie the only thing I can tell you, is always to try and do the right thing.’ I think that is what everybody here is doing. So the FBI is not going to get the chance to do anything else. I will help, not hinder.”
“Does that mean you will marry TR?” Larcena asked looking hopefully at Havelee.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you she speaks English,” TR said coming to the rescue.
“She is fluent in the Apache language as well,” Russell added, backing up TR.
“That young lady is something we will discuss at another time.” Havelee leaned over and kissed Larcena’s cheek.
“Mr. Bell, we asked you if we could use your ranch for surveillance. It has gotten critical; we get an answer.” Havelee said.