by Blake Banner
He gestured to the chairs. “Sit, you want a drink?”
He took a stone jug and filled it from one of the barrels. Seth and Red sat at the table. Their boys stayed standing behind them. Emilio came over with the jug and a handful of tumblers. He was not pretentious. For a moment I thought he was the kind of man who was what he was. He was the kind of man I could have liked, but I put the thought out of my mind. There was no room for that kind of thought in my life. He poured wine and started chopping up a wheel of cheese.
“This is goat’s cheese. We feed the goats on rosemary. It gives the cheese a delicate flavor. Try, try.”
I sat at the head of the table, took a glass and a piece of cheese. The wine was rough, but he was right, one day it would be good. The cheese was superb. I watched him as I chewed and wondered how a man like this winds up selling human beings for a living.
Dead on cue, there was the sound of heels on tiles and two of Emilio’s boys led in six cute young Mexican girls. They all reminded me of Carmencita. They were between fifteen and twenty-two. They were scared, but you could see the fire of hope and defiance in their eyes. Red laughed for no particular reason and stood to go and examine the goods. Seth followed, looking like a hillbilly at a picnic.
Emilio turned to me. “You speak Spanish?”
“Enough.”
“Lo vas a matar?”
Was I going to kill Red? I let the smile creep onto the right side of my face. “I’m the man you need to be doing business with, Emilio.”
“You are dangerous.”
“Not as long as we have the same interests.”
He made a face that said, ‘I guess so’.
Red and Seth came back to the table laughing. Red said, “Sweet, man. Cute babes. I might keep one for me.”
“You got the money?”
Seth signaled to the guy with the sports bag, who brought it over and put it on the table. Red opened it. “Please count it, Emilio. There is one hundred and fifty grand for the coke, and fifteen grand for the girls.”
Ten grand a kilo for the coke, two and a half grand each for the girls. Emilio had one of his boys count it. We stayed talking for twenty minutes. Red and Seth had a snort. I ate cheese and Emilio watched me and calculated just how dangerous he thought I was.
By the time we took the coke and the girls out to the trucks, it was almost two AM. We all said goodbye, like we were leaving from an enjoyable dinner party. I half expected Emilio to wave and say, “Do come again!” Instead he said, “I have another fifteen kilos for you in a week.”
That was a lot of coke and a lot of girls, and it told me neither was staying in Tucson. Red was planning on moving the stuff nationwide. Which surprised me, because he wasn’t smart enough to do that.
The girls rode with Seth in the Jeep, and we went ahead in the pick-up with the coke loaded in the back under a tarpaulin. Red was almost hysterical, pounding the wheel and whooping like a Hollywood cowboy. Like I said, he felt invincible.
“You know what that stuff is worth on the market, boy? You know what that is worth?”
“I know what it’s worth.”
“You are one miserable son of a bitch, Lacklan, you know that?”
“I know that too.”
He laughed and pounded the wheel again. “Man! I am gonna have me a party tonight. I am gonna ride Cissy’s ass!” He laughed some more. “You better get yourself a girl or get out of the house, boy. You ain’t gonna sleep tonight, I’m tellin’ you that!”
This was his party and nobody was going to rain on it. Not for now, anyway. I smiled. I was thinking of the photographs I had sent Arana from the toilet at Rio Rico, of his dead boys on Red’s forecourt, and the message I’d sent with them.
Twelve
It was four in the morning as we approached the Hawk’s Nest along Camino del Oeste. To our right, we could see the orange glow of Tucson. Everywhere else there was the blackness of the empty desert. Except that ahead there was a strange, flickering luminescence. I sat back in my seat and watched his face as it slowly dawned on him that flickering light he was seeing up ahead was dancing flames, and the flashing red and blue of fire trucks and police cars.
“What the motherfucking…?”
We pulled in to the forecourt and he leapt from the cab. Everything was flooded in a wavering, orange glow from the tall flames that were reaching up into the blackness, and trailing sparks and embers like a dragon’s tail out into the night. But from what I could see, the blaze was coming mainly from a group of outhouses and sheds at the back, not so much the concrete structure of the club itself. A concrete building is hard to ignite, and I figured Arana’s boys had been in a hurry. There were two trucks there and a half-dozen guys dousing everything in water.
Red stood staring, with his arms flung wide in a gesture of helplessness. I watched a couple of cops and the sheriff of San Juan, out of his jurisdiction, walking toward him. I waited to see what would happen. Red turned to them as they approached, shouting above the roar of the flames. “What the fuck? What the fuck, man?”
I heard one of the cops say, “I thought you’d want me to call your uncle Caleb…”
Sheriff Caleb was saying, “You any idea who would want to do this, Red…?”
I climbed out of the pick-up and slammed the door loud enough to be heard. The cop and the sheriff both looked over. I saw the sheriff’s face harden. I paused to light a cigarette and strolled over, keeping my eyes on Sheriff Caleb’s. I repeated his words as I drew closer, “Any idea who might have done this…?”
He spoke half to himself. “What the hell…?”
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, Sheriff?” Before he could answer, I turned to Red. “Looks like you got a leaky appliance somewhere, Red.” I eyed the lawman sidelong. “Leaky appliances can be real dangerous. People can get hurt, and even killed. What do you say, Sheriff? Would you say it’s important to shut off any leaky appliances?”
“Who is this clown, Red?”
Red wasn’t listening. He had his hands to his head and the light from the leaping flames made him look like a distressed minor devil in a remote corner of hell.
“What makes you call me a clown, Sheriff? Clowns make people laugh. I haven’t made anybody laugh.” I raised my voice. “Red!” He turned to face me. He was out of control. “This was an accident. A leak. And that’s what the fire department is going to find. You don’t need the cops here, do you?”
The meaning of my words began to sink in. He nodded. “Yeah. No. This weren’t arson, Sergeant. For sure. This was not arson.”
The sergeant gave me a once-over, then turned to Sheriff Caleb. “Stay in touch, Caleb. Let me know if anything develops, will you?”
“Sure.”
He walked away and had a word with the chief fireman. He’d wait for the report. By the time he got the report, I’d be long gone. The sheriff was talking to Red again. “Who the fuck is this, Red?”
He jabbed his thumb at me.
“He’s my associate, uncle Caleb. What the hell happened here?”
I answered him, but I was looking at his uncle. “What’s happened here is that somebody has been talking to Arana.”
Red stared at me. “You!” he said, simply. His uncle leered at me and he went on. “You. It must be you. How else did you get six of his men to show up here…?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “Jesus, Red! You know? Try thinking sometimes. I told him I had a couple of Ks of marijuana to sell him. I gave him this spot as a remote place to meet. I wanted to set up a demonstration for you, pal! Why would I waste six of his guys and then have him firebomb you? Use your fucking brain sometimes!”
He looked mad. “OK! Take it easy!”
Sheriff Caleb was looking very sick. “I’m asking you again, Red. Who the fuck is this guy?”
I answered for him. “I’m his guardian angel, Caleb. I’ve come to fix the leak. You heard from Arana lately, Sheriff?”
“What are you talking abo
ut?”
I gave him my nastiest smile. “I plugged a couple of leaks at the Casa Coca just last night. I thought Arana might have called you in.” I shrugged and laid on the deep south drawl. “You bein’ the local sheriff an’all.”
He swallowed hard. “You playin’ with fire boy.”
I looked past him and the blaze. “Somebody sure is.” I turned to Red. “Somebody has told Arana about your operation. You have a leak that needs plugging, fast. You got somewhere you can stay for a couple of days?”
He shrugged. “I could stay at Seth’s...”
“Do that. I’m going to take care of this for you. I’ll contact you when it’s all clear.” I took a long moment to look into the sheriff’s eyes. “If Arana finds out you are Red’s uncle, you could be seriously at risk, Sheriff. I would advise you to keep a low profile for a day or two.”
He tried a little bluster, but it wasn’t very convincing. “I ain’t scared of no…”
“You should be. Take my advice.” To Red I said, “I’m going to need Seth and two of your toughest boys. I’m going to make Arana wish he’d never been born.” I leered at Sheriff Caleb. “Don’t you go ratting me out now, Caleb, will you? I am pretty sure Arana is not your friend right now.”
He went very pale and shook his head. “No, why would I…?”
My voice was almost a whisper, “Where does he live, Sheriff?”
“He kind of moves about, Mexico, LA…”
“When he’s here, where does he live?”
“He’s got a penthouse at the casino, but he prefers the Casa Coca. The top floor is an apartment. It’s real luxurious. He says he gets privacy there, and it’s right on the border…”
His voice trailed away.
“You seem to know him pretty well.”
He shook his head quickly. “No, not really…”
“Is that where he is now?”
“I guess it is.”
“Go home, sheriff. Now. I’ll be in touch.”
He turned and hurried away toward his truck. He crossed the fire chief coming the other way. The fire was dying down and the main building of the club didn’t look too badly damaged.
“I hope you had your stores insured, Red. You’re going to have to restock the place. The good news is you have a place to restock. Pure luck, a passing motorist saw the fire and called it in. If we’d arrived twenty minutes later, the whole place would’ve been a write off. I figure this afternoon you should be able to get in there.”
Red was sinking fast after his high.
I said, “You got somewhere for the girls?”
He looked confused. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
“I’ll call you later.” I left him with the fire chief and went over to the Jeep. It was another hour and a half till dawn and the sky was black. I wrenched open the passenger door. Seth and the guys gawped at me. Seth said, “What’s goin’ on?”
“You’re with me. We’re going to pay a visit to Arana. You two, get in the back of the pick-up.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now.”
They didn’t question it. They sighed and groaned and climbed down. Seth was running his fingers though his short hair. “Man! I am so done. I need to sleep.”
“You’ll sleep when you’re dead,” I said. “Now get in the fucking truck.”
The two guys climbed in the back and Seth got in next to me in the cab. I fired up the engine and hammered out of the forecourt in a cloud of dust. In the rearview, I could see Red staring after me. It had dawned on him too late that the coke was still in the truck.
I drove across town toward Marni’s place. I was making it up as I went along, but I was getting a good feeling. I thought maybe I’d have the whole damn thing wrapped up within twenty-four hours.
The first gray tints of dawn were touching the east as I pulled up on Brooks Drive. I snarled, “Stay here. Don’t move,” climbed out, and sprinted over to the house. I let myself in. It was still and dark, and very quiet. I climbed the stairs to my room, pulled out the Smith & Wesson 500 cannon, the pack of C4 and the detonators, and stuffed them all in my rucksack. I smiled. Things were going to get intense. I was doing what I was good at, and that always made me smile.
Two minutes later, I was climbing back in the cab.
“OK, Seth,” I said. “Let’s go reap the harvest.”
He looked at me like all he wanted to do was sleep. I laughed, turned west onto Stella and floored the pedal toward Valencia Road, and Three Points.
Thirteen
The sun was bleeding molten copper over the high sierras in the east when we finally rolled into Abasse. Seth had fallen asleep, and I was willing to guess the two guys in the back were out for the count too. I didn’t know how many guys Arana had with him. I didn’t know if he had anybody with him. I didn’t know a damn thing. I was flying by the seat of my pants and trying to be creative.
I glanced at Seth. He had a Springfield XD in his waistband. I figured the two in the back had something similar. I saw the sign for the Casa Coca, slowed and pulled in. The bouncing on the dirt track woke him and he looked around, steadying himself against the door and the dash.
“We arrived, Seth. This is your appointment with destiny.”
He frowned at me like he thought I was crazy. “Man, can I get some coffee somewhere?”
“Nope.” I pulled up and killed the engine. “Let’s go. There are people to kill.”
I climbed down and heard him clamber out the other side. I walked toward the tailgate, hammering on the truck. “C’mon, guys! There’s work to be done. Wake up!”
I figured whoever was in the house would be hearing the noise, and that suited me fine. As the two sleepy schmucks yawned and stretched and slid down from the back, I held out my hand. “Let me see your weapons,” I said, like I was going to check them out.
They pulled out two automatics, a Desert Eagle and a Glock 43. Two nice guns. I examined them and called to Seth, “Seth! C’mere! Let me see your Springfield.”
He started shambling toward me and I was aware of one of the shutters moving on the top story of the building. It only moved a couple of inches, but it was enough for me to see it.
The sun was over the horizon now and a warming breeze was stirring. Seth handed me his pistol. It was a 9mm. I put it and the Colt in my waistband, cocked the Glock 43, flipped off the safety and aimed at Seth’s head. “All of you, turn around, put your hands on your heads, take five steps toward the house and get on your knees. Do as I say and you get to go home tonight.”
Seth said, “Oh, God…” and did as he was told. All three of them lined up with their backs to me and their elbows sticking out like Mickey Mouse ears and shambled nervously up toward the house. They were too damned lazy to think, they were used to doing what they were told, and they weren’t smart enough to question what I was telling them. When they were twenty-five feet from the porch, I said, “Stop. Now get on your knees.” They did it.
I could hear Seth whimpering, “Oh God…”.
Then I bellowed at the top of my lungs.
“Arana! You got a fucking leak! What kind of shit operation are you running? They knew your guys were coming! They wiped them out and you almost got me killed, you motherfucker! Now I am going to give you one more chance, you Mickey Mouse piece of fucking shit! Come out here and be a witness to this!”
I waited a couple of minutes. I knew he would come and he did. Eventually the door creaked and he stepped out onto the porch in his dressing gown and slippers, carrying a shot gun.
“You got some fuckin’ nerve showin’ up around here…”
I snarled at him, “Yeah, we’ll talk about that. Do you know who these guys are?”
He nodded. “This one is Seth, that is Bobby and he is Sam. They run with Red, so what?”
They nodded back at him, like the fact that he knew them would make a difference. It was sad. I nodded too. We were all nodding.
“The same Red who just tonight collected fifteen kilos o
f blow from Emilio Romero, south of the border. Fifteen kilos of blow and six muchachas for his whore house. The same Red who will take delivery of another, similar load next week, right under your fucking nose. The same Red whose uncle is Sheriff Caleb of San Juan County—your fucking county! I told you he was a rat and what the fuck have you done about it?”
He was almost apologetic. “I send some boys to his house. He was not there…”
“Do you know what fucking incompetent means, Arana?”
Now he looked mad. “Come on! I lost eleven men in two nights! Good men don’t grow on fuckin’ trees!”
I shot Seth in the back of the head. It was a hollow tip .45 so his face exploded over the dust. It seemed to shock Arana. I shot the other two in rapid succession. I pointed at the three corpses. “That evens things up a little. Now come here.” I walked back to the pick-up and pulled off the tarp to expose the fifteen kilos of coke. Arana walked up slow, with his slippers dragging in the dust. He stood staring at it. I pulled one of the packs out and handed it to him. “Try it.”
He did and made a face of approval. “Is good. Is good stuff.”
“I know. Now, are you willing to trust me?”
“How much is here?”
“I told you. Fifteen K.” I looked around like I was distressed. “Where are your fucking men, Arana? What kind of piss operation are you running? I could have killed you fifteen times over!”
He shrugged. “Chill, gringo! They are asleep. We had a party last night. We weren’t expecting no focking crazy killers this morning. We torched Red’s place, then we partied.” He grinned. “That’s how we roll in Mexico. Fifteen kilos, huh?” He did the math. “That is a street value of two and a quarter million.”
“Yeah, but only if you’re alive. Romero has a good organization, and when he and Red wake up to what’s going down they’ll be all over you like cheap whores on a sailor. You need to get your shit together, Arana.”
“OK, OK… Come on, let’s get some coffee. We’ll get the boys to bring this in.” I followed him towards the house and was surprised to see he was creasing up, laughing. “You are one crazy motherfocker. One day I maybe have to kill you, but I will regret it. I like you. You out of your fockin’ mind.” He gestured back at the bodies and at the truck. “You turn up at my house like this at seven in the morning…” His laugh was almost a giggle. “You fockin’ crazy!”