The Cartel Takedown Page 2

  Retail, the coke could sell for one hundred dollars a gram or more in the United States. More if cutting was included, and stepping on his product’s purity was a given in America.

  Taking drugs weakened with filler or tainted with toxins or both was their problem, not his. Cavity empty or something like that. Let the buyer beware. Besides, selling retail was risky and those on the street faced death from rivals or the police, and long prison sentences when – not if – when they were caught. The people on the street were today’s door-to-door salesmen and they took most of the risks for the least reward. He didn’t begrudge them their meager slice of the pie.

  Then again, production was not easy and safe either, as the current attack proved.

  Explosions shook the building. Small arms and machine gun fire was non-stop. The roof was holed. He watched as his lab techs were being evacuated. They were ushered single file into what appeared to be a manhole. In reality, it lead to a series of shelters, and to an escape tunnel. Building the safe rooms and the tunnel had been expensive, but current events proved the expense was worth it. He only wished they never had to use them.

  His guards were fighting, and most were acquitting themselves with courage and discipline. They were guarding their fellow employees who were headed for safety. Burning wreckage rained on them all. They didn’t run. He was proud of them.

  Now all he had to do was figure out who was attacking, and what they were attacking with, and most importantly, why.

  And where the hell was the Bolivian army? He paid them good money for protection. He paid them more than the government did, and required less of their time. Now he needed them and what the hell?

  Frustrated he checked his cell phone one more time. Still no service. Stupid country. Next facility would have a cell phone tower built in.

  But no cell phone service shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t have to call. Security, his own security, was already mounting a counterattack. At worst the army should be attacking these raiders from behind. They should have overrun them by now.

  A young man cried and collapsed to the floor. He was holding his head, rolling in pain. Starbuck crouched low and sprinted to his side. He held the boy down. The kid was still in his teens. He pinched the boy’s shoulder.

  “Hey! Listen to me. I am squeezing your shoulder. You feel that? You’re gonna be all right if you feel that. Understand?”

  The boy stopped thrashing and nodded.

  “That’s great, now if I squeeze both shoulders, the pain will subside. Get less.”

  He gently squeezed both shoulders. The boy smiled and relaxed. His hands fell away. Half his head was gone. Starbuck continued to massage the boy’s shoulders until he drew his last breath.

  ~*~

  The General, Fracasas Flores, was a slightly built man. He was well into middle age, he knew, but still he was fit and active as men half his age. Today he was leading his men into battle once more. He had hoped to slip peacefully into retirement, but life did not often deliver on one’s hopes.

  The large concrete building below him looked out of place plopped down in the middle of a tropical rain forest at the end of an unpaved road. It looked like something out of an office park in the American Midwest. Large, with a few small windows and a flat roof and a glass enclosed entryway.

  He knew the entryway was deceptive. Any attempt to breech it would result in disaster. Holes in the roof and walls, on the other hand, would provide safer access. There were already a number of holes in the roof. The walls were proving tougher. A couple windows had been blown out, but they were all on the second or third floors.

  The general paced and thought. Yes, his men had the building surrounded. Yes, they had, under his august direction, very cleverly blocked the only road in. His troops were hidden just out of sight from the highway, so any reinforcements coming from that direction would be his. And as he had already observed, they had punched a few holes in the building. All well and good, but he knew they were no closer to taking over the compound than they were when he started.

  At least his men were well protected. Aside from utterly destroying the raiders, keeping his men safe was his top priority. Hit them, but make sure they can’t hit you back. He had learned that in the boxing ring. March into the ring with your chin up, but once the punches start flying, keep your chin down. Even so, there were more than a dozen men wounded already, maybe even some dead.

  His orderly, a skinny slip of a kid, timidly approached. He huffed and waved the child forward.

  “Uncle do you have any messages?”

  The General shook his head and sighed. “Call me general, Jose.”

  Jose snapped to attention and saluted. “Yessir!”

  The General gave a perfunctory salute. His brother’s youngest son was as useless as tits on a bull, but he was family, and his brother had asked for his help, hoping that a tour in the military would toughen the boy up. So far, it wasn’t working and he ended up as the General’s orderly just to keep him out of the way.

  “Do you have a cell phone, soldier?”

  Jose nodded and showed it to him. Technically, his soldiers were not to bring personal communications devices into battle. No reason to belabor that rule now.

  “I want you to keep it out, and watch for bars. Find the nearest place where you have a signal, then return and inform me of the location.”

  A salute and the boy was off, stumbling through the undergrowth holding his phone over his head and watching the screen instead of watching where he was going. The General sighed again. In his pocket, one of his cell phones vibrated. Only the one dedicated to Starbuck vibrated. If he was calling that was a good thing. If it was him calling, of course. He quickly answered.

  ~*~

  The general would pay for this. There could be no excuse. Only blood would answer. Blood for blood. That is what that asshole had earned, it is what he deserved, and it is what justice demanded. He knew this as sure as he knew anything. It was instinctual.

  Starbuck had learned just three things in his life.

  Sometimes people are assholes, therefore sometimes he was an asshole, but sometimes he wasn’t an asshole.

  That was it. Life wasn’t that complicated. Wait. Four. Yeah, make it four things.

  His cell phone rang. He closed the dead man’s eyes, stood, and kicked the burning land flotsam away from his feet. The call was from general. Today the general would get to see his asshole side. He answered.

  “Praise the Lord you’re alive!”

  “Amen. Where are you, you asshole!”

  “That’s why I’m calling.”

  “Excellent! Where the hell are you?”

  “Your uhhhhh … headquarters, yeah headquarters has been overrun!”

  “I know you idiot I am inside!”

  “We are trying to break in now.”

  Starbuck froze. “Are you shooting at the building?”

  “Of course! How else do you think we can take over?”

  Starbuck pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and spoke calmly. “Call for a cease fire.”

  “But-”

  “NOW!”

  Starbuck listened as the general frantically screamed for his men to cease firing. Slowly the gunfire and explosions tapered off until all was silent. The general returned to the phone.

  “What is going on?”

  “You have been killing my men. I want to know why.”

  “But – but – but -”

  “I will meet you at the front door in two minutes. Have your explanation ready. No excuses, and General, you had better have a very, very good reason.”

  He hung up and grabbed the nearest lieutenant. “Status!”

  “Six confirmed dead, twenty two injured, none seriously. I will recall the technicians, assess equipment and inventory, and report to you.”

  “Thank you. The injured?”

  “All being cared for.”

  “Identify the dead. Take care of their families.”

&n
bsp; “Of course, sir.”

  “And tell everyone, well done. I’ll tell them myself, later, but you tell them now, please.”

  The lieutenant nodded and was off. Clearly it hadn’t been necessary to tell the man how to do his job, but it made Starbuck feel connected and right now, that was important.

  That and exacting his pound of flesh from the general and his Godforsaken troops.

  3. 3

  Brandie and Akhim were squeezed into a janitor’s closet. The sink faucet dripped, and the sink was filthy. The cramped room smelled of mildew and rot. It was hot and there was no ventilation. Above the sink was a poster for a Hollywood martial arts film. It pictured a buxom blonde in a bikini smiling as she sidekicked a much larger fierce looking man in the face. At least the gunfire and explosions had stopped.

  Akhim had turned the mop bucket over and was sitting on it, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. Brandie was leaning against the door, resting her head on it, listening for, well, for anything. She was grateful for the silence.

  Akhim was staring at the poster. “Hey weren’t you in that movie?”

  Brandie shook her head. “Not really. Earl Graham got my name added to the credits.”

  “Still…”

  “God I have to get out of here.”

  “This is the safest place in the building.” Charlie whispered through Brandie’s phone. She didn’t respond.

  “Janitor’s closets usually are.” Akhim agreed, “Think about it. They’re all located on the inside of the building in an out of the way spot. There is a sink so you won’t die of thirst and it can double as a lav if you’re just peeing plus the walls, floor, and ceiling are just about always made from solid re-enforced concrete.”

  Brandie had no response. Akhim continued. “There are no windows, and only one door.”

  “Except when a building has been trashed. Then job one will be cleaning up the mess, which will involve the janitor’s closet.”

  “There is no one coming.” Charlie responded stiffly.

  “And if there was, there is no escape route.”

  “Which is why its the perfect hiding place!”

  “Why? Because nobody in their right mind would pick a hiding place with only one exit?”

  “There is no one coming.” Charles said again.

  “Yippee. And there are no explosions, agonized screams, or gunfire either. Lets use this lull in the action to get away.”

  “There are still several hundred armed soldiers and jumpy cartel guards surrounding the building.”

  “And that is going to change exactly when?”

  “I’m working on a diversion that will give you two an opportunity to escape.”

  “Don’t remember subcontracting that out.”

  “You didn’t. That’s what friends do for each other.”

  “Really! I thought they called in the army to attack them.”

  Akhim stood up. “All right stop it. None of us knew what the others were doing.”

  “And only one of us is safely away from here while we’re hiding in an unventilated janitor’s sauna.”

  “Stop whining.”

  “Stop putting me in danger and telling me what to do. I swear I’ll turn this phone off.”

  “You could try.”

  “You think a hammer might work?”

  Charlie fell silent. Brandie turned off the flashlight app on her phone and they sat in dark, in silence.

  “This would be a great location for a horror film.”

  “Not helping, Akhim.”

  “Not the janitor’s closet. I mean this building.”

  “One, it is just like every ugly office park building in the United States. Two, it is no longer structurally sound, and three we are not making a movie.”

  “I know that but if I was making a movie this could be good location. There’s jungle-”

  “Rain forest.”

  “Pedant. Plus the extras casting takes care of itself.”

  “Except these extras use real bullets.”

  “He’s just daydreaming.” Charlie cut in, “A distraction from your current precarious situation.”

  “Well that certainly killed the mood thank you very much.”

  “Just calling it like I see it.”

  “As ever, not helping Charlie.”

  “Brandie you are really acting pissy and may I add, petulant.”

  “Quit trying to blame me for your incompetence and get us out of here or I will.”

  “Can you two be quiet. Someone will hear you.”

  “Says the voice from beyond.” She didn’t bother turning the phone off. She opened the back and removed the battery. The screen went dark. Akhim’s breast pocket lit up. “Real mature.”

  Somewhere, during their mad dash from one hiding place to the next, Brandie had dropped her bag. It held the tools of her trade: her disguises, her electronic and manual lock picking tools, her ropes and grappling hooks, not to mention her passports and weapons.

  Sitting and waiting for someone else to find it had never seemed like a good long term plan and now she needed to find it. Charlie might have proved helpful but apparently he was too rattled to be any good either, and Akhim? Akhim was too old.

  She made a decision. She reached out for the old man, planning on patting him on the shoulder. Her palm landed on the top of his head. She patted it like he was an old dog.

  “Stay calm and stay quiet. I’ll be right back.”

  “But-”

  “Brandie don’t do anything stupid.”

  She slipped out the door.

  The hallway was dark. She wished she could put the battery back into her phone but that would only call Charlie. Instead she crept down the hallway, keeping one hand on the wall. Ahead dim light filtered through holes in the ceiling and walls. How could she possibly retrace her steps and find her bag?

  She replayed their mad dash in her mind. They had begun by climbing into ceiling, then down into the receiving bay. For a while they had hidden inside a stack of coca leaf bales. She had her bag then. When the lights went out and they could see nearby bales on fire it was time to leave.

  They had dashed into a supply office and hidden under the desk for a short time. Akhim had locked the door and braced it shut with a chair just in case someone had a key. It was a good thing too, because someone had tried the door and given up.

  After that, they ran to a stairwell. That had been a mistake. Once inside they heard shouting and a parade of footsteps. They huddled in the shadows beneath the steps as office workers carrying computers and printouts raced up and down. When they finally stopped Brandie raced upstairs to the second floor. She grabbed the doorknob and bit back a curse, shaking her hand. It was fiery hot. The third floor doorknob was not but when she pulled it open, she saw the outside wall was missing, along with much of the floor. The fire on the second floor was smokey but looked as if it was burning itself out.

  Bullets pinged off the door near her head and she quickly slammed it shut. That was when she remembered she didn’t have her bag.

  She didn’t have her bag when she had run upstairs. It had to be under the stairs.

  She carefully made her way back to the stairwell door and opened it. The stairs were gone.

  Not gone, precisely. They had collapsed. Two stories below her lay a one story pile of rubble, and somewhere under the mess was her bag. The open door offered little light, but it was enough for her to spot a path to climb down. The good thing about the destruction was that it left a wealth of finger and toeholds. Minutes later she had reached the bottom, or rather, the top of the heap.

  The first story had precast reinforced concrete steps, while the upper stories had steel treads and stringers. Now all she had to do was crawl through a stack of twisted sharp edged metal in the dark and the bag would be hers again.

  The creaking metal sounded like alarm. The enclosed stairwell acted like an amplifier. Brandie moved slowly and carefully, trying to be silent. At last she r
eached floor and was just able to crawl under the steps.

  Her bag was undamaged and right where she had left it. The feelings she experienced went far beyond simple relief at recovering her tools. The bag contained memories and treasures. Sure she had millions of dollars stashed in safe places around the world but at that moment she would have given it all just to have her bag again.