One Department

by Thomas A. Young

  She gathered her courage and walked out the door, gun in hand. “Put one foot on this property and that’s where they’ll scrape you up from.” She walked out to the middle of the yard and stood her ground there. One of the two who accompanied Armando was his distant cousin Miguel, and the other was another young guy from the house named Jay.

  Armando pointed at the .380. “That’s my gun. You could save yourself some trouble by givin’ it back.”

  “For how many thousands of dollars you took from me, not to mention all the vile shit you made me do, I think this is a pretty small payback,” she replied. “But if you want to come a little closer I’ll be happy to give you the bullets.”

  He shrugged. “S’okay, I got plenty more. I’m packin’ a bigger one right now anyhow.” He reached behind his back and drew out a Beretta 9mm. Elena put a two-hand grip on her gun and held it at low ready. She was starting to hyperventilate. Catching on to shooting though she was, she still wouldn’t win if he opened up on her. But Armando put his gun back where it was. “Baby, I don’t want you to come back. You been in the news, you’re too hot to handle now. But you owe me some money.”

  “I owe YOU money!?”

  “Did I fuckin’ stutter or somethin’?” His companions laughed. “You took my gun, you took my fuckin’ car, my car got damaged and plus I had to pay five hundred to get it back. And best of all you killed our business for two fuckin’ weeks ‘cause everyone was so scared we were gonna get raided. So I say you owe me five grand.”

  It was a ludicrous demand, but the important thing was that he was serious. “Where do you think I’m going to get five grand exactly?”

  “I don’t think you will. But I do think your new boyfriend will.”

  She was finally able to laugh a little. “You’ve always been crazy Armando, now you’re just being stupid.”

  “’Lena, don’t make me angry,” he replied. “He’s a dumbass fuckin’ hero type. He risked his life for your worthless ass before you even met. And you almost killed him for it, remember?” She remembered. “Yet here you are anyways, suckin’ his dick, cookin’ his food, and livin’ off his hospitality. When he sees what can happen to you, he’ll cough it up.” Elena started thinking about her odds of killing him where he stood and dragging him over the property line. But Randy had already ruled that option out. Blood trails are very hard to explain. “That’s everything I got to say, for now anyways,” Armando said. “So before we go, how ‘bout flashin’ your titties? Jay never got to see them, and they rock.”

  “Is your number the same?” she asked instead. He nodded. “We’ll be in touch then. Now get the fuck out of here before I decide to try my luck.”

  Armando waved at the other two, and they got in the car and drove away. Elena’s eyes were watering as she watched them disappear down the road. Then her phone started vibrating in her pocket. Oh Randy, just five minutes sooner…

  * * *

  “I need you to take me to the Canadian border,” Elena said, and Randy stared at her with his jaw slack.

  After she had told him on the phone what happened he had ditched work and sped home. There he had found her in the sort of tears that one normally expects from a person who has seen their long-awaited thread of hope snapped in front of them. She told him everything that had happened, and he was trying to tell her it would all be taken care of, but she wasn’t listening.

  “Canada is where I was headed on the night when you found me,” she told him.“It’s not where I want to be. But I’ll be okay there.”

  “Elena, you’re not giving me a chance. Let me take care of this”

  “Randy, staying here has been great. Being with you has been awesome. But these people are the worst of the fucking worst, and now that they know where I live I just can’t stay.”

  “One way or another, I can protect you. If it means I keep you with me all the time, that’s what we’ll do. If it means letting Vincent put you up for a while, he’ll go along with that. We can figure this out.”

  “Randy, it’s worse than that! It’s not just what they might do to me themselves. They could turn me in to Immigration. And Mexico isn’t the shithole it used to be; it’s a fucking bloodbath now. I’d be snatched up by the same people I rode the bus back with, and I’d be working in some whorehouse for the cartels until they decide to kill me. You see what I’m looking at here?”

  Randy could feel her despair, and hear her logic. She wanted to be safe, and she also didn’t want any more bullets flying at Randy beyond what she had fired herself. It was completely understandable, and he had to halt this train of thought however was necessary. Even if it hurt.

  “Canada might have been a good option in years past,” he told her. “But that’s changed.”

  “How?”

  “Ever since 9-11 they’ve clamped down on the border big time. If you had made it there in that car, the Canadian customs people would have asked for your proof of citizenship. Then when you didn’t have any, they’d have turned you back. And on the way back south, you’d have had to stop and talk to the American customs and immigration people. You’d be deported already.”

  That was the point where it became more than she could take. She collapsed into a kitchen chair, in tears. Randy bent down and put his arms around her. “Randy, what am I gonna do?”

  “Elena, I know I’m not the guy you want to spend your life with. But I’ve got too much work invested in helping you to let these scumbags ruin everything. Just let me take care of this, please.”

  She told him she’d let him try.

  * * *

  The house was easy to find. Big, noisy, with way too many pimped-up cars parked around it. “Crackmobiles” was what Randy liked to call them. The house had stairs leading up to a front entrance, but most people came and went through the back entrance in the alley. If trouble was going to start, that would be the better place for it, so Randy parked his truck near the end of the alley. He got out, while Vincent slid into the driver’s seat. “Sure you don’t want me to come with?” Vincent asked.

  “If there’s going to be any trouble, we don’t need you getting ID’d as an accomplice.” Vincent nodded. “Just keep your hat pulled down and be ready to drive.” Randy walked up the alley to the middle of the block where all the cars were parked, including the Datsun. There was fortunately no one outside; everyone was indoors. He walked up to the back door and knocked. Then, realizing no one could hear anything beyond that stereo thumping, he pounded.

  The door opened and Jay looked out. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m here to talk to Armando. Tell him Randy’s here.” Jay broke a smile and went back inside, shouting for Armando. A moment later he was at the door.

  “Look who, it’s the hero man! You bring my money?” There were others gathering behind him.

  “Warning is what I bring you,” Randy replied. Then he moved back as Armando stepped outside, with about five of his buddies behind him. Some had their hands behind their backs.

  “You come to my house to warn me? Hey, go right ahead, I’m listenin’.”

  “If you touch Elena,” Randy said, “if you hurt her, threaten her, or show your face at my home again, I won’t waste my time with the cops. I’ll deal with you myself in a very permanent fashion.”

  Armando turned around and said, “Que la camara” to one of his cohorts, who ran inside. Then he turned his attention back to Randy. “You stupid motherfucker, you know why I never set foot on your property? Because I know the rules. I walk on your property and you can shoot me in the clear. Well right now you’re on my property, and you’re by yourself.”

  “If I decide to,” Randy replied as coolly as he was able, “I can burn through the lot of you before you get one shot off. So exactly what fucking muscle would you like to impress me with?”

  The young man who ran inside came back out with a video camera, and he aimed it at Randy. “You come to my home to threaten me?” Armando said. “You need to learn the rules. Say wha
t you came to say again.” Randy looked at the camera, knowing he was at a real disadvantage now. “Lucky for you, I don’t want to shoot you and I don’t want to hurt ‘Lena either. I just want my money,” Armando went on. “And I don’t need to come to your place either, I can make one call and send her on a one-way trip to visit her folks. So think it over Wero, but I better be hearin’ from you soon.” Armando motioned to the others, and they all went back indoors, leaving Randy alone.

  * * *

  Randy came back to the truck. Vincent scooted over, and he got in the driver’s seat. “How’d it go?” Vincent asked.

  “I think negotiating is a bust.”

  Vincent shook his head. “I miss the days when gangsters came out and fought like men.”

  * * *

  They decided to give Armando the next move, and see if he either went away or did something stupid they could hang him on. They didn’t have to wait too long.

  Randy bought Elena a moped that she could drive without a license, so she wasn’t stranded at home anymore. With that she was able to spend her days at Vincent’s place in town while Randy was at work. After work she’d come home again.

  It wasn’t even a week later when Elena was making dinner and she heard glass break. Right after that, a thud on the wall behind her. And right after that, a pop in the distance. “RANDY!!!” She ran back to the bedroom where Randy was getting dressed, while bullets kept hitting the end of the mobile that faced the road. They heard about ten in all.

  Randy pulled his shoes on without tying them, ran out and looked in time to see the very same Datsun driving away. He ran to the gun safe, spun the dial each way until it opened, and grabbed the M1A. There was a loaded clip on the top shelf that he slammed in, then he chambered it and ran outside. But they were already too far gone. He didn’t have any other ideas so he took his phone out and called 911.

  * * *

  They waited more than an hour. Finally a Sheriff’s Department car pulled in, and two deputies got out. “Mr. Gustin, we looked around the roads in the area and didn’t find the car you described,” the first deputy said.

  “The road out there has shell casings all over it.”

  “I know, but that’s hard to tie to anyone without having the weapon. It could have just been a thrill shooting.”

  “We gave you names, descriptions, addresses. How hard can this be?”

  “It takes a lot to build a case. What do you say is the cause of this again?”

  “Extortion.”

  “Then this had to have been going on for a while. How come you didn’t call us sooner?”

  “Same reason I’m wondering why I called you this time instead of handling it myself. What’s the point?”

  The deputy smiled, shook his head, and they walked back to their car. “We’ll let you know if we come up with anything. In the meantime I advise that you do not contact this person or take any other action yourself. You’ll just make things worse, and you could face charges of your own. Let us handle it.” They got in and left.

  * * *

  “I can not believe I was so stupid as to call them,” Randy said after they had left. “They can’t be bothered to catch a drive-by shooter, but we raise the possibility of handling it ourselves and they’re right on top of that.”

  Elena came up to his side. “I could sneak across the border. I just need you to take me there.”

  “You’re not going to Canada,” he replied. “Playtime is over. We’re dropping the bomb.”

  * * *

  The next day was a Friday, which worked out well. Elena spent the day at Vincent’s place again, keeping him company and wondering what was up Randy’s sleeve.

  When Randy got off work, he stopped into a Best Buy in Seattle and bought a prepaid phone with an airtime card, all with cash. He had to get it in Seattle so it wouldn’t be traced back to a local store close to him. The clerk helped him set it up with a Seattle number and the fictitious name he gave her too.

  When he got home and Elena had joined him, he told her how this was going to go down. She didn’t like it, but she trusted him enough that she agreed to go along.

  Randy used the phone to call Armando, so that neither of their numbers would be found on his phone account. He told Armando to be at his place Saturday afternoon about his money. They would meet at the property line.

  * * *

  The next day, Randy and Elena were both outside when Armando pulled up, right on schedule. Randy motioned to her, and she went inside.

  Armando and the same two others got out and walked to the end of the driveway. Randy walked up to about twenty feet from where they were, holding a manila envelope. “Property line is where you said,” Armando shouted.

  “This road is an easement. It’s part of the next property over. Right here is where the line is,” Randy replied, pointing down to the edge of the driveway that ran across the front side of the property.

  Armando shrugged and walked to where he was, staying on his side of what Randy had indicated the line to be. He pointed to the envelope. “That my money?” he asked.

  “First you tell me something. Do you seriously think you have a right to wreck the lives of people like Elena the way you do?”

  Armando was amused. “A right? Of course I don’t have a right, that’s why it’s called a fuckin’ crime.” He looked around the place, the area. “You got a nice place here, decent neighbors, the whole works. You can afford to play by the rules, sit on your high horse and judge people. You should come live in the jungle for a while and see what you think of the rules then. It’s murder, man. I’m here to survive, and I’ll do what I have to.” He pointed at the envelope again. “Speakin’ of which, it’s time for you to hand that over.”

  Randy took a breath. “Few things,” he said. “One, there’s no money in here.” He dropped the envelope on the ground. “Two, I don’t always play by the rules.” His next words came through clenched teeth. “And three, what you just said is every bit as much bullshit as what I just told you about the property line.”

  Randy slapped his hand on the buckle of his fanny pack holster, and Armando saw what was coming. He took a step back, grabbed for the gun behind his back. Randy waited for him to get his hand on it, then he ripped open the holster pouch and pulled out the Glock. He put it on target as he had been drilling to do all day, and fired one round into Armando’s chest from no more than six feet.

  Armando’s gun had barely cleared his belt when he heard the deafening blast, and felt a powerful thud hit his chest. But strangely, he didn’t feel any actual pain until he tried to breathe. The bullet didn’t hit his heart, it had pierced through the point where the windpipe branches, and taking a breath sent a bolt of agony through him. It made him try to scream, but that was stopped by another bolt of pain. He looked back to his two friends, trying to think of what to tell them to do, but there really wasn’t anything coming to mind. Not that he could speak to tell them what it was if anything did.

  Randy kept his weapon trained as Armando began to stumble in a circle. He was looking for something he needed, whatever it would take to fix this, but whatever that thing was, he wasn’t seeing it. In anger he threw his Beretta aside, then fell down on all fours. He panted with growing rage at not being able to breathe either in or out, and started hammering his fists on the ground. Harder and harder, clawing at the dirt, then he fell on his side, lashing out at the air.

  Randy glanced at the other two young men, who stayed where they were. Then he turned his back on them all and went inside. He closed the door of the mobile home behind him, then waited right by the door while Elena watched out through the window. “Tell me when,” he said to her.

  Outside, Armando began convulsing in what were clearly becoming death throes. With Randy gone from sight, Miguel and Jay ran in to where Armando lay, and grabbed his arms to try and drag him out of there.

  Inside the mobile, Elena told Randy now. Randy opened the door and leapt off the porch, and ran up to the other
two men aiming his pistol. He wasn’t coming to chat either.

  “WAIT!” Miguel screamed, putting his hands up. “I swear to God, you let us go, you’ll never hear from us again!” Randy hesitated, and glanced over to Jay. Jay couldn’t speak, but he was on his knees nodding very affirmatively.

  Randy thought about it for a second. “Sorry, you’re witnesses. And you were part of this too.”

  “WE’LL SAY ANYTHING YOU WANT US TO!” Jay screamed it with absolute sincerity.

  On the ground before them, Armando was down to his last few twitches, so he was no longer a concern. Randy thought for a few more seconds, then he turned toward the mobile home. “Elena, bring out the camera.”

  * * *

  Elena brought the digital camera out. Before she started recording video, Randy gave the two men a quick and dirty script. He would demand to know why Armando had come onto his property with his gun drawn, then they would explain that Armando thought he owed them money and was coming to collect it. Then they would plead that they weren’t expecting Armando to threaten anyone with a gun, and that they only came onto the property themselves to try and take him to get medical help, a statement that would allow them to escape any conviction. Randy explained that in exchange for that video, they could go home alive. Then Elena started filming. They did it in one take and didn’t miss a beat.

  With a body on your lawn, calling 911 isn’t really optional anymore. But Randy wasn’t about to put Elena through any more than he had to, so he sent her to Vincent’s place on her moped and made the call after she was well away. After he called the cops, they all showed up. Every last one from the city that was on duty arrived, and most of those from the county did as well. And Burt was among them.

  The city detective on duty took his statement, and the two accomplices of Armando were only too happy to back his statement up. An ambulance showed up, but there would be no medical work for the EMT’s, only a little bit of heavy lifting.

  Randy’s Glock was taken for evidence, as normally happens after a shooting, but he had a couple of extras so he wasn’t concerned. Overall, the scene was handled professionally, and he couldn’t complain too much about his treatment. But then, after everyone else was done with him, the chief wanted to talk.