I reached out and patted her left hand. “No sweat. I can’t Heal the whole world. But one of my life paths has become Healer of Lives.”
She smiled softly, then turned curious. “What are your other life paths, now that you have been . . . anointed with these powers?”
I stood up, patted my hoodie pockets to confirm the four clips of money were there, then gestured her toward my door. “The other primary life path I’ve chosen is to be a Soldier for Life. Getting rid of evil has become a part of my life, now.”
“Oh. Ohhh.” She swallowed hard. Then walked to the door and pulled it open. “Was it you that caused the four drive-by shooters to die?”
“It was.”
“Good. If they had gotten away with a drive-by shooting of you, for sure they would have done the same to other folks in Santa Fe. We’re all safer now.”
I followed her down my stairs, pulling out my cell phone to call for an Uber driver to take us to the café. At the bottom I punched in a recorded message to the online Uber site that dispatches cars. Then I looked to Stella, who was looking back at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Calling our Uber ride. And thank you for your comment. I’ve never been one to kill easily, or at all until last Tuesday. But being a Soldier for Life requires the removal of evil. Now and then.”
Stella turned forward and headed for the sidewalk that joined the garage driveway. “Totally agree, Jack. While your aura is still stellar white like the Sun come to Earth, I can see the turbulence in the deep red of your survival core. Removing evil has caused you inner pain.”
“Yes, it has. But you and other good people bring me joy.”
She sniffled. “I hope Celine will bring you joy.”
“If she is at all like you, I’m sure she will.”
I joined Stella on the sidewalk, bathing in the yellow-green glow of nearby trees, bushes and green grass here and there. The presences of other people in the house across the street and in homes up and down Calle Corvo came to me automatically. Their auras also impinged on me mentally. While a few showed some streaks of black, all the auras were normal for humans dealing with the complexities of life. I sensed the Uber driver as she turned off of Delgado Street and onto Corvo. She seemed like a decent woman. Not as special as Stella, but still, decent and hardworking and worthy of a tip. That I knew before I had my first normal sight view of her.
“Hi there!” called a blond woman in her thirties who had an Eye of Horus pendant dangling from her rear view mirror post. Purple highlights in her hair were bright in the daylight. “Are you Mr. Hansen?”
“I am. And this is my guest Stella. We’ll ride in the back.” I opened the door for my aura friend. “Take us to Blue Corn Café, please.”
“Sure thing!”
And off we went. Both of us to eat lunch. Me to rebuild my body strength after using my powers to remove evil and then return home. And Stella eagerly awaiting the life Healing of her partner. Their love would live on for a normal life span. And I would feel less alone, less isolated, less forced into a role which was still a shock to me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After lunch and the Healing of Celine, I sent off Stella and her partner in a Uber car, then took a second Uber down Airport Road, which was the west side of Rodeo Road. The crossing over Cerrillos Road intersection and its six lanes of traffic was the normal confab of horns honking, emotions spiking against my mind, and a few drivers changing lanes with no turn signals. Finally we were headed down Airport Road. Mentally I searched ahead for blobs of blackness. I knew what the auras of the four drive-by shooters had felt like, before I killed them. Now, I searched for similar auras. The rest of the Surenos 13 gang. It was time to deal with them. Sunday or not, I had a plan. Maybe it would work out.
An older apartment block 12 stories high held a black blob outside its entrance and five more black blobs inside on the third floor. “Driver, let me out here. In front of the apartments.”
The redheaded woman who was my driver slowed her vehicle and turned on her left blinker. “You sure, sir? That tower has a bad rep. And that guy out front is a gangbanger if I ever saw one.”
I spotted the man she meant. He was tall, Hispanic, clean-shaven and with a shaved head. Tattoos of snakes crawled over his bare arms, his upper shoulders and around his neck. A few spider web tattoos filled in open space. He wore a blue hoodie, patched blue jeans, blue sneakers, and a blue bandana crossed his forehead. It was obvious he was a lookout, as his dark brown eyes fixed quickly on the Uber car as it came to a stop before the entrance.
“I am sure you are correct. I was expecting to see this guy.” I handed her a $50 bill. “Here’s your tip. Thanks for the ride.”
“Wow.” Her tanned hand quickly grabbed the bill, then slowly lowered, as if suddenly aware of how impolite it is to grab a big tip from a generous rider. “Sir, my name is Tabitha. As in Bewitched. The TV show. Feel free to request me in the future.”
I opened the rear seat door, got out, looked down to the open window of the young woman, and gave her a nod. “Tabitha, yes, I’m old enough to have watched that show. I liked it. Your parents gave you a fine name. And I will request you in the future. Bye.”
“Bye, sir.” She gunned her pure white Subaru Outback and pulled out of the entry drive.
I faced the tall gangbanger. Who was staring at me, or rather my clothes, with a venomous look. He spit out some chew tobacco. It landed at the edge of my sneakers.
“Who are you?” he growled.
I walked toward him, stopping at five feet out. “I’m the guy who killed your four buddies when they did a drive-by shooting of me. I’m alive. They aren’t.” I smiled slowly. “Call your boss and the four other gangbangers down here from their third floor hooch.”
Brief surprise showed in his dark eyes as he reacted to the fact I knew where his gang hung out and the number of them now present. “Why? I can handle you myself. You’re a geezer. Won’t take much to relieve you of your wallet, phone and credit cards.”
I chuckled. “So your four buddies thought. They shot me in the ribs. Then their guns jammed. I helped them smash into a big tree.” I reached up and tapped my head with my right forefinger. “Thoughts can kill far faster than knives or guns. Call your boss on the smartphone in your right rear pocket.”
Shaved Head frowned as he realized I had not seen his back pocket. He put puzzlement aside, reached behind and grabbed his phone. Still looking at me with venom in his gaze he held it to his bare jaw. “Álvaro, the guy who took out our four from yesterday morning is here. Wants to talk with you. And the four with you up there. He knows stuff no one should know.”
A squeak of a voice came to my remarkably acute ears. In Spanish, which my mind naturally translated. “We’ll be there. A few minutes. You armed?”
“Yes,” Shaved Head whispered. “My .38 is under my shirt.”
“Good.”
A brief buzz ended the call. Shaved Head with the snake and spider web tattoos looked at me. “Our Jefe is coming down.”
I crossed my arms over my hoodie and just stood there, showing him my relaxed side. “Good.”
The gangbanger took in my relaxed stance and grimaced. He was not used to facing people who did not show fear or terror when confronted by him or his gang. Behind me another apartment tower was filled with folks of both genders, all ethnicities and several races. I put their presences and auras out of my mind, as I did the hundreds of people living in the tower that housed the Surenos 13 gangbangers. Instead, I scanned both buildings and the office block across the street for security cameras. The camera above the gangbanger tower entry was not working. Likely due to the presence of the gangbangers. But cameras at the corners of the building, at the front of and corners of the building behind me and the entrances of the office block across the street were all active. I sent them into a sleep that would resume once I left the area. It would not do for there to be a record of whatever I had to do with these six nasties.
The plate
glass entry doors swung wide open, held that way by two bangers. Between them marched an older Hispanic man in his forties. Like the lookout his head was shaved, but he had a black goatee dangling from his chin. His eyes were so dark they seemed black. His body build was muscular, resembling a wrestler. The t-shirt he wore was blue, in addition to a blue bandana and blue sneakers. The man came to a stop at the side of the lookout. The other four bangers took up posts on either side of the two, forming a crescent arc that was meant to be menacing. Like Shaved Head and the Jefe, the other four were all Hispanic, in their twenties and covered in various tattoos, including one guy with the Virgin of Guadelupe on his left upper arm. All six of them wore blue jeans and blue sneakers. All six were armed, five with pistols under their t-shirts while one had a buck knife under his belt buckle. Their auras, though, were varied.
Shaved Head’s aura was a black tornado with a dark red core. The aura of the Jefe named Álvaro was also a black tornado with red core. The four who had come down from the third floor were mostly black clouds but with some degree of other colors. But the dark red of anger, the dark green of jealousy and the dark pink of immaturity and dishonesty were dominant. The guy with the religious tattoo, though, had streaks of yellow curiosity showing through his partly black main aura. Perhaps I would let him live, if the Jefe did not cooperate with my idea.
Álvaro scowled at me. “Jack Hansen, why aren’t you dead?”
To the point. I had to give him that. “As I told your lookout, thoughts can kill faster than guns or knives.” I looked at Shaved Head, my mind touching his mind. Then diving deeper as I invaded all parts of his brain lobes. His name was Luis. “Luis,” I said with my voice and mind. “Drop down to your knees. Now!”
Shock filled the man’s eyes. As his legs folded and he dropped to his knees a groan escaped his mouth. Which had brown-stained teeth from smoking too much. “Jefe! I can’t . . . I can’t stop myself!”
The auras of Jefe Álvaro and the other five went survival red. Three of the men reached behind and gripped the butts of their pistols. Two of the guns were .38 revolvers while one was a .45 semi-auto. The fourth gun was a .22 semi-auto. The religious guy relied on his buck knife, but was not touching it. His curiosity level, though, now spiked. As did the aura of Álvaro.
“What are you doing?” he grunted.
I smiled at him. It was a defiant smile. “Teaching all six of you a lesson short of each of you dying from a heart attack.” I looked away from him to Shaved Head. “Luis, put your hands down on the pavement in front of you, then crawl toward me. Like a dog.” The man whimpered, groaned, but his body did as I commanded it. “When you reach my feet, lick the dirt off my sneakers. Quickly!”
I could not see Luis’ eyes, but I saw the shaking of his muscular body as part of his mind, his inner identity, fought against my control of the man’s body. It did not help. His head lowered to just above my blue sneakers. His dark pink tongue flicked out. It licked the front of each sneaker three times. Which were enough to remove the brown dust that had settled on them from my walk across the sidewalk. Spring is a windy, dusty time in Santa Fe, and in most of New Mexico. Now, though, no one could tell it by looking at my shoes. Luis, still on all fours like a dog, moaned.
“Let me go! Pleaseeee.”
I looked up at Álvaro and his four gangbangers. The faces of all five were shocked. Anger showed on the faces of two bangers. Worry showed on the face of the religious guy. One guy pulled his revolver out of the back of his pants and moved it forward. My mind swept over their minds, garnering their names. Álvaro Domínguez, Carlos Hernández with the pistol aiming at me, José González, Juan Pérez the religious guy and Manuel Sánchez. I kept my gaze on Álvaro.
“Luis Medina, stand up. But take no action against me. Álvaro Domínguez, your ayudante Carlos Hernández has aimed his revolver at me. It will not fire as I have melted its firing pin. A condition now present on the other pistols among your group.” I glanced at the other four standing with the Jefe. “None of you can harm me. But I can harm any of you. Jefe Álvaro, do you wish to hear my proposal that does not involve the death of all six of you?”
My threat made several men swallow hard. Luis grimaced as his mind sought to push him into jumping on me and strangling me. Such thoughts were so easy to read. As were the fear, anger, surprise and worry on the minds of the other gangbangers. Álvaro, while shocked by what I had forced Luis to do, had a calculating mind.
“Senor Hansen, describe your proposal.”
I reached into my right hoodie pocket and grabbed two clips. I pulled them out. Hundred dollar bills showed within each clip. I dropped them at the man’s feet. “Here is $2,000. A thousand in each clip. I am willing to pay you $2,000 a month to stop mugging anyone, male or female, of any age. You must also not use your knives and pistols against anyone who is not a gang member.” I showed disgust. “You may fight all you want with members of the Barrio West Side, West Side Locos XIII and Mann Street gangs here in Santa Fe. And with any Espanola or Albuquerque gangs who come visiting. What is your response?”
Surprise filled the mind of Álvaro. As it did the minds of the other five. Juan the religious one of them also worried if I were a diablo, or devil, come to punish them. I shook my head at him, said in his mind “No, Juan, I am not a diablo”, then focused on Álvaro.
Calculating interest showed on the man’s clean-shaven cheeks. “That is very generous, senor. But our need for booze, smokes, putas and such costs more than $2,000 a month.”
His aura showed he was not lying, though detecting a black streak against the black tornado of his primary aura was difficult. Being able to read the surface of his mind made things easier. I reached into my left hoodie pocket, pulled out two money clips and dropped them at Álvaro’s feet. “Those clips make $4,000. A month. I will not consider paying more.”
Naked greed filled Álvaro’s mind. Fighting a struggle inside, he did not drop down and grab the four clips. “Senor Hansen, I regret the attack on you yesterday morning. We should have talked first. I accept your proposal. We are six now. Perhaps we will increase in numbers. None of us will attack any person in Santa Fe. When will the next $4,000 be delivered? And how?”
I showed him my serious side. The look I often used as a Reporter newsman seeking info on game issues from state and city offices. “Jefe Álvaro Domínguez, I will personally deliver each monthly payment to you, here, in front of your office, on the last day of each month. It is up to you to make distribution as you see fit.”
The man’s mind flared with eagerness. And awareness that his position as leader of his gang was secure, despite his knowledge that two of his gangbangers enjoyed hurting people they mugged. Clearly the man knew how to manage his people. And he was ready to inflict pain on any gangbanger who defied him.
“Bueno, Senor Hansen. It has been a pleasure doing business with you. May our arrangement continue long into the future.”
I gave him a quick nod, my manner still serious. “It will continue so for as long as you, Jefe Domínguez, continue to live.”
The man’s surface mind knew instantly I was not threatening him. Instead, I had made clear to his gangbangers they would get free money only so long as their boss was alive.
“May I offer you a ride home?” Álvaro said, his tone almost congenial.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.” I turned away from the six gangbangers. “Enjoy your month of plenty. Gentlemen. I will arrange for my own transport.”
As I hit the sidewalk that ran along Airport Road I turned right and headed for distant Cerrillos Road. I pulled my cell phone out, tapped the button that sent an automated Driver Requested call to Santa Fe Uber, and told myself that allowing nasties to continue to live was not a betrayal of my Soldier For Life duty.
Putting away the dishes from my steak dinner, baked potato, romaine lettuce salad and two pieces of pecan pie, I glanced through the kitchen window at the side of the Webster home. It was only an hour since I’d returned home
from the Surenos 13 confrontation. It still bothered me that I had let them live, given what I had read in their minds of past attacks they had done on older men and women and single mothers pushing groceries out to their cars. But short of hunting down every blob of blackness inside the city limits, buying off gangbangers seemed the smarter way to clean house in Santa Fe. It might even get me police appreciation once the Hispanic chat thread carried the news of a guy paying off one gang. No doubt the other three city gangs would seek me out, hoping for a similar deal. I might even consider paying them off. After all, with a half million dollars to my name from just the single visit to the Boulder shredder plant, I was richer than I had ever imagined I would be. And bribes always worked. Perhaps the mayor of Santa Fe would like a donation to his upcoming re-election campaign?
I grabbed a glass of apple juice, turned away from my fridge and walked over to Pancho, my lizard buddy. He was basking on his black lava rock as the sunlamp warmed him. Putting down the glass, since I now felt energy full thanks to the high carb dinner meal, I grabbed the mason jar with live grasshoppers in it, opened it, pulled out one by its hind legs and dangled it above Pancho.
“Hey, guy! Ready for dinner?” I dropped the hopper.
Quick as a poker dealer’s card toss my brown stripped lizard rose up on his hind legs, front legs braced against the side of his terrarium, and opened his triangular mouth. It closed with a snap that impaled the hopper on the lizard’s sharp as needles teeth. I smiled. Pancho did not smile. But he dropped down, took up his roost on the rock and munched, his black eyes fixed on me as if I might treat him again. My crocodile lizard had hopes of being treated since I had been away for most of Sunday.
“Ouch!” came a voice in my mind.
I turned quickly toward my door and the entry side of my home. A white flare of aura light came to me as if the solid wall did not exist. The white flare was as strong as Ansgar’s aura. What the? I stepped to my door, opened it and looked out.
Killer Geezer Page 20
