Birds of a Feather

by Don Easton

  “It’s not really mine,” Slater heard himself say. “It’s the Mexicans. I only work for them.” He thought his voice sounded far away and wondered if he was having an out-of-body experience. Am I already dead? “T-O is the real boss,” he heard his voice say. It was as if his words were coming out independently of his brain. “Earl and I run the money back,” his voice continued.

  “Back where?”

  “To El Paso. T-O’s guys come across the border from Juarez and take it from there.”

  “And the coke?” asked Jack.

  “Earl and I never had anything to do with that. We were to stay clear of the coke and strictly handle the money. T-O likes to keep it separate.”

  “And who is T-O?”

  Slater worked up the courage and nervously looked down at his feet, then gave a sigh of relief and started to cry.

  “Why the fuck are you looking in the bottom of the hole? Don’t even think about trying to whack me with that shovel!”

  “I wasn’t … I was afraid … I thought I might see my body laying there.”

  “What the fuck? How could your body be laying there? You’re standing! Are you stoned?”

  “No, I just —”

  “Shut the fuck up and tell me who T-O is!”

  “I’ve never met him!” he cried.

  “Quit your fuckin’ bawlin’! It pisses me off!” Jack waited a moment for Slater to regain his composure. “Tell me how you know T-O.”

  Slater wiped his face with his sleeve. “I met the guys who work for him. I’ve heard one of them mention his name whenever he calls him. I can tell T-O’s the boss by how respectful the guy sounds when he talks to him.”

  “And how did you meet his guys?”

  “Some of T-O’s other guys approached Earl and me at a nightclub in Vancouver. At first we thought they were bullshitting about paying us to make trips, but then they offered us half the cash up front for the first delivery.”

  “And you think T-O whacked Earl?”

  “Yes, well, his guys did.”

  “His guys from Canada?”

  “No, I know they were sending a couple guys up from Mexico. Professionals.”

  Professionals? thought Jack. Professionals don’t sneer into the cameras. More likely they were expendables …

  “They didn’t want to risk drawing any attention to the guys who are already settled in Canada,” continued Slater.

  “So they whacked their own mule,” noted Jack. “What did he do, steal their money?”

  “Not intentionally. Earl has … had a gambling problem. While he was waiting in El Paso for T-O’s guys to show up, he hit some casino, lost his own money, and dipped into theirs.”

  El Paso! Please don’t tell me the asshole took Lily to El Paso …

  “Things went from bad to worse and he ended up losing most of it,” continued Slater.

  “So then what, he just came back to Canada?”

  “Not right away. He switched motels and then went back to the casino hoping to make a million out of about twenty grand. He lost that and then called me from the casino in a panic. When I was on the line with him, one of T-O’s guys called me, as well. I put Earl on hold and well, you know, I had to look after myself.”

  “What the fuck do you mean?”

  “I know better than to fuck with the Mexicans. I told Earl to go back to his motel and everything would be okay, that I would help him straighten it out. I then told T-O’s guys where Earl was and what motel he was staying at with his girlfriend.”

  His girlfriend … he did take her there. Jack resisted the urge to jump in the hole and take out his frustration by choking Slater around the neck and shaking him the way a pit bull shakes a rat. He knew if he was to play his role properly, he would have to pretend he was not particularly interested in any girlfriend Porter would have had. “Was this motel right at the casino?” Jack asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “No, I don’t think so. I can’t remember the name of it.”

  “So you ratted out your friend … you’re a real stand-up kind of guy.”

  “I had no choice. If they ever found out I lied to them, I’d be dead, too. I knew Earl was already a dead man … whether he knew it or not. Guess he figured it out when he drove into the motel parking lot and spotted T-O’s guys waiting for him. He spun a donut and fucked off back to Canada.”

  “What about his girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I’m sure T-O’s guys killed her, too.”

  You’re probably right … “Didn’t want to leave any loose ends.”

  “Yeah, for sure.”

  Was Lily as straight as Marcie thought she was? “Guess nobody told her if you fly with the crows, you should expect to get shot.”

  “Well … she didn’t really know what was going on. Earl had given her some bullshit story they were going to Texas to party with some business associates and then stop in Vegas on the way home and get married.”

  Aw crap … the poor kid. “He was going to marry her?”

  “He told me it was the only way he could get in her pants. I don’t think he planned on being married long.”

  “Sounds like a great guy,” said Jack, bitterly. “Wish I had gotten to know him on a personal level.”

  “Well, he couldn’t risk going to the cops or they might have busted him for being a runner.”

  “So you sold out Earl and his girlfriend both,” said Jack, eyeballing Slater’s throat while subconsciously tightening the muscles in his fingers.

  “It’s not my fault. I had no choice. I feel bad about it, but a guy has to look after himself.”

  “Yeah, for sure. Now start digging again.”

  “What! I thought we had a deal?”

  “Shut the fuck up and dig.”

  “Please let me talk. I could make you rich. I’m supposed to make a trip down there within the next two weeks. You can take the cash. I’ll say I was robbed. Beat me up or something …”

  “Oh, believe me, tearing you to pieces does appeal to me,” replied Jack. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and said, “How much cash we talkin’?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s over a million.”

  “What do ya mean, ya don’t know? You’re the one who delivers it.”

  “Besides my car, I have a pickup truck they gave me. The paperwork makes it look like I bought the truck in the States, but it didn’t cost me a dime. In it is a secret hiding spot. If you adjust the knobs on the dash a certain way, a hydraulic system raises a fake deck up in the back of the truck.”

  “So the truck has a duplicate deck in the back … a fake one over top of the original one?”

  “Yes, exactly. I haul a minimum of a million with each trip. Sometimes more. I’ve never had the nerve to count it all myself, but I’ve seen them unload it at the trailer.”

  “At the trailer?”

  “Before, in El Paso, we used to have to drive the money way to hell and gone out into the desert to some mobile trailer where they would unload it. I don’t think they use it anymore. On this last trip they told Earl to stay at some motel outside of El Paso and call them. Then T-O’s guys were to come and take him and the truck to someplace in Juarez.”

  “When do they put the money into your truck?”

  “The day before I go, one of T-O’s guys borrows it from me for a couple of hours and then brings it back. My job is to drive it down to El Paso. I get paid forty grand a trip. I’m supposed to go in another week or two. I haven’t been told an exact date yet.”

  “Sounds interesting. Keep digging while I try to decide what to do.”

  Slater dug for another couple of minutes before Jack cooled off enough to stop enjoying the vengeance and get back to the task at hand. “Okay, I was just fucking with you. I wanted to make sure you got the point to never fuck with me. Climb out of there and refill the hole.”

  Slater started to weep. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. I got some things to tell you, but I don’t have all night,
so hurry up.” Jack reached out his hand and Slater took it to help himself climb out.

  Jack waited as Slater, who had discovered new energy, quickly started to refill the hole. “First thing I’m going to tell you,” said Jack, “is never tell anyone … and I mean anyone, about tonight.”

  “I won’t. Just … thank you for not killing me.”

  “Yeah, I’ve always thought of myself as a good guy, although some might disagree.” Jack remained quiet until Slater had refilled the hole and said, “¿Habla usted español?”

  “What? No. Just gracias.”

  “For a guy who hangs out with Mexicans, you really are a dumb fuck. The Spanish word for uncle is tio. It sounds like T-O. The guy you were listening to was talking to his uncle.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “For now, we will still call him Tio … but I want to meet him in person. You need to arrange it.”

  “Why? I mean … after tonight, I don’t want anything to do with this business. I’m quitting. You guys don’t need to look at me as competition anymore.”

  “We don’t give a rat’s ass about you. This is about Tio. We want to go into business with him. Once you introduce him to me, you can jump off a bridge for all I care, but until then, you better do what we want. We know the Mexicans have been sellin’ coke on the streets cheaper than ours. That means they’re getting it at a way cheaper price than we’ve been getting from the fuckin’ Colombians. Get word to Tio we handle about three or four ton a year. That should spark his interest.”

  “Okay, sure, I’ll contact one of his guys and let him know.”

  Jack had a major concern. He knew permission to go to Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, would never be approved because the police there were too corrupt and it would be deemed too dangerous. He would have to try and convince Tio to come to the U.S.

  “There is one other thing Tio needs to know,” said Jack. “I was in Mexico about a year ago and got into a little shit and used a chair to lay a beating on a couple of Federales who tried to arrest me. I think one guy was hurt real bad. I don’t know how the situation stands for me there now. Tell Tio I want to meet him on the U.S. side of the border.” Jack felt it was a lame excuse, but at the moment he couldn’t think of anything better.

  Jack, carrying the shovel, returned with Slater to the car where they continued to talk some more. Jack also had him go over the details again. His purpose was not only to ensure he had been given the correct information, but it was to give Slater a chance to calm down before driving.

  Jack also used the opportunity to impress upon Slater the need for secrecy and told him that even with other members of Satans Wrath, it was still on a need-to-know basis.

  It was midnight when Jack had Slater drive him back and park a block away from the Satans Wrath clubhouse.

  “Here is good,” said Jack. “I don’t want you ever coming here again. The cops monitor our clubhouse a lot. I don’t want them, or anyone else knowing we’re connected. It will be safer for everyone in the long run.”

  “What about the cellphone number you gave me? Is it cool?”

  “I don’t trust any phone. If you call me, simply say you’re interested in a game of squash and we can meet at The Racquet Club.”

  “Okay.”

  “How long do you think it will be before you hear back from Tio?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call my contact tomorrow morning. After that I’ll have to wait. It might only take a few minutes for them to pass it on to Tio, or maybe it could take a couple of days. I’ve never spoken to Tio. I just know he’s the big boss. I have no control over him.”

  “Understood, but make sure Tio knows we are his equals. I won’t deal with some peon over this matter.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll know that. Everybody in the world knows about you guys.”

  Jack thought about asking Slater who his contact in Canada was, along with the names of his contacts in El Paso, but he knew to push for more information now might raise suspicion. All in good time …

  “I expect you to get on it immediately.”

  “I will, but, uh, if he isn’t interested, I mean, you know, I’ll tell him he could make a lot of money through you guys, but, what if —”

  “If he turns us down, we would consider it a declaration of war,” snarled Jack.

  “Oh,” replied Slater softly. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will. I’ll come by your place at noon to see how you made out. And like I said before, we don’t want anyone to know we are thinking of going in with the Mexicans. For now, I will be the only contact. We don’t want word of this getting out.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Make sure you tell your Mexican contacts to keep their mouths shut and only deal through me, as well. At least for now.”

  Jack checked his watch as he drove home. He knew it was too late to be checking with the American authorities in El Paso to see if they had any recent unidentified female bodies.

  And if they don’t have any recent bodies from a motel … then where is she?

  _____

  chapter sixteen

  * * *

  Jack arrived home and checked on Mikey, who was asleep in his crib. He then stuck his head in his own bedroom.

  “You’re home,” murmured Natasha, awakened by the door opening.

  “Home, but not done. I’ve got a couple hours of notes to do. How is Mikey?”

  “He’s okay. I think he’s better.”

  Jack took off his gun and put it on his dresser. He would have talked some more, but Natasha’s breathing told him she had gone back to sleep. He went to the den and made notes about what he had learned.

  Tomorrow morning he would call CC and meet with her and Wilson, but first there was something else he wanted to check.

  Jack had heard for years about the hundreds of women who were disappearing or being found murdered around Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. He turned on his computer to search the Web.

  It didn’t take long to find a mass of material relating to the missing women. There had been hundreds. In a few instances there had been arrests, with a few bus drivers being implicated, but for the most part it was a war zone.

  Armed cartel members kidnapped women in broad daylight without fear of repercussion. A few were unceremoniously dumped back on the street a day or two later, but many others were murdered and found in shallow graves or laying in drainage ditches outside the city. One woman was found with one breast cut off with a knife and the other bitten off.

  Jack sighed and turned the computer off and went to bed. As he lay there, he thought about Slater and his admission that he told the Mexicans where Lily Rae was. He knew there was nothing he could legally do to Slater over what he had been told and the frustration burned inside him.

  He did not want to think about what had happened to a naive young girl from Canada by the name of Lily Rae. He did not want to think about it … but he did.

  It was a long night.

  Probably should have killed the bastard …

  Slater’s night was worse. He went home and saw his girlfriend sitting on the sofa watching a movie.

  “Where the fuck were you?” she yelled. “You couldn’t even bother to call me?”

  “I was busy. I forgot to phone you.”

  “You were too busy to take a minute and call me? What was her name?”

  “I wasn’t with a girl.”

  “Yeah, I just bet you … fuck! Look at you! I can believe you weren’t with a girl. Maybe a pig. You got dirt all over you. What were you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You were doing something. God, you stink, too. What was it?”

  “I met some guy. We did a lot of talking.”

  “How did you get so dirty?”

  “I fell in a hole. We were walking and I fell in.”

  “So you were stoned.”

  “No, it just happened.”

  “Well it sure as hell is too late to go to dinner n
ow. Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “Your voice sounds weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Monotone. You remind me of my grade eight history teacher.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Me too. But I’m also fuckin’ hungry.”

  “How about I make you an omelette?”

  “Yeah, okay … but shower first. You really reek of B-O.”

  Later, Slater went to the kitchen in his bathrobe and opened a carton of eggs.

  “So who was this guy you spent all night talking to?” his girlfriend asked.

  “Just somebody I met. It’s business. I can’t talk about it,” replied Slater.

  “That’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain what you’ve been up to. Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really get the feeling you’re shovelling me a load of crap.”

  Apparently Slater did mind. A hysterical cry emitted from his mouth and he repeatedly grabbed at the eggs with both hands, squeezing and crushing them as the broken bits of eggshell and yolk ran through his fingers.

  chapter seventeen

  * * *

  It was nine o’clock Sunday morning when Connie Crane and Wilson arrived together at Jack’s office.

  “Well, we’re here,” said Connie. “When you called this morning, you woke me up. You did say Slater spilled his guts to you and we needed to talk. I heard right, didn’t I? At first I thought I was dreaming.”

  “You weren’t dreaming,” replied Jack.

  “Yeah? Well it better be good. Today would have been my first day off in two weeks.”

  “I don’t know if it’s good news,” replied Jack, “but it’s informative. Yesterday I met him through The Racquet Club and pretended to be a member of Satans Wrath. I said we had a business proposition for him.”

  “You told him you were with the club and he believed you?” asked Connie.

  “I had him swing by the clubhouse after to meet me. I used Sammy from Drug Section in a quick UC to direct him down the street and park. I then sat in his car with him and he presumed I came out of the clubhouse.”