Birds of a Feather

by Don Easton

  The driver frowned and turned his attention back to the street in front of him.

  “He doesn’t speak English very well,” explained Big Al.

  Eventually they stopped on the street in front of a small boutique hotel. A minute later, the rest of the entourage arrived. Jack saw the four bodyguards — the same ones who had been at the restaurant earlier — bail out of another SUV and take up positions beside the front door of the hotel. Two of the bodyguards held MAC-10 mini-machine guns and strutted about looking as menacing as they could.

  The entire entourage remained parked, blocking traffic, as the passengers casually got out. Nobody waiting had the nerve to show their impatience by blowing their horns.

  “I have more men inside,” smiled Big Al as his eyes studied Jack’s face for a response.

  Jack nodded politely. He knew Big Al was putting on a show for him. Had the bodyguards really been necessary, their driver would not have broken ranks with the rest of the vehicles and the hotel would have already been secured by bodyguards before they arrived.

  Jack was pleased. If he respects me enough to try and impress me, he might be willing to answer a few questions …

  The hotel was a two-storey building with a flat roof built in traditional Spanish architecture and had four granite columns across the front. The entire building was painted pink and set off from the rest of the buildings on the street by a lane down each side leading to a parking lot and back alley.

  It was when Jack got out of the SUV he noticed the sign on the roof. El Toro Solitario, which in English meant The Lonely Bull.

  Big Al slapped him on the back and said, “Remember, tonight everything is my treat. I insist upon it.”

  Oh shit … it’s a brothel.

  chapter thirty

  * * *

  The lobby floor of the brothel consisted of several clusters of sofas, chairs, and coffee tables. The room was open to the roof. A bar built of teak stretched along one side of the room and on the opposite side, a curved spiral staircase with teak railings led up to the second level where a horseshoe-shaped walkway led to the rooms. Jack counted seven rooms on each side and four rooms across the back. One large chandelier hung down from the centre.

  The only patrons were the ones arriving in Big Al’s entourage and it was obvious he had reserved the hotel. The attractive young women, who outnumbered the men two to one, were dressed in an assortment of low-cut dresses or blouses unbuttoned enough to reveal lots of cleavage. Several said hello to Señor Franco, who smiled and clutched Jack’s arm, identifying Jack as his special friend.

  Big Al took a seat on a sofa with each arm draped around a prostitute and gestured for Jack to sit on another sofa facing him. Jack remained standing and saw that several of the men were congregating at the bar, including Eduardo and El Burla.

  “Big Al,” said Jack, “you mentioned some of your men wanted to meet me. I would like to get to know them, as well. Maybe have a few drinks. Do any of them, besides El Pero and Eduardo, speak English?”

  “Si, Jack. Several do.” He looked toward El Pero, who was laughing while playfully pretending to bend a prostitute over the back of a chair. Deciding to leave him to his fun, Big Al then yelled in Spanish for Eduardo to look after Jack and introduce him to some of the men.

  Eduardo smiled, waving his arm and said, “Come, Señor Jack. I will introduce you to some of the hombres.”

  The first man Jack met was El Burla, whose real name was Berto. Upon introduction, Berto was polite and his face showed nothing but respect as he offered a firm handshake. Being Big Al’s special friend may have its advantages, thought Jack.

  Berto then helped himself to a bottle of KAH Tequila Blanco from the bar and poured everyone a drink. The tequila bottle was in the shape of a human skull and Jack’s thoughts returned to Lily again.

  Over the next half hour, Jack drank with Eduardo and Berto, as well as several other men. The conversation was friendly, peppered with a few crude comments about some of the women. It was also evident Berto and Eduardo were good friends and Jack had the impression they had received military training together.

  Jack noticed that El Pero seemed to be having trouble finding a prostitute. Unlike the other men who had prostitutes continually swarming around them, with El Pero they would either vanish as soon as he approached, or would disappear shortly after. Jack sensed it was more than just his ugliness that drove them away.

  Later, Jack saw El Pero finally corner one young prostitute, who laughed and smiled politely, but then made an excuse to go to the washroom. Jack watched as she walked away, only to be approached and reprimanded by two other prostitutes. It was apparent from the gesturing that the young prostitute was afraid of El Pero and momentarily broke down in tears before being shoved back in his direction.

  A prostitute in a Mexican whore house is upset with having to go with El Pero? He really must be one sick bastard …

  “Señor Jack,” said Berto, interrupting his thoughts. “Eduardo and me, we think Canada is very cold … yes?”

  Jack caught the inquisitive look on Berto’s face and knew he was wondering if Big Al had told Jack about who did the hit on Porter. He also caught the annoyed look Eduardo gave Berto and suspected it was not a subject he thought should be discussed. “Oh, so it was you two who went,” replied Jack.

  “I did not say we go … I say we think it is very cold.”

  “That’s okay,” replied Jack with a smile. “I was told someone was sent, but I was not told who. You two must be highly regarded to be selected for such an important task. I am truly honoured to have met you.”

  Berto exchanged a quick smile with Eduardo at the compliment. “Thank you, Señor Jack. So you do know why we were sent?”

  “Yes. You needed to teach somebody manners. That it’s not polite to gamble with other people’s money.”

  Berto laughed and said, “Yes, you are right, but he did not think it polite when I slit his throat, either.”

  Jack laughed along with Eduardo.

  “What you talk about?” roared Big Al, placing a firm grip on Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack had not realized Big Al was behind him and felt his adrenalin kick in. How much did he hear? Will he be upset that these two morons were talking in front of me?

  Jack turned and smiled. “We were talking about taking care of business.”

  “About our trip to Canada,” said Berto, smiling as he ran his index finger across his throat.

  “I do not want nobody talk business tonight,” said Big Al, looking at Jack curiously. “Come,” he said, steering Jack away by his shoulder. “Bring your drink. There are many señoritas here who wish to get to know you much better.”

  “Good, but I better switch to beer,” said Jack.

  “You no like tequila?” asked Big Al.

  “I like it, but I am also familiar with that old expression.”

  “What expression?”

  “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor,” replied Jack, accepting a Corona before moving away from the bar.

  Big Al chuckled and as they wandered toward a sofa Jack stopped him and said, “Big Al, this is all great, but Damien is expecting me to have a couple of business details resolved when I speak to him tomorrow morning. I do not want to get in trouble. Please, I would like to talk about a couple of things.”

  Big Al sighed and said, “Okay, amigo. I do not want you to have any problems with your boss. I have bosses, too, so I understand. I was told to show you a good time.”

  “I am having a good time, I can assure you.”

  “Good. You know, before you come here, we were thinking you would look at us as enemy because we opened a new store in Canada.”

  “You mean you were worried we would look at you as competition?”

  “Yes, that is what I say. So my bosses are very happy you have come to us. We want you to be happy and everybodies make mucho dinero.”

  “Exactly. We feel the same way. If we work together, everyone will
be rich.”

  “So what business details does Señor Damien want to know about now?”

  “We want to be cautious. Four or five ton a year is a lot of money.”

  “Si, but we will give you a good price.”

  “I’m sure you will, but at what price and where do we pick it up? If we have to come to Mexico —”

  “No, no. We will bring it to you. Getting into Canada across the American border is easy. We drive trucks there every week.”

  “The border from Mexico into the U.S. is much more guarded. What if our shipment is taken down here?”

  “Oh, here is no problem, especially now.”

  “Now?”

  “Before we used planes to land in the desert where we had trailers for storage. But now that the Americans have increased security, we think it is no longer a good place.” Big Al glanced around and smiled broadly before whispering, “Now we have la Casa Blanca. It took us two years to make.”

  “Casa Blanca? Like the movie? I don’t understand.”

  “Movie? I don’t know what movie. Our Casa Blanca is nicknamed for the colour of cocaine. Maybe the same as the American Casa Blanca.” Big Al grinned.

  “The American White House?”

  “Si, si,” laughed Big Al. “Maybe they build it with narco dollar, too.”

  “I still don’t understand,” said Jack.

  “Our Casa Blanca … the house is not even white … but it has a hole in the ground to America. Two miles long.”

  “You have a stash house with a tunnel leading into the United States?”

  “Yes,” said Big Al proudly. “Outside of Juarez. It took two years to build and mucho dinero … but we do not need to worry about getting caught.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Yes, so don’t worry about your cocaine getting arrested … no what you say?”

  “Seized.”

  “Yes. But even if it was seized, it would not matter for you. Until we deliver it to you, it is not your problem. It is our problem.”

  “I see.”

  “So you can tell Señor Damien not to worry, okay?”

  “Yes, I will tell him.”

  “But for the price you pay,” continued Big Al, “I will still need talk to my bosses. How much you want, how often you want it … it will all have to be worked out.”

  “That I can get back to you on, but there are still a couple of loose ends that have us worried.”

  “Loose ends?”

  “Damien is a cautious man. He is worried because you murdered Earl Porter.”

  “Why? Señor Porter take our money … we take his life. Very fair trade.”

  “We agree, but worry it could attract police attention to you. If they find out it was Mexicans who did the hit, the police will start looking at the Mexicans in Canada. Next time it would be better if you told me and we could take care of the problem for you.”

  Big Al nodded thoughtfully and said, “That maybe good. I will talk to my bosses about that.”

  “Great.”

  “So now we party, yes?”

  “Uh, one more little thing to make sure there are no loose ends. We understand Earl Porter brought his girlfriend to El Paso. What happened to her?”

  “Don’t worry about her, amigo. El Pero took care of it.”

  “El Pero took care of it?”

  “Si, El Pero and my driver,” Big Al said with a shrug, with a nod toward the man who had driven them to the brothel. “They take care of his girl the same night he take our money. After that, Berto and Eduardo go to Canada and take care of him. You tell Señor Damien no problema.”

  Jack felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He’d known the odds of Lily being alive were remote, but he had still held out hope. For a brief instant he allowed himself the fantasy of grabbing a gun from a bodyguard and killing Big Al, El Pero, and the driver.

  “You okay, Jack?”

  “Yes,” replied Jack, trying to sound upbeat, while in his heart he wondered how and when he should break the news to Lily’s mom.

  “Good,” said Big Al. “Now it is time to be happy. Señoritas! I bring my special friend back.”

  Jack sat on an overstuffed leather chair while Big Al sat on a sofa beside him. Two prostitutes sat on either side of Big Al again, while a third sat on his lap. Within seconds, a young prostitute sat on Jack’s lap.

  “Pura vida! Yes, Jack?” said Big Al as he raised a glass of tequila, before pausing and saying, “Pure life!”

  “Yes, pure video!” replied Jack, raising his bottle of Corona in response.

  Big Al smiled over Jack’s mispronunciation and took another gulp of tequila.

  Jack’s brain was still numbed over the discovery of Lily’s murder and he took a long swallow of beer, but coughed when he felt the prostitute slowly run her hand up his thigh and lightly squeeze his penis.

  “Chile grande!” she exclaimed, to the laughter of the other prostitutes.

  Jack forced a smile and asked her if she would bring him another beer. When she got off his lap, he stared at Big Al. So you’re one of the untouchables … safe here in Mexico. You have no idea how bad I would like to put a bullet between your wretched evil eyes …

  “I think she likes you,” said Big Al, looking at the young prostitute who went to get Jack a beer. “You like her, yes?” he added, with a nod of his head for Jack to take her upstairs.

  “She’s very pretty,” replied Jack. I hate you so much… Fuck it, quit fantasizing and do what I can to get the others …

  Jack smiled and said, “There is one small favour I wanted to ask you.”

  “Anything, amigo.”

  “There is a bar in El Paso called The Old Warehouse. I have been told by one of my bosses I must go to it. He said it is a lot of fun. He said the place is huge. Apparently they teach country dancing and sometimes have beauty contests there.”

  “The Old Warehouse?” replied Big Al.

  “The Old Warehouse,” said the prostitute beside him. “I have been there. I did not win.”

  “I would offend my boss if I did not go,” continued Jack, “but it would be no fun to go by myself. I was thinking about tomorrow night.”

  “I am sorry, Señor Jack. I cannot go to El Paso.”

  “No, I understand, but I thought perhaps a few of your men who speak English could come with me. I really like El Pero. He seems like a guy who likes to have fun. Also Berto and Eduardo look like they know how to have a good time. Maybe have your driver take us so we can all drink?”

  “For El Pero, Berto, and Eduardo to go to El Paso is not a problem. I will tell them, but the driver, he is only for me. Eduardo does not drink much. He will be okay to drive.”

  Jack was happy enough to get the three he did and knew not to push it any further. He smiled. “Maybe they could meet me there around eight tomorrow night at the entrance.”

  “Yes, yes, I will tell them,” said Big Al, looking toward the bar.

  “I can tell them,” said Jack, getting up quickly as the young woman returned. She handed him his beer and wrapped her arm around his waist as he walked over to El Pero.

  El Pero was delighted he had been picked for another night of fun.

  See how much fun it is tomorrow night when I find an excuse to get you alone and show me where her body is, you fat piece of shit….

  El Pero called Berto and Eduardo over and told them they had also been picked by Señor Jack to party with him tomorrow night. Their smiles said they were looking forward to it.

  Jack smiled with them and stood talking idly for a few minutes while the prostitute vied for his attention.

  Jack’s plan was to claim he was tired, feeling ill, and had to leave, but Big Al had other ideas.

  “Señor Jack! Come!” ordered Big Al. “I have an idea. Everyone a picture. Everyone!” He pushed one prostitute away from him on the sofa and had Jack sit beside him. Except for a few people who were using the rooms on the second floor, everyone else crowded around to ge
t in the picture.

  Jack smiled and posed with Big Al, who gave a toast and said, “To new amigos and a golden future.”

  As Jack was about to clink to the toast, Big Al said, “Wait! Not yet.” He yelled something in Spanish too fast for Jack to understand. The message became clear when most of the prostitutes exposed their breasts and leaned in to smile for the picture.

  As soon as the photo was taken, Jack received permission to take a few pictures himself, making sure he included some of the bodyguards … particularly the one who helped El Pero take care of Lily.

  When Jack put his camera away, he told Big Al he was tired and needed to go.

  “But you have not taken a puta yet,” said Big Al, somewhat suspiciously.

  “They’re beautiful, but I have had very little sleep and am feeling a little sick,” replied Jack, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.

  “I paid much money for this,” growled Big Al. It was obvious any façade of politeness had vanished with the number of drinks he had consumed. “You are a big, tough biker … I think you should like to fuck women? At least one before you go,” he added, menacingly.

  “Put it this way,” said Jack, “the last time I slept with a hooker, the condom broke. After that, my cock turned green and black. I thought it was going to fall off. The guys were calling me the rotten pickle. ”

  Big Al look surprised, but then laughed and said, “That is very funny. I am sorry for you, but it sounds funny.”

  “It is something I will not do again,” said Jack, looking down at the crotch of his pants and shaking his head as if recalling the incident.

  “These girls see a doctor. He says they are all clean,” noted Big Al.

  “That’s what I was told last time.”

  In reality, Jack knew that, with the exception of AIDS, members of Satans Wrath looked at catching venereal disease like most people would look at catching the common cold. The look, however, on Big Al’s face said his suspicions were somewhat alleviated.