by Tom Fowler
“Madre de Dios,” Tomás whispered as he viewed the carnage.
Bernardo paced the area behind Tomás’ chair. “What kind of problem was Héctor having?”
“He didn’t get into specifics about who it was if that’s what you mean.”
“Of course it’s what I mean.” Bernardo pounded the desktop. “It must be another cartel. They learned we were moving north, and they took action against us.”
“Héctor didn’t tell me—”
“He obviously didn’t know,” Bernardo said. “Whoever he and Rodolfo pissed off sold him out to our rivals.”
“But which one?” Tomás asked.
“We need to know.” Bernardo waved his hand at the monitor. “Maryland is a loss. Let’s forget about it and move on. We need to focus on what’s in front of us. A bunch of men attacked Héctor’s house and killed everyone. They burned bodies. Héctor could have been tortured.” Tomás thought he heard his boss’ voice crack when mentioning his cousin. If so, it would be a rare display of emotion. “We have to assume another cartel is going to keep the pressure on us.”
Tomás knew the answer he would get, but he felt compelled to pose the question, anyway. “We’re going to take it to them?”
“Yes!” Bernardo said. “We’re going to figure out which one tried to screw us, and then we’re going to burn them down. Héctor might have helped us after all. Once we take out a rival, we’ll be the biggest cartel in Mexico.
And a bigger target, Tomás thought, but he’d gotten good over the years at keeping his musings to himself.
40
Tyler slept well for the first night in a while. He still got up early the next morning thanks to years of making it a habit. After swigging a couple cups of coffee and eating a bowl of cereal, he retreated to his basement. His hidden room now held a bunch of cartel cash in addition to the normal supply of guns and ammo. He moved several stacks into a paper bag, closed up shop, and left the house.
About a half-hour later, Tyler drove past the charred remains of Smitty and Son’s. The building itself still stood, but the gutted interior was obvious even from a quick drive by. Tyler made a right at Fullerton Avenue and followed the GPS on his phone. He ended up on a network of streets packed mostly with duplexes. Tom Smith lived in a small single house at the terminus of a dead-end street.
Tyler parked the 442 and took his bag to the front door. He rang the bell and waited. Smitty opened a moment later but only wide enough to stand in the doorway and look out to see who it was. “What do you want?”
“I brought a peace offering.” Tyler held up the bag.
“Don’t feel much like drinking,” Smitty said, “especially not with you.”
“This isn’t booze,” Tyler said. “I know you’re pissed at me. Don’t blame you.”
Smitty crossed his arms. “I don’t think we have much to say to one another.”
“Hear me out. Do it in exchange for me getting Jake out from under with Braxton.” Smitty glared, but Tyler continued. “I won’t make a habit of holding it over your head, but I just want a few minutes of your time.”
For several seconds, Smitty stood still. Finally, he sighed, opened the door wider, and moved aside. “Fine. A few minutes.”
“Thanks.” Tyler entered, and the two adjourned to the nearby living room. The place looked like Smitty hadn’t refreshed it in a decade. Tyler never asked, but he presumed there hadn’t been a Missus Smith for a while, and the look of the house confirmed it. He sat in a recliner. Smitty took a spot on the couch.
“I guess I gotta ask . . . what’s in the bag?”
Tyler tossed it toward him. Smitty leaned down, unrolled the top, and gaped at the contents. “Héctor sends his regards,” Tyler said.
“Did you . . . are they . . . dead?”
“Yeah. Their operation is done. Héctor, Rodolfo, all their men.”
“Jesus.” Smitty looked from Tyler to the brown paper sack. “This is drug money, though.”
Tyler shrugged. “Who cares? Put it to good use. I’m giving it to you because I don’t know what your insurance will cover. Your place never should’ve been burned down. I admit I had a vendetta going, but Héctor didn’t need to involve anyone else.” He paused. “I have no idea if it’s enough to rebuild or if you even want to. Whatever. Take it and use it for something good.”
“Insurance is still doing their thing,” Smitty said after a moment. “I’m not sure what they’re gonna tell me.” He sighed. “I reduced my coverage a few years ago after I made some upgrades. Cash was tight, and the risk of equipment starting a fire was close to zero. I never thought some asshole would light up my shop.”
“I know,” Tyler said. “I’m sorry it happened.”
Smitty’s head bobbed a fraction. “It was pretty much your fault.” Tyler knew it, but he still felt the comment like a punch to the gut. Smitty picked up the bag and set it beside him on the couch. “I haven’t thought much about what I want to do. You expecting me to hire you back if I can reopen?”
“Do what you want. Rehire me or not. I just don’t want you to lose your livelihood.”
“I appreciate it.” Smitty puffed his cheeks and blew out a long breath. “Still not sure about this drug money, though.”
“It’s clean,” Tyler said. He stood. “I took it from one of their stashes. I have a kid in college, so I’m keeping some for her education, too. I burned the rest with the cartel.”
“I’ll always be grateful for what you did for Jake,” Smitty said, “but I don’t need to hear the war stories.”
“Fair enough. Good luck with the insurance company.” Tyler moved toward the door.
“Hey,” Smitty called. “I’m glad you were able to get revenge for your new girlfriend.”
Tyler grinned. The comment made him wonder if his current girlfriend would still be talking to him, but he didn’t want to dampen Smitty’s sudden display of good spirits. “Yeah, me, too.” He left the house.
The sound of Lexi’s V6 approached the house a couple hours after Tyler returned from Smitty’s. Lexi walked in with her bags a minute later, and she set them down right away to hug her dad. “Good to see you, kiddo. How’s the old man?”
“The usual,” Lexi said.
“Ornery and oddly endearing?”
“You two are a lot alike.” She picked up her stuff. “I’m gonna run this upstairs. Is there any coffee?”
“There will be in a few minutes,” Tyler said. He brewed a half pot, and the machine beeped its completion as Lexi came back into the kitchen. She grabbed a mug and poured the first cup.
“You want any?”
Tyler shook his head. “Later. I’ve been up and at it for hours already.” They walked into the living room. Lexi sprawled out on the couch, so Tyler took one of the recliners. “Did you see any cartel assholes?”
“No,” Lexi said. “I know you were being careful, but I didn’t think we would. Grandpa picked his condo for a reason. I guess they might have driven by and thought it would be too risky.” She sipped her hot drink. “Enough about me. What happened with the cartel? You weren’t exactly voluminous in your updates.”
“Rollins helped me,” Tyler said. “Through Sara, I met a guy who worked in counterintelligence. He had some good knowledge about how the organizations work. The three of us went down to Texas and hit a facility where they process their shipments.”
“Did you take their drugs?”
“Some . . . for a little while?”
Lexi grinned. “My dad the cocaine lord.”
“Nothing quite so Netflix-worthy,” Tyler said with a chuckle. “We burned most of the product. Then, we came back to Maryland and raided the place where they keep the money they’ve laundered. I offered the powder and cash back to Héctor in exchange for certain things.”
“He took the deal?” Lexi asked.
“He didn’t have much choice. His bosses in Mexico would have flayed him for a week if he lost a ton of drugs and money.”
“Gross, Dad.” Lexi shuddered. “I guess you took out the giant, too?”
“The third time was the charm, after all,” Tyler said.
“I have some news, too.” Lexi sat upright and tucked her feet under her knees. “Remember I told you Mom wanted me to visit her in prison?”
Tyler bobbed his head. “I hope you did.”
“I did. Uncle George showed up, as well.” Tyler frowned. His former brother-in-law was involved, after all. “I was surprised. It all seemed a little too convenient.”
“A lot of things were too convenient where they were concerned.”
“It gets better. I talked to Grandpa about the situation with Mom. He said I should ignore her and move on. I didn’t listen. I . . . took out your laptop and did a little digging.”
Tyler crossed his arms. George had always been a pain in the ass. Rachel was no saint, but her brother’s poisonous influence usually pushed her over the edge when it looked like she might be willing to move on. “He’s a grifter, Lexi. He probably knows some dangerous people. I hope you were careful.”
“I was,” she said. “You should be happy I didn’t take Grandpa’s advice. Uncle George has a pretty long arrest record. Guess what he got popped for the last three times?”
“I don’t know. The police can’t charge someone with being an asshole.”
“Attempted pension fraud.”
It took a second for the words to sink in. When they did, Tyler pounded the arm of the chair. “Son of a bitch. I figured your mother was bitter about it, but on some level, she understood. She did it to herself. Your uncle probably knows a few shady lawyers who whispered in his ear at the bar one night.” Tyler stood and paced from the living room to the kitchen and back.
“Don’t go and do something crazy,” Lexi said. “I just wanted you to be aware of what I found out.”
Tyler stopped walking. His daughter was a smart and tenacious young woman. He didn’t know how much he’d contributed to either over the years—she would probably put the estimate higher than he would. Tyler smiled. “I know. You did a great job, Lexi. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to wait until the bars close tonight,” Tyler said. “Then, your uncle George and I are going to have a conversation, and I don’t think he’ll like it.”
George had always been a drinker. At one point in his younger days, Tyler admired the man’s tolerance for alcohol. He never quite got to falling-down drunk, but George’s questionable ethics and judgment grew even more compromised with a few beers in his belly. He needed income in part to pay his bar tab. Tyler learned his address from Lexi and drove there in the Accord coupe—the least conspicuous car he had access to—at about ten-thirty. George’s driveway sat empty.
Tyler checked the surroundings. The street was quiet. No one milled about. Lights on poles provided some illumination, but it didn’t reach much past the sidewalk. Tyler closed the Honda’s door quietly and walked up to George’s front door. He didn’t see any people, but he wanted to maintain the illusion for a potential nosy neighbor. Of course, no answer came. George’s small porch featured a low wall painted the same color as the home’s exterior. Tyler crawled to the far end, lifted himself over, and dropped onto the grass.
He stayed low and moved to the rear of the house. Darkness was his ally here, and his black clothes and gloves would allow him to fit right in. Three steps took him to the back door, and Tyler popped it in short order with the snap gun. No alarm went off as he opened it and crept inside. George’s kitchen was a mess. Dishes filled the sink, and empty beer bottles lined the counter near the trash can. Tyler moved into the living room.
A shopworn couch sat against the wall under a large window. Two matching recliners provided seating on the opposite side. Tyler nosed around in cabinets and a freestanding buffet in the dining room, eventually finding a .357 Magnum revolver hiding there. He figured there was zero chance George owned it legally—a suspicion he confirmed when he saw the serial number ground away. Removing the cartridges only took a second. Tyler slipped them into his pocket and replaced the gun. There was no other ammo stored with it.
Then, he sat in a recliner and waited. He was good at waiting. The army provided plenty of practice to “hurry up—and wait” over the years. Younger soldiers rarely learned the value of patience without some form of hardship. Tyler watched occasional headlights approach, but they all veered away before reaching the house. Finally, just after midnight, George returned. His beams lit up the front window as he pulled into the driveway. The engine cut out a moment later, and a key soon turned in the lock.
The front door swung open. George’s head was down to look at his keys, but Tyler recognized him. Other than gaining about ten pounds and adding some gray hair, he hadn’t changed. George turned to close and lock his front door. When he came back around, he froze as his eyes landed on Tyler. “Hello, George.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he said as he slowly moved toward the window and snapped on a lamp. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
“I thought we should have a conversation,” Tyler said, “in light of recent events.”
George stuffed his keys in his pocket and crossed his arms. “Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops.”
“No one with your record will. Besides, how many drinks did you have before you drove home? I’m almost surprised you left so soon after last call.”
“Screw you, John.” George sank onto the couch. “What do you want?”
“It’s what you want . . . you and Rachel, though I think you’re the one who came up with the idea.”
He scoffed. “Lexi told you. She’s young. She don’t know better yet.”
“She’s smart,” Tyler said. “Smarter than you and probably me, too. I believe her, especially considering your history.”
“Here we go.” George jabbed a finger in Tyler’s direction. “You always thought you were better than me.”
“I always have been.” George scowled, but Tyler continued. “I knew you never liked me. At first, I thought it was because you felt a guy in the army wasn’t good enough for your sister. It took a while, but I figured out I was wrong. You were worried I’d catch on to you and Rachel and your schemes.”
“Well, you didn’t.” George smiled and spread his arms behind him on the sofa. “You didn’t. You never knew.”
“I know now,” Tyler said. “You’re after my pension.”
“Half of it should be Rachel’s!”
“If she weren’t a criminal, it would’ve been. I’m sure you want a piece of it. Blame yourself, George. You led her down the path. But I’ll be damned if I let you take something which will be Lexi’s one day.”
“Maybe we’ll still come for your money,” George said.
Tyler reached into the interior pocket of his jacket. George recoiled on the couch. “Relax. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t use something as noisy as a gun in a residential neighborhood.” He tossed three stacks of bills onto the coffee table.
George’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this?”
“Thirty thousand dollars,” Tyler said. “It’s yours, but it comes with a heavy string attached.”
“What?”
“You get out of here and leave everyone alone. Me, Lexi, the pension, everything. Including Rachel. She deserves a chance to live a real life when she gets out . You’ve always been the devil on her shoulder. Now, take this money and go to hell.”
The cash remained on the table. “You’re offering me a bribe? Where’s your moral superiority, now?”
“Call it what you want,” Tyler said. “If you take it, you go. Start over somewhere else. Run some new scams on a fresh set of rubes.” Tyler shrugged. “I really don’t give a shit. I just want you out of here.”
“And if I don’t take it?”
“I’ll bury you so deep a bloodhound would piss on your grave before he ever howls over it.”
George swallowed hard. H
e couldn’t meet Tyler’s stare. “Not much of a choice, is it?”
“You’re not negotiating from a position of strength here, George.”
“Here you go again. You think you’re better than me. You think you can break into my house, flash some cash, and get your way.”
“I came here and gave you a choice,” Tyler said. “I don’t care which option you pick.”
George stood. “I shoulda done this a long time ago.” He walked into the dining room. Tyler searched the first floor thoroughly when he arrived. The only gun George would find currently held no bullets. Still, he turned to follow the other man’s movements and shifted his feet to leap to the ready if need be. Sure enough, George flicked on a light and pulled the revolver out of a drawer in the buffet.
It was a classic Colt model. Brown grip. Black barrel and cylinders. It was also empty, and George pointed it at Tyler like he thought it held six rounds. “You can’t come into a man’s house and make demands. You can’t just buy me off.”
“Everyone has a price, George. Why don’t you put the gun down?”
“Now who’s not negotiating from a position of strength?” George said. He ran his left hand through his graying hair. “There’s thirty thousand on the table. You tried to rob me, and I stopped you.”
“With a stolen gun you can’t legally own as a convicted felon? I thought you were supposed to be good at scheming.”
“Shut up!” George jabbed the gun in Tyler’s direction. “Just shut up. I’m tired of you. Rachel and I had a good thing going until you came along.” He pulled the hammer back even though it was a double-action revolver. The sound filled the house. “I’ll let Lexi collect at least a little of your pension before I come after it.”
George pulled the trigger. Steel on steel simply gave a disappointing click.
He did it again and got the same result. Tyler stood. “I found the gun before you got here.” He patted the left pocket of his jeans. “If you want the cartridges back, come and get them.” George stared ahead silently. “The weight of the gun should’ve tipped you off.” Tyler moved closer to George and snatched the Colt from his hand. He took a deep breath to calm himself and drive down the temptation to reload it and shoot George on the spot. “Same offer as before, George. You take the thirty grand and agree to leave Maryland. Now, there’s some immediacy attached.”
