The Falau Files Box Set 1

by Mike Gomes

Cutting the wheel hard again she pulled into a taxi parking garage. Keeping her speed up she raced to the far end of the garage and pulled into the spot next to several other cars that looked exactly like the one she was driving.

  “Out! Now! Follow me and shut up!” demanded the woman, not waiting for Falau to answer. The door swung open and she started to walk away, causing Falau to scramble to catch up to her.

  The sudden sound of more tires screeching made Falau look back. The car was being driven away by a woman with dark hair and a man in the backseat. She had thought of everything to keep the cover alive, just in case they were being watched. Falau was sure that by the time they had hit the garage entrance the man would have on clothing similar to his and nobody would know the difference. The woman continued to move at a swift pace as they exited out the back of the garage. Reaching down to grab Falau by the hand, she dropped back next to him giving the appearance that the two were a couple.

  “This is all very sudden. I don’t even know your name,” said Falau sarcastically.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” said the woman, smiling and leading him to the door of the building next to the garage. She then unlocked the door to the apartment building and went inside. Rushing up one flight of steps she led them into the hall and to the first door on the right. Apartment 2J. Unlocking the door they went in. All Falau knew was this woman knew Tyler’s name, and nothing more. He wondered if he’d just walked into an ambush following nothing more than the name of a friend.

  Falau closed the door behind him, and across the room the woman closed the curtain. Turning back to him, the two measured each other up.

  “My name is Carla Romero, but my friends call me Vick.”

  “You’re Vick?” questioned Falau, his forehead furrowing as he shook his head. “Sorry, I was expecting someone a little more... a man.”

  “I get that a lot. Guess the name does its job as a disguise. So, you’re the guy they sent to get The Butcher. You must be some kind of a badass, right. Ex-CIA? FBI? Navy seal?”

  “Nothing like that. I just needed a job.”

  “Just needed a job?” Carla raised her eyebrows. “Okay, I understand the need to keep things close to the vest. I respect that.”

  Falau smiled and walked over to the window and peeked out the curtain.

  “So, Falau, my job is to give you all the info I have so you can take down The Butcher. You need to listen up, because this guy is not just a sick son of a bitch, but he is smart. Really smart. As a kid he could’ve gone to any university he liked, but he didn’t see the sense in going to school where he knew more than the professors. He wanted to pull his family out of poverty, so he looked to drugs. He is so smart he knows not to be the top man. The Police always want to get the top man. It is a better show for the cameras. He knows that it is a lot better to be down the line. You can keep low, and still make millions of dollars. It has only been the last few years he turned into The Butcher. His brother stole a million dollars from him and put out a hit on him, looking to take over the operation. He felt he needed to send a message to everyone who might think he was weak. So, he paid the zookeepers not to feed the lions for two weeks. He then dragged his brother into the zoo with the help of a few men. Then they threw him to the lions in the middle of the day. Families were there. Schoolchildren were there. Story has it, they even put blood in his hair to get the lions to attack. He is not a nice guy at all.”

  “Well I wasn’t thinking of taking him out for coffee. I just want to get him and bring him back,” said Falau. “Where is he?”

  The woman sat on the sofa and grabbed the top of the coffee table and opened it like a car hood, exposing several handguns hidden inside. “I prefer the 9 mm, but most guys like to brag about having the big one, so here’s a .45 for you.”

  Falau smirked at Carla’s ribbing. The more he spoke with her the more he liked her. She gave as good as she got. She was a fighter, but still maintained her feminine side through it all. There was nothing overly masculine about her, but her ability to take care of any situation in front of her was undeniable, even without having seen it.

  “As I’m sure you know he runs drugs up to Miami and other spots on the east coast of North America and some places in Europe. Miami is the easiest because he could always fall back into Cuba if things got messy with the Coast Guard. He does it all through a warehouse over at the import/export station here in the city. He has everyone paid off so it is easy to hide drugs. He has at least thirty men working for him at the warehouse and on the street. The most notice you will ever have before they know he’s gone is about two hours. If they can’t find him for that long they will be looking for him.”

  “Thanks for the info. What is the address of the warehouse?” asked Falau

  “I will show you.”

  “Sorry, but I work alone. This is my mission,” interrupted Falau.

  “Mr. Falau, I’m coming with you. I want this guy nailed just like you, and I’m going to help. Besides there’s no way in the world you’re getting into that warehouse without me. They will see you coming a mile away,” she replied, smiling the smile of a person who knows they are right.

  Falau looked to the ground, shook his head and wiped his face with his hand. “Okay, but I’m the lead. You fall in with my orders and no other way around it. You got it?”

  “Sir. Yes Sir,” quipped the woman Falau could not help but like.

  Chapter 12

  As day turned to night Falau and Carla drove down a side street and pulled to the side of the road under trees that hung over the car. A street light flickered on and off about 10 feet behind them and most of the light from the main roads was muted on their quiet street.

  Cracking the driver side window, a sudden cool breeze caused Falau to tighten up his coat as they sat side by side watching the end of the street.

  The activity in the warehouse was constant. People coming and going in all areas. Several forklifts moving pallets of merchandise to various locations. There was a large chain-link fence around the property and there was only one gate in and out.

  "Tyler gave me something he said you would like," Carla said, reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket. "If these things really work it will be true what they say about him."

  "What? That he is a genius?"

  Carla turned her head to Falau with a look of total confusion on her face. "You know about that?"

  "Tyler and I go way back. I know what he's capable of,” said Falau, not looking away from the warehouse.

  Carla produced a square piece of what look like cellophane and pulled it into two pieces. Leaning toward the windshield, she pressed one piece in front of herself and one piece in front of Falau.

  "Look straight into it,” she said, gazing into the new addition to the window.

  "Oh, I'll be damned. Binoculars made from cellophane!" exclaimed Falau trying to make sense of how Tyler could create something like that.

  "This defies everything I know about magnification and how it works,” said a stunned Carla.

  The two partners resumed watching the goings on with different workers at the warehouse and what tracks they were taking as they went to and from the building. Looking for a pattern in the chaos of what they did was a tall task.

  "That's him,” said a cold and detached Carla. "The one inside the guard shack at the entrance to the warehouse."

  Adjusting his eyes Falau drew his attention to the man he felt looked different than the picture he’d seen of him. He looked harder and more aggressive. A deep scar ran down his right cheek. Jagged and deep, it was clear it had not been treated properly in a hospital. It may not have ever been stitched up. His goatee was unkempt and hanging low, 6-inches at least from his chin. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, glowing bright orange every few moments when he took a drag from it. He was the alpha male of the group, there was no doubt about that. Falau watched as the others change their course so as to not converge with him or get into his line of sight. Word was spreading fast
with the outside workers that The Butcher was at the door.

  Without looking away Falau tapped on the steering wheel. "Looks like a tough guy. He could be problematic down the road. When should we hit him?"

  "This place has no slow time. Anytime is good as any other. We just have to get him alone,” replied Carla.

  Turning his head, he saw her sitting with her back against the passenger side door, and without warning his mind flashed, causing him to gasp for breath.

  The beautiful woman from the flashback was now mixed with Carla. Falau's mind drifted between them, overlapping them, and blood started dripping down from Carla’s hairline and covering her face. Shards of glass sprung up in her cheeks and her forhead. The light left her eyes and her mouth dropped open. "You killed me,” she said, “It was your fault. The light was red. You know the light was red. You killed me." The words came out of Carla's mouth but it was not her voice. It was the voice of the other woman.

  Falau's mind suddenly jerked back to the present. Sweat ran off his face. His hand gripped the steering wheel hard and he had an overwhelming urge to run away.

  "No. No. No!" snapped Falau at the images in his head, overrun by the evil that had taken up residence in his mind. A hand grabbed his and pulled it away from the keys before he turned the engine over.

  "What are you doing?" asked Carl.

  "I didn't kill you!! It isn't my fault!" barked the terrified man.

  "Falau! You okay? Falau!" Placing her hand on his face she pulled his eyes toward her. They were out of focus and looked right through the young woman. "Falau!"

  "Yeah! What? I'm good now!" yammered the big man as he dropped back into the present, unable and unwilling to explain what was happening to him. "Sorry, I was just thinking about the car accident a long time ago."

  "I understand. Some things never go away. You can live them over and over again like they're happening for the first time right in front of you," sympathized Carla, and Falau immediately sensed a kinship with the woman he had only met a short time ago. He could tell from her voice that she understood about the flashbacks and how anyone could fall into them without warning.

  "I call it my dark half. It pops up occasionally. I manage it the best I can."

  "Your dark half? I like that. I have one of those two. I remember my brothers being killed. Every sound, every look from other people, every smell in the air. They were slaughtered like dogs for no good reason. Each was given a Colombian necktie. Do you know what that is?" asked Carla, her eyes drifting away from Falau. He could feel her pain with each word, knowing she too was seeing everything she said in her mind's eye.

  "No"

  "You see, if they think you’re a snitch or you're really pissing people off they give you a Colombian necktie. They cut your throat so deep that it cuts into your windpipe. Then they reach up and pull your tongue out through the hole. Sends a message to everyone what they will do to you if you cross them. But for a kid to see your brothers like that causes something to be taken from your soul. Something that you can never get back. I walked out of the door to go to school, and found my two brothers with the Colombian neckties impaled on the rod-iron fence at the front of the house. You stop being a kid right then and there. I didn't scream and I didn’t cry. I just got angry."

  Looking out into the distance Falau searched for the right words to say. It was clear her pain was equal in every way to his. She just managed to use it as fuel to go after the killer. She wanted revenge for what The Butcher did. Falau felt a stream of shame run over him for not having the resolve that Carla showed. He had fallen into a shell and hid from the world after his trauma. He’d gained nothing, and had not grown at all from it. He simply gave up on life and was willing and waiting to die.

  "My brothers were good guys. There was no way they were into anything like drug running. They had a future without any of that."

  "Did Carlos kill them?" inquired Falau.

  "No. But he gave the order. Nobody kills anyone in the city without him giving the order first."

  "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. It's not fair."

  "Thank you. That's why this one is so important to me. I need to take this guy down hard. I thought we had him in the trial but he has too much money and too much power over the government. Now we get revenge and justice my way."

  "I'm happy to help you in any way I can. I think it's time we take a walk and get a closer look at things, and see if we can find a way to pay The Butcher a little visit,” said Falau with a hard look on his face.

  "Let's go,” responded the woman who had only justice on her mind.

  Chapter 13

  The leather clad man backed into the shelter of the tree. Rivera sat on a stone wall in the shadows just 10-feet from his Yamaha YZF R6 motorcycle, a bike built for speed and precision. People passed by barely glancing at the man smoking a cigarette and dressed in leather riding gear.

  Rivera thought about the couple that sat in the car two blocks away from him. Questions came to mind without answers. Who was the woman? Why were they watching the warehouse? What happened to the cab they were in?

  The questions kept coming, but he knew he was lucky to even know where they were. If not for the closed-circuit TV cameras based around the city he would've never seen Falau leave the hotel to get picked up by the woman. She had to be part of the drug smuggling ring. It was the only thing that made any sense to Rivera. Rivera searched his mind as he watched the woman in the car reach across and take the man's face into her hand. They must be using farming equipment to move the drugs. Maybe they load the equipment in the fields and then move the equipment back to the transport area? Then the guy Falau goes home saying no sale with equipment filled with drugs?

  The car door swung open, causing Rivera to drop his cigarette. He held back against the wall trying not to reveal himself. The woman and the man got out and moved onto the sidewalk.

  The couple started walking up the street about a couple of feet apart. Their demeanor made it clear they were just business partners.

  Rivera hopped on his motorcycle and put on his helmet. Turning the key, the bike came to life. Getting involved without official permission from the Commandos of the National Police was something clearly he knew could backfire on him, but if he was ever going to push his name to the top of the list this just might be the case to do it. He was willing to take the chance to get the big payoff.

  Rivera pushed the bike up to its normal speed until he was within 20-feet of his targets. He revved the engine and popped the clutch, causing the bike to chirp its tires and lurch forward. Instinctively the couple looked as he raced past them.

  There was no doubt it was Falau and the woman. Now the question was, what were they doing outside the warehouse if they were part of the smuggling operation?

  Approaching the corner Rivera slowed down and took a right, and once out of eyesight of the couple he pumped his fist in excitement.

  Chapter 14

  A motorcycle sped past them in a commotion of sound and speed.

  "Stupid kid," Falau said, annoyed.

  They continued walking up the street while attempting to pass as lovers. Falau reached down and took Carla’s hand, and held it tight in his own. Still focusing her gaze up the street she questioned him. "What is this all about?"

  "No man would walk the street with a woman that looks as good as you without making sure everyone knew she was taken. I'm just completing the disguise."

  Carla laughed softly. "Really? How nice to know you think I'm attractive. I was beginning to think you were dead inside."

  "It's obvious," Falau said, teasing, "just like it's obvious that I'm extremely attractive. No need to agree. Like I said, it's obvious."

  Carla let out another laugh she knew was far too loud and would draw attention if anyone heard it. The couple was now less than a block away from the warehouse and its high chain link fence.

  "To make this more believable, just in case anyone is watching, we may as well do this thing ri
ght."

  Taking a step-in front of the big man, she stopped him in his tracks. Pulling herself in close to him she looks deep into his eyes. "Put your hands on my hips,” she whispered and Falau did as he was instructed.

  Pulling herself up–and Falau down–she kissed him gently on the lips and then lowered herself into a hug, dropping her face against his chest.

  Falau held his breath, absorbing all the affection he could. Despite knowing this was all part of a cover he could not help but enjoy the feeling of her touch. It'd been years since anyone had touched him with such affection.

  Carla pulled back and put her arms around Falau's waist, and he followed her lead doing the same. Without warning she slid her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, catching Falau off guard.

  "This is what makes it really believable,” she said while squeezing his buttocks.

  Falau chuckled while looking down at what he now considered a new friend. Her humor and skill was all he needed to enjoy her.

  The two got closer to the corner and rounded to the right. Continuing their giggling and the sounds of a couple in love, they walked unnoticed 200 yards from the entrance to the facility. At this distance, the security lights got more intense and they were able to make out the staff clearly. Another hundred yards down the street and the property of the facility ended with a road that turned into the left amid more chain-link fence.

  "No cameras,” commented Falau. "I would have thought that an important building containing exports would be covered in heavy security."

  "No need for cameras. This place is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 365 days a year. Cameras would just document all the illegal shit going on in here. They post this place as a government building so they can do what they want whenever they want. Government sanctioned drug smuggling brought to you by Colombia,” replied Carla, trying but failing to keep her temper in check.

  They moved to the side street on the left and hugged close to the fence line, searching for a place that covered by the high stacks of pallets.