Gray Area

by George P. Saunders

  Delajandro Pedro Guyano, aka Palomito, was the second in command to the largest drug cartel in Columbia. His personal net worth was over a billion dollars, acquired through shrewd dealings worldwide of his primary export, industrialized cocaine and heroin. Rarely did he leave his mother country, and when he did, his comings and goings were historically shrouded in mystery, to the great consternation of American law enforcement and Interpol.

  Of late, however, some fortuitous leaks in Palomito’s network had afforded the DEA and the FBI some maneuverability in apprehending him. The bureau mole known as Rodriguez, a Machiavellian character who was willing to sell out either side for the right price, had ensconced himself close to Palomito’s inner circle. The DEA trusted Rodriguez only because he had a personal vendetta against Palomito for the murder of his wife some years earlier. For the past six months, Rodriguez had been regularly reporting Palomito’s approximate shipping destinations for the importation of coke and crack.

  Thirty days earlier, an insertion team was created. By virtue of his work as an operative in Nicaragua and Panama, as well as some pretty sophisticated reconnaissance and Clean and Sweep experience in Iraq during Desert Storm, Lou Diamond was perceived by the vast majority to be the logical team leader for the first strike against Palomito on American soil. Plans were formulated. The tugs that Palomito was able to sneak into South Bay harbors were targeted and confirmed. But empty tugs would do no one any good. So the bait was set to not only nail substantial illegal cargo—but the top-gun, drug pushing shit-eater himself—Palomito.

  Diamond’s plan was technically perfect. He was assisted by two top men, Matthews and Peoples, both experienced field agents and, like himself, both spoke Spanish like fucking natives. Deep undercover, Diamond and his men were perceived by the community as local longshoreman with felonious pasts, none of which were ever specified. They made the necessary bribes to the local officials involved with Palomito’s shipments and blended in with the dock folk. Cut off from any chain of command or contact with their Department heads they were, in essence, rogue operatives under the nominal guidance of Diamond himself.

  Juanita Consuela had been the random element of bad luck thrown into a mix that was technically proceeding without a proverbial hitch.

  Diamond found himself in the middle of a brawl one night at El Gallo down in the shadier section of San Pedro. Juanita Consuela was the damsel in distress, under considerable attention and duress courtesy of a few drunk dockhands. Diamond, in short order, dispensed with the drunkards and whisked Juanita out of the bar to safe climes. A relationship, of sorts, developed. An unexpected and, as it would turn out, tragic wrench in the works that caught Diamond off guard. Since the death of Maria five years earlier, his emotional life took a very distant back seat to his professional one, and the two had never shared an easy marriage. He became careless with Juanita, accepting her at face value.

  Oh, yeah … it had seemed so simple …

  Except that Juanita was not what she portrayed. She was, like himself, an operative. Only in her case, a deep cover operative for Palomito. Her function was to ferret out the locals near the shipping drop-off points and more or less determine the level of police activity, locally and federally. She was good at what she did and she gave herself freely to that single task of discovery.

  Weeks passed—Diamond trusted—and then tonight, within one hour, everything had gone to hell in a turd-roll. Palomito’s primary cargo boat was apprehended by the harbor patrol, per Diamond’s target information. The boat was boarded and then destroyed, by unfortunate virtue of a violent firefight between the crew and SWAT personnel. All in all, over two million dollars in shit was lost or confiscated as a result of the seizure. Palomito himself had been privy to the loss from a small private vessel that had sneaked past the police barricade in the South Bay of San Pedro. Everything was going according to plan.

  And now this.

  Diamond, Matthews and Peoples had been summoned to the docks by the shipping supervisor, ostensibly to assist with offloading. The three men had no reason to suspect that they were already targeted by Palomito; no reason for Diamond to have ever imagined that Juanita Consuela had been tailing him exhaustively since they had first met.

  “You,” Palomito pointed his weapon at Diamond again. “You are, as they say, the leader of the gang. Fine. I want to know where your people will hit me next. Locations and times.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Diamond said easily. A more conciliatory manner was called for, his professional mind chastised, but he wasn’t in the best of moods. Something about being pistol-whipped for the past hour. Something about being screwed over by the bitch-kitty Latina chick you’ve been putting the Old Tamale to, and a bad day all around. Just something.

  Palomito shrugged, then looked at Matthews.

  “Fine, we do it the hard way. I will kill your partner next.”

  Juanita stepped forward, touching Palomito on the arm. A slavish touch versus that of a lover. A goddamned employee.

  “I will make him talk,” she said, then turned to Diamond and raised one eyebrow. “You remember how it was between us, no? Like nothing I’ve had before. Like nothing, I think, that you have had before either.”

  She was good, Diamond had to admit. The tease, the talk, the moves. He’d fallen for it all, hook, line, and fuck-shit-sinker, and without even a second thought. He tried to understand his weakness. Perhaps it was Maria, now dead and gone for five years. Perhaps it was because he was alone too often. Perhaps ... perhaps ... so many reasons why he’d been careless, foolish, reckless ...

  “I want him,” he heard Juanita say to Palomito. “And you owe me!”

  Palomito considered Juanita, as if she was some kind of insect, ripe for the squashing. Palomito put two fingers on Juanita’s mouth. She did not hesitate to take them and suck. At the same time, she hiked up her skirts and went down on her knees. Her head then turned toward Diamond, as she knee-crawled the two feet to where Diamond was sitting and strapped. She reached for his pants and then, more specifically, the zipper to his fly. Her eyes never seemed to leave his. Boring, insistent, brutally frank, even when they were lying.

  Palomito watched and sighed.

  Diamond chanced a look at the big man. It seemed as if Palomito was, well … intrigued by what was taking place.

  “You are a lucky man, cop. I have never seen Juanita so wanting for cock.” He turned, grinned at his henchman. “Gringo con el carne d’oro.” A round of laughter echoed in the room.

  Palomito stepped forward and stroked Juanita’s hair as she finished with Diamond’s zipper. “But then, of course, that is why you are here. You think that just because you fucked Juanita she would not tell me you were a cop.”

  Diamond snapped his head up to Palomito, his lip curling.

  “You are a stupid man, pig,” Palomito continued. “And you trusted the wrong person. You trusted—”

  He looked down at Juanita, who then turned her brown eyes up to Diamond.

  “You trusted—a whore.”

  Something in Juanita’s eyes shifted, Diamond noted, if only for a moment. Something seemed ... damaged. Offended, perhaps. Even angry.

  And Diamond realized in these precious seconds that there was hope.

  Palomito backed up to give himself a better view. He smiled that grotesque smile once again at Diamond. “But there is, as they say, a silver lining to all of this. Would you like to know what that silver lining is, señor?”

  “I can hardly wait,” Diamond said evenly, never taking his eyes off of Juanita, who was still on her knees directly in front of him, rubbing her thighs.

  “You make my Juanita happy like you have done before, and I let him go.”

  Diamond’s focus shifted to Palomito and saw that the big man was pointing his .357 at Matthews. Matthews seemed puzzled, not making the connection. But Diamond understood completely.

  Juanita reached into Diamond’s pants, exposed him fully, then took him into her mouth.


  “You have my word,” Palomito said, still pointing at Matthews.

  The moment was surreal and for a split second Diamond thought he just might lose his mind, for good. Juanita continued to suck him, while Matthews stared like some poor terrified animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-rig.

  Diamond realized what Palomito was trying to do, break not only his silence, but his spirit as well. During Desert Storm he spent three months as a prisoner of war to the Iraqi Republican Guard. And, yes, there was torture involved. Out of twelve men in his unit that were caught and subjected to damn near every kind of atrocity that could be conceived by Man, Diamond was the only one who had survived.

  He could still hear his corporal’s words and contemptuous laughter … just before an Iraqi regular cut off his head.

  That experience in Iraq could never be matched for its levels of horror and humiliation. Or so Diamond had believed. Today, however, things were getting bat-shit nutty.

  Juanita stopped the fellatio and looked up at him. He scowled at her and suddenly realized that he was hard.

  “You have my word I will release your friend,” Palomito continued nonchalantly, as if having Juanita blow his prisoners just before killing them was standard operating procedure.

  “Prove it,” Diamond countered. He thought it might be possible Palomito was preparing to use Matthews as a bargaining chip. Palomito still needed to know how extensive the sting operation against him had become.

  Palomito smiled at Diamond. “You are fun, pig. I give you that.”

  He nodded at the two henchmen beside him. They put their AK-47s on the ground, then approached Matthews. The ropes were untied, and Matthews was dragged to his feet.

  But Matthews had been badly beaten, and almost immediately fell to his knees. He was breathing heavily, and when he looked at Diamond, Juanita was again deep in the act of fellatio.

  He gazed into Diamond’s eyes, and shook his head. “This is sick—sick, Diamond—”

  “This is Los Angeles,” Palomito interrupted. “To each his own. Get up and be happy that Juanita there thinks your friend has a golden dick.”

  The henchmen chuckled at this, as did Palomito himself.

  Matthews tried standing again, this time more successfully, by grabbing the metal chair that he had been tied to for support. He looked from Diamond to Palomito.

  “Get out of here, cop,” Palomito said. “Before I change my mind.”

  Matthews hesitated for only a second. He looked at Diamond.

  “Move it, ” Diamond snarled.

  Matthews lurched forward, heading toward the warehouse sliding door that was open about three feet. Palomito turned back to Diamond. “Now, it is your turn to give me something.”

  Suddenly, Juanita was standing. She removed her panties, the slim material of her short skirt and blouse revealing every nuance of her magnificent body. Straddling Diamond she lowered herself onto him, a shudder coursing through her as she negotiated his hardness to its final destination. Riding him, she whispered into his ear, “Move your hands,” she said, panting between words.

  For a moment, Diamond was lost. His rational mind was a blur of odd sensation and disbelief; but he did as he was told, raising his hands lashed behind the chair up about five inches, all he could muster.

  Juanita rode Diamond harder, her hands disappearing behind him. And then he felt something else, something even more perversely unbelievable in his presently dazed reality. He felt Juanita begin to untie his ropes. Diamond realized what she was trying to do, though mystified about everything else happening to him at the moment. He glanced at Palomito. Because of his angle behind Juanita, it was obvious that Palomito could not see what she was doing with her hands. Palomito and the henchmen were chuckling among themselves, obviously content to allow this activity to run its course … just for good clean fun, and gentle jollies.

  Diamond was able to extricate one hand in another minute. He was surprised to feel himself ejaculate, and Juanita seemed to match his spasm with a screaming orgasm herself.

  Behind Juanita, Palomito and the henchmen began to applaud, clearly pleased with Juanita’s vocal enthusiasm.

  “Now, señor, I want answers,” Palomito said, as Juanita lifted herself off of Diamond’s lap.

  Diamond knew that he would have only seconds to work with. One of the henchmen had not bothered to retrieve his Uzi near the chair that Matthews had recently occupied. He had opted for a quick smoke instead.

  “I am waiting,” Palomito growled.

  Diamond looked at him and smiled. “We know you have eight more boats inbound. Total net worth of shit around four hundred million dollars.”

  Palomito winced, then stared at Diamond with blank, gray eyes that betrayed little emotion. He turned on his heel and aimed his .357 Magnum. Diamond looked out the warehouse door, where Matthews was still stumbling. Palomito fired three times. Matthews bucked forward as the bullets slammed into his spine, then fell.

  “No! You fuckin’ liar!” Diamond screamed.

  Palomito turned back to him and snarled. “Si, I am a liar, señor. But you are a strange man. Here, you are about to die and still you can do what you did with Juanita. That, motherfucker, is estrano!!”

  Diamond lunged off the chair toward the Uzi now only spitting distance away. Rolling, he trained the weapon at the smoking henchman and squeezed off three shots. The smoker was lifted off the ground as the bullets ripped into his chest. The other henchman, not quite believing what he had just witnessed, reached for his weapon a second too slow. Five bullets from Diamond’s Uzi tore his head off his shoulders.

  Palomito ran for a far wall while simultaneously firing at Diamond. Diamond rolled again as bullets whined past him like angry hornets. Two more men from a back room appeared and took aim. Diamond bolted up in a sitting position and let his Uzi go wild. The men screamed and died, as Palomito reloaded and continued firing at Diamond. Diamond marine-crawled toward Juanita, who remained in a frozen, frightened ball near a pillar.

  Palomito moved, running toward Diamond.

  Diamond pivoted on his butt and brought the Uzi up. The discharge smashed into Palomito’s shoulder and abdomen, throwing him back against another pillar. Diamond turned his attention back to Juanita.

  “Please,” she said. “I helped you. No kill me, Lou.”

  Diamond realized that if she was turned over to the authorities she was looking at some serious jail time. He did not want that for her, even now.

  “Get out of here, Juanita. Never let me see you again,” he said.

  She nodded, and stood up. Diamond thought that she wanted to say something more, but she decided against it. The distant sirens of approaching police echoed from outside. She broke into a run, heading for the exit.

  The single shot from Palomito’s Magnum drove Juanita to the floor, a huge wet swatch appearing on her blouse. Diamond turned and saw that Palomito, after firing at Juanita, was now turning the Magnum back at him. Diamond brought the Uzi up for the last time and blew Palomito’s head clean off.

  Diamond walked to Juanita, who was fighting for breath, her eyes filled with tears. He knelt down and cradled her head in his arms.

  “Don’t—hate me,” she struggled.

  Diamond shook his head. “Never.”

  She died a moment later, just as the police cars screeched to a halt outside.

  THREE

  Turner Sage had served with Lou Diamond for over five years. But no matter the length of time, Sage would never understand the man. Not completely. They were best friends but there was always a distance, some indefinable schism between them, a wall clearly set up by Diamond himself.

  The two men were different as night and day: Sage, a tall strapping South African, a rare breed of black and Pakistan transplant, once Deputy of Security Services to the new government of Mandela; and Lou Diamond the everyman; not a standout—which was why he was so effective in the field. His only liability lay in his eyes—eyes that missed very little and w
ere, by nature, unforgiving and accusatory. They were eyes that made people take notice … but once having noticed, the urge to look away was extreme.

  The man had demons. He kept them at bay, barely, and that was why he was SRT’s top agent. But today, it looked like the demons were fighting for Diamond’s soul, and the demons were winning.

  A bad day, Sage repeated over and over again. No other way to define it, despite the success in nailing Palomito. Sage had been the Director of SRT for over ten years. Casualties were to be expected. It was never easy. Good men had died in this operation, and Sage’s best agent, Lou Diamond, had almost been a casualty as well. What concerned Sage most of all was the inscrutable expression on Lou Diamond’s face. He watched as Diamond leaned against the M.E. van, smoking a cigarette that had as much life left in it as the two dead officers being loaded into the meat wagon.

  Sage signed off on the clean up of the CSI, then focused completely on Diamond.

  Sage approached him with the same caution a doctor might an unstable and highly unpredictable cancer patient who had just received news of his terminal state.

  “We ID’d the rest of Palomito’s shitbags,” he said. “The girl came up as a zero.”

  Diamond blew out a smoke ring. “Juanita. She’s the reason I’m alive.”

  “That a fact.”

  Diamond killed the fag he was smoking and turned to look at the bodies of Matthews and Peoples inside the van.

  “Rodriguez was killed twenty minutes ago,” Sage said. “Apparently one of Palomito’s people shivved him in a personal quarrel. Bad luck.”

  “Have you called their wives?” Diamond asked, nodding at his two dead associates.

  “Yeah, they’ve been told,” Sage said evenly. “Listen, Lou, you did good out here. I know

  “If I’d been smarter, they’d still be alive.”

  “The chances of you coming out of this, all of you, were fifty-fifty. You said it yourself in the initial briefing two months ago. This operation was a success.”

  “Tell that to their children,” Diamond muttered, his eyes on the medical van.