by Rafael Hines
Felix’s leg was swollen tight and throbbing from Omar’s knife wound. He’d been sitting in a metal chair with his leg up on a stool in front of him watching Gonzalo prepare. He got up, used his cane to hobble over, and began taping his uncle’s hands. His uncle grew up fighting without protection in bare knuckled matches. The knuckles were still covered in callouses and the strong dark hands were like stones, but Felix taped them anyway. When he was done he helped Gonzalo put on the thin gloves that were designed to inflict the maximum amount of damage.
“Hurt him, Tio. Make him suffer,” Felix said.
Gonzalo didn’t say anything. His smoldering eyes held those of his nephew and adopted son. Finally he nodded his head in response and hopped down from the table. Bare chested, he walked out of the locker room with Felix limping behind.
The Lower East Side gym simply called “Gladiators” was usually crowded and noisy with hard-core training going on twenty-four hours a day. Tonight the gym was deathly quiet and empty of everyone except the Valdez mob. And the man who sat in a chair in far corner of the ring.
The Valdez brothers, Antonio, Benji, the Pro KEDDS team and Christmas eagerly watched Gonzalo make his way over. He passed through them and climbed into the ring without a word being spoken. His opponent, also dressed for battle in white shorts and black shoes, jumped up from his chair.
“You? This is impossible! You were shot in the head.”
“The man you hired shot my brother, Sesa. He fights for his life, just as you are about to fight for yours.”
“I know you’re low life street scum, Valdez, but you can’t be serious. Let me go now and I promise I won’t say anything to the authorities. Otherwise, I can assure you that you and everyone in this room will be arrested for kidnapping. Do you hear me?” he said, spreading his arms to address everyone outside of the ring. “You will all be incarcerated for the rest of your lives. I walk out of here now I will protect you. You have my word.”
“Your word?”
“Yes. I am an educated man with a family history that goes back hundreds of years. My word counts.”
“Our family history goes back much farther than yours and education comes in many forms. All that matters here is that I am a man of honor and, as you say, my word counts. There is only one way out of this for you.”
“I fight you.”
“No. You kill me.”
“Kill you?”
Gonzalo nodded. “That’s the only way you walk out of here.”
“I doubt it, old man. After I beat you to death your men will rip me apart.”
“Every man in this room begged me to let them torture and kill you. I refused them all. I’m the head of this family and what I say goes. My commands will be honored… even after death. Kill me here in this ring and you live.”
“Fair enough,” Michael Meecham said.
“There is only one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Confess.”
“Confess to what?”
“There’s no point in lying, Meecham. We already know most of what you have done, but I need to hear it all here and now. Tell me everything, truthfully. Then we will see if you are man enough to end my life.”
“And if I don’t?”
Gonzalo pointed across the room. “You go there,” he said. “We all sit and watch you die. And I have one more promise for you… it will last a very long time.”
Meecham stared at the long table that looked like it came straight out of a torture dungeon from the Dark Ages. He recognized his limo driver when Benji Medina lit the mini blow torch and tightened the flame. He held it up in a menacing display and with his free hand he silently beckoned Meecham over.
Michael Meecham, like many of the Meecham men before him, was born without the key ingredients that allow human beings to socialize effectively. He didn’t feel empathy or compassion. He was incapable of compromise and he rejoiced in the suffering of others. These defects of character or missing strands of DNA had been swapped out for an innate ability to sense weakness in his fellow man. He preyed on those weaknesses to advance his own position and to hurt as many people that he could. On the flip side, he was a calculating man. For those that were too strong or too powerful he lay coiled like a viper, waiting for the opportunity to strike them down.
He stared down into the hard, hate-filled eyes of the men surrounding the ring. He knew each and every one of them wanted him dead, but these were street thugs and small time gangsters far below his station. Dying by their hands was not an option. It would dishonor his family. And he still had so much to do. He was going to change this country, perhaps the entire world.
Meecham knew his superior breeding and intellect would keep him alive. He weighed his options and quickly went on the offensive.
“Before I say anything I think you all owe me some gratitude.”
“What!” Felix shouted.
“Please explain,” Gonzalo said.
“My team did extensive research on you and your family. In the course of the investigation we uncovered something very interesting.”
“I’m listening.”
“It seems extremely likely that our families have crossed paths before. My great, great, great grandfather was a ship’s captain. He sailed regularly to Panama and kept meticulous records, which I still have. One of his clients was a wealthy land owner named Porfirio Valdez. I believe some of your ancestors were in his employ.”
Gonzalo stared at Meecham in disbelief.
Could it be?
Can this be true?
“So, he was a slave trader.”
“Importer, exporter,” Meecham said with a smile.
“And he sold his human cargo to the murderer Porfirio Valdez.”
“Porfirio is credited with taming vast portions of the Panamanian frontier. He was and is a hero in the history of your country.”
“Not to us.” Gonzalo said. Outwardly he remained calm and in control. Only the heat in his yellow eyes intensified as he recalled the stories about Porfirio. Horrific accounts of suffering and death passed down through the generations by the lucky few who managed to escape into the mountains. The plantation had been a death camp where the then Don Valdez raped, tortured, and murdered his own slaves.
“You need to stay objective,” Meecham said, edging closer and gaining confidence. Gonzalo was almost thirty years older than he was and the man was clearly rattled by their dialogue.
“At the very least you owe the man a debt for your name. More importantly, you owe me and my family your thanks. Without my forefather’s help you would not be where you are today enjoying the luxuries of life in this great country. You would still be living in your natural habitat.”
“Our natural habitat?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Africa of course. Eating termites, and climbing trees like the monkeys that you are.”
Though Gonzalo had anticipated the attack, he was surprised by Meecham’s speed and accuracy. He dodged two of the blows, but the third, an overhand right, caught him on the side of the head.
“And so we begin,” Gonzalo said, baring his teeth.
“You underestimated me Valdez. I’ve been training in the ring for years.”
“On the contrary.” Gonzalo stepped in and peppered Meecham with four light punches to the face and body before moving away. “Now let’s see if you’ve trained hard enough.”
Meecham was amazed by Gonzalo’s speed and balance, but was unimpressed by his punching power. Visualizing a quick victory he charged forward. He didn’t see the punch that stopped him in his tracks. The body shot sent him backwards and dropped him to his knees.
“Stand up so I can keep thanking you.”
Meecham realized that it was he who had underestimated his opponent.
“If you can’t rise on your own my men will hold you up for the remainder of the session.”
“I am a better man than you in every way,” he said, steadying himself and bouncing on his
feet like a pro boxer.
“Prove it.”
Gonzalo moved in again, ducking and blocking Meecham’s increasingly desperate blows with his shoulders, wrists and elbows. Growing bored with the charade he fired back one devastating shot after another.
“I thank you.” Two vicious punches sent Meecham’s front teeth flying from his mouth.
“The Valdez family thanks you.” Thwack, thwack. Meecham felt his ribs break.
“My brother Sesa thanks you.” Bam, bam, bam, bam. Meecham managed to block those four, but the bones in both his forearms fractured from the impact.
“My nephews thank you.” Crack. His nose was broken.
He ran, but there was nowhere to go. Gonzalo followed his every twist and turn, hitting him again and again. Finally Meecham stopped and leaned heavily against the ropes. Blood poured from his nose and mouth. His broken arms dangled uselessly at his sides.
“No more,” Meecham said, shaking his head.
“Final offer. Confess and you live. Otherwise we continue.”
“You swear to let me go?”
“I promise you will live.”
Meecham stared hard into the eyes that glowed like fires in Gonzalo’s dark face. He knew he was out of options. His only hope was that the old Don was a man of his word.
“Okay, okay. It’s not like I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“Say it.”
“Yes, I hired Connie Bellusci to kill you.”
“Me alone?”
“You, John and Felix.”
“Why?”
“They insulted me and got me fired.”
“So this was all about your pride and ego?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It is who I am.”
“You had already hired the hit man. Then why bring up the case against my nephew with the DA?”
“Just being efficient. Making sure I had a backup plan in case Connie didn’t come through.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Meecham said.
Gonzalo cracked him again, breaking another rib. Meecham screamed in pain and began crying hysterically.
“No, no, no! You swore.”
“There is more. What else?”
“The witnesses.”
“We know about them. Tell me what I don’t know.”
“Palmer… and… Kolter,” Meecham blubbered out in between sobs.
“General Palmer and Director Kolter are on your hit list?”
“Yes, yes, yes! That’s everything, I swear! Now let me go so I can see a doctor.”
“Yes, you will get your doctor. Later. First you will join some friends for dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes Michael Meecham. After all you’re the guest of honor.”
Christmas and Antonio climbed into the ring and roughly dragged him out. His legs were gone so they carried him to the locker room and stripped him before throwing him in the shower. Naked, terrified and suffering terribly from the pain he managed to speak in a shaky child-like voice.
“What’re you going to do?”
“Just getting you cleaned up man. You know it’s important to wash before every meal,” Christmas said.
His body was vigorously scrubbed with a long handled brush until his skin was red, then soaped and rinsed in scalding hot water. They weren’t really concerned with Meecham’s hygiene. They were removing any of Gonzalo’s hair, skin, or DNA that may have been transferred in the one sided fight.
Despite the heat from the shower Meecham was shaking uncontrollably. “I need a doctor. I think I’m dying.”
“Not yet. This will help with the pain,” Benji said. He injected Meecham with a short needle that sent him floating into oblivion.
The Bronx, New York
“How long do you think they will wait?” Felix asked.
“Not long,” Gonzalo said.
The Valdez men and their soldiers stood together watching through the high fence. No one else spoke. They watched and waited in the darkness. All of them stared at the lone figure that lay unmoving in a field of green grass on the other side of the fence and across a wide moat.
Mike Meecham opened his eyes and was immediately shocked by the intense pain in his nose. That pain was quickly overshadowed by the agony of each breath as his lungs expanded into his broken ribs. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond. He could blink. He could open and close his mouth. He could even move his head from side to side. Other than that he was completely paralyzed.
He felt the wind on his skin and knew he was naked. All he could see from his prone position at ground level was thick grass and tall trees around him and a cloudless night sky above.
“Where the fuck am I?” he said aloud.
He thought he heard movement in the bushes to his left.
“Help. Help me! I’m over here!”
Other than the loud screeching of birds in the distance his calls went unanswered. Then from behind his head and out of his line of vision he felt the impact of footsteps running towards him.
“Thank God! I’m here. I’m badly hurt. Hurry.”
Meecham strained to see who was coming to his rescue, but the steps came to an abrupt halt beyond his line of sight.
“Please, please. I can pay you. Anything you want. Just help me!”
The heavy feet moved closer.
“Believe me, today is your lucky day my friend,” Meecham said.
Sensing he was about to be saved, his fear vanished, and a sudden calm came over him. The moment was short lived when he looked up at the massive head above him. Hot, heavy breath beat down into Meecham’s face. The thick yellow and black mane shook when the four hundred pound lion roared in triumph.
“Oh God. Please no.”
The lion walked around Meecham, baring his fangs and sniffing him as he moved. The steady flow of blood from Meecham’s nose and mouth was driving the big cat into a frenzy. His powerful muscles rippled with tension and excitement.
“Get away! Get away!!! You get away, God damn it!!!”
The lion was unimpressed by the orders. He put a heavy paw on Meecham’s chest and then lay down next to the man who expected to become president of the United States of America. The lion’s rough tongue was designed to scrape meat from bones. With each lick large patches of skin were ripped away from Meecham’s face.
“Nooooo!!!!”
The lion didn’t seem to mind or notice the frantic screaming that increased when he sank in his teeth and tore off Meecham’s right cheek.
“Oh God, oh God. Please no!!!
Meecham didn’t hear the other two lions when they came charging in. One female bit into his left arm and the other sank her fangs deep into his right leg.
“Ahhhheeeeeyyyyeee!!!”
The male didn’t want to share his dinner and a violent snarling tug of war ensued. Each female ran off with an appendage while the king of beasts gorged himself on the remainder of Michael Bascomb Meecham.
“I think he’s still alive,” Christmas said.
“Good,” Felix said.
“The man claimed he was a lion,” Gonzalo added.
“Those cats didn’t recognize him,” Carlos said.
“Maybe they did,” Fiero said. “Maybe they did.”
The lion opened his mouth wide and clamped his teeth down on Meecham’s head. He picked him up and dragged what was left of him into the bushes to finish his meal in private. The Valdez men and their soldiers lingered for another minute, staring through the fence and into the night. Then they all turned and headed back to their cars in the big empty parking lot. Driving away, they all passed the big green sign at the exit.
WE HOPE YOU HAD FUN AT THE BRONZ ZOO
COME BACK SOON!
Chapter 37
Friendship
Khost, Afghanistan
FOB Lone Wolf
After the taking of the Al Badir the weapons and prisoners were off loaded and the ship sunk. The cache was impressive
and the inventory of sophisticated land mines, detonators, IED’s, RPG’s, mortars, sniper rifles, machine guns, ammo and advanced communications gear had been kept out of enemy hands. Everything was carefully photographed and placed on disc. The disc, along with a scripted video recorded message from John describing how he and a handful of Valdez soldiers had captured the weapons and killed the crew, was placed in the right hands to make its way to Aziz. The response from Aziz Khan came back sooner than expected and the meeting was set.
“Keep pushing! Keep pushing!” Bunny shouted.
John’s whole body was shaking. He struggled up time and time again, willing himself to finish.
“Forty eight, forty nine, fifty! Great job, Johnny.”
John rolled over on his back, sucking wind and trying to recover from the insane workout that began at sunrise with a five mile run and concluded with five hundred sit ups and ten sets of fifty pushups.
“Dude, you’re killing me. We’re gonna be too tired to fight.”
“Keeping you razor sharp, man.”
“More like wearing me down to a dull blade. I’m hitting the showers.”
“Hey, we’re not done.”
“I am. I sent Maria an e-mail yesterday to let her know we were okay and I could tell from her response that something’s wrong.”
“What she say?”
“It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said it. It might be nothing, but I’m going to call her after I clean up just to make sure,” John said. He dried himself off with an extra tee shirt and headed back to the barracks. Unsure of what to do, Bunny hung back for a moment, then jogged after him to catch up.
“Hey Johnny. Hold up.”
“What’s up Bun?”
“I… uh… man, I just don’t know how to say this.”
“You know you can tell me anything man.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Dude, you’re talking, but what’s coming out of your mouth don’t make sense.”
Bunny was struggling. He didn’t know how to tell John that Gonzalo was in a coma. Before he could say anything else they saw two of their wounded Team Razor pals making their way towards them. Sergeants Brian Ilchuck and Jimmy Waters called out on the way over. They had both been shot the week before when the team got ambushed in Khost. Ilchuck’s arm was in a sling and Waters was walking with crutches.
