The Other Side of Bad (The Tucker Novels)

by R. O. Barton

  That isn’t uncommon at the gun range, when they spin a target around and the picture is holding a gun. You often instinctively shoot the first thing you see . . . the gun.

  Long hair was starting to moan. Middle man was still sitting on his butt, leaning against the bloodied wall. He was looking at me in shock, literally, he was in shock. His body had just taken two rounds from a .45 in the shoulder, and I would be surprised if his shoulder wasn’t shattered. His pistol was on the floor between his feet. It might as well have been a mile away.

  I didn’t look at the big Mexican.

  “Before I kill you, tell me why you killed my friends,” Robby said to Teemo.

  I had no intentions of letting Robby kill Teemo, but at this time, I didn’t have any good ideas on how to stop him. I also knew about that paved road to hell.

  “I no keel you amigos, I no keel!” Teemo screamed.

  Robby had his .45 up under Teemo’s chin, pushing his head back with it. His finger was on the trigger; it was cocked with the safety off. In the rage he was in, he could easily accidentally shoot him.

  Teemo was totally freaked.

  “You’re a fuckin’ liar!” Robby screamed back. “Why’d you do it, you greedy bastard? Weren’t you making enough money?”

  I had to do something. I remembered Robby saying this was a new contact for Teemo, and how earlier, they said the pot was different. Was that tonight? It seemed like days ago.

  “Hold it, Robby. Don’t shoot him yet,” I said, trying to sound matter of factly. Like he could shoot him later and I wouldn’t care.

  “What’s up?” he said, still holding the pistol hard under Teemo’s chin.

  I couldn’t see Phil, but knew he was behind me.

  I was covering the twins with my .45. It still bothered me how unafraid they were. They were just too cool. Then the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.

  “Phil, cover the front door with that shotgun!” I yelled over my shoulder. Then pointing my gun at the twins, I said, “You tell whoever is out there not to come in. Do it now.”

  They looked at me like they didn’t understand. I knew they did. For one thing; I had seen their eyes tighten when Robby said he was going to kill Teemo. For another; Teemo didn’t try to translate what I had just said. I believed he was so afraid, he would have done anything to prolong his life.

  The twins were standing so close together their shoulders were almost touching. I shot the wall between their heads, and the dried mud that exploded, showered them.

  They both started yelling in Spanish. They said the same thing at the same time, sounding like a Mexican Doublemint commercial. They were definitely twins.

  Robby, realizing there may still be some danger, backed off from Teemo, giving himself maneuverability space.

  “I’ve got the front covered,” Phil said behind me.

  “Robby,” I said, “keep ‘em covered.”

  Putting my pistol down the front of my pants, I walked over to the closest pile of bricks and pulled one off the top. I went back to the table, set it down, took out my pocket knife, cut it open, broke out a fist full and dumped it on the table.

  I stepped back and said, “Robby, check this out and tell me if it is about the same quality you’ve been getting.”

  While he was doing that, I kept my eyes on the twins . . . and Teemo.

  Teemo was leaning against the table with his back to the twins. When Robby picked up the pot and looked at it and smelled it, Teemo slowly turned his head around to look at the twins. They barely shook their heads. If only one had done it I might not have noticed. I saw that being twins had its disadvantages as well as its advantages.

  Robby said, “This is much better grass than we’ve been getting.”

  “Didn’t you tell me Teemo said he had a new connection?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, it looks like he was telling the truth about that. Maybe he’s telling the truth about not hijacking your buddies.”

  “Es verdad, Tucker,” Teemo said, trembling.

  “How you figure?” Robby said.

  “I tell you how I figure,” I said, turning and looking around at all the pot. I pulled my gun out and when I did, the twins looked like two Dobermans on alert.

  I waved my gun at all the bricks and said, “This is a huge operation. Whoever owns all this,” I looked at the twins, “doesn’t need to hijack a couple of armed men and shoot them up to steal for money. That’s a risky business. On the other hand, luring some stupid gringos down to Mexico, getting them lost, making them think everything is cool and just taking their money, well, that sounds much easier and much less risky. Gringos so stupid, they send down other gringos who are so stupid they get hijacked, killed and lose their money.”

  The twin on the right, couldn’t suppress a slight smile. The one on the left was expressionless. He would be the boss.

  “There’s not much to respect…respeto, about that is there? No respect, no trust, not good business,” I said for the twins’ benefit.

  “I don’t know, Tucker,” Robby said. “I don’t know if I buy that.”

  “Let me ask you something,” I said to Robby.

  “What?”

  “You want to walk outside first?”

  That got his attention.

  “We can take Teemo as a hostage,” he said.

  “I don’t know about you, but I have no idea how many guns are out there waiting for us. I also don’t know where they are, out there in the dark.”

  Robby aimed his gun at Teemo’s head and said, “How many greasers out there? How many guns?”

  Teemo’s first reaction was to look over his shoulder at the twins. He stopped himself, but the intention was there.

  “Robby.” I said, “I think you’re talking to the wrong man.”

  “Tucker!” Phil said loudly. “I think there’s someone outside the front door.”

  “Shoot whoever comes through it, and I’ll shoot . . .” I aimed my .45 at the twin on the left and said, “como se llamas?”

  “Armando,” he said in perfect English.

  “And I’ll shoot Armando here,” I said.

  Armando yelled something in rapid Spanish. I caught a few words… a lo sumo…something about the outside. The meaning was clear, stay outside.

  Robby looked over at me and said, “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I believe these handsome twins here, well, all this pot belongs to them, and Armando here, he’s the jefe, the boss.”

  Armando looked at me and smiled, his teeth showing up white and even.

  “Okay, so we use him as a hostage,” Robby said, moving around the table towards the twins.

  “I may have a better idea,” I said.

  Robby stopped and looked back at me, his eyebrows raised. We stood like that for a few seconds.

  He said, “Let’s hear it.”

  “First of all, let’s all just relax a little, back off and take a breath.”

  In the silence that followed, long-hair began to moan.

  Oh great.

  I turned my head so I could see Phil. He was leaning easily against a wall of bricks, where he could see down the marijuana hallway to his left or into the makeshift room where we were.

  For the first time, I saw a stool with a cowhide seat next to a short stack of bricks on my left. I put my gun in the back of my pants. I walked over, picked it up, brought it back to the table and sat it down across from the chair on the other side.

  The light had stopped swinging, and the dust was starting to settle. The blood odor was stronger, like a dirty copper penny held close to my nose.

  I remembered reading somewhere that Mexicans, most of all, admired and respected bravery, courage. So, I figured I had better get on with this façade before the shakes set in and I wet my pants.

  I motioned to the chair and said, “Armando, would you like to sit?” I smiled and tried to sound polite, and unafraid. Then I motioned with my hand and said, “Of course, you can
put your hands down. You and your brother, I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

  “Tom’as,” said the other twin, speaking for the first time.

  “Thank you, Senor Tucker, I believe?” Armando said.

  “That’s correct.” I said. I’ve read enough to know how to sound proper.

  After Armando sat down, I sat down on the stool.

  Armando smiled handsomely and said, “I believe your shirt is no longer good, Mister Tucker.” He nodded down to my right side.

  I looked down and there was a hole about the size of a dime in the tail of my shirt, made by buckshot. I pulled the shirt out to get a better look and revealed two more identical holes. I remembered the odd picture of a child pulling on my shirt, trying to get my attention.

  “You are very quick, Senor Tucker,” he said, “and very lucky.”

  “Lucky?” I said. “Look at my shirt.”

  His laughter was genuine. Then he looked over his right shoulder at the three men laying on the floor, then back at me, and said, “You are right, Mr. Tucker, I have no respect for someone who cannot protect themselves or their investment…or me.”

  Losing his smile, he said, “We have made a costly mistake. We underestimated you and your friends. We thought you would be, like you said, stupid. You are not.”

  “Where the fuck’s this going, Tucker?” Robby said impatiently.

  Without taking my eyes from Armando’s, I said, “Give it a chance, Robby.”

  Armando smiled like a gambler with an ace up his sleeve.

  “We’re not lost,” I said.

  His ‘ace in the hole’ smile slowly faded. He looked over at Teemo, who shrugged.

  “Don‘t blame him, he did his best. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying we could find our way back here, but we made sure we could find our way back to Texas.”

  He looked at me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. He nodded. He believed me.

  “What do you propose to do now, Senor Tucker?”

  I looked around the room and said, “You’re in the marijuana business, right?”

  He too looked around the room and said, “Yes, I am in the marijuana business.”

  “Well, we’ve got money and you’ve got marijuana.”

  “Your fuckin’ with me, right?” Robby said.

  I glanced over at Robby and said, “What do you want to do, Robby? Kill everybody and load up the trailer and go home? Then what? What about the next time your boss or whoever runs this operation wants you to make another run, what are you going to do then?”

  He didn’t have anything to say about that.

  Across the room, Phil said, “Let him talk, Robby.”

  “What about the guys outside?” Robby asked. “What are we going to do about them?”

  I stared at Armando and said, “I think the men on the floor were his best guns, and I’ll bet the men outside would be perfect for loading the trailer.”

  Armando chuckled and said, “Balls.”

  Balls?

  “I believe that’s how you say it in English, no?” Armando laughed.

  I looked over at Teemo.

  He reached down between his legs and held his hands like he was holding two softballs, heavy softballs.

  “The next time we do business, we would like for it to be like before, you bring it to the hotel and we load it up . . . like tomatoes.”

  Armando looked at Teemo. Teemo spat out some more rapid Spanish. When he was through, Armando looked back at me, then at Robby, nodded and said, “Si, muy grande balls.”

  I wasn’t sure if he had agreed to what I’d asked, so I continued to stare at him.

  “It will be as you say,” he said.

  “For the same price,” I said.

  He slapped the table with his right hand and laughed.

  His quick movement almost got him shot. Robby was still holding his gun on them. He didn’t seem to notice, but I didn’t think he missed much.

  “Next deal, same price, then we talk,” he said.

  I said, “We left the Bronco running. Please have your men bring it around and they can load the trailer.”

  Armando looked at Teemo and nodded.

  Teemo started to move towards the back door on my right, stopped and looked at me.

  I shook my head and pointed towards the front door.

  “We’ll just sit here and chat with Armando and Tom’as.”

  Teemo walked to the front door, said something, then walked outside.

  Robby came over to stand close to me.

  I looked over Armando’s shoulder and said, “If you want to help your wounded…go ahead.”

  “They are no longer useful,” he said.

  “I think I like this guy,” Robby said, with a wicked grin.

  Armando looked at Robby, who was still holding his gun and said, “Senor Robby, the gun is no longer necessary. We all know each other…now.”

  After a small hesitation, Robby put his gun in his pants. It didn’t go unnoticed that it was in easy reach.

  There had only been two more Mexicans outside. They looked more like farmers than drug dealers. They loaded the trailer.

  While they did, we learned that Armando and Tom’as’ surname was Miranda and they were from Mexico City. They had no problem revealing themselves in this way. They either trusted us, or they were going to kill us before we left Mexico. It was hard for me to decide which. Thirty minutes later the trailer was loaded, and we were ready to go.

  It was unsettling that the wounded men were still laying on the floor unattended. The one that Robby had shot was groaning loudly. He was gut shot. If he didn’t get to a hospital soon, he would die. He might die anyway. No one seemed to care.

  We were about ready to leave. Armando and I were standing alone, by the open back door on the left, the trailer just to the outside.

  Armando was standing very close to me when he said in an intimate tone, “Teemo tells me you are a killer of men. You killed the men who dishonored your sister. The judge sends you to jail where you kill more men.”

  To say anything at all would just add to the lie. So, I didn’t say anything.

  “You are very quick with your pistol, a real pistolero, as we say in Mexico (it sounded like mayheeco). I find it odd you kill no one here today, Senor Tucker.”

  “I’m pretty quick, but I’m a terrible shot,” I said.

  He shook his head and said, “I think maybe you are a very good shot, and maybe you were not afraid for your life.”

  I’d have to think about that.

  “Is there anything else you require?” he asked.

  I had been thinking about the men I had to shoot tonight, the man who Phil killed, and I felt the early stages of deep anger welling up. I had not signed on for this. It was supposed to be easy, a sure thing, no sweat and all that. I was supposed to help guard against hijackers, and they may still be out there, waiting.

  “Yeah,” I said, “there is.”

  He stood there waiting.

  “Have one of your men load up 50 more kilos.”

  He stiffened and said, “I beg your pardon.”

  “I said, have your men load up fifty kilo’s.”

  “And why would I do that?” he asked, with a small amount of amusement, very small.

  “Let’s call it ‘an underestimating and troublesome fee’, and, it would make me feel better,” I said, then pointed at the men and body laying on the floor. “About the extra work I had to do.”

  He never took his eyes off me.

  “Chollo,” he yelled out the door. Then he spoke so fast, I barely heard the one word I was looking for, ‘cincuenta’, but hear it I did.

  One of the farmers came in and after two more trips, the extra 50 kilos were loaded.

  We were ready to leave. I felt confident we could find our way back, well, maybe not totally confident.

  “Mister Tucker,” he said in flawless, accentless, English, “it is to my benefit that you get back to Texas (it sounded like
Tehas) safely. I would not like you to be detained by the Mexican police, you know my name. I would also like to do more business with you. I believe you are a man of honor.”

  I knew he was going somewhere, I just didn’t know the destination.

  He looked at his watch and said, “I don’t know in what way you assured yourselves that you could get back, but , I must assure you that time is of the essence.”

  I believed him.

  “What are you suggesting, Mr. Miranda?”

  This seemed to please him.

  “I would like Teemo to go with you, to show you a faster way. You have my word that you have nothing to fear from me.

  “I don’t fear anything from you,” I said. I needed to keep up the front of the bad ass.

  He laughed and said, “Of course, but, please accept this gesture. It is to our mutual advantage.”

  Robby, Tom’as and Teemo had come up beside the door as we had been talking.

  Robby said, “What was that last two loads all about? I thought we were through.”

  Armando Miranda and I looked at one another.

  “A gift,” I said, “to us, from Mr. Miranda.”

  Armando looked at the three newcomers and said, “A gift that Mr. Tucker negotiated for.”

  Then he put his arm around Teemo and said, “But I have offered a gift of my own. Teemo, I would like you to ride with the gringos. Show them the shortcut. Make sure they make it to the river on time, comprende’?”

  Teemo’s demeanor remained tranquil.

  “Si, jefe,” he said.

  “That’s not what we talked about, Tucker,” Robby said.

  “Yeah, well, nothing about this night has been what we talked about, has it?” I said to him.

  “Do you trust him?” Robby asked, pointing at Armando Miranda with his chin.

  “No, I don’t trust him, but I believe him when he says we need to hurry. I think we can find our way back, but I think it will be slow going.”

  “Why do we need to hurry?” Robby asked.

  Teemo was looking at Armando for acquiescence.

  Armando nodded.

  “The reever,” Teemo said, “the reever is rising.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a hollow spot in the pit of my stomach.

  Armando sighed and said, “They close the dam, the Falcon Dam. Every night when the weather cools, they close the dam. In the late morning when it gets hot, they open it. For the turbines. The air conditioners in the gringos’ homes uses much electricity.”