Snakes and Angels

by Nikki Pink

  “He left without you?”

  “What? No. He was there. The sheriff had already called me a taxi though.”

  “Did you see the news?”

  “I told you, I was at the sheriff’s office.”

  She was already switching on the television before I’d even replied. I sighed as the news came on.

  “…the murdered men were all thought to be members of a criminal gang, but fears are that this horrifying scene is the result of Mexican cartel activity. So far cartel atrocities have mostly been confined to Mexico, but authorities think this may be an indication that Mexico’s brutal drug war is spilling over the border…”

  I looked at Lucy who’s eyes were shining. “What’s this?”

  She lowered her voice as if someone might be listening. Who knows, maybe they were. “It was them, last night.”

  “What?” I thought my brain wasn’t working right. I was confused. The news report was about Mexican cartels or something.

  “It was them. They tricked them into thinking it was a Mexican cartel hit!”

  I shook my head, trying to understand. Giving up on the idea of hiding under my covers, I slumped down onto the sofa instead.

  I watched as the news report showed an interview with a man who’d been tied up by the “Mexicans”. He claimed to have recognized the accent as being from the region of his home town. It turned out several other pieces of evidence linking the assault to cartels south of the border had turned up, but investigators would not release precise details just yet.

  Watching the reports of the brutal slaying had a curious effect on me. At first it just washed over me, like any other crime. But as the cleverness of the attack was revealed to me I began to feel something else. Pride. The way they had managed to avenge Brodie and convince the investigators that it was a rival Mexican gang was impressive. And I was a part of that.

  No wonder the sheriff hadn’t pressed her on the issue of last night. He “knew” it wasn’t the Sons. So what was that all about?

  Lucy sat beside me and squeezed my arm. “Don’t feel bad okay? They deserved it.”

  “I don’t feel bad.”

  “Not even a little bit?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  She rubbed my shoulder and I could see the concern in her eyes. “Is there something else?”

  “The sheriff…” My words trailed off.

  “The sheriff what?”

  “Nothing.” I needed time to think things through. I knew I wouldn’t get much of a chance to do that in our room. “I’m going to the library. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow.”

  Lucy let out a sigh. “Yeah. And finals are soon.”

  I nodded. I’d been neglecting my studies the last couple of weeks. Every time I’d tried to sit down to study I’d found my mind wondering away from accounting or whatever I was studying at the moment to… other things. Motorcycles. Leather. Men. Jase. My notes invariably trailed off into doodles of motorcycles or tattoo designs.

  I pulled myself off the sofa and grabbed a couple of books off my desk. “Later.”

  “Later.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jase

  Jase sighed as he pressed the button to end the call. She hadn’t answered. Again.

  “Everything okay, brother?” asked Bottle.

  “Fine. You about ready to do this?”

  “Si, jefe.”

  Jase laughed. It always seemed incongruous to hear Bottle speaking in Spanish. For most of the decade he’d known him Jase had had no idea that Bottle was a native speaker of two languages. A skill that had become remarkably useful of late.

  Bottle’s parents were hippies who’d fled to Mexico so his father could avoid the Vietnam war draft. Later, Bottle was born and he ended up growing up with two native languages - English at home, and Spanish at school and outside.

  “Let’s go.”

  The two men headed towards the panel van. Motorcycles would not do for today’s work. Hanging out of Bottle’s pocket Jase could see the ski mask he’d use to disguise his face. Their biker tats were covered by long sleeve shirts today. Bottle was already wearing gloves to cover the tattoos on his hands and the ski mask would hide the teardrops on his face.

  Jase tried to put thoughts of Nicole out of his mind, but they still nagged at him. What the fuck did the sheriff do?

  Bottle pulled open the rear door of the van and got in the back. Jase would be driving alone up front today. He fastened his seatbelt and pulled his cap low over his eyes. The windows had a slight tint to them which would make it hard for anyone to recognize him, especially in the heat of the moment.

  Unlike their last plan this one was simpler; at least this stage of it. But if everything went well they’d be able to drop themselves at the top of the local distribution network their previous rivals had created. That way they’d be able to get rid of all the product the Koreans would be shipping them and turn a good profit. Enough to hire a hotshot lawyer to get Bigfella out.

  As they set off Jase pushed in the tape that was sticking out of the radio. A familiar riff filled the cabin. Oh shit. They had to get ready for the show soon too. Lonnie’s friend who’s band had recently struck it big on both sides of the pond were coming soon and Jase had to sort out the security arrangements for their shows in the southwest. How the fuck are we going to manage all that while doing this dealing shit and our regular commitments. Fuck.

  When they got to town Jase drove around slowly, looking for what they needed.

  “Perfect.” Jase turned down the music and banged on the partition. “Yo! When I slam on the brakes, it’s go time!”

  Bottle hammered on the partition in acknowledgement.

  Ahead a scruffy looking Mexican kid was stumbling down the road. Drunk, high, it didn’t matter. He’d have what they need. Jase lined up the truck and headed for him. He didn’t speed up suddenly or do anything rash; he didn’t want him to have any warning.

  The kid didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was stumbling in his happy daze, the next he was whacked on the back of the head by the truck’s mirror and sent sprawling to the ground.

  At the moment of impact Jase slammed on the brakes, a little too hard as it turned out.

  “Shit!” The yell was accompanied by a thump as Bottle was thrown to the floor of the back of the van.

  Jase grinned to himself. “Oops.” The back doors opened and then Bottle was there, grabbing the dazed Mexican kid and dragging him to the back of the van.

  Bottle wasn’t a big guy but he moved the kid with ease. He was all skin and bones.

  “Hey!”

  As Jase heard Bottle climb into the back of the van he saw a figure running towards them. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.

  A woman in her early-twenties was running towards them screaming something in Spanish. The only words Jase caught were hermano, and madre, and while the reference to brother seemed to be about the guy being dragged into the back, ‘mother’ seemed to be tied to an insult. Jase could guess what it was.

  Hurry up Bottle. The woman was running fast. She was almost to the van when Jase heard Bottle crash into the partition. He’d obviously yanked the guy hard into the back and flung himself backward in the process.

  Jase hit the gas and swung to the left as the woman ran toward them. They quickly passed her and Jase saw her trailing them in the side mirror. As she grew smaller in the mirror behind them he heard the back doors finally swing shut with a clunk. In the mirror Jase watched the irate young woman screaming and wailing as they left her behind. He saw her drop to her knees and felt a small pang of guilt at her distress. It’s a shame when civilians have to get involved.

  They headed a little way out of town to park up. It was time for Bottle to do his job now and extract some information from the man in the back.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later Jase heard the back doors open and soon Bottle was opening the passenger door.

  “He ain’t going anywhere. I told
him if he ran he’d get the bumper instead of the mirror next time.” Bottle’s voice was low so that it wouldn’t carry through the partition. They didn’t want the guy in the back to hear them speaking in English.

  “Learn anything?”

  “Yep. The guy we want is called Carlos. Apparently he was some up-and-coming thug. A mean motherfucker. When we wiped those fuckers out he declared himself in charge and no one’s fucked with him yet. We better get to him before someone else does.”

  Jase nodded. It seemed like Bottle’s audacious plan to steal the entire Mexican drug distribution network actually had a chance of succeeding.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Doctor

  Where the fuck are you? He glanced down at his cell phone. He should have been here… fuck… in two minutes time.

  On the floor below him were two body bags. He’d wrestled the useless junkies into them days before, but there was no way he was going to bury them himself. Digging graves, even shallow ones, is hard work.

  From outside he heard a distant rumbling which rapidly increased in volume. Finally. He reached down to his pocket and pulled out his small voice recorder, setting it to record. The device stopped recording when there was silence, but when any sound was present it would record everything.

  Eag raised his head in greeting when he entered, before frowning at the two bodies on the floor. “Where we gonna put them?”

  “Out back. I figure we drag ‘em a hundred, two hundred, yards. Off our land.”

  Eag nodded. “What happened to them anyway?”

  He shrugged. “They didn’t make it.”

  “I can see that.”

  He reached down and grabbed the end of one of the thick black bags. Eag did the same. He didn’t look happy. Good. Keep bitching.

  They made their way outside, not speaking as they dragged their awkward loads. The bags bounced over rocks and stones as they dragged them away from the warehouse into the empty land beyond. The Doctor grinned as he sensed the head in his bag thump over a particularly large rock. Stupid junkies.

  The men were sweaty when Doc called a halt. “This’ll do. Go get the picks and shovels.”

  Eag wiped the sweat from his brow and stood panting.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you go get them? Why’ve I gotta do everything?”

  Because you’re my bitch. “What do you mean you do everything? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  Eag looked incredulous. “What the fuck? I hired these asshole junkies. I was the one who scalped that corpse. Fuck, it was me who shot those goddamn Mexican assholes. What the fuck did you do, Doc?”

  Perfect, asshole, perfect. “Hey I’m the brains of this operation.”

  Eag rolled his eyes. “Some fuckin’ brains. Brodie got whacked. Didn’t plan on that did you?”

  Didn’t I, dumbfuck? “Yeah well. Sorry about that. You gotta’ crack a few heads to make an omelet. Think of the money Eag. Soon all our financial problems will be over.”

  He shook his head. “Man, if I’d known it was going to go like this…”

  Pussy. “You sound as bad as Jase. ‘Wah wah, I don’t want to sell drugs, wah wah, my friend died’”

  Eag did not look amused by the impression. “He whacked that entire Mexican gang, Doc.”

  “Yeah well, even pussies scratch if you pull their tail.”

  Eag shook his head as if in disbelief. “What are we gonna’ do about that anyway? Jase and T-Bone aren’t dropping the shit about Bigfella being framed.”

  The Doctor grinned at Eag. “They aren’t gonna find out shit. And anyway, I got these useless fucks,” he nodded towards the body bags, “to say some pretty interesting things. Things which will throw them right off the scent.”

  “Good. We’re not going to lose any more guys, right?”

  “Nope.” We ain’t ‘losing’ shit. Everything is deliberate you dumb fuck. “Come on let’s get those shovels.”

  “Okay let’s get this over with.” Eag seemed somewhat happier now the Doctor was going to help with the grunt work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nicole

  I sat in the library, my books propped in front of me, completely immersed in not studying. Finals were coming up soon and I had four papers to do by the end of the semester but they barely registered in my mind. All I could think about was the club, Jase, motorcycles, and death. The death of Brodie, the deaths of the unknown Mexicans.

  My accounting professor had taken me aside after class the day before.

  “Look Nicole,” he’d said, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re going to have to get it together. You were heading to graduate cum laude. But the last couple of weeks you’ve really let yourself slip. I want you to pass this class, I really do, but you’re going to have to help me here.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’ll focus. I promise.” I’d told him.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he’d asked.

  I’d let a wry smile begin to form on my lips before I realized what was happening. He’d raised his eyebrows at me before I managed to blurt out, “No. There’s nothing. I’ve just had some things on my mind, that’s all. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

  “Alright then. Remember I’m here to help, if you need anything…” His look was earnest as his voice trailed off and I knew he meant it. But what could he do? What could he have done those last couple of weeks? Nothing. Nothing unless he’d stopped me meeting Jase. And who could have predicted that?

  I eyed the pile of books in front of me, but found my eye drawn to my silent cell phone sitting next to them instead. I tapped the button and its bright screen came to life. Three missed calls. I sighed. I had to speak to him soon, but not yet. I needed to sort through things in my own mind first.

  I let my eyes close and before I knew it I was back on that motorcycle. I’d always had a strong imagination, but just recently it had started to run away from me. Perhaps it was the sudden introduction of so much excitement into my life. It was a shock to my system I suppose.

  My arms are wrapped around him as we sail down an empty highway. My ears are filled with the growl of the engine and the rush of wind as we whip by the desolate landscape. The sun is setting and I lose myself in the motion as I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in the now so familiar scent of leather and musk and mint and man. The bike vibrates under me, through me and I squeeze his leg to let him know I’m there. I’m always there. The bike’s vibrations suddenly get louder.

  I blinked and opened my eyes. The screen of my phone was lit up with another incoming call as it buzzed on the desk in front of me; despite being on ‘silent’ it still made a lot of noise as it shook on the wooden desk in front of me. I looked at the screen. This time it wasn’t Jase, it wasn’t Lucy, and it wasn’t a classmate.

  Sheriff Perez. I’d dully input his number into my phone from his business card the other evening while lying on my bed lost in thought. Why? I don’t know. I hadn’t intended to call him, but then again my phone was full of dozens of numbers I never called or received calls from. A pizza shop in Phoenix from a road trip, an ex-boyfriend’s mother I’d never even met, a shop I’d applied for a part-time job in but never heard back from. ‘Friends’ I hadn’t spoken to in years. Dozens of them. I never deleted numbers, just kept adding them, just in case.

  What does he want? I was going to ignore it, but I wanted to go outside to clear my head. Then I could get back to studying. Or, rather, start studying.

  I clutched the vibrating device as I made my way outside. The girl at the desk next to me gave me an annoyed look as I left. So-rry I thought but didn’t say.

  “Hello?” I answered. I never knew how to answer in situations like this - was I supposed to acknowledge I knew who it was? Or pretend I had no idea who was calling?

  “Hello Nicole. It’s Sheriff Perez here. How have you been?”

  “Fine.” What do you want?

  “I need to speak to you about
something. Can I pick you up in thirty minutes?”

  “I — What ab—”

  “I’ll be at the front gate.”

  “Okay bu—”

  “See you then.”

  What the hell. He’d hung up before I could form a coherent sentence. What does he want?

  I sighed and went inside to grab my books. I looked a wreck. I needed to go back to my room and brush my hair at least, maybe change out of the ugly t-shirt I was wearing too. I’ll hit the books later.

  ***

  We sat across from each other in a booth at the Hamilton Family Diner. I’d spent many happy mornings here with Lucy and other friends (often met that night and soon forgotten), feeding ourselves with eggs and bacon and coffee after a night of partying and no sleep.

  That all seemed so far away now. Innocent memories of a time and a person I’d left behind

  I sipped a coffee, still unclear as to what I was doing there. I hoped it wasn’t about Jase. But of course it was, albeit indirectly.

  “I wanted to apologize for the other day, at the station.”

  I ran my fingers around the rim of my cup. Sorry huh? A small glow burned in my stomach, not from the hot drink but from a feeling of satisfaction at having this ‘big’ man apologizing to me.

  “I was rude.”

  “You called me a prostitute.”

  “I was caught up in the moment. You saw the news, you know what happened. I thought you might have been involved in some way.”

  Bullshit. If you thought I was linked to it how come you’d let everyone else go by then? “Uhuh.”

  He sighed. “I lost the case you know.”

  Down the back of your sofa? “Lost it?”

  “Yep. Happened in my backyard and now I’m not allowed near it.” He looked disappointed. More than that, he looked defeated, as if he’d had something very precious forever taken away.

  Good. “Why?”

  “First the FBI came. Then ATF. Now Homeland Security. Federal fuckers all want a piece.” He shook his head. “Sorry,” he said as he realized he’d cursed.