At one cock fight, a man approached Juan and complained that another man had reneged on a bet. He wanted Juan to teach him a lesson. He offered him a thousand dollars as payment. Juan took the money. He cornered the accused man behind a barn. A fight ensued, soon knives came out. In the end, Juan killed the man. Within minutes, he was offered another contract to kill someone else. He suddenly realized he could make as much money as he wanted by becoming a contract killer. It was easy money. He liked that. He completed several contracts in Las Vegas and his reputation spread back into Mexico.
One day he received a phone call which changed his life. The call originated from a small city in Mexico. The caller offered Juan fifty-thousand U.S. dollars to eliminate one of the caller’s own men. The man had become too popular. The boss wanted him and his family to die. Juan quickly agreed and the reputation of “Matador”, or killer, was established.
Over the next seven years, he killed more than one hundred people and became rich along the way. He eventually hired a crew of five men to help. Being inherently lazy, he did the planning and they did the killing. They were the men with him today. The contract to kill the six people he was currently chasing was a huge one worth over six million dollars to him.
He saw the sign that would take them to the shuttle bus for the large car rental complex a few miles from the airport, but he ignored it.
Instead, he strolled out the door to the taxi line. He had already decided he could afford to hire extra help for this mission. He also wanted to spend a little time gambling. There was more than enough money to go around and he still had many contacts in the illegal community in Las Vegas. So, he decided to take advantage of his old friends. The killer known as Carlos liked to do things his way.
When he and his men piled into a van big enough for them, the frightened cab driver asked where they were going. When Juan told him, the man said he wouldn’t go there and asked them to leave his van.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The President of the United States stood at the podium in the main conference room of the Homeland Security building. Marlene Moore was stationed just to his right. Everyone in the audience was a top level manager in the organization. It included representatives from TSA, The Coast Guard, The Border Patrol, ICE, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement division, and every other division of the sprawling organization. There was a constant buzz in the room as the managers discussed what the President would say to them. No word had leaked out to anyone in the audience.
When he was ready the President began. “My, friends,” The President said as he attempted to be non-formal. “Today, I am here to announce that Paul Slezeck, for personal reasons, has resigned as the Director of Homeland Security.” He held up the signed resignation paper. “Paul has decided to retire after more than thirty years of continued government service. He has already left for parts unknown by me.” He paused to let that sink in.
“We wish him well in whatever endeavor his chooses,” The President lied with a straight face.
“But,” he continued with his finger pointed upward. “The business of government must go on. We must always be vigilant. Your organization needs a competent leader. Therefore, I am nominating Marlene Moore to take his position, effective immediately. You will now report to her, as of today. I expect her confirmation from Congress in the very near future.” The stunned audience began a polite applause, many managers were shocked, especially the Effort people in the room. It was actually a step down from a cabinet position Marlene currently held.
“This announcement will be made to the general public, in a news conference, scheduled for one half hour from now,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I will make the announcement from the front steps of this building and Marlene is required to be there. But until that time, she is here to answer any questions you have. Homeland Security is our largest and most critical agency. You,” the President pointed towards the audience, “are charged with protecting the people of this great country. Marlene is here to help you. Good Luck, my friends.” There was more applause. He held up his hands to quiet the group.
“And now let me introduce you to the new head of Homeland Security, Marlene Moore,” the President said dramatically.
He then waved to the crowd and headed off the podium to prepare for his news conference.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
By ignoring the rental car sign, Carlos was not changing his strategy; he was actually following the same strategy he always did whenever he was on assignment. Once he made a deal for a contract killing, he cut off any communications and any contact with the employer. He was always afraid the employer might be compromised, or would change their mind. Normally, he had his own transportation and weapons when he worked in Mexico, so it was never a problem, but in the United States, he needed both. Fortunately, when the hit was changed to Las Vegas, he knew where to go to fill his needs.
Once he agreed to a contract, the fate of the victim was inevitable. He never stopped until he completed the contract. His successful kills brought him honor and fueled his reputation. He needed to continue to build both. To Carlos, killing people was a business and he and his team were the best in the business. He had never failed. He had no intention of failing on this contract.
It took him nearly a half an hour to find a cabbie who would take him to his destination, the “Naked City”. Unlike other major cities, Las Vegas didn’t have huge ghettos, but there were several parts of town which were considered bad areas. The Naked City was one of them. It was located just west of the towering Stratosphere hotel and casino, on the north end of the Strip. The name, the Naked City, actually came from part of the past allure of Las Vegas. In the fifties and sixties, it was where the showgirls lived. On any given day, tourists would drive through the area to view the showgirls as they lounged by pools. Many sunbathed topless or even naked.
But in the last twenty years, the show girls moved out, and the cars that traveled through the area now were in search of drugs. The Naked City was not found on any map, it was a nickname, given by the local Las Vegans, decades ago. Cabbies never went there in the dark and most wouldn’t go there even in the day time.
The Hispanic cabbie agreed to take Carlos and his men near the small war-zone for an extra fifty dollars. His men piled into the cab. The cabbie asked Carlos if he had ever been to the area before and was not surprised when Carlos told him he used to live there.
“The area is under change, my friend,” the cabbie cheerfully announced.
“How’s that?” Carlos inquired.
“The land is prime real estate now. They are putting up high-rise condominiums all over the place. The Naked City is shrinking. If you want drugs, I can take you to a better place,” the enterprising cabbie told him.
“I’m not going to buy drugs. I’m going to see some old friends,” Carlos amiably replied knowing the cabbie understood he meant criminals. The cabbie was silent for the rest of the trip.
He dropped them off at the corner of Sahara and Industrial Boulevard. He sped away as fast as he could. Carlos took a few seconds to get oriented and then he began striding towards Tam Avenue, the heart of the mini-ghetto. He did not notice the non-descript sedan that pulled to the curb a block away.
The FBI team tasked with following Carlos had to adjust on the fly. They had not expected to be in the Naked City. The two, young, white men in the sedan felt exposed and decided they needed to be very careful. They were sure several eyes were watching them already. The four man FBI team was completely prepared for the plane carrying Carlos. They fully expected him to go to the car rental counter, but were taken by surprise when he changed plans. However, they were able to tail him because it took so long to find a cabbie to take them to the Naked City.
When they realized Carlos was headed for a Hispanic part of town, they radioed in for a couple of Latino watchers. Five minutes after they had parked, they were informed that a new team was on sight and were already watching Carlos. The young white FB
I men were truly relieved and left the area as fast as they could.
Carlos strolled down the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He suddenly turned into the yard of a dilapidated ranch house and went straight to the front door. As soon as he rang the doorbell, it opened. A large Hispanic man filled the doorway. He had scars all over his face, tattoos decorated his forearms. His eyes were glassy from recent drug use. He gave the visitors a menacing stare.
“Leave before I kill you,” he said instead of asking for a name.
“I am not easy to kill, Miguel,” Carlos replied laughing. The big man quickly recognized his former employer. He stood back and let them inside.
“What brings you to my humble business office, Juan?” Miguel asked.
“Today I am Carlos Mendez,” Carlos corrected him. “I’m in need of some of your services.”
“Well, in that case, let’s have a little tequila and talk about it,” Miguel said as he waved them towards two battered couches. “Maria, bring the bottle,” he yelled at an unseen woman in the back of the house.
Maria entered the living room in nothing but a bikini bottom and carrying a tray with a bottle of tequila and seven glasses. Carlos wondered how she knew to bring so many glasses, but lost his train of thought as she was followed by three other women all dressed the same as she was. They were above average looking and one was Asian.
“They were sunbathing in the back,” Miguel explained. He reached out and grabbed one of the girls, pulling her onto his lap. “They all work for me. Their shift on the street doesn’t start until eight o’clock this evening, in case you are interested.” Maria gave the men a forced smile.
“We need to talk in private,” Carlos replied even though his sexual desire was now growing. “Maybe after we talk,” he added.
“Very well…get lost,” he sternly said to the girls.
When they were alone, Carlos told him what he needed. “I want to hire ten of your best shooters. I also need guns for my men. We will need transportation for everyone. I will pay you top dollar, my friend,” Carlo smiled.
“This must be a large contract,” Miguel said as he tried to calculate how much to charge his old friend.
“We need to take out six people. They will be at a condominium in someplace called Summerlin. There may be several people around, so we need to prepare to kill several others. I don’t want anybody to be able to identify us.”
“Understood,” Miguel nodded. “When will this take place?”
“I want to watch the location tonight. We will need to set the best plan and we will need two of your people to do that. We go in tomorrow,” Carlos answered. “We would do it ourselves, but we have been traveling all day and need food and rest before we make the hit.”
“I see,” nodded Miguel. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“That’s no problem. We’ll walk up to the Stratosphere and stay there tonight,” Carlos replied.
“Ah, you want to do a little gambling perhaps,” Miguel answered knowingly. “But we had better drive you there.”
“Why?”
“This neighborhood is too dangerous to walk, even for you my friend,” Miguel said.
“Okay.”
Miguel studied his old friend for a few seconds then said. “My price will be four hundred thousand dollars,” he replied seriously. “I won’t even change you for the transportation. I’ll have a couple of my boys steal some cars tomorrow morning.
“I will have to go to the bank, but I will have half of the money for you tonight,” Carlos negotiated. “I’ll pay you the rest after the job is over.”
“You’ll pay me the rest tomorrow before the hit,” Miguel demanded.
“As you wish,” Carlos agreed. “Now how about bringing back your girls for a little entertainment?”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
In the sky, heading to Las Vegas, Mandy was having the time of her life. She purred like a kitten as she sat and talked with Banyon. He told her about his life and how he had gotten to be a “finder”, without revealing his secret. Mandy decided to say something, but was cut off.
At that moment, the pilot announced, “We are twenty minutes from landing. You need to fasten your seat belts.”
“We will be landing in a couple of minutes,” Banyon announced for them all to hear. “The hit men are very good and we need to start acting professionally right now. You two are here to protect us, starting doing that, immediately.”
Both women said, “yes, sir.”
Shortly, the plane landed and rolled up to a hanger. Banyon noticed a tall blonde woman in a black pants suit waiting by a black, Cadillac, Escalade. When he exited the plane, she walked over to him holding out her hand.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Rebecca Smith. I’m with the FBI. I was told to deliver this envelope to you and to offer you this FBI vehicle to use during your visit.”
Banyon shook her hand, grabbed the envelope, and opened it. It contained the pictures of all the hit men. The pictures had been taken at the car rental parking lot in Chicago. It also had all the information the FBI could obtain on each of the members. Bart had promised to have the information available when they landed in Las Vegas. He scanned it quickly and handed it to Eric. “Give it to the girls, when you are done.”
“Will do,” he responded as he began to look through the materials.
“Now, what do I need to know about this SUV?” Banyon asked Rebecca.
Smiling, she replied. “It is armored, has tires that can’t be shot out and is faster than anything in its class. There are a variety of guns and grenades in the back trunk as well. It is a rolling fortress.”
“Thanks, we will take you up on the vehicle,” he announced. She dropped the keys into his waiting hand.
“In addition, we have the hit team under surveillance. They are currently in the Naked City, if you know where that is?”
“I do,” replied Banyon.
“We also have a team of ten FBI agents in SWAT gear. They will be stationed near your house tonight,” she added.
“The hit team won’t attack tonight,” Banyon told her. “It will be tomorrow. But they will have people watching tonight.”
“How do you know this?” Rebecca asked in surprise.
“It’s how they operate,” he said to deflect the question.
“If you need anything, you call me,” Rebecca handed him a card. “I am available 24/7. We would really like to take these guys down.”
“My life depends on it,” Banyon retorted. Rebecca turned on her heel and strutted off the tarmac. Banyon turned back to the plane and saw Mandy hefting his bag to the Escalade. Heather and Eric were right behind. She was acting very professional. Thank God, finally, he thought.
“Want me to drive?” Eric asked.
“Yes, take Tropicana west,” Banyon said.
“Why?” Eric asked.
“We need to make a stop on the way to the house.” He then told the girls to select guns from the FBI stock and to leave their personal guns in the suitcases for now.
Heather sat in the front. Mandy and Banyon spread out in the middle seat. Banyon noticed the girls were on high alert.
“You watch left and I’ll watch right,” Heather yelled over the seat. Mandy suddenly didn’t seem to care about Banyon.
He was busy reading the file Rebecca had given him when he heard Mandy whisper in a frustrated voice. “Colt, I really wanted to become a member of the mile high club today.”
He ignored her and kept on reading as Eric traveled up Tropicana. Suddenly, he snapped his head up, “Eric pull in here.”
Eric turned into the parking lot and asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes I am,” Banyon replied to the shocked passengers in the SUV. They had pulled into the parking lot of a large supermarket-looking store. The marque said ‘Adult Entertainment Palace’. It was an adult video store.
Chapter Sixty
As they entered the front door, Banyon stopped them and said,
“I know what I need here, don’t get lost. We will only be a few minutes.” Both girls glanced at each other with a questioning look, but said nothing. They both then shrugged.
“I’ve never been in an adult video store,” Mandy suddenly announced just a clerk approached them.
“No children allowed. She has to be eighteen to enter,” he said formally and stood with his hands on his hips.
“Oh, poop,” Mandy whined. “Do something Daddy. We need some new toys.”
“Stop fooling around and show him your identification,” Banyon scolded. Mandy smiled showing her braces, but handed him her license. He scanned it and returned it to her with a suspicious look on his face.
“The identification looks like a fake to me,” he said.
“What do you want me to do, show you my boobs,” Mandy pouted.
“She is twenty-two. I can vouch for her,” Heather said quickly.
The man looked at Heather for a second. Soon something like a smile crossed his face. “As much as I would like to see her boobs, it’s against store policy. We’ll let it go today. You can enter the store.” he said.
“Can we look around now, Daddy?” Mandy said innocently. Under her breath, she said to Banyon, “he must be gay. Everyman wants to look at my boobs. Well, everyman except you.”
Banyon ignored her remark. “Well, go and look around, but keep an eye open for trouble,” Banyon said as he scanned the large interior. He and Loni had been to the store before. It had a large clothing section. Loni loved to dress up in sexy outfits for him. He had bought her several sexy outfits, less than a year ago, from this same store. They had walked the entire store; he knew where to look for his items.
A Dubious Position (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 7) Page 21
