A Knife in the Chest

by Michael Douglas Carlin

A few days later, Lobo is on the ground grappling with a vaquero. Lobo has the vaquero’s arms pulled back and the man’s face is in the dirt. Lobo, “easy now, Cabron, I’m gunna remember this later and if I get my pretty face cut up, it won’t go good for you.”

Angel has his gun drawn and looks like he is going to shoot through Lobo to kill the man. Thinking better of it he comes up and pistol whips the vaquero in the head. Blood is everywhere but the blow did the trick. The man is out like a light.

“Angel, are you turning over a new leaf? I thought you would kill him.”

“Naugh, este, normally I would have just shot him right through you…but with the new Comandante coming in I didn’t want to have to explain why we are two men short.”

Lobo is waiting to see if this is a joke, but it is no joke so he is back to business, “what was he trying to say?”

La Tortuga, “something about his shirt pocket.”

“I won’t let him go for less than ten grand. He can’t have that in his shirt pocket.”

“Maybe he thought we could take credit cards.” The man has been handcuffed and is still bleeding. Lobo reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a decal with the familiar insignia of the Bengal tiger. “I guess he didn’t have time to put it on his van.”

“How much you want to get from him?”

“That was before I knew he was untouchable. I guess we will have to get our money from them.” La Tortuga looks over where there are three men in the back seat of the other car. They are stuffed in there and on top of the hood are a few guns, and a hundred small packages of what appear to be drugs. The prisoners are watching the Federales “Angel’s worried about the new Comondante, I don’t want Hector Garcia Salazar on my ass.”

“You mean you don’t want his tiger on your ass.”

“No shit, huh, I’ll never get used to seeing him walk around with a full grown tiger in Downtown Juarez.”

La Tortuga is looking at the sticker, “I have never seen one of these that isn’t attached to a windshield. Who could blame us for taking him down? And this sticker might come in handy someday soon.”

Angel nods in approval as he unhand cuffs the Vaquero and rolls him over. With a smooth movement he stabs him in the chest.

“I think those guys saw you kill him.”

“That was the point. We have had an offer of fifteen to let all three go. How much will they offer now?”

“I say fifty minimum.”

“Minimum! Seventy-five or a hundred and we make them give us the money by dawn.”

“Este, we can’t let them all go. We need something for the newspapers.”

“With the weight in the van we have a few hundred kilos for the newspapers. We just find someone to attach to the drugs and we have a housewarming gift for the new Comandante.”

The three cars drive off. All three prisoners are in the back of a single car driving in the middle. The van has been left with the dead Vaquero. There is also a pick-up nearby that belonged to the three prisoners but there is nothing in the bed, it has all been removed and packed in the other cars.

In the early morning the three cars pull up in front of a small Juarez cafe. The three men get out, no one else is around and the three prisoners are no longer in the cars.

La Tortuga, “not a bad night’s work!”

Lobo, “a hundred-seventy-five in cash and the packages.”

Angel, “And you were going to settle for fifteen. Funny how the more real they feel it is; the more cash they seem to be able to get their hands on.”

“The blade of a knife in the chest of a man brings a whole lot of reality to the situation.”

“Oh, that? My bad! But just in case that was a mistake let’s sit on this for a day or two and listen to what we hear from Salazar’s Exotic Zoo. Nothing, so far, has happened that we can’t fix with drugs and money.”

© 2000 – 2013 Keylite PSI. All rights reserved.

Life as a Mexican Federale

By Michael Douglas Carlin

There is a party over at the club. The who’s who of the power structure in Juarez is hanging out tonight. The bouncer at the door is dressed in civilian clothes but he is here protecting the interests of the Mexican Government and he has been assigned to his task by his chain of command in the Military. His job tonight is to make sure that none of the competing interests can get their guns inside. A survey of the room would be misleading because there are plenty of guns inside. Loaded revolvers, assault rifles, and machine guns lying around amidst the cocaine, marijuana, and booze that keeps the party roaring.

Lobo is a Federales who is frequently trusted with tremendous responsibility. Today he and the new guy, Gaspar, transported a shipment of millions of dollars that they deposited on a plane bound for Mexico City. Gaspar was full of questions. Lobo explained that the cold hard cash had been collected from the various merchants involved in illegal activities that can only exist under the protection of the Mexican Government. That protection comes with a price and every single official, including Lobo has received their taste of this money before they packed the suitcases that are now on their way to Mexico City. Gaspar was wide eyed when he got an envelope with ten one-hundred dollar bills.

Lobo asks Gaspar to wait in the car. He walks into the club and the bouncer acknowledges that Lobo is recognized and not subject to search. He has earned respect from his time as a Federales as well as his previous assignment in the Mexican State Police. Lobo comes with a reputation as a man who can be trusted to carry out orders and get things done. Juan “La Tortuga” has been here for a while, hanging out with Angel Robels Gonzales who is known as a crazy, stone cold, killer. 

“Ready for a road trip? Calderoni wants us to execute some warrants.”
“Andale Pues”

The four men are all in the car. The ride south is slightly tense because executing warrants can be tricky. The process is a gamble at best. It might be smooth sailing or it might be an outright gun battle.

Gaspar breaks the silence, “La Tortuga, what should we know about these warrants?”

“You should be ready for anything.”

“Who are we going after?”

Angel looks over, “Gaspar, you ask too many questions. Lobo is down for whatever. La Tortuga has his shell. He pulls his head in. He doesn’t hear anything. He moves slowly but deliberately.”

Juan chimes in, “what kind of a name is Gaspar anyway? We have to come up with a name for you on this trip.”

“Carnal, turn up here past that house, to the left.”

“Down that dirt road?” Gaspar can’t help himself, “who are we gunna find out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Again with the questions," as Angel shoots a glance.

Juan breaks the tension, “naugh, the warrants are for another time, we are gunna meet some people out here.”

They pull up to a group standing out in the middle of nowhere. Two vans, a fuel truck, a pick-up truck with a generator in tow all have stickers on their windshields that have an Bengal tiger insignia. The generator is on idle when the four climb out of the vehicle armed to the teeth with AK-47’s and back up pistols holstered. The generator is cranked up and lights are switched on. The dirt becomes a landing strip. The lights are on for only a few minutes before a plane touches down. Hundreds of kilos of cocaine are unloaded into the vans, the fuel truck refuels the plane and within a few minutes the lights are once again lit and the plane is back up in the air. This is a well-oiled machine because all of this happened in fifteen minutes, tops.

Gaspar asks, “where are we taking this?”

While Angel shakes his head he turns with a single fluid movement and shoots a few rounds from his AK that hit Gaspar, “I figured out your name… Metiche!” Everyone there hears this and watches Gaspar as he struggles to breathe but no one says a word and no one offers to help him.

The lights have been collected and everybody is loaded into their vehicles. The fuel truck and the pickup turn south but the vans turn north toward Juarez with their Federales escort. There will be no one stopping this shipment at any of the checkpoints. Gaspar is left behind in the field. The bullets didn’t kill him, curiosity did. His death will not be investigated. What would be the point? Everyone there who was an eyewitness to this murder will never speak directly about it. They were not really there, they didn't see a thing, and they don't remember anything. If they ever mention this it will only be to confirm what everybody in Mexico already knows; this is what happens to people who ask too many questions - especially the wrong questions.

© 2000 – 2013 Keylite PSI. All rights reserved.