Chapter 21 - Snap - Part II
The fox hunt is pretty basic on its face. I have my little hand held frequency counter. It has a 10-bar signal strength meter. I have a T-shaped antenna I made for it, a little dipole. Its all that's required for any foxhunt. My frequency counter is a higher end one, it will save events. When locked on one frequency like now, it will record the transmissions it picks up if they break one bar. I don't mean save the transmission itself, like a recording? But, it saves the length and signal strength.
So over a short period of time, I see myself raising the signal strength steadily. I simply pull over periodically, and swing the T-shaped antenna around, until the signal dips or lowers in strength. When I got close, I took the antenna off. Another shitty little town somewhere. The city is about 45 minutes away, depending on what way you take and what your luck is. An hour to the city from here? Quite routine.
This shitty little town is about 20 minutes towards the city, that end of the county. I've located them, and I'm a short distance away. They're on some kind of a stakeout. This is like last time, I'm just here earlier. With no home base cross talk, once they get into one vehicle my transmissions ended.
If I think I have a chance to hit them? I will, and hard. I'll follow through. If I don't? I can wait until next time, or even eventually decide which one to take out would have the greatest effect. Here, clearly the female. She might not be the leader in terms of the team hierarchy and her job? She's the leader when it comes to hitting a drug dealer, taking the drugs and money, and she delivers it to her higher ups in the family.
Exactly what her arrangement with these other two guys even is? I'll never know. But its clearly something. For her to simply pay them out of the take? They could all take even splits. Why do they need her permission and supervision. Much less, turning over the majority of everything to her and her claims. She might have impressed them with knowing the infamous local crime family. Being just distantly enough related she was off all radar as being one. Close enough though, that she was connected.
Maybe they... I could do this all night, and it wouldn't amount to a hill of beans. Supposing. On the other hand though. What I'm about to do, if I see my chance. Direct action. That, matters. Now that? Counts for something. I was prepared to wait for a while, and I did. Finally, they got out of the car and were huddled up. Looking around and talking low. Two of them set off, and the third stayed at the driver's seat. A wheel man, a lookout.
Perfect. I waited for them to go off, and him to get settled in. At my first opportunity? I simply walked up the sidewalk next to the vehicle. The side of the road he was on, the direction he was facing... put him in the driver's seat right at me walking up my sidewalk out of the dark. From all outward appearances, I'm wearing an oversize hooded sweatshirt. I acted fast, all at once. Sudden, but harmless. Just a Joe Six-pack coming home from... whatever.
One moment, he's on lookout. The next? I'm suddenly there, wiggling my cellphone at him.
"My battery's dead. Do you have the time? I just need the time, thanks... I gotta be home, before my girlfriend gets home from her late shift. You know? If she's already there, I gotta go somewhere all night, till she leaves for work in the morning."
He grinned, and nodded. Thirty year old guy, to thirty year old guy. Yeah, I'll help you get away with your night of debauchery. His attention went down and to the side, to grab his own cell phone up and tell this harmless guy the time, so he'd leave. And that, was all the time it took.
When his head turned towards the location of the cell phone? I had been standing right at the window he buzzed down to talk to me. My hands were in my pockets. Walking. Well, that was from all outwards appearances. In reality, I had my hand on my gun inside my sweatshirt. I had cut out and hemmed up inside the pockets. So reaching inside the pockets, was all access. When his attention wandered for the cell phone? I simply pulled my hand out of my pocket with an impossibly big object in it. An object clearly way too big for the pocket which had room for only my hand. It was a low level one trick magic act.
Just as his attention wandered back to me, with my hands in my pockets? He was looking down the barrel of my final choice 10mm automatic. I hadn't wanted to go with a Glock? But the popularity of Glocks overall led to an aftermarket accessory. Basically, it was a drop in "button" high on the butt end of your gun. You could go full auto, or regular semi automatic mode. Press of a button. I had practiced with one, and found I could quickly develop and maintain a three shot burp. Sometimes two, sometimes four, but generally three.
At close ranges? It was devastating. With three 40 caliber balls going out per shot, that was six to twelve holes in nearby targets with an average of nine.
Caught unaware and dead to rights, it froze him to be caught on the end of my gun suddenly. With my gun held at waist height, I'm naturally aiming right at about his neck. My burp saw three shots hit almost all on his neck from this close in. I'm not in contact, but damn close. My silencer works better than perfect in my estimation. The noise of a stray round ball hitting the passenger's window is way more noise than the gun itself. I can hear the clacking of the mechanism working, to a muted puff of forced air.
I stepped back and a little out of his immediate range. I must have hit his spine a bit. He was trying to spasm, and seemed like he could barely do so. He finally slumped down and over the center console within seconds. I had both approached from, then receded back into? The police safety zone. The cone that the vertical bar on the driver's door gives you. Even if he could get his hand on his gun and get a wild shot off? It would be just that... a wild shot.
I stood in the highway patrolman's patented safety spot to conduct the traffic stop from, then stepped back into the relative safety as he jerked around and expired. I verified his pulse was gone, and carefully. When I was satisfied, I took a look around. No one was raising any alarm. No lights going on, no busybodies pointing and shouting.
I walked off in the direction they had taken.
I had seen the street they turned to walk down. The lookout was around the corner from where they were headed. I paused at the edge of the corner, and came around slowly. Maybe, I could make out one or more people standing up there. This late at night? What were the odds. I slowly started making my way down the block, towards where I had seen dark motion.
When I got close, I got wary. I stood in shadows as much as possible, and avoided the cones of light, again as much as possible. With a big dark hooded sweatshirt on. Way oversize. Ball cap and hood drinking my face in. I now have to locate the right house. I'm super close, too. I thought maybe I heard noise coming from one. I took a couple steps and was on the porch. An old cement porch that had admittedly seen much better days, it was solid and quiet to walk on. A blessing compared to what an old wooden porch deck would do.
The talking or whatever the mild noise I heard was, seemed to be coming from further in than the door I was in front of. I hazarded a touch of the knob, through my leather gloves. Unlocked? Yes. I eased a tiny crack. No explosion of noise. Sounded like maybe music or TV, or both. I stepped inside, ready to exit at the drop of a hat. I'm not above backing off, and hitting a fall back point. I could post up at the car, quite comfortably. My first surprise shot? Puts me one on one with the lone survivor, with momentum and surprise going my way.
I'm just seeing where I am right now, in case I can pinch this off. Press my advantage quick. The female with one of the males had come up here. I'm looking at his back, at the nearby kitchen table. I can hear the TV and music and whatever else upstairs. Its not party noise, just people home and not sleeping noise. I burped nine holes on his back. I watched fruit in a wicker basket in the center of the table? Some exploded, leaving applesauce and textured goo fly around haphazardly.
I could hear talking now, and above the low music or TV noises. I already know for a fact, that I got the right house. I'm not above some collateral damage if need be, but I'd rather not. I'm winging it. I have to move the kitchen body, to back off and take her alone after coming out. I get caught in the middle of that with my pants down? I don't like that possibility, and it can happen. I decided I'm this far in, and there's nothing at my back. I quietly walked upstairs. With all the noise, I figured they wouldn't be registering "stair noises" like in a silent house.
I went around to the rooms with no noise, and found nothing. Only that one room, and I took it to be probably the master bedroom. Cheap old townhouse. Two little square rooms downstairs, steps up to the upstairs two little square bedrooms. The painfully small bathroom cubicle carved out between the two upstairs bedrooms. The door to the only occupied room wasn't closed, but it was a sliver. I could hear voices being raised. Arguing.
It sounded like her and only one other person. I eased the crack a couple inches. Her back to me, someone she had sitting at a desk. Their back to me as well. From the way they were reacting? She had a gun on them. The TV and the music covered my easing of the rest of the door. She started to turn her head to see what her peripheral vision had registered, when I stuck the barrel of the silencer to her neck. She froze solid, instantly. Like some spell in a kid's cartoon.
I grabbed her gun and eased her off to the side. Her harangue she had been giving this guy? Had ended with my entry. He hazarded a glance to see what had stopped her from berating him, and saw that was me. He was about to say something. I had been moving her with pressure of the gun up against her neck. I now had her facing away from him. I fired. The only reason I hadn't fired earlier? I didn't want to hit the homeowner or whoever the hell this was.
His head snapped right back around, and he no longer sought to look at me. Her neck and throat exploded with a triple hiss and click and clack. She twitched at her hands and feet, everything else was oddly still. I don't know. Nicking that spine with those close neck shots, I guess.
"Hey, man. I didn't get no good look at you, I didn't see nothing."
"I'm not here for you. I was here for her. And her crew."
"Bitch was straight robbing my ass, man!"
"I was following them. They weren't just going to rob you. The last place they hit like this? Couple people dead."
"Man, I'm guessing you got the other one. Downstairs."
"Yeah. And the one down around the end of the block. I capped his ass, right in their own car they came in."
"Hey, man. Did you save my ass, just to cap me yourself? I mean, what the hell would the point be, right?"
"If you don't do anything stupid? I'm about to walk right out of here. With you still breathing? Fine by me. As far as I know you."
"Hey. We ain't got no problem. Right?"
I contacted him with my gun. He froze immediately.
"How could we have a problem. We never met. Right?"
"We never met. Nope, nope, nope."
"When they ask you. Who did this? What are you going to say."
"Didn't really get that far, to be wondering about that one yet, to tell you the truth. One thing at a time. Unless, you have a suggestion."
"Some black guy. When they press you for a description? You need something to describe, or it'll be obvious to them, that you're full of shit. Just imagine some famous black actor or rapper. Describe them."
"All right. I can do that. I don't need you coming back."
I pushed in a little with the pressure of the gun on him.
"What's your story, anyways."
"Hey man, I ain't a bad guy, you know?"
"Like I know that. What went on here. Short story."
"Someone, spoke for someone, she gets an appointment with me. Now, way I do business? There's me. I don't want a dozen monkeys hanging around. Next thing you know? Someone does something. So I do business myself. I prefer, to do business with someone else, the same way. She brought her partner. It was her was that got spoken for. Not him. He can wait in the kitchen, me and her came upstairs to talk."
"I'm guessing, you didn't talk about the weather."
"Man... she's talking ten keys. Ten! Not one key? Ten keys."
"She says, I want ten kilos. And you say..."
"Man, show me some cash. Bitch ain't showing me any cash. Enough for one key? Or ten. Now. Ordinarily? I'm a polite and decent man, to do that business with, you understand. But on account of her not showing any cash, and talking about way more than was discussed, when she was spoken for? Yeah, I gave her some rough lip. Show me some cash, bitch. Then? We can put some show on that road, you know."
"First time you met her."
"No. Second time. And before you ask? I'll tell you the truth, man. She was fine, last time. Someone spoke for her. We met. Here. She said, one key. We set a date. Here we are. Everything was going great? When she starts talking ten keys, and ain't got the cash showing on the first key. I give rough lip, she pulls her gun on me. We say this, we say that? Here comes you, man."
"So. Not being rude, at all. You, are... just the ordinary drug dealer, then. Or a snitch, too? Whatever."
"Hey, hey. If y'all ain't gonna shoot G? Then don't go all over town, telling anyone I'm no snitch, man. You don't have to take my word for it. Ask about anyone. What about G. I give you love, man. I don't want none, if it ain't mine. I'm a businessman. I buy something? In bulk, man. I sell it? In little packages. I ain't out to hurt anybody, man. So, am I a drug dealer? Hell yeah. But, I ain't no snitch, man. Along come this crazy white bitch."
"I got no problem. With a garden variety, drug dealer. One question."
"Sure, man."
"How much, was the one kilo deal for. Originally."
"45 a key, up here. I had a key ready for her. I was ready for her? To show me 45 big ones."
"Now. One more thing. And you notice? I don't even care what your name is. I want you, to show me? What she was going to get. If she capped your ass. Then her buddy downstairs, and her buddy outside brings the car around the corner comes and helps... what would they have hauled out of here."
"Hey, you want some tax, man? Its fine."
I pushed the barrel of the gun into his neck a little more firm. To punctuate what I said next.
"I don't want any. You, can keep your drugs. And? Your money. I'm not here for that. I already got? What I came for. Concentrate. What I want to verify? Is what she would have gotten, had I not stopped her. You, show me? What she could make you... open the safe on."
He showed me the one key he had waiting for her. It was waiting under a blanket, right in plain view. She just hadn't produced cash, to get it showing. He took me to basically a stout wooden box, that contained, what. Maybe 16 kilos of cocaine.
"If I wanted all of your milk money? How much would she have made off with. Show me. Tell me."
I was shown a sizable green rectangle, that he claimed was just above or just below... around half a million. So, her and her crew would have walked out of here. With half a million in cash, give or take. With her kilo of coke, if she bothered to look under the blanket before tossing the place. The wooden box under the bed, would net them another additional perhaps 16 kilos of the same. Half a million, and 17 of something they can get 45 grand each for. Quite a nice little haul.
If this time period between both of these hits is representative of the average, if this haul is representative of the average haul. Based on those admittedly very rough estimates? This bitch is spearheading a scam that nets, what. Every three months it looks like right this second... my cellphone tells me that 17 times 45 thousand is 765 thousand in kilos of coke, give or take any market changes. Plus 500 grand? Over 1.2 million.
Based on these wild ass but substantiated guesstimates? Three months between activities at the moment. This is the one activity I walked in on. I'm guessing, what. 4.8 million a year coming in, raw. Between drugs and money. No telling now, with all three dead. What their share was supposed to be. Shit. I was thinking, that a hundred thousand would be a "substantial" size deal to put the ice water on. I was tickled pick on that count.
My new friend here, who was quiet and polite. Smiled a lot. I suggested whether he wanted to let the garbage lay where it was and call it in or let people find it on their own? Or, did he want an extra set of hands. Take out the garbage quietly. We both help? We both trust each other. No names.
He liked my idea. I suppose the fact I had a gun in my hands and had used it for his benefit once, did its part to sway his judgment. When we dragged her ass downstairs together, ankles and shoulders? He had the further benefit of seeing the guy slumped over the table. We stacked both near the door, in the living room. He lived alone in this tiny townhouse, and his girlfriend wasn't due until tomorrow. Maybe 5'6". Maybe 140, 150 pounds. Half or maybe three quarters white. Other half or quarter? Hispanic, maybe. Maybe that part's Hispanic and Black, can't tell and furthermore don't care.
I get the impression that he's trying to keep his shit together, until he can get away from you know who scaring the shit out him with my all too calm solo performance. I calmly suggest he take a little stroll with me, down and we get the car. We glanced around, nothing going on. We tossed the slumped over driver, into the trunk. Many hands make for light work. I had my thin leather gloves on. Made out of calf skin, they're advertised to be cop search and pat down gloves. They brag, you can feel a dime through the gloves. And really, they are like a second skin, minutes after you first slide them on. Think really luxurious and high end golfing gloves, well fitted and soft? You're on the right track, right there.
I sat him in the car, in the front passenger seat for the ever so short ride back? Like he was my date.
"I have gloves on. Don't touch anything, and you don't have anything to wipe off."
I let him out of the car. Again like my date, opening the door so he didn't have to touch anything. I parked right in front of his little battered cheap townhouse still sturdy and standing. We were soon standing over the lady and her kitchen buddy, both knowing full well what was in the trunk outside, making three. I took the lead in the brief conversation.
"Just so you know. These three? County Mounties. County? Drug task force. They're obviously, dirty as hell. Here..."
I stopped and brought up a picture making the rounds on the internet. A frank photo of the crime scene carnage in a drug shooting. I showed him.
"I know you have nothing but my word for it, but. I seem kind of serious, right? I'm telling you. This? Is three months ago. This county, other end of it. I was outside. These three? Did this..."
I was stabbing at his phone, with my index finger. He nodded. What reason did I have to lie.
"My plan? If you want to leave them piled up outside, fine. Or... I figured we could park the three of them somewhere... out of the way? Where the car could burn, and no one would notice long enough for a getaway."
"If... they're county drug? They know they were here."
"No. They don't. They're not working. This isn't how they work? When they do work. I don't know who spoke for who, and why? But, here she is. You like the idea of taking them somewhere, and just setting the car on fire and walking away? I got my car not far from here. You know the area? I'll be right behind you. That way, you can drive the tainted car. Any cops that might happen to creep up behind us? They get my plate, I'll make sure they pull me over, by brake checking them. If we split up like that? We meet back here in front of the house, and try again. But I think we should be fine. Its the middle of the week."
With two of us, it didn't take long. We efficiently loaded these two into the back seat. One across the floor the other half across the seat the other way back across. Luggage. We tossed a blanket over them. He drove the object car and I followed him. We had no objectionable encounters, as he led me on a 30 minute or so long drive. Looked like an old rock quarry somewhere, on the edge of town out an old trail down the side of some railroad tracks.
By being in the middle of nowhere, we got to search them as well as I wanted to. For a woman lined up for a one kilo of cocaine buy, showing up suddenly talking about how ten keys need to get produced? She didn't have shit towards the first kilo, let alone any further ones. It was final proof to him? There was no way she was there as a legit customer. What were other options to ponder. If she could talk her way into supposedly ten kilos? She doesn't have to go looking for the rest of the stash, maybe. My story, looked even more plausible. They had some money on them, and granted a little more cash than would even seem appropriate to have on you. Couple grand off of all three of their pocket cash stashes all told. But with not a percentage of the buy money for the first kilo, demanding nine more... nothing but guns on them, and no cash... it was obvious how things were just about to go down.
I kept... three cop special badge case wallet combos. I found a USB thumb drive on the female, in her left front pants pocket. I kept all three cell phones, but took the batteries out of all three. We had an array of handguns off of all three and the car, and some extra clips. There was a shotgun ready to go in the backseat with the lookout wheel man on the job. If trouble reared its head, he was ready to swing around the block and start blasting with the 12 gauge. I donated the entire stack of cash, and the shotgun and all handguns and extra clips, to my new friend.
He donated at my suggestion looking around? A bottle of 145 proof rum. I used that to spark the inside of the car up. A half a gallon of super high proof rum, and a match do wonders. Once all the plastic that is the interior of a modern car melts and goes goo and stays afire like a comet? There's an intense hot fire that lasts quite a while. One in each front seat, the third across the back seat.
He was visibly nervous, and gulping. He smiled at me to try to cover it up. When I dropped him off, we shook hands and parted ways. He had been home alone when it had happened. I'm sure he was an even mixture of happy to see me intervene? And equally as happy to see me disappear again.
I'm unable to actually feel any particular emotion, as I drove back home. Yet, I can easily sense by analyzing things. I would be very happy indeed, if I could. Based on my estimates? I just shut down an almost 5 million dollar a year flow of cash into the overall criminal enterprise. To me? Her scam is looking something like this. As a county drug task force cop, when she runs across a lead on a live one? These three strike.
I suppose with her main family having once been into running drugs, and trying to make a comeback? I see them into it now. Maybe they bird-dog these hits. They deal in drugs, they could know when someone is due to be sitting on big resources, go get them. Either way though, they take, whatever it is they take. Then she seems to hand the rest over to the powers that be. The once big time family, now in tatters and back to small times. Her family. Her family, that has ties to the governor.
A governor with a reputation and a kilo of hot cocaine as a party favor. A governor with millions of secret dollars on demand, late in every election.
Maybe not this time around, though.
I might have put a stop to that for now.