The Fixer Page 7

  "Where are you going?"

  "I can take care of this."

  "Sure you can, but we’re a team."

  "Right,” she replied sarcastically. "I need you to provide cover in case things go wrong. You know, with the gun."

  Trying not to reveal his embarrassment, he nodded and she was on her way. He felt as if he wanted to protect her, but was not sure why. She was more than capable by herself, and they had only just met.

  Creeping ever so slowly, she moved to within 20-yards. Keeping low to the ground, she looked through the pallets and could see the men still holding their position. One dropped his cigarette and his left leg twisted to put it out. Time was short. She needed to make the move.

  Reaching into her shirt she found the strap of her bra. Rolling it to the side she pulled out a small 4-inch-long tube that was not much more than a swizzle stick.

  Patting the back of the tube two small darts felt into her hand. Removing the dart caps, she loaded one into the tube. Staying low to the ground she took aim at the man on the right. She took a deep breath, making sure not to have the tube in her mouth as she did, having heard far too many stories of people sucking in their own poisonous darts. The quick thrust of air and the dart rushed through the air, going through the man's pants and causing him to smack his leg like he was stung by a bee.

  Wasting no time another dart was loaded and fired off, causing the same reaction from the second man.

  Before the men could realize what was happening they had dropped to the ground unconscious from the rush of chemicals that entered their systems.

  Falau moved forward when given the signal to move up, seeing the two men lying on the ground. "Dead?" he questioned, staring at the bodies as they lay on the ground.

  "No, just gone to sleep for the next 12 hours to wake up with a hell of a headache."

  Not wasting time with more chit chat with Falau, Carla made her way over to the bodies and grabbed one by the shirt, and dragged it behind the pallets. Falau helped her, once he realized what she was doing.

  "Take their badges,” she demanded

  "Got it."

  With the bodies hidden under a stack of pallets and new security credentials, the partners felt more comfortable walking in the open. The loading door was now shut and the only way into the building was the main entrance. Trying to conceal themselves, the couple kept close to the building so as not to look out of place. The closer they got to the entrance the more they allowed themselves to be seen. Now walking with purpose, the two were acting like they were in charge of the operation at the warehouse.

  Stopping at the guard shack at the entrance of the warehouse, a young man sat inside listening to a baseball game in Spanish.

  "ID?" he questioned, not looking away from the paperwork that sat on his desk.

  Pulling the badge on the lanyard up, the man waved them through, barely glancing their way.

  "Go ahead,” he mumbled

  Carla and Falau entered the operation with a smile. They both felt the same way. We are in!

  Chapter 15

  THE WAREHOUSE SPREAD out wide and high. Falau felt it looked more like an aircraft hangar than the inside of a warehouse. The ceiling approached 40-feet, making the main area easily able to house stacks of cars or boats. The facility was alive with activity that showed no indication of the time of day. They ran the same way 24 hours a day.

  The floor stretched out far to the right and left, and in each direction there were rows of products waiting to be moved into the next location. At the front of the aisle was a sign indicating the company that owned that space.

  Seeing others wearing a badge the same as the ones they had on, Carla watched them question people about what was happening and then move on.

  "We hit the jackpot," she said, walking with an air of confidence.

  "Why?" asked Falau.

  "The badges were for inspectors. They think we are here to look at the merchandise going in and out."

  Falau nodded his head without changing his expression. He knew the inspector badge was a major advantage but also knew it would not ensure they get to The Butcher or secure him for transport.

  Spotting a worker who had stepped in and spoke with The Butcher at the front gate, Falau nudged Carla, showing her what he had seen but not saying a word.

  The worker made his way over to the sign that said, "Jetway International". Soon he vanished out of sight down the opening that had products stacked 20-feet high on each side.

  "Exporters. Figures," remarked Carla. “Now... how do they do it? You have to hide the drugs, but in what?"

  "Anything they can get their hands on."

  The two started to walk over to the Jet International location, trying to exude a sense that they were in charge of what was happening. With their heads held high, they looked about as if they were examining everything. It was clear that a conversation with the examiners was not a good thing for the workers, and could only lead to trouble for anyone of the companies operating on the warehouse.

  "Jetway International is a legitimate company. They have been around since I was a kid. The company set up here in Colombia for the cheap labor, and then ship everything back to the States, Canada and Europe. I wonder if the management is in on what's happening with the drug operation?"

  Falau stopped and went over to a box whose label said it held children's toys. He popped the top off the box and pulled out a baby doll and looked it over. "My guess is that they know what they are doing. I'm sure The Butcher has intimidated them to the point that they let him do whatever he wants. They keep their mouths closed, or they and their families die."

  Carla rolled her eyes knowing Falau was right. The Butcher would not give up any amount of money when he could just kill–or threaten to kill–and get the same results.

  As they strolled down the aisle, they saw a staggering range of products to be shipped by Jetway International. They moved everything from coffins to toys, from baby products to prosthetic limbs. Falau could envisage a way in which any of the products could be used to move drugs, and with such a large quantity of merchandise being shipped they could parcel out the drugs in small amounts over a vast number of concealed items.

  "Hey! What you are doing down here? This is personnel only!" barked an overweight Colombian no more than 40-years-old. The man could not have been more average in any way. His height, complexion, and even mustache did not stand out. He did not break stride until he was within a foot of the couple.

  "You two need to get out of here, right now. This is a personnel area only!" declared the man, pointing the opposite direction.

  "Inspection," Falau said coldly, not making eye contact with the man but pointing to the badge that hung from his shirt. "We need to check you guys, just like every other company in the facility. Today we got stuck with you. Let's make the best of things."

  "You guys must be new. We don't get inspected much. My bosses worked it out that everything gets inspected early so we can ship faster,” replied the worker, trying to explain the arrangements without divulging too much information.

  "That's not what we were told," Carla interjected.

  "Hey lady!" said the worker. "I'm talking to the man."

  Falau looked out the corner of his eyes to see the red rise up on Carla's cheeks. The worker had lit the fuse to a time bomb and he didn't even know it. Falau wanted to smile but instead he held his tongue and waited for the show to start.

  "Excuse me? What did you say?" the feisty woman started with a hard edge to her words. "You listen to me. I can make your life a living hell. I can make your team unpack every single box, and you will have to layout each item so I can inspect them all personally. I can hold off everything that you have a shipment for, and put it all in quarantine for 30 days. How would your boss like that? How'd you like it if I tell him you were not following procedure and decided to insult an inspector? My guess is he wouldn't be happy. I swear to you that if you do not start giving me the respect I deserve, that my
team and I will climb up your ass and inspect every inch of this place and we will shut you down for any of the smallest infractions."

  The worker's eyes widened and he took a step back away from the woman, who had suddenly become uncomfortably close. "Hey, I'm just doing what the boss tells me to. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you."

  "You should've thought about that before,” she snapped, turning and walking away.

  "You may want to update your resume," said Falau to the worker with the sternest look he could muster.

  "Hey man. I need this job. I have a wife and kids. If I get fired she is going to kill me,” pleaded the worker. Falau glanced down at him with rolling eyes.

  "I'll see what I can do. She gets hot headed, but to tell you the truth I don't want to spend the next 12-hours going over all your shipments. Just lay low and I will take care of it and get her to relax."

  "No problem. Just let me know if you need anything,” replied the worker as he walked in the opposite direction back to the main floor.

  Falau moved down the aisle quickly to reach Carla and found her paused at an open coffin on the side of the aisle.

  "This is how they do it. They pack the drugs in the coffins. These are military coffins, and they have a false bottom. They put the drugs in with the dead serviceman. Nobody in customs would disturb a deceased military member. They take the drugs out of the funeral home when they get the soldier back. You can ship into any of the countries and no one will say a thing. I heard stories about them doing this years ago."

  Leaning over the coffin she ran her hand on the bottom and pushed hard. A small panel opened where the deceased person's right foot would have rested. The sick contraption used for drug smuggling caused the young woman to stare blankly into it. A hand awkwardly rested on her shoulder to comfort her. Falau gave her all the comfort he dared show, unsure of how much was too much.

  "That must be the office up there,” he said gingerly while pointing further down the aisle. A set of wooden steps ran up to a door. "He's in there. Perfect place to make our move."

  Carla nodded and she walked with quiet confidence to the steps and ascended them quickly. She knocked on the door, standing two vigilant steps to the side for fear of a burst of gunfire coming raking through the door. But the only thing they heard was a voice that said, "Come in."

  Pushing open the door Falau saw two men sitting at a desk reviewing stacks of files and looking worn down from the task.

  "Excuse me. We are the inspectors. Is Mr. Mallarino available?" asked Falau, attempting to sound official.

  "Sorry, you just missed him. He went home but he should be back around 10am tomorrow. You want to leave a message?"

  "No need. We just wanted to let him know that the inspection went fine and he could continue as he always has. We will send in a copy of the night’s report for his files."

  They backed out of the room and down the steps. Moving with purpose they made their way to the front of the warehouse to see The Butcher pulling out of the gate in his car. Knowing there was no way they could take him down now the couple strolled towards the main gates watching The Butcher’s tail lights disappearing down the main street and into the distance.

  Chapter 16

  DROPPING INTO THE DRIVER’S seat, Carla turned the key to bring the car to life.

  "Go! Go! Go!" Falau yelled.

  The car screeched from the curb and raced up the street, taking a hard-right turn without slowing down. Falau was pleased to have Carla behind the wheel. She was the one who had far more skill when it came to this kind of driving.

  Pulling the .45 caliber pistol from his waistband he checked the magazine to make sure it was full. "Hand me your 9mm," demanded Falau

  "It's on my ankle. Just grab it."

  Reaching down, Falau lifted the young woman's pant leg and spotted the gun. Taking it from its holster his hand accidentally rubbed against her skin, reminding him how long it'd been since he felt the softness of a woman.

  Opening the magazine, he saw it was filled. He popped it back in and loaded one round in the chamber. Going to the glove compartment he pulled out another magazine, quickly packing one for the 9mm and one for the 45.

  "Shit, Carla!" squawked Falau as the car screeched to a harsh stop, but then noticed her eyes were locked on the car in front of them.

  "It's him,” she said in a calm, soft voice. "He's looking at me in the rearview mirror."

  "Change the radio station. Play cool. Look natural."

  Carla reached for the radio as the stop light turned green. The Butcher’s car pulled away with his eyes still locked on her in the rearview mirror.

  "I don’t like this."

  "The gas. Pump it a little. Like you’re drunk."

  The car lurched forward, then settled down as they followed their target from a safe distance. "It's not like he's even looking at the road,” she said, a trace of fear in her voice for the first time since she and Falau had met. "His eyes are locked on the mirror, looking right at us. He must know."

  "He’s on high alert but he has no idea we’re after him. Unless the two guys in the office called him." Falau punched the dashboard in frustration for not taking more time and care to deal with the office men.

  The Butcher’s car slowed at a stop light as they pulled up behind. Carla ran her hand through her hair and attempted to look like she was joking with her friend, but all the while she could see the madman looking back examining her. The hum of the motors was the only thing breaking the silence in the crisp air of the night.

  The light changed to green and The Butcher pulled away slowly, still looking back at their car.

  Carla followed. "He knows. I can see it in his eyes. He’s checking out everything I do."

  "Calm down. No need to jump the gun with a guy like this. Let him make the first move,” replied Falau. Falau could feel himself starting to work off instinct. His skills with this kind of work were coming back to life, and for the first time in years he felt sure of himself and sure of what he was doing.

  The Butcher slowly pulled away from them again.

  "Hold steady on his speed. Let him pull away."

  10, 15, 25, and now 30-feet ahead, The Butcher edged his car up to the next stop light that turned from green to yellow. He hit the intersection when it turned red and punched the gas, jerking the car forward. The sound of the engine kicking in ripped back to the couple, who saw the taillights suddenly racing into the distance as a red light stared them in the face.

  "Fuck it! Go!" screamed Falau.

  Pounding the gas Carla pushed the car into high gear, bursting through the traffic coming from the left and the right. Seeing The Butcher two blocks ahead and turning right, she saw the chance to make up time, pushing the car up to 80 miles an hour on the narrow side streets. Stomping on the clutch she dropped the car into third gear and took the corner, hard trying not to fishtail. Tires screeching hard, she had gained on The Butcher.

  The sheer power of Carla’s Mustang made up the ground and she was suddenly within two car lengths of the madman, who was again looking in his rearview mirror at her.

  Falau pulled the .45 from his waistband and opened his window.

  "Don't kill him!" Carla demanded looking at Falau and reaching out her arm to grab his shirt.

  With her attention on Falau and off from the car in front of her The Butcher saw his opportunity and jammed on his brakes, causing his car to skid.

  Carla's eyes darted back to the killer to see the blinding red tail lights shining in her face. Both her feet jammed the brakes hard into the floor, causing her own car to skid, but the momentum was too much and the car crashed into the back of The Butcher’s vehicle with a horrendous crunch. Carla spun the wheel looking for any way to control their car, that had totally spun out, pushing them from the road and up onto the sidewalk.

  Falau's hand moved his head after banging it hard against the dashboard, cracking the .45 handgun into his skull. Blood dripped from a cut above his hairline and he fel
t an immediate headache coming on. He was sure it was a concussion, but he had no time to worry about that now.

  A sharp pounding sensation hit his mind hard. It’s your fault. You killed me, echoed through his mind with flashes of his old love covered in blood and looking up at him from the well of the passenger seat.

  The Butcher’s car lurched to life again after bouncing off a tree and he raced up another block and drove through a gate and up a driveway. The sound of the engine roaring up the long driveway could be heard in the distance and the two pursuers tried to pull themselves together.

  "It's now or never. Our cover is blown,” said Falau as Carla pulled the car to the side of the road.

  Wiping her hand against her mouth she inspected the blood from the now missing tooth. "I can't promise you I won't kill the son of a bitch."

  "I know,” replied big man, "and I understand. But if I get him I am going to bring him back."

  The beautiful woman nodded her head in agreement. "Fair enough. Let's get him."

  Chapter 17

  BURSTING FROM THE CAR the partners targeted the fence of The Butcher’s home. Their feet smacked off the ground as they worked their way to the destination for very different reasons. No matter if it was for revenge or money, they both had just one thing in mind, and that was capturing the madman who had turned killing and intimidation to an art form.

  The fence of The Butcher's house was large and made of stone, thus easy to climb with many foot holes and grips for the hands. It was built more for aesthetic value than to keep anyone in or out. Falau crouched down and interlaced his fingers so his partner could slip her foot into them quickly to get a solid boost up the wall. He pushed her up with rapid speed, surprised at how light she was.

  Dropping to her stomach on the flat top of the wall she reached down, giving her new friend a hand and helped him up. Falau took her hand quickly, seeing her as an equal in this endeavor. Gender meant nothing to him now. She was his teammate, and despite her femininity it all left his mind now they were both in attack mode. Carla was the same in every way to him, and he felt he’d never had a finer partner in his life. It was clear to him that anything he could do, she could do just as well. At least that’s what he hoped.