deeply, like they were fine cigars. “I’m the demolitions expert ’round here,” he said to El Coyote.
“No, thank you,” Avery said as El Coyote offered him a nine-millimeter automatic pistol. “I’m trained in the deadly art of hand-to-hand combat, namely Monkey Style Kung Fu, but Filipino stick fighting is my specialty.”
“Take it. You don’t fight the cartels with sticks.” Avery accepted the pistol and tucked it in under the strap of his fanny pack.
“Now, then,” Avery began. “We’re not far from the farmhouse. Our first order of business is to eliminate their communications capabilities. I noticed a type of transponder while scouting for chupacabra signs. I’ll tackle that. Second, we’re going to need a diversion. General, I’m leaving that up to you and your men. Lastly, we need to locate Ziggy and Zulu. My bet is that they’re in the main building, but we better split up to be sure. For the main house, Mr. Coyote and the stripper will come with me…” A devastating punch to his liver sent Avery crashing to the ground.
“For your information, I’m an exotic dancer, not a stripper, you fat, ugly bastard.” Esmeralda stood with her hands on her hips.
“My bad,” Avery groaned as he rolled on the ground.
“Some hand-to-hand combat expert you are.” She spit on the ground and pushed her ample breasts up higher in her corset.
“Saw it… saw it coming the whole way,” Avery moaned as he struggled to rise to his feet.
“Right.”
“It’s just that I don’t hit women,” Avery groaned. “Children and small animals on occasion, but never women.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They’ve Got Us Surrounded… Again
Light classical music filtered through the farmhouse as the guests arrived. One by one they were escorted from their cars and introduced to the host. After cocktails, they were seated at the table. The room was painted dark red. It was the color of dried blood. A majestic mahogany table awaited the party. Silver candlesticks illuminated the long room. At the head of the table, the Padre raised a glass to his guests.
“To our birthday boy, Jose, and to all of you.” His guests drank with him. Jose and his young wife bowed their heads. “Now that’s finished, on to business.” He laughed as he lowered his glass. “How was your trip, Ricardo? Kill anyone in India?” Jose’s wife spilled her wine.
“Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” The woman used her napkin to clean up the mess.
“Think nothing of it. Get that, please.” An attractive woman in an apron picked up the overturned glass and replaced it with a fresh one. “Ricardo. India? Good news?”
“Yes,” responded a man in a pinstriped suit. “India is good.”
“What’s in India?” asked Cesar.
“Methamphetamine or, more specifically, the raw materials required to produce it. We need large amounts of precursor ingredients for the manufacturing process, namely ephedrine or pseudoephedrine. We can’t get them domestically anymore, but in India and China, they’re more than happy to supply us. For a price.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see. And neither does anyone else. I’m building a super-lab. The construction is nearly complete. It’s an underground facility with elevators and a sophisticated ventilation system. Most Americans cook up their filthy product in plastic bottles in rural areas for rural clients. We’re going after a significantly bigger market.”
“Our contacts in India can provide a hundred tons of the necessary materials within three weeks,” said the man in the pinstriped suit.
“Is this a response to the legalization policies in America?” Cesar asked.
“Of course it is,” Carnicero replied. “Marijuana is a dying product. Meth is the future. What is better about ours is that it isn’t crystallized here. We ship it in liquid form, ninety percent pure, in tequila bottles or the spare gas tanks of eighteen-wheelers. The border patrol doesn’t even know what to think.” He laughed as he drank from his glass.
“Enough,” the Padre announced. “Tonight is for our guest of honor, Jose.” The dinner party raised their glasses in a toast. “Soon you will be an elected politician, one with a great future. Didn’t I promise you this?”
“Yes, Padre,” Jose said as he leaned over and kissed his beautiful wife. “I will repay your kindness with loyalty.”
“I expect that. It’s not so much a gesture that I reward…as much as it is…a condition of employment,” the Padre said with a pause as he sipped his wine. The pause had its effect as the room went quiet. From outside, there was a howl.
“
“Nothing, my dear. Just a coyote.”
“It didn’t sound like a coyote.”
“Of course it did,” Jose whispered to his wife. “Apologies.”
“Just some kind of dog, my darling.” The Padre raised his glass and drank. “Maybe you should check on our patient,” the Padre said to the doctor at the table.
“Of course.” The man got up from the table.
“I’ll go, too,” said Carnicero as he finished his wine.
“I as well,” Cesar said. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” the Padre replied. “Be sure to tuck your old friend in. Open another bottle,” he called to the staff.
Cesar rose from his chair to follow the doctor and Carnicero. He’d made sure that no one had seen him slip the steak knife into the sleeve of his suit coat earlier. Down the stairs, past an armed guard, he followed the two men. The door to the cell was at the end of the hall. Following the two men, Cesar entered the room. Barquero was covered in dried blood. Private Zulu was asleep, while Ziggy tossed and turned, begging for Nancy.
“Colonel Beltran, please hold his arm while I sedate him.” Cesar stood behind the chair and took Barquero’s arm. He held it down as the doctor injected him with a syringe. Barquero flinched as the needle went in.
“Sleep easy, you bastard.” Carnicero grinned as the injection took place. “Tomorrow, we will have some more fun.” Barquero squinted through his swollen eyes at Carnicero and then looked up at Cesar. Cold anger filled his eyes.
“I think he likes you,” Carnicero said as he turned to leave with the doctor. No one saw Cesar leave the steak knife in Barquero’s bound hands, except Ziggy.
“Nancy…”
Avery took a piece of chewing gum out of his fanny pack and carefully opened it. After chewing it a few times, he removed the small, sticky wad from his mouth and molded it around the tip of the transponder. Using the foil from the gum, he clamped it over the tip of the device. Then he took off one of his high-top sneakers, held it above his head, and, for good measure, smashed the control panel to bits.
“By Crom, I swear!” he said as he slipped his foot back into the shoe. “Try downloading at wi-fi speed now, bitches.” Avery did a military rolling dive to his right, and came up holding his pistol and looking for enemies. Like most of the times he did a military rolling dive, he didn’t see anything afterward. He set off into the dark. Along the way, he looked for sticks. Filipino-style sticks.
“Maneuver medium left,” General X-Ray ordered his men.
“Maneuvering,” the men said in unison as they crawled on hands and knees toward the white fence surrounding the compound.
“Keep your heads down,” the General hissed as he saw an armed sentry smoking a cigarette outside the
