VIRGINIA IS FOR LOVERS
Part IV
by
Marcus Johnston
Copyright 2011
Shock and awe passed over Desiree's face in quick succession. The blood drained from her face to make her paler than she was already. Avoiding the obvious questions that cycled through her head, the thief went right to, “How’d they let you in here?”
“I walked in the door.”
“No, I mean… anyone crossing the canal—I mean, uh—anyone with more than a tan would…”
The kingpin held up my hand. “A few years ago, the Kings bought a majority share of the Brotherhood’s stock. They operate the business in areas that would be… uncomfortable for our normal operatives. We keep a light hand on their operations, and in return, they provide us with a share of the profits. Why beat ‘em when they can work for you instead?”
“Anything to drink, Inca?” Tom-tom asked, polite, yet to the point. It was obvious that he was not entirely pleased with the man he worked for. Still, even in the black market, business was business. You simply didn’t argue when this boss was signing the paycheck.
“No, thank you. Just some privacy.”
The Troll grunted and walked to another part of the bar, trying to ignore the fact that he was being one-upped in his own domain. Feliz didn’t care much for his employee’s feelings, but as he looked at Desiree’s current appearance, he couldn’t help but being impressed. “Let me guess? Small town West Virginia?”
“What?”
“The new look. I think the freckles are a bit much…”
Scared for her life, Desiree couldn’t believe that he was talking shop. “What’s wrong with freckles?”
“Nothing, but they’re almost… too youthful for someone your age.”
“Too youthful… honey, you should never ask a lady her age.” She tried to tease him, mildly surprised to find herself herself relaxing in his company.
“A ‘lady’ is a woman, not the girl you’re pretending to be.”
“Goes with the look. The first time I tried to fit in as a white girl, I needed help. So I modeled ‘Holly’ from this movie I saw.”
“What movie?”
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t remember. After I used it a while, I learned to tone down the act.”
“The look?”
“The accent, the gestures… as it turns out, I already knew the part. Poor is poor—don’t matter the color of your skin.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Feliz admitted.
“You don’t strike me as the prep school type.”
“But I was,” he smiled, “for seven years. Colegio Anglo Colombiano.”
“Doesn’t sound local.”
“Bogota. It was part of an alliance between my father and the Columbian cartels. Quite profitable, for both sides.”
Desiree absorbed in the information while she took a sip of her drink. “Profitable?”
“Yes, the head of the cartel’s son stayed in Chicago, and kept business going. In terms of the weather, I think I got the better deal.”
“Wait a minute…” the thief suddenly realized the implications of what he was saying. “You were a hostage?”
“It’s an ancient tradition. Long ago, kings used to swap princes to seal the alliance. One side breaks the contract…” Feliz ran a finger across his throat.
“My God, that’s horrible!”
He shook his head. “Practical, actually. After all, family’s the only thing that means a damn.” Feliz cocked his head. “You don’t strike me as the prep school type either.”
“Don’t you know already?” She looked at the credit chit, still sitting untouched on the bar.
“Women are always a mystery,” the kingpin said with his lips, but didn’t believe in his heart, “especially ones who scrubbed their legal background to show me primroses.” He smiled. “William and Mary?”
“What about it?”
“You do know the original college is underwater now?”
“Of course,” Desiree smiled back, “that’s why I chose it. Records got destroyed in Hurricane Isabel.”
Feliz laughed. “So no one could say you didn’t get your Bachelor’s in Fine Arts.”
“Perfect for a secretary,” she nodded. “After all, what else are you going to do with that kind of degree?”
The gang leader couldn’t help but relax in her company. She is truly a remarkable woman. But there is that slight problem… He shoved that thought to the side and enjoyed the moment. “So where did you really go to school?”
“Norcom High. P-Town. First two years, anyway. After that, my breasts came in, and I… let’s say, I found other ways to further my education.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a rich guy,” she gave a thin grin. “But all guys want sex. So I made some discreet…”
“I get it now,” he shrugged. “Sounds like a harder school than I attended.”
Desiree flinched for a second and then quickly recovered her game face. “At first. And then I started getting some money. I invested it...”
“In real estate?” Feliz joked.
“In implants. Once I had them, I found I could go anywhere.”
“Ah,” the kingpin nodded, “now I see.”
“Said the blind man,” she shot back. “Look, Feliz, I know we got off on the wrong foot together, but not everything has to be alliances and killing, does it?”
“After family comes blood. Or it’s one and the same. It’s a spiritual currency.”
Desiree rolled her eyes. “Wow, Feliz. You really know how to charm a girl. Blood, hostages… what’s next, philosophy?”
“Never really had to charm a girl,” Feliz admitted with a shrug. “Besides… I find being patient often works better than charm.”
“Patient? Wouldn’t know about that.”
“It’s a cardinal virtue,” he smiled, “and it comes in handy. Such as now, for instance.”
The thief stared at him for a moment, taking in the whole package that was Feliz Castanada. If he wasn’t after my hide, this would be a lot more fun, she realized. Why does smart and sexy have to come into my life packaged with death and mayhem? “You mean what Tom-tom said. You marked my ID.”
Feliz looked down at the lonely credit chit. “That one… and virtually every fake ID we had on file. We sell to college students—mostly—and they only use them at bars. Taxis, restaurants… any respectable Old Dominion student could use their real cred for that.”
Desiree finally understood. “So I stuck out like a sore thumb.”
“Well, sometimes,” the kingpin admitted. “Other times, I was just glad that you contacted one of our fences. Thankfully, they kept their eyes open for you. When you called Tom-tom, he called me.”
“It’s nice to be wanted,” she admitted, adding especially by you silently. “So now that you found me, let’s say we talk business. How about we reach a compromise?”
“Such as?”
“I stand up in front of your gang meeting and say I was wrong and all hail the Great Inca?”
Feliz made a disgusted face. “Lacks a certain style.”
“I could fellate you on stage. Wrap me up in bondage gear, make it all about submission.”
He chuckled. “Not really my style.”
“What? Too much pressure to perform?”
“Don’t want to scare the employees with the size of my pito.” Feliz shrugged. “I need to consider my troops’ morale. They might feel… inadequate.”
Desiree laughed out loud. Feliz couldn’t help but join her. Both of them felt good. After all, in their lives, they never got a chance to talk about their real lives. The simple sharing of their day—something other couples took for granted—was impossible for them. As profitable as the darker economy was, it wasn’t like criminals had social clubs.
When their laughter calmed down, she finally asked, “You’re all about control, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to be in control, don’t you?”
“Goes with the job.”
“No, that’s why you’re good at your job.”
Feliz shrugged. “I don’t see the distinction. I wouldn’t be Inca unless I could handle the position.”
The thief looked into his brown eyes and asked bluntly. “Do you like it?”
The question froze the kingpin for a moment. Then he blinked and asked, “Come again?”
“I mean, all that education, all those opportunities. In the end, you’re running a gang. Must be rather disappointing for you.”
“’Gang’ is a far cry…”
“But doesn’t it bug you?” Desiree pressed, hoping she had found a sore spot. A lever that she could use to move his unmovable position. “At the end of the day, you’re just a drug dealer. A pimp. A...”
Feliz took her hand in his, gently but firmly. “Mi corazon, let me share some wisdom. You mentioned my education; I studied business in college. Do you know what I learned? Let me summarize it into a single phrase: ‘Buy low, sell high.’” He shrugged. “That’s it. There’s no compassion in business, Desiree, legal or illegal. There’s just numbers.
“Does it bother me? Yes. So when I took over, I made sure the girls were clean, safe, and paid a fair percentage of their work. The drugs were quality and kept out of children’s hands. I push nothing on anyone who doesn’t come begging for it first. It is a service, nothing more, and I provide a good one.”
“An illegal service.”
“Taverns were illegal once. Churches were illegal once. What’s illegal and legal depends on fashion. But the demand is there—as are those who would profit from it. Who would you rather have controlling it? Me or those bastards from MS-13? Have you seen what they do?”
“Not really…”
“They rip the flesh off their victims and leaving it in the street. That’s a warning. They’re psychopaths.” The kingpin sighed. “These are the kind of people who give criminals a bad name. They lack subtlety. What I do is provide an illegal service and keep it under the radar. That way honest men can thump their chests and say how crime has gone down.”
“That’s not the p…” Desiree began, and then asked herself, what if it is the point? Finally she snorted out a laugh and replied. “Listen to me… a thief preaching at a gangbanger about sin.”
“From my experience, most good priests are thieves.” Feliz gave a slight grin.
“Yeah,” she replied, letting the word hang there like she had an clue where her next thought was going. Finally, she knew what she had to say. “Feliz, if it’s just business, then let’s make a deal. If you keep it clean, then make it clean for me.”
The kingpin leaned back against the bar and thought for a moment. Sure, it’s easy to say my hands are clean—and then I just turn around and kill someone who simply insulted me? Hmph… she has a point. How can I make this about business? How do I keep my reputation and keep her alive?
Finally, he turned to his lieutenant, sitting at a table near the door. He stood sentry at the main entrance in case Desiree tried to make a break for it. “Enrique?”
“Si, jefe?”
“Get the limo.”
He nodded wearily and quickly disappeared out the door, stifling a yawn. Feliz turned back to Desiree, still holding her hand. Keeping his voice soft, he said, “Okay, Desiree. Let’s make it clean.”
Her eyes flashed with interest. “How?”
Feliz took in a deep breath and then released it. “We have contacts with all the local morgues in town for... oh, a variety of reasons. I’m sure one of them can come up with someone who looks... well, like you do now. Tom-tom will swear that you left with Enrique. Enrique will drive you to the morgue. Then you die.”
“Die?”
The kingpin sighed and then smiled. “Your identity dies, mi corazon. We put your ID on a body, dump it in a canal, and wait until it appears a day later. You disappear... as only you can. When it’s confirmed that you have died, I save face, and my obligation to kill you is ended.”
“What about Enrique?”
“To trust Enrique is to trust me. If I tell him to say that you’re dead, he will not disagree with me. That’s why we’re here alone.”
“Okay, I understand. So what’s the catch? What do you get for this... generosity?”
“Oh,” Feliz smiled, “I’ll come up with something. But I guarantee you, it will be... pleasant.”
Desiree felt a different kind of chill going through her. “You’re taking an awful risk, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I can still stop you leaving the Tidewater. It’s not like you’re walking out of here. You can’t find a credit chit clean enough that I can’t track.” The gang leader finally let go of her hand, with obvious regret in his eyes. “All you have to do is hide, for a few days, until this all blows over. Then I’ll find you and we’ll see where things go from there.”
“Not strictly business, is it?”
“No, but as I explained, business is simple numbers. Call this... more of an investment.”
Desiree wanted to believe him; on the other hand, it’s not like she had much choice. “All right, Feliz.”
“Good,” he picked up the credit chit on the bar and got off the stool. Desiree soon followed. “Wait at the door. I will give Enrique his instructions and you will travel with him. Understood?”
“Understood.”
On an impulse, Feliz leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Desiree responded without thinking, warmly accepting the taste of him on her tongue. They shared their warmth freely, embracing the joy that was too infrequent in their lives. Then they parted; for both of them, it was over too quickly. The limo pulled up, and without saying a word, the kingpin disappeared out the door.
The thief was left there sitting on the bar stool, stunned for a second by the intensity of her reaction. It took a concerted effort to shake herself back to reality. When she did, Desiree saw the two men talking outside next to the limo. She couldn’t understand a word of their quickly spoken Spanish, and even if she had, it was muffled through the plexiglass windows. When Feliz reached to shake his lieutenant’s hand, she caught the white flash of the credit chit. Once in his hands, Enrique nodded in acknowledgement. When Feliz returned to open the door, he didn’t say another word, but waved to the woman. Desiree quickly scooted off the stool and walked out to the waiting vehicle.
The kingpin took his seat back at the bar and watched as the two of them drove away. He felt a sense of loss as she disappeared. The plan could still go wrong, he knew, but it was the best plan he could come up with at the time.
A beer slid across the bar and stopped in front of him. Feliz’s eyes quickly darted at the source. Tom-tom looked at his boss with a strange sneer. “You are one cold son of a bitch. Kill her with a kiss?” The Troll gave a mock salute.
He glared daggers at his employee, keeping his temper in check. “Mind your own business,” he snarled, and then took out his wireless. “Manuel, get the chopper and bring it here. I need to be on time for my three o’clock appointment.”
As nice as the limo was, Desiree kept shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Enrique sat across from her, staring off into space, not moving the entire time. She couldn’t help but think he still held a grudge against her for dropping him with a shot from the Porcupine. After the first few minutes of quiet punctuated by traffic noise, the thief asked, “So... where are we going?”
The cacique seemed to stir for a moment, like he had been caught in a trance. Once his mind came back to the surface, he asked, “What?”
Desiree said it slower. “Where – are – we – going?”
“Oh." Enrique stifled a yawn. "Princess Anne,” he answered, returning to looking out the window.
The woman thought for a second, searching her brain to remember her local geography. Princess Anne was the rare anomaly; a rural backwater in the middle of a high-density population center. There were too many swamps to build new construction, too far from the beach for the tourists, and too few access roads for industry. So it was left untouched, populated by the farmers and the hillbillies. “To the morgue?”
“The what?” Enrique was startled out of his woolgathering again. He blinked at her wearily until his brain finally acknowledge the question. After a beat, he nodded. “Yes, yes. The morgue.”
Desiree felt all her warning signs going off at once. If his lieutenant doesn’t know where we’re supposed to be going, she thought, then maybe Feliz was conning me all along. Maybe he’s just taking me to a nice bit of nowhere and dumping my body. Certainly I’ve given him all the cover he needs.
The thief didn’t want to believe Feliz capable of that. We have this connection... no, girl—you haven’t survived by getting all gushy over a man you just met. He could order someone to kill me like other men could order a sandwich. You’re nothing to him.
She smiled back at Enrique and then looked out the window. They were slowing down to an intersection; another one of many in the suburban jungle, filled with gas stations and strip malls. I gotta get outta here, the thief told herself, and saw her opportunity as they slowed down. Better now than never.
As soon as the car stopped, she opened the limo door, and bolted. Narrowly missed by a passing car, she ran at full bolt across three lanes of incoming traffic to reach the nearest gas station.
Enrique saw her jump out of the limo, and with athletic reaction, immediately jumped after her. As he chased, he kept a respectful distance between him and the racing cars. They honked at him as they passed. Desiree kept up her pace, dodging between parking lots, running past dumpsters, to get as much distance as she could from her pursuer.
She reversed her coat behind an SUV, and with a little effort, walked out as a blonde. She had found a shopping cart that was left in the lot and started pushing it. It was hard to keep herself calm when her heart was pounding like a snare drum. It was especially hard to avoid the searching eyes of Enrique, racing towards her.
The cacique’s eyes were busy scanning for movement. It didn’t take him long to accept that he lost her. He stopped and scanned around the crowded parking lot. Yet in the rush of soccer moms trying to finish up their morning shopping, the woman he had been escorting now could have been anyone.
Desiree made it four rows over before she found her ride out of here; a woman piling up the last of her groceries into the back of her minivan. Desiree took out two of her drug patches, went over, and shook the woman’s hand. Feeding the patches into the confused woman’s palm, she said, “You don’t know this, but you’re about to have the worst day of your life.”
“Who are you?” the shopper asked, her eyes already blinking a little more than usual.
“Me? Oh, I’m just a figment of your imagination.” Desiree winked. “Call me a daydream.”
“Look, I...” the target of opportunity closed her eyes and started to sway on her feet. The thief grabbed her keys out of her pocket and shoved the woman into the back of her own vehicle. Closing the door behind the sleepy beauty, Desiree walked around and got in the driver’s seat. All of this happened faster than one might expect. Within a minute of her leaving the limo, she left Enrique confused and alone in the parking lot, while she drove off in someone else’s car.
“If you can’t take a cab,” she told herself, “take a car. Now where do I go?”
The thief got on the main road and took a random direction, passing the limo pulling into the place she had just left. As she got into traffic, her eyes clapped onto an interstate sign, proudly announcing ‘Norfolk’ as its destination.
Desiree laughed out loud. “Even the kingpin can’t be everywhere in Tidewater. Let’s see if his competition will deal.”
Enrique didn’t want to make the call. Even though he knew that Feliz never killed the messenger, it was certainly not what the boss wanted to hear. He felt his words stumble over themselves. As he finished his tale, he said, “...many apologies, jefe, but once she reached the parking lot...”
The kingpin held up his finger to the wireless, like a god about to pronounce judgment. The finger held there for a moment before Feliz managed to answer. “I am putting this in your hands, Enrique. The net has been spread across Tidewater and we have the manpower to hold it in place.”
“For how long?”
The gang leader blinked. “Valid point. We gave the woman a chance to redeem herself—she blew it. Put a bounty on her head. Let the freelancers do our job for us. Set it up. Ten thousand for her pretty head.”
Enrique whistled unconsciously. “Apologies, jefe, but for that kind of money we could wipe out a whole zip code.”
“We need this done soon. If I had time, I’d lower the price, but she’s a perishable commodity.”
“Dead or alive?” his deputy clarified.
Feliz smirked, as if laughing at his own private joke. “Alive. The punishment needs to be handled on our end.”
“But what if...”
“You’re right. Offer a thousand for dead.” The kingpin answered his lieutenant’s unspoken question. “There needs to be... I need some conclusion—some finality to this... situation.”
“But if she’s a master of disguise...”
“Use the shots from the cams at the last confirmed sightings. That should give the hunters enough variety to tag her somewhere and nail her to the wall.” Feliz looked back at the meeting he had left. “Is there anything else?”
“No. We’ll get it on the local net as fast as possible.”
“Good.” And with that word of judgment, the kingpin cut the connection.
If Desiree thought growing up in Portsmouth was bad, it was a paradise compared to eastern Norfolk. After dropping her driver victim off at a park, she drove off into the depths of the urban jungle, and the home turf of MS-13. The boarded up homes, the crappy cars, the people wandering aimlessly; this she was used to. What she was not prepared for was the sense of traveling into another country. Within blocks, the signs changed languages, and vendors spilled onto the streets. All pretense of law and order was abandoned; cars, people, and things were setup wherever they felt was appropriate. More importantly, there were eyes on the minivan—even through the comfort controls, the thief felt herself sweat. It was painfully obviously that she was not welcome here.
It took her all of ten minutes to find an appropriate street corner to make a connection. Pulling up to a couple of toughs, tattoos covering their exposed arms, she stepped out of the minivan and smiled. “Good morning.”
The gang bangers laughed and said something in Spanish to each other. Their leader, bent his head to obviously check her figure out. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out that blondes weren’t common around the neighborhood. After taking a good look, he smirked, “What I do you for, chica? Need some blow, a sniff... hey, need a job, I got one for ya.”
Desiree kept her smile plastered on her face. “I need one ride outta town, no questions, no checkpoints... and one sure ain’t taking the normal routes. Now who do I talk to about that?”
Their leader looked puzzled, and then spoke back to one of his henchmen, who quickly pulled out a wireless. As he turned back, he asked, “You got money?”
“Sure,” she nodded, “this sure ain’t the Salvation Army.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange black rectangle and held it up to his eye. Desiree felt an uncomfortable buzz echo in her bones as their leader used the device on her. “Clear.” Putting the device back, he smiled, “You no cop. Reporter?”
“Thief.”
“Good one?”
“Most of the time,” Desiree lost the smile and shrugged. “Look, I need out of town, and I’m looking for a ride. Can you help?”
The henchman called back to his street boss in Spanish and the leader responded in kind. After a short discussion, the henchman turned back to her. “Yes,” finally speaking in English, “we help. Get in car, I tell you where to go.”
The thief didn’t waste much time with this thrilling conversation. With a bounce in her step, she got back in the driver’s seat, and unlocked the door for the swarthy man.
Swooping through the rabbit warren that was colonial street planning, they eventually made it to their destination. In fact, there were so many twists and turns that even Desiree had trouble keeping track of where they were. However, the sight of the ocean was a dead giveaway. As they pulled into a chain motel that had seen better days, she asked, “We’re in Ocean View?”
The street boss said nothing and got out of the car. Reluctantly, the thief followed; after all, unless she wanted to get caught, she had no choice but to follow him. The crappy inn was the worst kind of tourist decay. Bad planning had doomed it from the start. No one in their right mind would have ever stayed here, since it was too far away from the best spots. So to say that it had obviously fallen on hard times was an understatement. The doped-up working girls who patrolled the street beside it even stayed a good distance away. Obviously the hotel had few customers. Besides, they were doing brisk enough business with those cars who pulled over to the side of the boulevard.
The gang member walked up to one of the motel doors, knocked twice, and then opened it slowly. He didn’t wait for her to follow and Desiree rushed to follow before the door closed. Once inside, she felt like she had stepped through the looking glass. The interior of the place resembled nothing like its exterior. Hidden within the facade was a two-story warehouse, hollowed out of the old motel, and crammed full of everything that the black market could provide. Crates of carefully wrapped drugs, neatly placed by category and quality; electronics, implants, and even software boxes with sinister covers. It’s the perfect cover, she realized with a professional eye. Must have taken them months to hollow this building out. For all that effort, this has to be the center of their operations.
As she followed the street boss, the place was buzzing with activity. Men with hand-cranked pneumatic lifts were moving pallets of materials around, eventually dragging their precious cargo into gates that disappeared into blackness. Taking it all in, she blindly followed the gang member who led her here. He led her to a simple folding table with a single occupant. Sitting there was a man with a shaved head, wearing sunglasses, and staring at handwritten files. He did all this while simultaneously digging a knife into the cheap plastic top of the table.
Once the street boss made the introductions, the seated man looked up at her and took off his sunglasses. Behind them, there was one normal brown eye, and one disgusting ocular implant. Surrounded by poor quality metal, a glowing red ball took the place of a normal eye, which pulsed with no discernable rhythm. “So, you need a ride, yes?” The man’s voice sounded like it went through a cheese grater.
“Outta town,” Desiree clarified. “Fast as possible.”
“Cabs aren’t working?”
“I’m on the run. If my ID gets flagged...” She ran a finger across her throat.
The man seemed to be thinking it over as he moved his foot over to another folding chair. As he dragged it closer to the table, he said, “Sit.” It was not a request.
Desiree sat down gracefully and tried to avoid staring directly into his eyes. The man noticed her aversion. “Disgusting, isn’t it? No good cybertechs in Mexican prison.”
“Why not fix it?” She waved her hand towards all the things around them. “You can afford it.”
“Beauty is cheap. Fear is expensive. I buy fear wholesale.”
“And how does a broken eye do that?”
With a hand like a whip, his knife went up, flew from his hand, and embedded in a nearby box. With the blade not less than five feet from her head, Desiree was pretty sure she wet herself. “No,” the man admitted, “a broken eye doesn’t inspire fear. But a military-grade targeting package tapped into my cerebral cortex doesn’t hurt. And that kind of hardware doesn’t fit in a cosmetic implant.” He paused as if to offer her a chance to speak, but she was too shaken to respond. So after a short eternity, he continued. “Now tell me... why do you need to get away so badly?”
“I pissed off the wrong people.”
“You mean person.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Person,” the man repeated, taking out a wireless set that looked twice as big than it needed to be, and slammed it on the table. The holoproj kicked up and displayed an online ad. Desiree found herself looking at four pictures of herself with a title that read Missing girl. $10,000 Reward for her safe return. $1,000 leading to information of her whereabouts. “You pissed off Santa Claus. That makes it Christmas for me.”
The thief cringed. “I can double that for a ride outta town.”
“No,” the man chuckled, “you’re worth far more to me than that.”
“I’ve got twenty K. I can...”
“You don’t understand.” The man explained. “If Feliz wants you, then that gives me an edge. An edge I will cut the Latin Kings with.”
Desiree sighed. “Yes, Feliz wants me, but he’s not going to go out of his way to...”
The man took his massive hand, and with an open palm, slapped her across the face. “Shut up, puta! You’re mine now.” He looked over at the piles of stuff around him and then looked straight into her eyes. “You are inventory.” The gang leader shouted to some waiting goons, who wasted no time coming over to drag her away.
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