Chapter 9: Saturday Morning and Afternoon

Refreshed, I drove the old S-10 pickup from the Batcave to the Fort for more fun and games with my guest. Along the way I picked up breakfast for four - I wanted to give Gracie plenty of choices. I benefitted from keeping her strength up.

When I got to Fort Zero I secured the inner parts of the house, took a quick shower, then made a call to Jax.

Our friends had picked up Cosmo’s body and were sending it to TJ for burial with honors. The ears of his dead enemies had gone with him - those Aztex guys are seriously strange about their ritual shit. They gave him credit for all 6 ears!

“Betty,” one of the Capricez girls (a female gang) Cosmo and I shared a few days ago, had heard about his death through the damn grapevine already and was going along, at her request. Not that it mattered, coffins going to Mexico by cabin cruiser (Cosmo’s last ride was in style) do not get much attention from Mexican customs.

Their forensics guy said that Cosmo died from a lucky cut when his blade was diverted, it was always a danger when using weapons in both hands. The guy said Cosmo probably did not feel it happen. The needle-neck pliers in his ear matched the Kings other tools, the assumption was that blow came when he staggered from blood loss and was as good as dead.

It always adds an extra bit of zing to let the Aztex troops think their buddy was killed while he was helpless.

I got credit for delivering the final blow to the guy that killed Cosmo. If I wanted, I was welcome to stop by their clubhouse alone sometime to pick up a Crystal Aztex “Certificate Of Appreciation, 3rd degree.” It was nice to be appreciated, but some of their folks might recall past meetings that did not end well for them, so I would forgo the honor.

Jax had worked out the timing. To make sure the story hit the Sunday papers, the press would be called at six Saturday evening. That was two hours before our informant planned to phone LAPD. We support the first amendment and like to give the press photogs plenty of time to take really gruesome pictures they could not publish in the papers but could sell on the web for personal gain. The press always listens to police scanners, I have to wonder why the police don’t listen to the press radios. (Okay, I know the answer, but it was dumb.)

Jax and I agreed it was unfortunate that the press might trample some evidence, hiding the identity of anyone else who was there, although the 6 missing ears were kind of a dead giveaway. The press might even leave some non-evidence of their own, then ask, “how could the police give those poor boys justice without the truth?” Also, more cops would be needed to secure the scene, drawing down patrols in other areas while pissing off reporters. Jax confirmed Aztexs and 49 would both use the unscheduled police shortages created. The location was being watched until them. There was no sign of anything unusual from the Black Kings so the operation was likely something the trio of brainiacs just decided to do on the spur of the moment, simply an opportunity that arose because Gracie placed herself in their hands. It sucks to be them, because payback was coming whether they deserved it or not.

I asked if our guys watching the scene had noticed anything unusual. Jax said there was one sighting, an older Mustang without plates had been by three times in the first 12 hours after our hack job. I said to get pictures, but there was no need for anything more.

Because it was a joint patrol, the Aztexs followed courtesy and outlined their payback plan to Jax, who gave our blessing. In the two hours between the press notification and the police notification, the Aztexs would execute three Black King leaders during their regular movements (stop cars by ramming, discharge AK-47s, reload and repeat as needed, then drive off - messy and public). Then soon after the police notification, when the overextended LAPD were also busy securing the street murder scene, the Aztexs would stage an assault on a drug warehouse that would have a dozen Black Kings on hand because there were large incoming and outgoing drug shipments in inventory. The guards would probably be playing cards or shooting hoops when the Aztexs hit them. (The Black Kings always put in a basketball hoop at their secret locations.) The plan was to use automatic weapons instead of explosives, that way the inventory would not be damaged. Observers from 49 would be at each scene, at the factory they had a perimeter assignment, and we would have a car equipped to track LAPD vehicle transponders on scene. This was gold to the Aztexs, and they would pay for it.

Some 49s had a personal grudge against the Black Kings and while we usually did not attack over such things, we allowed this exception if they made a few shots. We issued FN PS-90s and FN five-seven pistols to our guys; the Aztexs felt better if we knew who fired what bullets.

The drugs in question were mainly cocaine. 49 does not touch the stuff any more; we test members. Aztexs and Black Kings sell in overlapping territories and that probably was a factor in Friday’s turf incident; the trio wanted some sales locations and the area really was a good one. Something told me the street price was about to spike upwards, which would draw more dealers out.

The drug shipments taken would make the whole operation profitable. As a partner, 49’s cut was 30% off the top - after the price spike. They would offer us drugs (to resell for more profit) but we insisted on cash. We may be a street gang but we are also a for-profit corporation, so Jax’s blessing involved financial consideration.

Jax said that after midnight - when the police would be securing all 3 scenes so manpower was stretched very thin, we would be moving some of our own high risk merchandise that had been waiting in secure storage. He was talking about some military-grade weapons we had stolen from another gang, some was pretty heavy. That was a smart plan so I said so. Jax was turning into a first-class Warlord.

I had a limo coming to the Casa at six to take me and my date to a business dinner. Until then I intended to enjoy Gracie’s wonderful rosebud.

Then I twigged on something Jax said and decided to download Crown Vic’s hard disk. I have cameras on Crown Vic (also the Marauder) that record things, the best eyes are in back. The car was at the Batcave so I remotely downloaded from the car to the computer there, then zapped the files to me on my secure data line. When I scanned the video I saw it - an old Mustang with no plates. It was blue and had one fender with primer only. There were 2 women in the front. Or guys in wigs.

I called Jax back. “That Mustang our guys spotted, what color and occupants?”

He shuffled the reports, then answered. “Blue, with a primer fender. Woman driver, second passenger unknown.”

“Put out a take-down notice on the car. Capture alive while stopped only. Otherwise just report. Do not chase, do not follow.”

“What is the deal?”

“That car is a hostile scout. It was waiting 3 blocks from the basement, watching 2 of the 3 routes out of the area. It followed me for three blocks, enough to get the plate, then turned off.”

“Your plates are a dead end, right? If they are run?”

“Yes, plus I will hear about it. But they do ID the car if they see it again and are too valuable to change.”

I filed the problem for later.

I had said that I wanted Gracie to be bagged by 7:30 in the morning, even though I knew I would get to her closer to 10:00. She probably heard me in the house around 9:00, but I did not show myself until 9:30. It was a test.

Just as I expected, when I came in she raised her voice about how I was late and how she missed me so much, and how could I do that to her? The loud, shrieking voice was especially irritating to me.

I backhanded her, hitting her exactly hard enough not to screw up any dental work.