Chapter 15: Sicko Aztex Plan

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Crow (born Charles Robert Oliver Wright of Houston, third son in a rich family who would get him a good Texas lawyer, except he would not live that long), got his start cutting PCP by hand in 7th grade, the gloves the regular crooks used were too big for him to wear so he did without and felt great. After an 8 hour day he was cutting, mixing and packing like a fiend. He was a success at something he liked to do. This put him on a bad road. With his family wealth (his daddy liked a good return on investment that came fast so he did not ask questions) and a few lucky contacts he moved quickly to the fast lane. Now he was 42 and his face looked like Keith Richards will look at 94, assuming an improper embalming when his time comes.

After giving us the pervert data Irene suggested he needed a bit more sun, so he was rolled out again. She had something else in mind.

While he was baking Irene laid out a quick plan to tap into the Aztex’s communications system. It was pure genius so I gave approval.

When the soldiers brought Crow into the room for his second session of the morning it was not empty, Nia was there, dressed in revealing sleepwear and made up like she was 15. (She is almost 20, but is small so the disguise was not hard.) She was on a laptop computer.

Rojas yelled at her to get out. She cried that she just wanted to chat with her cool boyfriend but Rojas kept yelling and she dashed out of the room, showing Crow her very bare bottom while leaving the computer open on the table.

The guys chained Crow down and left the room, Rojas yanked off his belt and said he was going to “give that girl hell.” The other soldier said he needed a bathroom. So they left Crow alone.

Crow saw a chance for hope, and he took it.

Straining and struggling, drawing blood where steel and flesh met in a strained relationship, Crow eventually got a finger on the laptop computer and pulled it toward him. He immediately signed into the Aztex dark web site (Tony knew it), then signed into his private email where he typed a short message telling a local Aztex handler Tony was dead and Crow was captured. Help! He was smart enough to have the computer’s IP address.

It was a setup. The screen he got when he logged in was a dummy Irene had copied. As Crow typed Irene was on a computer connected directly to Nia’s laptop, along with a second computer tied to the web via a Russia proxy in India. She mirrored Crow’s actions to get the screens showing what he expected to see like he was actually connected to the web. She was fast (she directed supersonic rockets) and Crow figured the delay was a slow wi-fi set up. The rig was all set up so Irene capturing everything Crow sent.

We needed the dark web addresses and the sign-in/password/verification codes he used for the administrative level. They were simple, a shifting code that referenced the date, but it is the little things that count. Once we had those we sent a slightly different message saying that Tony was shot (video attached) and Crow had been detained. It explained that Crow had manage to escape “some disguised sharks” after a brush with death. He had the help of a young black girl, the rebellious underage daughter of a shark officer. To Crow it was true love, at least for this week. With the help of the girl’s BFF they stole a crappy car. He was healing from his wounds in a house in Santa Anna, expressing his love to the lucky lady and her best girlfriend the way he knew best. For their own safety they were handcuffed together so they could share all the fun. It was the type of thing Crow would say and it would keep the Aztecs from looking for either Crow and Tony.

After the deception was finished I had Crow moved to another room with something else on the table. The laptop Nia had left was broken by Crow after he used it, he thought that his use could not be traced on a broken computer.

To make it look like we were really upset about the computer, Rojas asked Crow which hand he jerked off with, then took a hammer to Crow’s other hand.

Of course, Crow lied to Rojas about which hand he used, and Rojas busted the other one. Crow would never know manual release again, because he would be dead before he healed. Everybody knows you can’t do it with the wrong hand.

An hour later Crow’s email account got an message to remind him that the local Aztex brass was flying from Van Nuys airport (which serves mainly private planes) to Houston August 23. Crow was expected to show. The elites of the gang were flying from Houston to the party site in Mexico on Thursday August 28th to get the party started. They wanted to show off their newest plane, a Kodiak STOL (Short Take Off + Landing), which they could land in the parking lot. That was a new plane worth well over $2 million.

I added it to our cart for whatever was going to happen. It would be a nice new ride for the Patron.

We took a 30 minute break after the first talk but left Crow in the chair.

To keep Crow on track for the rest of the morning I invited the spiders to the table. I called them “observers.” They were in a large glass box that was filled with thick smoke like they were vaping. A tube from a steam device kept the smoke going. Irene whipped up the simple device with stuff we had here and it was a perfect touch. All I had to do was touch the glass, like something noteworthy had been asked and Crow got real focused.

Crow was an Aztex in Houston for over 15 years. His scars indicated a violent past sprinkled with a few lab explosions, but for the past decade he was considered their prime meth-chemist. (Any meth-chemist who reach Crow’s career hours had to be both skilled and lucky.) He came to LA to set up some meth cooking locations. He had a reputation for safe setups that produced good quality product. Eventually the plan was to build a large factory, big enough to supply demand from the West Coat to Colorado, in the Pablo after the attack. He would consult with a few other cookers once they knew what the space looked like, since the gang was making an investment a safe operation was a prime concern. At present they had capacity to supply all of LA, plus more than half of the product was shipped to “dry” areas where the law had cut production. They were operating at 10%-20% to keep the accidents down, plus they were limited in cookers and inputs. They were doing training with double staffs. Raw materials were supplied by somebody from the Orient.

I said that investing in a meth factory had two problems: chemical odor and search warrants. The big investments get found so most cooks keep their locations small and mobile.

Well, Tony’s bitch of a wife convinced the Aztex leaders that the Pablo apartment building was an ideal high-rise meth factory, and they wanted it. With civilians living on the lower floors the place was impossible for police to stage a no-knock raid, and they figured that chemical fumes produced high up would dissipate. (This was true, we cooked a lot of highest quality party drugs there.) They had spotted that the building was a deathtrap for any airborne attacks (tall poles stick up like giant punji sticks to discourage helicopters), so they figured there had to be a reason. Plus, they were convinced it was fireproofed like no other comparable building in LA. They were right on all counts.

The key to taking the Pablo was the Aztex plan was to break 49 as a gang. To do that they planned a large suicide attack on Labor Day Monday, when many folks would be at the beach or on vacation and police were tired from working overtime in the heat and traffic during the long holiday weekend. Heavy traffic and wide dispersal would kill police response time. They thought a large enough group (100 to 150) of drug-crazed maniacs with automatic weapons could break in and cause pure havoc and mayhem until they ran out of ammo. The body count would bring masses of police inside the front door.

The Aztexs figured that if 49 could not protect their home and families the members would lose confidence in their leadership, so they would look for new leadership in the form of a merger - which is what we had been discussing. Also, they were sure that, on entry, the cops would find lots of criminal activity (they would) leading to the arrest of the 49 leadership and many members who might object to the merger. Once 49 crumbled the Crystal Aztexs leaders figured they could walk right in with the right pay-offs. Well, they were from Houston, LA was different, power was spread wider and payoffs were bigger, you had to pay black, brown and white in each district. Also, Hollywood bid up the prices in a big way.

They did not understand the Pablo, in fact no attack could get past the gatling guns and flame throwers guarding the front door. (Toad had seen Mad Max 2 - The Road Warrior, and the original 1966 spaghetti western Django too many times.) If they attacked with 150, they would lose 150. But the problem was, they would still win. They had the part about the police getting in the building right. Simply put, cops never entered the building thanks to the political ties (judges) Toad held. Plus, cops could never connect the dots required to have probable cause to enter, which LA cop superiors are now pretty strict about, thanks to the rich LA “sue the cops” lawyers.

The apartment building was a fortress with strong outer defenses. I saw the main Aztex problem as getting heavily armed, meth-crazed troops to the fortress, without shooting each other to pieces before they got there. These were not soldiers, they would not obey orders but would blow up at their fellows with every perceived slight.

But still, an armed attack - which would fail at the front door even without our nastiest defenses - would change things after all the bodies dropped. The police would come. So would news helicopters and we could not keep them out without a war.

Last year, before starting the divorce, Tony’s bitch ex-wife sold the other meth-head Aztex leaders on this plan, so they were committed to the Pablo as “this years rage project.” The timing of the holiday was what everything rested on.

That was the first I heard of a “rage” project. It had not come up in the merger talks. Tony said he was sworn to secrecy on the subject.

It seems that every year the Aztexs had a three-day psycho blow-out party in the Yucatan when the elites rev up the membership and bring them together with a sicko drug-fueled show. Once they are excited beyond reason a task is set. Then they add the zombie drugs needed to move the drooling masses towards a common purpose. Loaded weapons are distributed just before they are needed.

This year’s gathering would be the largest and craziest project ever. The first two days were usually moderated by the presence of a few other family members. But before noon Sunday any wives and kids left and the kool-aid got a lot stronger with an Aztex-styled blood-drug-rally session. The festival culminating at midnight Sunday with a floodlit human sacrifice on the pyramid, a living heart pulled from a chest contributing to a blood-drug-drink concoction that was consumed on the spot. After the sex, drugs and violence party the mob was herded to a direct action. The shock troops got a dose of PCP and ammo just before they went into action.