Chapter 7

“You called for us, Jefe?” asked the Cubano Lieutenant.

El Jefe, or their Padron, nodded. “Damn Salvadorans are moving in again. They call themselves Mara Salvatruca, but they’re just Beaners, like the rest of them. We’ve warned them away, and one of our dealers just spotted a new lab going up over on the East side. Take some men and check it out, Mateo, if you will?”

“Si, Padron. And if we find one?” Mateo asked. He already knew the answer, but the East, or ocean, side of Jupiter is where the rich white people lived. Mateo wanted to be sure that this was a search and destroy mission and not just a covert intelligence-gathering one. Mateo spent three years in the cluster-fuck of Afghanistan in the US Army and if he learned anything at all during that time, it was to cover your ass and make sure you know the RoE, or rules of engagement.

The Padron thought for a minute, also realizing the danger of just opening on that side of town. “Take two of your own picked crew, guys you trust not to shit themselves, or worse, and do a look see. Maybe take that new girl, Alicia. Tell her to dress like some of them white girls and she can do a walk by and act like she’s going to see a friend. Her accent is pretty gringa. Here’s the address we got.” The Padron handed Mateo a slip of paper and Matty put it in his pocket.

“OK, Jefe. It will be done.”

Two hours later, the sun was just a finger from setting behind them, and the four Cubanos were sitting in a plain Ford. They hadn’t seen much traffic yet, foot or wheeled, but it was still early. Diego was in the back seat, snoring. At least he has soft snores, not like that guy in 2nd platoon back in the ‘stan, thought Mateo. In the passenger seat was Alicia, in a short black skirt and white blouse. He realized her clothes could easily pass for one of the school uniforms from the Catholic high school two blocks up.

“Manny, wake up Diego, please. Pay attention now. Its right up there, on the far corner.”

Alicia asked, “you sure, Matty? That don’t look like a meth lab?”

Manny grunted from the back, “they never do, Licia. Until they blow up ‘n shit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. 9148 Oleander. That was what was on the paper the Padron gave me. Just walk down the street and act like you belong. If you see anything suspicious, just pull out your phone and start texting your ‘friends’ like all the rest of the young girls do. You know what to do.”

“OK, Matty.” She fluffed out her hair a bit and got out as quietly as possible. Then she started strutting down the street, for all the world a homecoming queen looking for her court.

As she approached the corner, she again questioned this whole thing. The houses were numbered in the 70’s on this block. Shrugging her shoulders, she crossed the street. As she did, she realized that this house was 9184 Oleander. Either Matty had misread the number, or the boss had been given wrong info. She could see a mother inside, sitting on the couch. Thinking to herself that this was obviously no gang lab, she walked up to the screen door and read the name on the box on the wall next to the door. ‘Thomas.’ She grabbed a teen magazine that was sticking out and read the label, ‘Nikki Thomas.’

“Bingo,” she thought to herself. Knocking on the door, she called out, “Missus Thomas, you home? Is Nikki here? Hello? Missus Thomas?”