Man, this place is filthy, Zach thought as he tried to flush the urinal. No water flowed. The bathroom was not well lit, yet he could still see the dirty floor. Water trickled from the sink faucet, and the handles did nothing to affect the flow of water. All that remained where the soap dispenser had once been was a build-up of dirt. My hands are probably cleaner if I don’t use this water. He tried to make out his reflection between the smudges and smears in the mirror. As he opened the door to head back upstairs, he felt the return of the rhythmic thump in his chest from the bass of the speakers.
There was no one else waiting in line to use the bathroom, which was odd for this time of night. The bar was popular with college students, who were typically from across the border, and anyone else who was drinking on a budget. The local patrons referred to the college student club-goers as outsiders. The locals appreciated the dive bar feel and the many secrets it held. These secrets are what brought Zach to Coco Locos.
He walked past the club entrance, where security guards assumed their post. A large crowd gathered in the streets, but before he could focus on that, something else caught his attention. Three other security guards were standing inside the doorway talking to a couple of Policía. Odd. The Policía were never in these types of bars. He slowly walked past, trying to read the expression on their faces. The security guards and the police officers were all on alert. Why do they seem anxious? He went up the stairs toward the dance floor.
Before the guards and officers disappeared from his view, Zach noticed something else: another man was pacing behind them—a tall, lean black man. He was wearing a white shirt, which had a dark stain on it, possibly from a spilled drink. As Zach took in the scene, he recognized that the three guards all had their backs to the man in the white shirt. It was as if they were protecting him. Zach inspected the man being shielded. With one hand he was holding a drink, and with the other, he was gripping his face. The stain on the man’s shirt, Zach realized, wasn’t a drink. It was blood.
He turned to continue upstairs. I hope this guy Carlos shows up soon. Something doesn’t feel right. He had learned to live by his intuition, and right now, it was telling him there was not a lot of time before things at this bar got out of hand. If he wanted to get out of there unmarked, he needed to immediately find Carlos and complete their transaction.
Zach reached the dance floor just as the DJ played some classic DMX, which would typically have had this crowd going wild. He noticed that only the outsiders were dancing. The locals were just staring at them with a level of intensity that he had not witnessed before. One local gave him a slight head nod as they crossed paths. Zach noted that she was the last of the local women to leave the dance floor, yet the bar was almost at capacity. Where did all of the local women go? He hesitated for a second until he realized that it didn’t matter. He had traveled this far. His contact said he would be here, so he just needed to wait.
Zach eyed the stairs, waiting to see someone who might be Carlos emerge. His problem was that he had no idea what Carlos or his representative looked like. He used old connections and contacted La Tiniebla Cartel’s boss. It had been a long time since he had knowingly made a business deal with anyone allegedly on the wrong side of the law, but Carlos had critical information.
Zach stood at the end of the bar and glanced down at his watch. His contact was late. Just as he took his first step back toward the stairs, he heard a voice from behind the bar.
“Leaving so soon?”
Zach turned around to find a cleanly shaven man wearing a nice dress shirt and a blazer.
“It looks like it,” Zach said warily. “I was waiting for someone, but he is late.”
“Better late than never, don’t you think, Zach?” the man asked.
“Carlos?”
The man gave a single patient nod and made the type of calm, direct eye contact that led Zach to believe him.
Zach checked his immediate surroundings and then reached under his shirt and pulled out a small waist pack. “As agreed, there are a hundred SIM cards in here, all programmed to be untraceable.”
Carlos opened the pack and examined its contents.
Zach pulled out a cell phone. “We can test a chip if you’d like.”
“We trust you, Zach,” Carlos said before handing him a thick manila envelope. “And we appreciate it.”
Zach stared at the envelope.
“Do you want to take a quick look?” Carlos asked. “All the information you requested is inside.”
Movement in the periphery pulled Zach’s attention to the dance floor. The group of local men was now standing around the edge of the floor. The men were squared up, ready for action. Simultaneously, the drunken outsiders remained oblivious to their offenses and the inevitable consequences.
“Now would be the time, Zach.” Carlos’s voice brought him back to the moment.
Zach opened the envelope and pressed the thick stack of papers against the edge. He could see a small bag of memory chips at the bottom. He read a few lines of the document. He nodded his head.
“Does this meet your expectations?” Carlos asked.
“You know, I don’t typically do things like this,” Zach said, looking back up.
“That’s great to hear.” Carlos smiled. “And who’s to say that you did this at all?” Carlos paused. “You are playing a perilous game here though.”
Zach’s brows knitted together in an earnest expression. “I’m not playing a game. I’m doing what’s right.”
The two men stood in silence until the sound of a bottle crashing on the floor broke the moment. “I appreciate this,” Zach said as he patted the envelope.
Carlos leaned forward. “So that you may rest easy, this is not a game for us either. The right thing in this situation is where our interests lie as well.”
Zach gave a nod of understanding.
“It’s time for you to go,” Carlos said.
As Zach walked down the stairs, he noticed that more young men were coming into the bar and walking upstairs. Downstairs, he saw that the man in the white shirt was still standing behind the guards, pacing side to side like a caged animal awaiting his chance to strike a blow. As he approached the entrance, he found that the security guards had closed the door, even though the bar wasn’t scheduled to close for a few more hours. Perhaps it had already reached capacity. I’m sure that they’ll be happy I’m leaving so they can allow one more paying person in. The guard at the entrance looked at him for a moment before opening the door. Zach smiled widely, showing his teeth. “Thank you, gracias,” he said.
When Zach reemerged onto the street, he was met with a swarm of angry locals, all clothed in red. The gravity of the situation set in, and he realized he was wrong about the man in the white shirt. He wasn’t ready to attack; he was ready to take flight. Though they examined him closely, the crowd did not seem to object to Zach, allowing him to make his way through. Zach focused his gaze ahead and relaxed his hands. I’m not a threat, I’m not a threat, I’m not a threat. Just as Zach made it past the red sea, someone stepped in front of him—a man wearing a black suit and tie.
“Hi Zach,” the man said. “You’ve been a very busy bee.”