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Walking through the front door of the hotel and onto the street, a gust of wind hit Falau, making 65° feel more like 50°. The busy street was alive with cars and pedestrians moving in every which direction. Most pedestrians wore thick coats with their collars up to keep the wind at bay. Falau looked over the crowd, knowing this was making his job more difficult... high collars concealed faces and was good for covering people’s eyes. The street looked like a mass of black jackets with only tops of heads sticking out of them.
He moved down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he hunched up his shoulders and started to walk at a casual pace. Being followed would be the worst thing that could happen now. He attempted to dance a fine line between walking too fast and trying not to appear too slow. Spotting a tail would be much harder on foot with so many people around. He knew any number of people could be going where he was just by chance.
Staring into a store window, he used it to check the reflection across the street. Everyone seemed to keep moving. Nobody even looked over. Opening his phone, he held it to his ear and began to speak.
“I know you want me to get the coat, but I have no idea what more you want,” Falau snapped into the phone to nobody. Continuing to argue, he turned side-to-side constantly while talking and taking video with the phone.
“You want it so bad, just get the damn coat yourself... anything I get will just be a waste of time.”
Turning the phone off Falau was sure he had captured on video all the people that had been around him and in the area. Pushing the shop door open he went inside and headed straight for the women’s coats.
“Can I help you, Sir?” asked an effeminate clerk as he strolled over to Falau. “I can see you have good taste. Are you shopping for your wife?”
“Actually, I am getting some pictures of different styles, then she can get an idea of them and we can come back and pick it out. You know, saves me from having to be here if she tries on thirty different styles.”
The clerk smiled and nodded at Falau with a good amount of condescension towards the fashion impaired American. “Well, if she likes one please send her to us and we will take good care of her.”
“Thanks,” said the big man as the clerk strolled away.
Taking out his phone Falau turned down the volume and started to watch the video while pulling out different coats and acting like he was taking photographs. The faces all seemed normal. If he was being followed, the guy was very good and was not tipping his hand. Am I just paranoid? thought Falau. Who the hell even knows I’m here?
Getting back out onto the street he kept his pace steady and even, stopping at the occasional shop to look inside the window keeping up his façade. Passing the Universidad Santo Tomás he got to the intersection of Carrera 9 and Calle 73. There was a beehive of activity: taxis going up to the sidewalks and people hopping in. People cutting across the street against the lights. The screech of brakes from a driver who had not been watching where he was going. It was organized chaos at its finest. A kind of ballet, where all the dancers were moving on their own to different styles of music. It was just a matter of time until two crashed into one another.
A car screeched to a halt in front of Falau. A taxi sign adorned the top of the car and it was clear this was a bootleg taxi, as nothing indicated it was part of one of the big companies working the streets. Falau knew these guys always worked harder to get their fares and had to stay one step ahead of the law. Normally they were also a bit riskier than the normal taxi because they were operating on the wrong side of the law. The driver leaned over, pulling down the window. “Need a lift?”
Staring into the car Falau saw a woman driving. She was attractive, with dark hair and blue eyes. Despite seeing none of her skin other than her face Falau could see she was strong and fit, and seemed to be the kind of woman that could handle herself in a fight with a man.
“You need a ride or what, Mister? Tyler said you might need a ride.”
Hearing Tyler’s name was all Falau needed to take this ride from a stranger. If she were working for someone after him then they had done their homework. Falau reached down to open the door with a loud creak and hopped into the back seat. No sooner had Falau hit the seat than the woman screeched away from the curb and burst into the middle of the intersection. Heading next to a side street, the tires squealed on the turn.
“Did Tyler teach you how to drive?” snapped Falau, but it was met with silence from the woman. Again and again Falau attempted to engage the woman with some kind of conversation, but was constantly met with no response.
“Can you speak?” Falau asked her with sarcasm and building frustration.
“Yeah. Shut up,” said the woman, letting Falau know exactly where he stood with her.
Cutting the wheel hard again she pulled into a taxi parking garage. Keeping her speed up she raced to the far end of the garage and pulled into the spot next to several other cars that looked exactly like the one she was driving.
“Out! Now! Follow me and shut up!” demanded the woman, not waiting for Falau to answer. The door swung open and she started to walk away, causing Falau to scramble to catch up to her.
The sudden sound of more tires screeching made Falau look back. The car was being driven away by a woman with dark hair and a man in the backseat. She had thought of everything to keep the cover alive, just in case they were being watched. Falau was sure that by the time they had hit the garage entrance the man would have on clothing similar to his and nobody would know the difference. The woman continued to move at a swift pace as they exited out the back of the garage. Reaching down to grab Falau by the hand, she dropped back next to him giving the appearance that the two were a couple.
“This is all very sudden. I don’t even know your name,” said Falau sarcastically.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” said the woman, smiling and leading him to the door of the building next to the garage. She then unlocked the door to the apartment building and went inside. Rushing up one flight of steps she led them into the hall and to the first door on the right. Apartment 2J. Unlocking the door they went in. All Falau knew was this woman knew Tyler’s name, and nothing more. He wondered if he’d just walked into an ambush following nothing more than the name of a friend.
Falau closed the door behind him, and across the room the woman closed the curtain. Turning back to him, the two measured each other up.
“My name is Carla Romero, but my friends call me Vick.”
“You’re Vick?” questioned Falau, his forehead furrowing as he shook his head. “Sorry, I was expecting someone a little more... a man.”
“I get that a lot. Guess the name does its job as a disguise. So, you’re the guy they sent to get The Butcher. You must be some kind of a badass, right. Ex-CIA? FBI? Navy seal?”
“Nothing like that. I just needed a job.”
“Just needed a job?” Carla raised her eyebrows. “Okay, I understand the need to keep things close to the vest. I respect that.”
Falau smiled and walked over to the window and peeked out the curtain.
“So, Falau, my job is to give you all the info I have so you can take down The Butcher. You need to listen up, because this guy is not just a sick son of a bitch, but he is smart. Really smart. As a kid he could’ve gone to any university he liked, but he didn’t see the sense in going to school where he knew more than the professors. He wanted to pull his family out of poverty, so he looked to drugs. He is so smart he knows not to be the top man. The Police always want to get the top man. It is a better show for the cameras. He knows that it is a lot better to be down the line. You can keep low, and still make millions of dollars. It has only been the last few years he turned into The Butcher. His brother stole a million dollars from him and put out a hit on him, looking to take over the operation. He felt he needed to send a message to everyone who might think he was weak. So, he paid the zookeepers not to feed the lions for two weeks. He then dragged his brother into the zoo with the help of a few men. Then they threw him to the lions in the middle of the day. Families were there. Schoolchildren were there. Story has it, they even put blood in his hair to get the lions to attack. He is not a nice guy at all.”
“Well I wasn’t thinking of taking him out for coffee. I just want to get him and bring him back,” said Falau. “Where is he?”
The woman sat on the sofa and grabbed the top of the coffee table and opened it like a car hood, exposing several handguns hidden inside. “I prefer the 9 mm, but most guys like to brag about having the big one, so here’s a .45 for you.”
Falau smirked at Carla’s ribbing. The more he spoke with her the more he liked her. She gave as good as she got. She was a fighter, but still maintained her feminine side through it all. There was nothing overly masculine about her, but her ability to take care of any situation in front of her was undeniable, even without having seen it.
“As I’m sure you know he runs drugs up to Miami and other spots on the east coast of North America and some places in Europe. Miami is the easiest because he could always fall back into Cuba if things got messy with the Coast Guard. He does it all through a warehouse over at the import/export station here in the city. He has everyone paid off so it is easy to hide drugs. He has at least thirty men working for him at the warehouse and on the street. The most notice you will ever have before they know he’s gone is about two hours. If they can’t find him for that long they will be looking for him.”
“Thanks for the info. What is the address of the warehouse?” asked Falau
“I will show you.”
“Sorry, but I work alone. This is my mission,” interrupted Falau.
“Mr. Falau, I’m coming with you. I want this guy nailed just like you, and I’m going to help. Besides there’s no way in the world you’re getting into that warehouse without me. They will see you coming a mile away,” she replied, smiling the smile of a person who knows they are right.
Falau looked to the ground, shook his head and wiped his face with his hand. “Okay, but I’m the lead. You fall in with my orders and no other way around it. You got it?”
“Sir. Yes Sir,” quipped the woman Falau could not help but like.