Cry Revenge (8 page)

NARCOTICS AGENT WILLIAM Benson, a highlypaid drug addict who worked as an undercover informer, sat in the parked car moodily awaiting his New Mexico working partner. After fishing for a month, he believed he had a drug addict who would set up one of the Mexicans. The Mexican was believed to have a direct connection from across the border. What Benson regretted was the inevitable loss of a damn good connection that he was really enjoying. The dope was always good.

Benson's partner, a young Chicano who was not known in Clovis, New Mexico, approached the car. He looked like a drug addict but was not. He was a square agent, yet of the school where he would snort drugs if it was necessary. That was why the two worked so well in the border cities.

It had been a hot summer night in August when Benson had first met his partner, Tony Gonzia. The temperature that night had not dropped below ninety degrees. The town of Las Vegas, New Mexico, had been searing. The people of the small drug town stood on the streets, unable to confront the heat inside their small rooms and houses. William Benson was just one of the many black men standing around Uncle Walter's Chicken Coop that night.

"Let me lay it on you again, amigo," the short Mexican had whispered into Benson's ear. "The man is waiting there now. No sweat, you know what I mean?"

Benson looked out across the street. There was a group of junkies lounging by the hamburger joint, smoking cigarettes and talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. Benson was new in Las Vegas and didn't know the contacts. He was trying out Pancho, the little Mexican, and felt wary about it. But he needed a fix and he knew he was going to have to take a chance.

"All right, my man," Benson said finally, "take me to the place. This heat is doing me in...."

Pancho grinned at him with a toothless smile. "You're on, baby...."

Pancho led Benson down the main street, then to a small alleyway, through a vacant lot and to the rear door of a large warehouse. There was a bright light outside the door, and when Pancho reached it, he unscrewed the naked bulb. Both men waited in darkness until a maroon Cadillac turned into the alleyway and stopped next to the rear entrance.

"There it is, my man. Be cool." And with that, Pancho disappeared into the night carrying the twenty dollars that Benson had paid him for the contact.

The electric window of the Cadillac came down, and a chubby Mexican leaned out. He didn't smile but only reached behind him and opened the back door. Benson climbed into the rear seat and sat in the total darkness. There was no one else in the car but himself and the mute Mexican.

Benson began to grow edgy as the driver took him out of town and into the desert. The blackness around him, the hot winds, everything added up to give Benson a sense of real dread. He had never scored in Las Vegas before, had only heard about the place through the junkie grapevine. The stories that came out in Watts about the New Mexico town were incredible. Dope was easy there, no hassles and no pressure. The brown shit just floated across the border and into Las Vegas. After the shit went down in Watts, and a few of the brothers got on Benson for some dope hassles, the young black had decided that new grounds were in order. Las Vegas was the perfect place. Loaded with enough smack, Benson took a Greyhound out of L.A. and rode with great expectations into the New Mexico desert.

But this first score was something else again, and Benson didn't like the way it was coming off.

The Mexican stopped the car, pulling off the road into an open space. Benson bolted upright in the rear seat.

"Okay, amigo. We make deal, now." The Mexican opened his door and stepped outside. Benson followed him from the rear.

The Mexican was much shorter than Benson, and Benson knew that, if it came to it, he could take him. There was no sign that the little dealer carried a weapon, at least not a revolver, anyway. So Benson breathed easier.

"Fifty dollars, amigo," the Mexican said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small packet of the white stuff.

Benson took out his fifty dollars, wondering what the hell was happening. Standing out here in the middle of the fucking desert making a small-time score like this was far beyond his experience. He was prepared for anything, and if he wasn't so damned strung out for lack of the stuff, his adrenaline would have been flowing even faster.

The Mexican took the fifty dollars, then handed the small bag over to Benson. At that moment the sky seemed to explode. The entire area around them was lit up like the middle of the day. Benson froze, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden glare of bright headlights.

"Hold it right there, friend!" The voice carried the authority of the law with it. Benson recognized the sting immediately. He also recognized the fact that he had been set up. He believed that the little Mexican, along with Pancho, were doing nothing more than giving the local narcotics man his monthly quota of addicts, making the man's name a prominent one when promotion time came around.

"Aw, fuck this shit, man!" Benson sighed as he saw the figure of a young Mexican walking toward him out of the glare of the headlights. By this time, the Mexican in the Cadillac had already gotten inside his car and was quickly disappearing down the highway.

"I'm Federal Narcotics Agent Tony Gonzia. You are under arrest for the illegal purchase of heroin. Your rights are as follows...."

"Fuck that shit, man. What's the fuckin' trip?"

Agent Gonzia took the small packet from Benson, turning it around easily in his hand while he inspected it. "You need this stuff, amigo? You need it bad?"

Benson didn't answer but stood there watching the slim Mexican. Obviously he needed it. There was no other reason that he would be standing in the middle of the fucking desert if he didn't.

"You want it steady, amigo? You want to score any time, and get paid for it?"

Benson couldn't believe what he was hearing. The man was offering him the world. "Pull my coat to where you're coming from, man."

"Well," Gonzia began slowly, looking directly at Benson, "you got two choices. You either spend some time behind bars on this little rap here, or you work with me..., as an undercover man"

"Oh, shit, man!" Benson moaned. He had heard about the shit that came down on the undercover men who had been caught by the mainliners. It wasn't pretty.

"You got no choice, amigo. No choice at all."

Benson knew that the man was right. He would have to work for the law, something he had always detested. Benson shrugged his shoulders and stared at the desert sand.

Gonzia smiled, tossed the packet of heroin back to Benson and waved to someone in the car. "All right, man, let's get to work." Gonzia led Benson back toward the unmarked car. The desert winds blew hot and heavy that night, and William Benson rode in silence back to Las Vegas, New Mexico.

It had been a long road from that hot night in the middle of the New Mexico desert, a road that would eventually lead the two men to the parking lot in the small town of Clovis.

Benson leaned over and held the door for his partner, who was juggling two hot cups of coffee. The black informer took his cup from the Mexican.

Tony Gonzia grinned as he sat down. "Why so grumpy, Will?" he asked, flashing his constant smile. "Don't worry, we'll find you another good connect."

William had to flinch at the insight of the Mexican. Tony had hit it right on the head. He wondered idly if he was that transparent. Then a flash of anger ran through him at Tony's smugness. From the vantage point of his middle age he could look down at the hotshot agent. He knew if Tony stayed in under cover work and continued to snort, he would one day be having the same problem.

"Don't worry about findin' me a good connect, Tony; worry about findin' a kilo pusher. That's what we get paid for," William stated, his dark brown features unreadable because of the lines of worry in his face. Fear, living with death, knowing in his heart that no informer could plan on tomorrow, had aged William.

Tony's round, friendly face never lost its smile as he changed the subject smoothly. "We have been feedin' our young friend long enough, but he's greedy, so he bears watching tonight," Tony said.

"All junkies need watching at all times when money is involved," William replied quietly. He had his doubts about their young addict friend.

There was something sneaky about the brother they were dealing with. This would be the first time they spent a large sum of money with him. Before, he had only purchased fifty dollar bags for the undercover men, and then, he had done business only with William, better known as "Will" to the people in the streets.

"I could wish for a better connection myself," Tony said honestly, after taking a sip of coffee. "This fuckin' punk is playin' it too close to the chest. You watch and see. I can feel it. It just ain't right."

William shook his head in agreement. "Well, what can we do? It's been played out to the limit, so what the hell. If this guy is going to introduce us to somebody big, it will be tonight. If not, we'll just have to let him go and try to find another junkie who can get us close to one of the bigger dealers in town"

"Yeah, I know," Tony answered quietly. "I get the royal ass because I know we can't come out and bust this punk we're dealin' with. It would blow our undercover work in this whole fuckin' city!"

"Uh huh," William agreed. "What time was that bastard supposed to show up here? Seven o'clock, wasn't it?"

Tony glanced at the cheap Timex on his wrist. "Yeah, but you don't have to worry. He's got five more minutes, and you can bet your ass he's going to show up. Shit! You don't think he'll miss out on a free blow, do you?"

"I guess you're right," William replied, "'cause here comes slippery Dan now!"

Tony turned around and he could see the slim, dark-skinned Dan coming through the parked cars. He came straight to where the agents were parked.

Fat, round-faced Tony opened the door, keeping his idiot grin on his face as he greeted Dan. Even as the two men greeted each other, Tony thought about how nice it would be to take a vacation after this job was over. Maybe he could swing a deal where he could be looking for a heroin factory while he was in Mexico City. No, he had to give up that line of reasoning because the idiot role he played as an undercover agent wouldn't fit his real-life identity. A smart young graduate from one of the best colleges in California, four years of studying, then coming out and taking up the act of a grinning fool. To have to work with such a man as William was something else, but it paid off in results. William had the knack for meeting drug addicts and having them trust him-something Tony had difficulty doing. He couldn't just ride into a strange city and that same night make a contact with some addict.

With William it was a simple thing. He could spot a user out of a crowd of people, picking the right one on just sight alone, or so Tony believed. William never would explain how he knew who was an addict and why he was sure the person he picked out really used.

"What it is, what it is?" Dan said quickly as he reached over and slapped William's palm. The two men greeted each other loudly, then as Tony closed the door after Dan got into the backseat, they lowered their voices.

"Is everything ready?" William inquired.

"It's as ready as I can get it," Dan answered quickly.

"What you mean by that?" Tony asked, ignoring the angry glare that William gave him.

"Hey, my man," Dan began, "what is this, quiz show U.S.A.? I mean, I'm supposed to answer so many questions for the sixty-four-dollar jackpot, is that it?" He didn't bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice. Even though Dan did business with many Mexicans, he had never grown to like them. But at least he treated them just like everybody else he came in contact with. He tried to take them all for a trick. Everybody could be beat in some kind of way. He believed all he had to do was wait and figure out where they were weak.

Without waiting for any directions, William started the car up and drove toward Sixth Street. He parked in front of a dingy, two-story building. "Hey, Dan," William began, "listen man, we want a piece of raw dope. We're willin' to spend nine hundred for it, plus toss in another hundred for you, so you ain't got to bum us. But we have got to meet the man."

Dan waited silently until William had finished speaking, then stated, "I know what you want, Will, so I'll relate your feelin' to the man, but it ain't always what you want, if you want some good stuff."

"Hey, my man," William began, "I thought all this crap was taken care of. When you told me to get the money together, and I told you I'd have to bring Tony along, you said cool. You said we could go in and test the dope right there. Now you act as if you want it to go some other kind of way."

"That ain't goin' be cool at all," Tony stated loudly. "It's got to go like you said earlier, it's too late for changes, not if I'm going to spend my money anyway."

As Dan got out of the car, he shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't going as smoothly as he planned, he reflected, but he had foreseen problems and hoped that he had planned enough ahead to handle it.

"We will see what we will see," Dan stated and walked toward the apartment building. Now he hoped, as he neared the building, that Emilio would have kept his part of the bargain so that things might still go off smoothly. Emilio Fernandez had been the only Mexican he could find who had the sense to pull this off. His brother Pedro was too hardheaded to work with, but Emilio was a horse of another color. He was chipping with the dope for one thing, so he was ready for anything that came along that might be smooth.

As soon as he entered the front door of the dwelling, he saw Emilio sitting on the stairway. "Hey, Dan, baby, am I glad to see you." The tall, slim Mexican came toward Dan with his hand out. "Is everything all right? Did the johns show up?"

Dan smiled at the Mexican. Emilio was boyishly slim, with dark eyes that matched the well-groomed black hair that fell around his ears. His nose was well shaped, as well as the small mouth that made him seem feminine.

"Everything is all right so far, Emilio, except the mothahuppas want to come in and test the dope," Dan stated, slowly stroking his chin as he tried to figure out a solution for their problem.