Chapter 27 - Meeting the General
We seemed to have set an arbitrary 24, maybe 48 hour limit on our waiting. Its not hard for me to like this place. To me? Its my version of the exciting Moroccan bazaar. Panic once related to me different stories of his dealings with the innocent villagers him and his group were trying desperately to protect. Now I saw for myself, what he saw.
He had described a fascination with how simple the people lived where he had been. For me? This was the same deal, right here. I guess that somehow trumps the rich resort kind of vacation. He said when there was no threat? The villagers had been easy going and easy to read. When they smiled? It was never fake or contrived. They gibber jabbered among themselves.
These people were like he had described his villagers. Honest and open. Mostly kind and patient, as if it were some sort of virtue in their culture. It came across as childlike, innocent, and sweet. Burrito had what I call that... twinkle or sparkle in his eyes, that only comes from intelligence and wit. Him and Panic hit it off. Both twinkling eyes at each other in quiet understanding.
They did speak privately and Panic of course clued me in. There's a saying, that if you don't know who your masters are? Simply see who you're not allowed to criticize. Senor Vaco, the self styled drug lord, as it turned out. Surprise there, huh? Apparently, Vaco has a nickname, only used behind his back. La Vaca. Literally? The cow. Apparently, he's simply a piglet of a man.
An inebriated villager yelled a punch line of some joke as... la vaca. The cow. Instead of laughter, as his other antics had brought him... this one, brought him everyone staring at him, like he farted in church. Then? The screeching halt, and I mean to everything. He looked around nervously, and the party slowly resumed.
But like I said. If you don't know who your masters are, simply find out who you can't criticize. And in this case? Its Vaco. Panic clued me in, on the sly. Burrito had confided in him. General Suarez and his policia? Were to be feared.
You'd see one here and there when things were humming in the daytime. Burrito said it in hushed tones, as Panic related. That, if they all disappeared for an extended period of time? They were probably all going out to kill someone. It was rare, but it happened. Watch out for them. Panic relayed it to me and Vladimir both.
While walking around the market and everywhere else that day, me and Panic wandered off on our own and talked. At a certain juncture in the conversation, I got tired of hinting around and just came at it blunt.
"So. What are your plans, for... this place."
"Honest? Not sure. And when I'm not sure, I typically try to do nothing. Or as little as possible. Until I know different."
"This is your indecision, that Little Robbie talks about."
"If you wanna call it that? Fine by me."
"I didn't mean it as a shot."
He grinned.
"I didn't take it as one. And even if it was? Its fine. But yes. What Rob calls indecision? I call infinite patience. Rob's a great leader, there's no doubt about it. If he has any faults, they're not really faults. Like, the way he acts or reacts quick. I like to think of my infinite patience as different from unable to decide."
"You like to? But..."
"But. I always thought fear and respect were two similar, but slightly different things. And I can explain my difference. But to Rob? They're the exact same thing. He has a whole lecture about it. And technically? He's right."
"If he's right, does that make you wrong?"
"Yes, no... maybe so. So, what are you asking."
"Our original mission? Was, what we were going to try to do. Now that's off the plate, is there some replacement target."
"I'm leaning towards, no. Not if I don't have to."
"I'm always asking, so I get a feel for how you run your operation."
He looked at me with his right eye forward, a few seconds of his bug on a pin routine.
"What would you do. In my shoes. What are the options."
I snickered.
"The primary objective, as Vladimir likes to call it? Is to get your information. The idea is to trade cash for answers. I know if the situation was reversed? I'd want my stack of cash. I only have to talk? For a couple minutes? I get a stack of cash. What's not to like about it."
Panic shrugged.
"He's being cautious. Or, letting us know he's the boss of things. Which, as long as I get to trade cash for answers and get the fuck out of Dodge City? I don't give three shits who thinks who is in charge of what. Whatever. As you correctly stated. Primary objective? Cash for answers."
I tapped my lips while musing.
"Vladimir seems to have the quiet polite thing going on."
Panic wiggled his hand.
"If he's ever... not polite? Someone's going to know about it. If he's half as good as I figure from how he talked about rough stuff. He's a holy terror, if he wasn't bullshitting me."
I poked him with my index finger.
"Aw. Does my Widdle Panic have a bromance going. How sweet..."
Panic sighed.
"What was the big sigh for."
"You also tease me about me and Rob have a bromance."
I giggled.
"You can call it what you want. You have a..."
He chuckled now.
"Go on. You can say it. Little Robbie? Is, well known to be my hero."
I poked him again, in the side of the shoulder. Its teasing and affectionate, both.
"Your hero, would act or react."
He wagged his head. Calculating.
"Okay. I'm more cautious than my hero. That's fair. I'm cool with that. Also, as I assess things. I'm trying to estimate how many... policia, how many different faces I've seen. Two dozen? I'm guessing. But, that's manpower."
"The general has two dozen, estimated, in his force under his control."
Panic mused.
"And cow man Vaco? I'd expect him to have some more men, or... the policia just automatically have a few guys there at his fenced in compound. Could be a few more. Who knows who he could call to come in. Am I missing anything about the other side?"
"About it."
He calculated more, out loud.
"Me, you. That's two. Vladimir is three. And."
I furrowed my brow.
"What was the, ominous... and, for exactly."
Panic shrugged.
"Of those two pilots? If we assume the stories are all true. I have this opinion. The main pilot? Flew through small arms fire, and laughs about it. He said, he was former Airborne."
I calculated with him.
"Which makes him..."
Panic shrugged.
"I want you to think, Little Robbie? But, he's a regular sized guy. Lead pilot's about my height, weight. He could be like Rob, he could be more like me. Or Skykid. No telling. With Vlad now? That's four. And a four man team? Well..."
He counted in the air with his finger.
"They have what. I'm guessing so far, about two dozen guys. Me, Little Robbie, Skykid... give us a number four like us? Hmm."
He looked around.
"With some planning, maybe we could take this area. It would have to be the middle of the night. I'm thinking using explosives, once the element of surprise was gone. Then a coordinated raid on the objective or objectives. With the right surprise... I mean, if you're quiet about it? You'd be amazed how many guys you can take out quiet, before anyone even notices anything's up. Especially at night. I mean, me Rob Sky... a good fourth man. We could easily have a dozen out, before anyone even knows. We still got the charges in place, ready to go. That's a force multiplier."
He stopped describing, then he started back up.
"But, that's not what I want. There's reasons against it, if I don't have to. For one? While this cow man might kill someone now and again... if he was gone, who would take his place. Some other drug lord, I'd guess. Or, more than one drug lord fights over it. His generic file says he's the least violent, of all the other drug lords. He's known for dealing in information, which is why we're even here, in the first place. I could easily, very easily... do more harm than good, in the long run? Uprooting this fat little carrot."
He drummed his fingers on his palm, musing.
"You. Agree or disagree."
"I agree. You always try to do it the nice way first, right?"
He nodded yes at me.
"Well, there we go. We try nice."
He chuckled.
"As far as a regime change goes, though. Unless there's some serious backup somewhere, I haven't noticed yet? Two dozen policia aren't exactly terrifying. Give me, what. Three to four, four man teams? Good men, it wouldn't even be fair. I'd need more intelligence, and plan more, but... the villagers are scared of getting killed by, the sweaty policia. A regime change, would be a lovely thing. Problem is? The new Vaco, would have to be either powerful enough, or skillful enough... that he could hold this place."
I shrugged.
"How about Yuri."
"What abut him."
"He's a, what. Big investor, former Russian mafia. I guess I could believe he turned over a new leaf. For Francois. In eighteen months? He's getting out. He might like having a little empire here."
"If he was as even tempered now, as Vladimir says he is... he wouldn't go around killing villagers now and then, to teach them quick lessons. He'd probably buy them vodka? And figure it was cheaper than fighting with the locals. These Russians? Are both big deal makers. They could handle the Chinese imports flowing through this place, that all the governments obviously tolerate. There's no stopping any country's military from stepping on this place. Once again? It might be for a reason. Vaco, might well be the lesser of several different evils."
I poked his shoulder again.
"Are you going to ask about guns? You have an importation license, on your class three. Its one of your, every single option checked off, license. Is Vladimir right, that you can manufacture frames for the AK-47's and you were telling me about Argentinian Mausers."
He nodded.
"I never thought about it. I am an importer, I can make receivers, if I want to. I once had an old Argentinian Mauser."
"How was it."
He shrugged.
"It was a 30-06, Mauser, is what it was. They were cheap surplus. I didn't pay very much for it, out the door off some FFL dealer. On the surplus international market? It might be cheap as hell. There's a number of handguns on the international market? They're considered old hat, all surplus market. But they're decent handguns. They're worth a lot more, once legally inside the United States. I don't want drugs, I don't wanna buy my own prostitutes. But South American guns? I mean, why not."
"Then, I hope everything goes smooth."
Panic nodded.
"Vlad said its his meeting. His guys recommended this guy. He seems like he's used to this sort of thing. Yuri's old days, I'd guess."
"Okay."
We came out of the shower, to smiling faces and light applause. Panic waved his hand around, like a politician.
"Well? We don't wanna waste water. Its a precious resource."
He got smiles and laughter for his antics. Vladimir and both of us, did the market again. Most of these people are a little on the short side. Vlad sort of parts the red sea, when he's walking around. We were having snake and fish for a late lunch, when a policia member stood in the doorway and gestured to one of the staff inside the corrugated metal shack that housed the picnic tables.
The young girl came over to the table, and had a short and sweet Spanish exchange with Panic. He nodded and smiled at the girl. She went and brought the policia guy inside. Panic waved him over.
"General Suarez, send me. He, is sorry. For he is so busy. General Suarez, ask me to ask you. To have, breakfast. Tomorrow... tomorrow..."
He seemed to be fumbling for the English words he wanted. Panic obliged him.
"Morning, Manana?"
He smiled and nodded yes.
"Si. I... yes. Morning, breakfast. With General Suarez."
Panic nodded.
"Of course. And where... donde es..."
"Ah. I? Will come, and get you. I take you there."
Panic nodded some more.
"Que hora?"
"Ocho horas. Es bueno?"
Panic grinned and nodded.
"Si. Es muy bueno. Mucho gracias, senor."
The man beamed. He seemed pleased he had demonstrated that he had a little English he could use.
"De nada."
He scurried off, and joined the couple of other policia gathered at the door. Panic listened until it receded. He told us the guy was bragging. See, I told you, I could make good English.
Vlad looked at me, between bites of snake dipped in spiced sauces.
"We have business meeting."
Panic shrugged.
"We might. We definitely have breakfast. He said, with General Suarez. He'll come and get us, and take us to Suarez. I assume he knows we stay at the plane every night."
Vlad nodded.
In the morning, Panic and Vladimir got up quite early. Vladimir lost his track suit he liked so much, for his good suit. He seemed inordinately pleased with his appearance.
"Has been some time, since I have business meeting. It feels good, to be back."
Panic shrugged, and let me all but dress him. He had a nice suit with him as well. When he was ready, he fingered Vlad's lapel of his suit.
"Nice material."
Vladimir shrugged.
"Hong Kong. A gift, from Yuri. Before, we go to Paris."
He touched Panic's back, on his wrist cuff of the suit jacket.
"Your suit, is nice too."
"Off the rack. Its a two hundred dollar piece of shit."
"Is fine. You look like, businessman."
"I might look, like a businessman. I feel? Like I'm going to a wedding or a funeral. Its about the only time I wear a suit, unless I have to appear in court."
"Is fine. Perhaps, one day? We visit Hong Kong. It is, very affordable. With the best material, and men that will measure you, and make you, your suits. Ties, shoes, shirts? All, the same. Very nice, and very affordable."
I dressed casual. I didn't really plan on going to the meeting. Jeans and a T shirt and jogging tenners. We were sitting around waiting, having a morning cup of coffee with the pilots, when their radio barked. It was time. The same policia that had delivered the message during our late lunch, was there. Stained uniform, but light years ahead of the sweaty oily thing that seemed to live at the desk in the airport. Panic waved as him and Vlad started down the steps out of the plane.
"Olla!"
The man waved back, his short machine gun over his shoulder with the strap.
"Olla. Good, morning."
When the policia asked Panic where the wife was, he pointed up to me at the top of the steps to the plane. The policia waved me down.
"General Suarez? Is, apologize. For, being a busy man."
Vladimir rode in the front passenger seat of the aging jeep, and me and Panic rode in the back seat. We were waved in by the guards at the fenced gate to the General's compound. The compound was a big fenced in area. It had a lot of outbuildings around, but off in the distance? A large, nice villa house. The jeep headed there. The weather here is best in the evening, or the early morning. Dinner after dark, or an early breakfast? Both made perfect sense for comfort to hold a meeting.
We were ushered into the villa, and to a short heavyset man seated at a big polished wood table.
"Well, come. To my, villa. It is early, but? Not yet hot. I, apologize? For me, being busy. But, I must see Senor Vaco first, and then? My own things I need. Please."
He indicated seats. He clapped his hands, and a young girl brought him coffee and several mugs on a tray.
"And, will we talk the business, first? Then, maybe we eat."
Vladimir stood and smoothed his suit out, though it hardly required him to do so. More of an affectation, I decided.
"General Suarez? Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me. I? Am Vladimir. Vladimir, Radiscononovich. I am very pleased, to meet with you. I am sorry that Yuri, could not be here. I am Yuri's close assistant. I facilitate, many things for Yuri. I speak, for Yuri. In meeting."
General Suarez nodded politely.
"And, your friends?"
"The Testavino's. Mr. and Mrs. Testavino. They are, business clients."
General Suarez smiled.
"And you? Come highly spoken. Senor Vaco, wishes me to tell you. He is sorry, that Yuri is... away. On business."
"I will be sure, to tell him."
General Suarez nodded.
"So, you? I almost know. Senor and Senora Testavino? I do not."
Panic stood, and smoothed his tie out.
"I'm sorry. I don't travel, under my real name. Please, do not think I'm trying to be rude."
General Suarez nodded slightly.
"And, your real name is? If you can give it."
"Senor Fernloth. David, Abel... Fernloth."
"This, is good. Would you be so kind, to spell it? My English, is not the best."
Panic printed his name in block letters on the clipboard with paper and pen Suarez had with him on the table.
"Thank you."
"Ramirez!"
The man that had brought us, came in and stood waiting.
"Here. Take this, to Pacina. Call me, when all is bueno."
"Si, General."
The General, waved his hands around.
"And. It will be, but a little while. Did you enjoy, staying here?"
Panic nodded.
"Its very nice. We like the market."
"Ah, yes. Today? We... click, and click. And things, they arrive. What happened, to the old days. You hold a thing in your hands, you bargain for it. You meet the man making it, selling it."
He must not use English all that much. He's quickly getting a little better, as he talks more. I noticed this with Panic, suddenly immersed in Spanish surroundings. Stiff and slow, but within minutes? It was flowing easier. This continued all day, every day.
"Senor Vaco. He likes my English. I am to try, to teach English, to my men. Now you, Senor... Fern, Loth. You? Speak Espanol, very well my men tell me."
"Si. Un poco de Espanol."
"But, your wife, and your... business associate, they do not. And so? I think, we will speak in English. We all share that, yes?"
We all nodded.
"Perhaps, some more coffee."
He gestured, we all helped ourselves again.
It wasn't long, before his cell phone beeped on the table in front of him.
"Ah."
He made a face. He shook his head, and made a noise by snapping his tongue lightly. He shook his finger, at Panic.
"It would seem? You are a criminal, Senor Fern, Loth."
He waited a few moments, before breaking into a big smile.
"You have... parking, tickets. Very naughty."
"I do have, my... difficulties. Parking my car, sometimes."
General Suarez laughed, and it seemed genuine.
"All, is bueno. Vladimir? You have, proposition."
"I do."
Vladimir reached into an inner suit coat pocket, and withdrew his hand slowly. The General followed his hand with mild interest, and more when he retracted it back out and held it aloft. He riffed through the stack of green.
"And these? Ten, thousand, dollars. Is for my new friend, General Suarez. I wish to have, polite business meeting. The kind of meeting? Yuri, would approve of. And so? This, is for General Suarez. For meeting with us. For, being so polite."
He laid the stack on the table, in front of Suarez.
"Please. Is yours. You may... handle it."
General Suarez did riff through it. All hundred dollar bills. He then took out one of those little felt tip pens, and made a few marks across some randomly chosen hundred dollar bills. Followed by a little electronic gizmo, that made a polite little soft beep, when his thumb pressed the button.
"Thank you. Very, much. I am glad, I am so... polite."
Vlad smiled.
"For Yuri? Polite business, is good business."
The General nodded.
"I was told, you seek... information."
"I do. I was informed. When, you were young? You, were in... army. In jungle. You were officer."
The General nodded.
"Perhaps, I was. I have been many places, and done many things."
Vladimir nodded. He then took out another stack of bills, identical to the first. He laid the new stack, next to the one General Suarez had placed back in front of him, on the polished table.
Vlad smiled, and spread his palms.
"And polite business? Can also be, very profitable. As you can see. Answering questions? Is, very... rewarding."
Suarez smiled.
"I am, enjoying. Our, meeting. Very much."
Vlad nodded.
"Is good. And so. When you were a young man. Doing, as you say... many things. Many places. There were, Americans. You would have met with them, discussed the... many things, and many places."
Vlad took out a third stack of green. Riffed it once, and put it on top of the other two already there.
"Thirty, thousand, dollars. Just, for polite talking. Is good, yes?"
The General nodded.
"I do... enjoy? These little talks."
"Again. Is very good. And now? Big question. Surely, one American? Would have been... more, important. Than, the others. The man, that arrange. For... your many places, and many things. And that? Is the man I seek information on."
Vlad took out two more stacks, but riffed and held onto them. Grinning.
General Suarez nodded.
"I can not give you, his name."
Vlad slapped his other hand with the two additional stacks.
"And. We were getting along. So... very well."
The General hastily added more.
"I can tell you. Everything? But his name. He does not give his name."
Vlad nodded. The General wanted to please, though.
"We called him? El Sombrero de Copa. It is, all we know. To call him."
Vlad just wagged his head.
"Hmm."
"I can describe him. He was tall. Maybe, a little taller, than you."
He indicated Panic.
"He was, a little bit fat. Not so fat, but some."
He went on to describe everything he could think of. The man was always a little nervous. He played with things. He's describing little nervous tics. Eye color, hair color, the way he dressed... anything he could think of. He had that little smile, and it said he hoped he was trying hard enough. Just when you thought he was done? He'd muse and drum his fingers. Then? Suddenly come out with describing the haircut, or that he was clean shaven. Another time? He described the watch. He was like a game show contestant. He had thirty grand, and wanted his bonus round score, to get that twenty more.
Vlad looked at Panic. Panic looked at me. I nodded once, yes. So, Panic nodded back to Vlad. The General hastily added a final thing.
"I would say? El Sombrero de Copa. He was, American? Spy. Who else, but American spy? Would arrange, such things. If I knew anything else? I would tell you. You are? Very, polite."
Panic nodded one final little time. Vlad stood, and ceremoniously deposited the twenty thousand more, to be with its friends on the table.
"And that? Makes, what. Fifty, thousand, dollars. For you. From, Yuri."
"Muchas Gracias, Senor Vladimir. My boss, Senor Vaco. He, misses Yuri. Doing business, with Yuri? Was, apparently, very... profitable."
Vlad nodded.
"Is good. Our business meeting? Is finished. We would like, to thank you. Very much. For, taking the time. To meet with us."
"And? I enjoy our time talking. Will you now, eat?"
"General Suarez? I would be honored."
The General was quite happy, and got breakfast moving. Eggs, bacon, thin little pork chops, and sausage. He cautioned that one sausage, was sweet. The other? Hot chorizo sausage. A couple different little carafes of freshly squeezed fruit juice. Throughout breakfast, the General asked if there was any other business, his guests were interested in.
"I speak for Yuri, on this polite talk, we just had. But? On other business. I do not speak for Yuri. Yuri, will be back in business, and soon."
He asked Panic, how to say... eighteen.
"Dies y ocho."
"Yuri will once again, be available? In, perhaps... dies y ocho, months. Perhaps Yuri will come, and do different business? Perhaps, he will speak for another man, like him. But? Business, is always possible."
"And you fine people? Would you be looking for anything. That, me or Senor Vaco, could provide you with."
Panic raised his hand. The General smiled, between bites of hot sausage mixed with his eggs on his plate.
"Yes?"
"I buy and sell guns. And ammunition."
"Aha! You, are in... right place? For gun. What kind of gun, are you interested in. If you are not sure, I have a list. To give you, ideas."
Panic nodded.
"Argentina. In the 1950's, they got Mausers. Bolt action rifles. Wood stocks. But? They were in the American caliber. Thirty, ought, six."
General Suarez nodded.
"Yes, yes. They were replaced, and more than once. Not expensive. This? Is easy."
"And... AK-47."
"Yes. A long time ago? The Russians, and the Chinese were here. And so? There are many AK rifles, on our market. One more time, not expensive. Also, easy."
"And handguns?"
"Of course."
"Makarov. Usually comes, with the leather holster. Extra clips."
"Of course. Easy, and not expensive."
"CZ-75."
"Easy, but a little more expensive."
"Naturally."
The General waved his hand.
"Anything else?"
"If they're still around. Old Russian bolt action rifles. Mosin Nagant. Seven six two, by fifty four. The old rimmed cartridge."
"Ah, yes. And that? Is... very, very easy. And? Not expensive, at all. We are, what is word? Giving, them, away. And, anything else?"
"Depends. I never know exactly, what all I want. Until I see something."
"We have, nine millimeter. Automatic. It, was before the CZ-75 came. Looks, like American 45."
Panic nodded.
"I know the one."
"Well? And perhaps, ammunition. For these things, if you buy some. And, I suggest? Russian Dragunov. Same ammunition, as Mosin Nagant."
"Hmm. The Dragunov with the little PU scope?"
"Yes. A little Swarovski scope. Old model, but nice. Not powerful scope? But, very solid. Six, power. If you want, handgun?"
Panic spread his hands out. He was considering anything.
"Brazil and Argentina? Had... FN plant, for a time. Browning high power. This, before the CZ became popular."
Panic's face lit up at that one. The General gave a knowing smile, apparently he was used to people appreciating that one.
Panic nodded. The General smiled, and indicated the 50 thousand dollars, in five neat bundles.
"I will give you, samples. Of these guns. For you to take back. And think about, future business. You have been, most... generous, as well as, polite."
Panic nodded.
"I guess, I might come back another time."
"Please, come back. And, the next time? We, are already... friends. You can, come and see me. We can eat, we can, drink. We can, talk about doing... profitable, business."
Vladimir cleared his throat, for polite attention. The General raised his eyebrows at him.
"Yes?"
"I want, cock. I want to buy. Cock."
The General chuckled.
"Perhaps, you mean a different, English word."
Vlad looked confused.
"I was told. You? Are, cock expert. I want to buy, expert cock. From you."
The General smiled politely, and was still a little confused.
"I don't think..."
Vlad looked a little deflated.
"I was, a little bit excited. I was told, you? Are, cock expert. For cock, fight. Your cocks? Were best."
Vlad put all his fingers for the tips to touch, making a sort of cone out of his hand. He poked and retracted his cone shaped fingers. The General watched this, with some small degree of, what. Detached amusement, perhaps? It was when Vlad snapped his cone shaped fingers, to tap on his plate several times, that I saw realization wash over a relieved General's face. He laughed, a big belly laugh.
"Ah! Yes! You want... rooster!"
"For cock, fight."
"Yes, yes. I thought, you were asking, for something else. I will tell you, what I told Senor Fern, Loth. You have been so generous, making my friends with me? I will give you, nice sample. They are young? But. Are from line of rooster, that is... excellamente."
"Is good."
"Yes, Vlad. Is, very good. And please. Be sure to tell Yuri, when you next see him? How happy I am, how happy Senor Vaco is. That, he will once again, be in the business. Yuri, is a good man."
Vladimir nodded.
"I will tell Yuri, when I see him."
Breakfast went smoothly, after that was all out of the way. It reminded me now, more as if we were visiting someone. A friend of a friend. That was the atmosphere. We went to a large outbuilding, that had a raised floor of crushed stone, surrounded by boulders to keep it raised. It was to keep the weapons and ammunition crates nice and dry.
General Suarez assured Panic that he wasn't going to show him and give him nice ones, then any deal was for lesser examples. He told him to pick a pallet, then to point at any crate. He gave him his pick of four out of that crate. This process was repeated, for each type of gun and ammunition. Panic crated up four of everything, and a couple of what he called battle packs of ammunition for each.
General Suarez was confident. Take then, shoot them, play with them, inspect them carefully. He was sure at the prices he offered, we would be back. He had the men load his wooden crate with rope handles on the back of the jeep we had been fetched in. Vladimir and General Suarez walked around a little, talking and saying goodbye. Then, he was friendly and polite with both of us, wishing us well and to come back for business or pleasure, anytime. Now, General Suarez had the same walk around, almost arm in arm feeling with Panic.
I asked how much a kilo of cocaine was. Then general laughed, and rattled off different kinds and prices. He recommended Yellow Peruvian Flake. It was a little more, but had nicknames already. Re rolled his hands around, translating it was called... bloody nose. Suarez and Panic had a rapid fire Spanish exchange, and Panic said to me... nosebleed, might be more appropriate. It was also called by some, the moneymaker. And to a few others? Panic said it was... the dentist.
The price was to die for. And I suppose in the game at this level, that pun could turn prophetic. But, that was the top of the line. And depending on bulk purchased in, the prices quoted for one sample kilo, well. They dropped accordingly.
It seemed Argentina and Paraguay were neck and neck for several years, for the middle ground. A little lower price, or a little higher potency. They were the solid and dependable year after year performers. Colombian powder was the wholesale item. Actually the last in quality these days, though not by any stretch what one would call... bar coke. Without being cut? It was knock your socks off, impress your friends quality. But the prices, and the bulk price drops if you bought enough at once? Were ridiculous.
Colombia was the restaurant that you liked that coffee, and it helped you pick that place to eat. Sure, you recognized the name of the coffee and could go to the store and buy it. But its never the same, no matter how strong you brew it at home. Argentina and Paraguay were like the coffee only national chains. Much better and what a selection. But this was no two dollar cup of coffee at the restaurant or truck stop. This was your several dollar a cup special stop on the way back from lunch, and you really thought you were treating yourself.
Peru? Well, that seemed like the monkey coffee. I've seen FBI training films, simply because undercover pool workers going through the much longer academy for that style of bureau work? Naturally some people ended up working that end of things. Hard yellow was some of the purest stuff. Much more care and expense were taken. Special lab drying equipment, more expensive solvents. This was like comparing mud bricks to expensive fire bricks, purchased only for making fireplaces. Rock stars and drug dealers in the states, could go a lifetime never seeing this stuff not broken down and stepped on for profit.
The Peruvian chemical grade stuff? This wouldn't be kissing the monkey's bottom. One sniff of this monkey's ass, and you were in for a nosebleed. Rub the little taste test across your gums? You could likely pull a tooth.
I realized this was like traveling to the area where everyone grew the good hard corn you buy for top line feed lots. The only way to get it any cheaper? You'd have to have access to tour the fields, and see the men with the solvents working. Laying those giant white bricks out in the sun to dry, lifting forms off of it carefully. Like making mud bricks to dry in the sun.
I suddenly understood how important Vaco really was.
Panic was probably right. Take his fat ass out? You seriously disrupted the supply chain. While that might seem like a dream come true? The road to hell truly is paved, with the best intentions. I know human nature. The price in the states when supply dropped below critical levels, would push demand through the roof. Prices would soar. Violence and crime to fight for what scraps were left and still coming in? Would be intense and widespread. Street crime to pay for drug habits already a nationwide problem, that would explode as well. No law enforcement agency from small town locals up to the FBI and DEA would be in any way able to handle it.
Human nature would take over in the response. Politicians screamed at to do something? Would do the only things they can do. Talk, give speeches. Make promises. Conduct studies. The politicians would need money, of course. Taxes would go through the roof. Police would become even more militarized, and "justice" would become even more "streamlined". Talk of national emergency and things like suspending Habeus Corpus would be heard. Police with machine guns at intersections? Would put boots on necks and search vehicles. Things would just happen. Backlashes against criminals and the new police state would become inevitable. The police state, the criminals, and now the common citizens? Would square off, each against the other two. America would resemble Colombia for a time.
America could very well go through its own La Violencia.
No. This turd had a clean end. He was the lesser of several or more different evils. He was the friendly easy to get along with devil everyone knew. You didn't want to dare roll the dice and meet the new devil you didn't know yet.
This fucking world we live in.
Panic took time to say goodbye to the friends he had made here. I know without asking him, they remind him in some way of the villagers he knew when he was younger. I had one of those quick heart to hearts with him before we boarded the plane.
"Things turned out strange."
He was staring at the horizon. Like he was a million miles away. But still talking to me. If he was concerned with me, I'd be getting his right eye on me and his stare would be the pin through the bug to the little wax board, a bug to be examined. I could watch the Swiss watch cogs click and clack. But I know its not me. Its something else, maybe everything else, when he does this.
He sighed and crossed his arms.
"They usually do."
I waited. He'll say something when he's ready.
"I started out? Wishing The Devil dead. For years. And now? Well, here we are."
"What's eating you."
"Nothing. Everything. How it all works. Hell. How it all doesn't work right, I guess. The whole world's a big ball of shit, is what it is."
This fucking world. This world, the best of all possible worlds.
"The world never was perfect. Eve ate the apple. Cain killed Abel. Esau stole Jacob's birthright. God sent us his only son? We nailed him to a damn cross, after torturing him worse then the actual criminals."
He studied that horizon, and I mean intently. As if some airplane writing something in the sky would give him a clue to everything. He didn't seem to locate it. Didn't stop him from looking.
"Yeah. If you believe in that stuff."
"I did when I was little. You did too."
"We did. Now? We're all grown up. Daddy ate the cookies and drank the milk we left for Santa Claus. When you finally grow up? You find out how the whole stinking mess, actually works. I'd give anything not to know."
"Ignorance is bliss."
He shrugged.
"Knowledge is painful."
"I know something's bugging you. You know I know, before I even said it. You'll tell me when you're ready."
He chuckled.
"Religion. Faith. Me? Wow, was that smacked into me when I was little. Sunday church, Saturday bible classes. Even some private Catholic school."
I know him. Deep. He's a sigma male. He has this huge morality streak, born right in. Its hardwired into the sigma brain. They also study the system. Any system. They scrutinize it from every angle, inside and out. No detail is too small, not to be studied. You overlook nothing. And you pan out and back, and take in the whole big picture. They play by their own set of rules, too.
Some people find the sigma male predictable. Particularly their friends and acquaintances and people who know them through work or even in any casual way. The waitress learns quick. Bring him his coffee, refill it without asking. Oblige him with a few short question and answer sessions. You'll get a five dollar tip, to every one else tipping a couple bucks.
Others, though. They find the sigma to be wildly unpredictable. You can study a sigma. You do this, they do that. You do it again and again? And, again and again... you get your predictable response. Until the day comes. You try to use their seeming predictability to some nefarious end? Its like the cute little snuggle cat that's suddenly all claws and teeth and hissing. They set you up. They lulled you, into a false sense of security.
Its on you, not them. If you do your part? You get the smile and the friendly predictability. Try to think you're being slick? You'll find yourself playing checkers, when the other guy was playing chess. You're really not getting fucked when this happens. You fucked yourself. You misread them, and you took them for granted. You saw the harmless kitty cat. Not the lethal little predator.
I'd say I can close my eyes, and see it? I don't have to close them. I just need the slightest hint. A whiff of anything Panic does that reminds me of the sigma male in my life, that came before him. My Wizzy.
Evolution created sigma males. Like every personality type, mother nature had a reason. The alphas? Were born to lead. Guys? We need to hunt. Lets go. Guys? Time to get ready to fight. I don't like the looks of this group approaching us. Hey, everything's going great. We need some rest and relaxation, lets all take a couple days break.
The betas, are the body to be led by the mind that's the alpha. Leaders aren't very useful with no followers. And to the masses of followers? A life with no alpha to follow would be pointless. The betas would look like one of my grandfather's old games out in the barn. I found the old games, a young farm girl playing in the barn on a rainy day.
It was a football game. A motor buzzed the playing field, like a giant vibrator. The players, if you wanna grace them by calling them that? Would randomly skitter around slowly. Bump into each other, go in all directions. You put the little football on one of your players, and hoped the vibrating let your guy get yardage, before he was contacted by another player on the other team.
Not much real planning, more blind luck than anything. Players crashing into each other, vibrating all over creation. And that? Is what life without the alphas would be like, for all the betas. Random nonsense, no direction, no structure.
But, the sigma male? He has a job as well. You run beta in any group, or you run by yourself and you're fine with that, too. If there's an alpha around? You let them lead, that's what they're for. You play capable beta to any decent or better alpha. But they have a secret mission. If the alpha goes bad, or another bad alpha comes along and there's no good alpha to confront the bad alpha? That's their job.
They take bad alphas out, like lightning strikes. Then? They go right back to running below radar again.
This whole game, this whole system? Its not bugging him, its driving him crazy. The world never really was a very sane place from the get go, but recently? Its gone downright nuts and its heading speeding off the cliff of bat-shit crazy.
Society used to have a few alphas, and a lot of betas. But? They had more sigmas. The quiet guy at the big factory, that did his job well, and never missed a minute of any shift. Came in early and stayed late, if that's what it took. And if the leader didn't show up? They shrugged, and issued polite suggestions and everything still ran smooth. Then? They went right back to running below radar when the alpha leader was no longer sick, and back to work.
We're been breeding out these rare gems, for some time now. Sigma males are famous for some things, and one of them is their infamous sense of success. They simply don't care about money, or just view it as little green things you stack up, to be traded in for the things you actually desire. The sigma views success as ability, not numbers on some piece of paper.
Women naturally select mates for several things. Protection and providing. That's why women naturally like tall men, muscular men. And a tall muscular man? Is even better yet. That's why women like guys that bring home the bigger pack of bacon every week. As cavemen? The cave woman wanted a man that was big and strong, and could protect her and the children. As a first world society, they still like those characteristics. Big, strong, and impulsive. The cave woman wanted a man that could go out and bring home meat or any other resource needed. By force, if he had to. And in polite society, that gets expressed as the guy that makes more money.
Its ruining us. Alphas? Need able and capable lieutenants. Dependable number two's with ability, that are trustworthy. They need a sigma. Beta's? Need the fail-safe option of another "beta" that can take out an alpha that goes sour. Or, that can handle the alpha position until another alpha can be located and courted to lead the group.
Our so called system now? Its gone to shit. Work and business? Its been turned into some dog eat dog system that would be more at home in a wild dingo pack. Morals and values are liabilities, and no longer virtues.
Men are being taught they're supposed to be some weird combination of alpha and beta glued together. Its a schizophrenic transplant, and its driving work and home life stress through the roof.
Women aren't helping any. Selecting the man to marry next, based on his paycheck and social standing. Selecting the guy to fuck next, based on height and bad behavior. We're devolving, a little faster each generation as we breed out the sigma. The sigma? Is the reset button. They take out bad alphas. Its like rebooting the computer, when it locks up or goes haywire. Alphas need a sigma around, to make the great suggestion.
I'm one of the rare sigma females. I understand him completely. He's frustrated. What he thought was The Devil, for years? Is turning out to be one of the only good guys, in the big international finance game. Now, this drug lord? Is certainly no prize, none of them are. But? He's more than tolerated. If only because his replacement would be worse. Killing or dethroning him? Would most certainly be ruination for these people. And the shock waves sent out from the epicenter of taking Vaco down suddenly? Would echo from South America through North America and back several times.
To do the right thing, is the worst thing ever. Its beyond stressful for a sigma. But, he'll look at the system, with this new view. He'll work with it. He'll deal with it.
Doesn't mean he has to like it, though.
He'll be moody and introspective and quiet, while the Swiss watch gears click and whir. It will take a while. He'll ruminate.
I likely won't get a proper fuck for some small amount of time, but hey. Other things are more important than a stray tingle in my twat.
He's coming out of his momentary study of the horizon. Looking at me, and I'm getting his go to mask. The upturned curl of one lip, his signature grin. It instantly brings up Wizzy. Smiling and shrugging. What can you do.
"Its all fucked? And there's no fixing everything. We both know that."
He's referencing the now situation, as well as his old situation. The blood coal and the zombies slaughtering the villagers. All pawns from top to bottom in some high stakes poker game. I'm his pair bonding mate. I'll try to make him feel better if I can.
"What you went through. You, the other side, the villagers. Everyone either tried to do what they thought was best, or got used. You did the best you could."
He went back to the horizon momentarily. He finally spoke more to the skyline meeting the land, than to me.
"The road to hell? Is paved with the best intentions."
