Two weeks later
…
“Impossible?” Alvaro spats, glaring at Delmar. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to get my drugs back and you tell me it’s impossible?” he says, and then wipes the cocaine residue from beneath his nose.
“Alvaro—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Delmar snaps his mouth shut and draws in a deep breath. For weeks now he had been plotting and planning on just how to get his boss’s shipment back. It doesn’t matter that their organization was back up and running in the three states the DEA hit. In fact, that had been the easy part. In the grand scheme of things, the busts are just mild hiccups considering the amount of weight they are moving day to day, week to week, and month to month. They were far from bankruptcy, but Alvaro refused to let it go. As far as he was concerned, the government’s interference was a major slap in the face.
Slowly, Alvaro stands from behind his desk, clutching his 9 mm. What is left of Delmar’s right ear starts tingling.
“Take a walk with me,” Alvaro commands as he heads toward the back glass doors that lead to the pool area.
Delmar casts a worried look to the other men in the room, but they carefully ignore meeting his gaze. He has no choice but to push his fear aside and fall in lock step next to his old friend. Once they’re outside, they walk slowly around the pool.
“You know … I don’t like this word. Impossible.” Alvaro sniffs. “No one should know this better than you, amigo.”
“Yes, Alvaro, but—”
“No, no.” He holds up a finger. “No buts. I don’t like it. Telling me something is impossible is like telling me no. You know I don’t like that either.”
Delmar swallows nervously.
“I’ve been more than patient with you. It’s been two weeks, and I still don’t have my drugs back. Because we’re friends, I feel comfortable telling you that you’re starting to piss me off.”
Delmar’s ears start tingling again. “I’m sorry. That is not my intent.”
“I should hope not. I’d hate to have the pool boy scoop you out of the pool tomorrow.”
Delmar takes another deep breath. “Forgive me, old friend, but I’m just trying to point out the level of difficulty involved in stealing drugs from the DEA. It’s nothing more than a suicide mission. All people within the agency keep telling me the same thing. Those headquarters are guarded too well. It’ll be like breaking into Fort Knox.”
Alvaro stops walking. “Are you telling me that you can’t get my drugs back?” Alvaro’s hard stare turns into black ice while he starts waving his gun around.
Once again, Delmar clamps his mouth shut and tries to prepare for either pain or death.
“It’s protocol for the DEA to house or store the drugs until the trials, correct?”
“Yes, amigo. But like I said, those facilities are usually well guarded.”
“But I imagine they would need all the drugs to be transferred to one location.”
“Yes, but—”
“Has that already happened?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should find out? Because it seems to me that the best time to snatch back what is rightfully mine is to intercept the drugs during transport.”
Delmar opens his mouth, but then quickly shuts it when he realizes that his stoned boss has actually made a valid point.
A wide, sinister smile creeps across Alvaro’s thin lips. “You see, amigo? Nothing is impossible.”
Delmar smiles, though he still has a bad feeling about this.
“Get on the phone, find when those drugs are going to be transported, how many cars are going to be guarding, and then hire the best people you can find and get me my fucking drugs.”