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Sunday, February 19, 2012

Honor Among Thieves

“Miguel, I appreciate your taking initiative, but I want you to listen very carefully to me...”

Alejandro Sanz paced the room, the cell phone pressed to his ear and a scowl creasing his handsome face.

“If you shoot him in the head now, how the fuck is the son-of-a-bitch going to pay the money he owes us?”

The Venezuelan drug lord was a study in contrasts. He had inherited his father’s dark skin and hair and his mother’s aquiline features and steel-gray eyes. At first glance, Alejo looked more like a common street soldier – raven-black hair shaved off on the sides and back of his head with the remainder pulled into a ponytail; a sharply trimmed beard and moustache framed sensuous lips and terminated in a small braid. Looking into those penetrating eyes, however, dispelled any doubt that this was a power to be reckoned with. At 30, he had eliminated nearly all of his rivals and was the undisputed leader in the country. He was one of Lucio Giambi’s closest friends and de facto fist of the crime lord’s empire in the Southern hemisphere.

The darkly handsome criminal took a deep breath to control his temper. “Okay, this is what I want you to do. First – you make him disappear. His family and friends become crazy. They won’t know what has happened to him. Second – you make a ransom demand…”

A pause. Alejo counted to ten and clenched his fist before continuing. Of course, he’s dead by now! Are you going to put a notice in the papers right next to the wedding announcements? Third – after you get the money and after you launder it – you dump the body … on the steps of la estacion de la policia, on a park bench, in the train station. Entiendes? Good. Call me when you have him.”

He closed the phone and tossed it onto his desk. “Fucking pendejo…” he muttered and poured himself a glass of fresh juice. He closed his eyes and put the cool glass against his forehead. Why do I have so many idiots working for me?

A quiet knock on the door and James Treaty entered. “Is this a good time, Mr. Sanz? I can come back later…?” Lucio's man spoke flawless Spanish.

Alejo smiled at the young enforcer and motioned him into his office. He drank in the sight of the blonde-haired American in the pale gray henley that was stretched across his muscled chest and powerful, inked arms; his gaze wandered down to the tight faded jeans that left nothing to the imagination tucked into gleaming black riding boots. A black leather shoulder holster served to frame and highlight the span of his shoulders even further and Sanz felt his tool twitch and begin to snake down the leg of his trousers. Dios, how I want him in my arms.

He poured another glass of juice and handed it to the other man.

“Thank you, sir.” Their fingers lingered together on the glass a bit longer than necessary.

After several shipments of cocaine had been interdicted by the police, Alejandro Sanz had asked Giambi for some assistance in improving his operations. Treaty had been sent down to assist the Venezuelan in revamping the druglord’s processes.

James had been uncompromisingly thorough in his review and took steps quickly to tighten security in Sanz’ operations; his capabilities were frighteningly formidable. As were his insights. Of course, there was the some resentment among Alejandro's soldiers at the American’s apparent arrogance – but those feelings were quickly replaced by amazement and then grudging respect as noticeable improvements occurred overnight.

* * *

One incident cemented Treaty’s stature among the Venezuelan soldieri. During a raid on Sanz’ last rival, the American had killed several of Rosario Abecassis’ men in quick succession with single shots to their hearts. Another man had received a gut shot during the melee and was moaning in pain; he had slid down against a wall leaving a bloody trail behind him and trying unsuccessfully to prevent the loops of his intestines from spilling onto the floor. James had knelt down to speak quietly to him. The mortally injured man gave James a sad look and nodded. The American quickly snapped his neck and laid him at rest. He got up and slammed Roberto Morales against the wall – eyes blazing with wrath.

“These men were doing nothing but following orders, Roberto! They deserved a clean death! You like hurting people for fun, don’t you?”

The thug spat on the body and smirked. “He was nothing but a pig, Mr. Treaty … he don’t deserve anything better…”

Two quick punches to the chest and Roberto’s legs collapsed beneath him. He wore a surprised look as his heart burst and his eyes glazed over in death. Treaty turned to the spectrally quiet men behind him.

“In this organization, gentlemen – we kill when only when we absolutely need to and when that situation arises – we do it quickly and with honor. Does. Everyone. Understand? ¿Quedó claro? Angry green eyes swept across the assembled group.

"Sí, jefe …”
“Yes, Señor Treaty …”
“Yes, sir…”
“Sí, señor…”
“Sí, por supuesto, jefe …”

Other men were too stunned to speak and only nodded their agreement. Treaty turned the body over with a booted foot. “Pick him up and let’s go.”

* * *

Treaty leaned against the desk, his massive package straining the fabric of the jeans and framed by his powerful thighs. He sipped the juice. “There’s no way for those shipments to have been intercepted without some internal leak, Alejo. You’ve got a mole.”

Sanz pinched the bridge of his nose. “Goddamnit … I was afraid of that.” The slight accent of his English took on a harder edge. “Do you know who it may be?”

“I have a hunch. But I need to gather some more information first. You did say all the shipments were confiscated by the same group of policeman?”

“Sí … the Policía Municipal squad led by Captain Enrique Albarracin. Why do you ask?”

Treaty’s eyes grew hard. “I think I’ll have to go to the source and get my suspicions confirmed.” He gave the other man a grim smile and Sanz felt the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. With a start, Sanz realized that Treaty - like himself - was one of the elite in the Giambi organization that had received Full Training and all of the ramifications that that entailed.

The Venezuelan took a chance. He reached up a tentative hand and a knuckle gently stroked the side of Treaty’s face, moving down and following the hard line of his jaw. “Be careful, James. Albarracin’s men are savages.”

Green eyes met gray; the enforcer took the drug lord’s hand in his own and kissed it.

“Don’t worry, Alejo. I will be. Giaan and Lucio sent me to take of the problem and I will.”

* * *
Guns drawn, detectives Marco Accier and Alberto Crespo moved stealthily up the staircase.

“Are you sure this was the right address, Marco? I have a really bad feeling about this…” Crespo had light brown hair and a gymnast’s tightly muscled build. His light brown eyes looked worried.

Accier nodded and returned the whisper. “One of the largest cocaine deals is supposed to be going on in apartment 302. We need to catch Sanz’ men in the middle of the act. C’mon…”

As Marco moved to the next step, his shoe ground into something that made a slight crunching noise. Suddenly, a small, round item flew downwards and bounced towards the two policeman.

Alberto’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Grenade! Run, Marco, run!”

With a roar, the flash-bang grenade went off.

* * *

With a start, Crespo awoke to the acrid smell of ammonia; he felt the material of the black hood compress around him as he took in a breath and began to thrash about in panic. In a moment, it was pulled off and he blearily looked around the sterile white room. Like himself, Marco had his hands cuffed behind his back and was secured to a heavy wooden chair; their clothes were torn and scorched from the grenade blast. Two handsome and well-muscled men leaned casually against a table on the side of the room, and in front of the captive policemen, a large metal tub was filled with water and ice, condensation beading its outer surface.

The darker of the two men spoke. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. You and your captain have been causing me some considerable annoyance lately, but I do admire and respect your determination and ingenuity. Of course, I know that you’ve been getting a little help … and I've asked you here to find out who has been leaking that information.”

Recognition and fear dawned in Accier’s face. “Sanz?”

The drug lord gave them a grin. “At your service. Or rather, you at mine.” He sauntered over to the captives and pulled up a chair to sit astride it in front of them.

“Out of all the officers under Albarracin, I believe you two are the only ones possessing at least a modicum of honor. That is why I am making you this offer: if you answer my questions, I swear on the Virgin that I will end your lives quickly and cleanly with a single bullet to the back of your head and I will provide for your families.”

His face hardened. “If you force me to interrogate you, you will be begging me to kill you before we are done.”

A pause. “Well? What is it going to be?”

Accier spit in his face. Alejandro wiped the spittle away and got up. “So be it.”

He motioned to Treaty. “James – let us begin. Start with the smaller one.”

* * *

Black spots swam in front of Crespo’s eyes as his head was pulled out of the water. Gasping for breath and choking, the room spun around him. Again. The other gangster – James – had donned a heavy pair of thick, rubber gloves and had proceeded to hold the lieutenant’s head under the freezing liquid.

Alejandro’s voice was implacable. “Crespo, who has been giving you the information?”

James whispered in the lieutenant’s ear. “At this temperature, you lungs are going to burst…” he tightened the grip on the wet hair and the smaller policeman hissed in pain. “… tell us who it was, Alberto … please ...”

Choking, the bedraggled man nodded. “O-okay…” Treaty held him up as the man was ready to collapse.

Coughing, he turned to Sanz. “It was your mother …”

James pushed him back into the chair. Alejandro picked up an automatic with a silencer attached and shot off a kneecap.

Alberto screamed in pain as the pulpy mass oozed blood onto his ripped pants. Alejo pressed a button and two more soldieri entered the room. He nodded to the sobbing policeman. “Take him into the other room and cut out his tongue. I’ll decide what else I want to do to him next.”

James turned to Marco and stroked his chin. Accier could tell that a number of possibilities were sifting through the blonde man’s mind – and none of them good.

“Last chance, lieutenant … you want to end up a crippled mute like your partner?” Accier pressed his lips together and glared at the enforcer.

James grabbed the other man’s chin and tilted Marco’s head up so their eyes met. “Or perhaps you’d like spend the rest of your life as a blind man?” Treaty saw horror bloom in the other man’s eyes.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything to ruin such beautiful eyes as yours …” James continued conversationally. “We’re in a quite special wing of a hospital right now. A very quick and painless operation and …” he snapped his fingers. “… your world will be forever dark. What do you have to say to that?”

Accier unleashed a string of profanity so intense that Treaty’s face hardened into a mask. He strode over to the table and poured some liquid into a small towel. He quickly pushed the moist fabric over Marco’s face. “Sweet dreams, lieutenant…” as the chloroform spiraled him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Marco woke to a blackness so intense it terrified him. He could feel he was sitting in a hospital bed and his hands were cuffed to the rails on each side. To his left, he heard a chair creak and scrape against the floor. A voice near his head startled him.

“Hello again, lieutenant. How are we feeling?” It was James. He jerked away as a hand brushed against his forehead to move away a stray lock of hair. The same hand trailed delicate fingers across his eyelids; he could feel the slightly callused tips as they passed.

“I just wanted to show you that nothing is covering your eyes.”

“You’re just fucking with my head! The room is blacked out!” The policeman shouted.

Treaty continued unperturbed. “I think this will prove to you that we’re not a dark room…” Accier heard the snap and hiss of a match being struck and smelled the sulfurous whiff of the ignition. He pulled away as he felt the heat of the match near his nose, but despite the heat he saw nothing.

Nothing but unbroken darkness.

“You … you sonofabitch…” the policeman began to weep.

“I warned you, Lieutenant. You had every chance to reveal who your source was and you refused. In a way, I admired your defiance, but at some point defiance devolves into stupidity.”

Hot tears poured down Accier’s face.

The policeman felt a finger trail softly along his wrist. James continued softly. “My final offer, Marco. Either you give me name of the informant or I’ll amputate your hands. You won’t even be able to put dark glasses over those beautiful eyes with stumps.”

Wracking sobs shook his body as Accier snapped. “No! NO! It was Eduardo Salcedo!! Please, please don’t cut off my hands!”

He heard a door open and a set of heavy footfalls cross the room. Treaty grasped his hand and squeezed. “I won’t, Marco. I’m a man of my word.”

He addressed the other person who just entered. “Take care of him.

Accier screamed as the first whiff of chloroform hit the back of his throat again.

* * *
Eduardo Salcedo relaxed under the warm jets of the shower and idly rubbed the sudsy soap over his smooth, hard body. Today had been particularly brutal, with Alejo sending him on multiple errands from one end of Maracaibo to another. The drug lord’s second-in-command hefted his substantial package and wondered what hot young stud he would pick up and plow from one of Alejo’s clubs later on in the evening.

He slid open the frosted glass door to grab a towel and jumped back in shock.

Madre de Dios! Señor Treaty, what are you doing here?”

James was leaning against the sink, a lopsided smile on his face and the fluffy bath towel in his hand. Snug jeans rode low on narrow hips with a hint of his Armani trunks peeking just above the waistband; his powerful upper body gleamed from the steam of the shower and his tattoos provided an erotic addition to the already obscene tableau. Eduardo felt himself begin to thicken and twitch.

“I’ve been wanting to see you naked since the day I got here …” He sauntered over to the other man and trailed a finger down the crevasse between the rock-hard pecs. Using the towel, he pulled the wet man into him and began to nuzzle his neck.

The towel dropped to the floor and slightly callused hands slid down Eduardo’s back to cup hard cheeks. “And I’ve wanted nothing more than to hear your scream as I plow that tight, muscular ass of yours.”

Salcedo breathed in the musky scent emanating from James's skin. His initial fear dissipated. Plans be damned - tonight he wasn't going to let anything destroy this chance to feel the blonde enforcer inside him.

Lifting his hand, he threaded his fingers through Treaty's hair and tugged the enforcer's mouth to his. James allowed him control of the kiss, encircling Eduardo’s waist and crushing him to his body. Salcedo swept his tongue inside, stroking the other man’s teeth and eliciting a moan from the blonde gangster. He slid his free hand down to cup Treaty’s jean-covered cock and squeezed. Hard.

James jerked away. "Fuck … we need to get in the bedroom ... right now. I want you bent over and taking me as deep as you can."

"Please," Eduardo begged, unashamed of the need that made his voice tremble and his knees weak. Somehow, the man had cast a spell on him; an enchantment he was unable to resist.

Turning him around, James slapped his ass and nodded toward the bedroom.

By the time he got to the bed, Eduardo’s hands were shaking. He bent over to lay the large, fluffy towel over the coverlet. Before he could straighten, however, the enforcer’s cool hand landed on the small of his back. Goose bumps and shivers traveled over his skin as James stroked the muscular globes of his ass.

"Brace your hands on the bed," James ordered, "and spread your legs more."

Doing as commanded, Eduardo blushed at how wanton he must look as his hips tilted and his ass pushed out to encourage Treaty’s touch.

"Señor, I want..."

A hard slap to his ass made him gasp and jump. Glancing over his shoulder at James, Eduardo met the enforcer's gaze.

"What was that for?"

"No reason. I just wanted to see how you'd react to it."

James's wicked grin caused Eduardo’s cock to swell. "Where's the lube?"

He closed his eyes because the sight of James's naked body drove the ability to think out of his mind.

"Ummm...in the night table drawer, I think."

Another slap to the other cheek and James reached over Salcedo's back to search in the drawer closest to them. Eduardo couldn't help rocking back and rubbing his ass against James's massive erection.

"So eager ... ahh, that's one thing I love about you, tesorito.”

Treaty murmured in Eduardo’s ear before moving away and holding up the lube. "Got it."

Eduardo whimpered at the loss of the enforcer’s weight and touch.

"James, I …"

"I know. Don't worry. I won't let you wait for long."

James trailed long fingers over Salcedo’s spine to tease the top of his crease before dipping down to rub over his hole. Dropping his head forward, Eduardo arched his back and twisted his hands in the towel. The pop of the bottle warned him before cold liquid dropped onto his skin.

"Ohhh." His voice was little more than a groan.

Treaty chuckled, but stayed silent. Eduardo closed his eyes, absorbing every touch and letting them absorb into his consciousness.

The blonde man pressed the tip of one finger inside Eduardo's ass, pushing the lube in. The latino relaxed and the invading digit sank farther into his channel. Tightening his muscles, he tried to keep James there, but the enforcer eased out his finger.

"James," Eduardo protested his emptiness.

"Quiet." James commanded as he kissed between the latino’s shoulders.

Two more slick fingers thrust in, this time with a little more force. Eduardo hissed and rocked through the burn, allowing the slight pain to fade. Treaty never stopped touching Salcedo’s back, sides, and cock. James wrapped Eduardo’s prick in his fist, pumping in rhythm with the pace of his fingers opening the man beneath him.

One of James's knuckles hit the latino’s gland and he cried out as electricity shot through him.

"Oh, fuck!" He panted.

A deep chuckle, almost a growl. "We're getting to that."

"Más. Más!!"

"Soon, handsome, soon … you'll get all you need and deserve."

The two fingers disappeared, only to be replaced by three and James fucked him hard and fast with them, hitting just the right spot with each shove in. Eduardo bucked and rocked, taking everything Treaty gave him and pleading with the blonde man for more.

James's hand gripped the latino’s cock tightly and with each upstroke, he twisted his palm over the head, drawing cries from Eduardo until his throat was hoarse.

Leaning over, Treaty growled in Salcedo’s ear. "I want you to cum now, guapo. Don't hold back and after you've come all over my hand, I'll ride your ass until you cum again."

A sharp bite to Eduardo's shoulder, along with the thought of the enforcer’s massive cock in his ass, drove him over the edge. His cum spilled from him, covering James's hand and the towel underneath him. He jerked and moaned, allowing the fair-haired man to demand every drop from him. His tremors hadn't faded yet when Treaty yanked his fingers out of Eduardo and shoved his cock in as deep as he could go. The hair at the base of James's shaft brushed latino's butt cheeks.

Eduardo clamped down on James, massaging the blonde man’s cock with his inner passage.

"Please, James, make me feel you for days."

James gripped the latino's narrow hips and took control. Eduardo allowed his partner to move his body the way he needed. Each thrust slammed into Salcedo hard enough to steal his breath. Treaty held his hips at just the right angle to hit the other's gland with each stroke.

His second climax built on the first and his head spun. He'd never had two climaxes so close together before, but the enforcer wasn't showing any mercy.

"Soon, handsome," James warned him.

Screaming, he clung to the sheets while his second eruption overwhelmed him. His passage took James's cock in a vise-like grip and threw the larger man into his own orgasm.

Hot liquid filled Eduardo as James shot his seed into him. His arms gave out before Treaty finished exploding. He fell face first onto the bed, not even flinching at the wet, sticky mess he landed in.


James licked Salcedo’s neck and eased away from him. They moaned as James's softened cock left the latino’s body. The enforcer patted Eduardo’s butt and walked over to the bathroom. Salcedo couldn't find the strength to pull himself up to lie properly on the bed. Maybe he'd just slide off the side and sleep on the floor. The thought had definite appeal.

Eduardo flinched when a warm damp cloth swiped over his ass. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he watched as James cleaned him off.

When the enforcer finished with Eduardo's back, he helped him stand.

Barely awake, he leaned against the bedpost.

"I think you melted me or something," he joked as James eased him onto the coverlet and gave him a gentle kiss. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Dios, I’ve never had my brains fucked out of me before.

“I’m sure these little adventures don’t go into the DEA reports, do they, Agent Ramirez?”

Eduardo’s eyes flew open to see a naked Treaty with a hard expression on his face and a heavy blued-steel gun replete with silencer in his hand.

* * *

The enforcer’s face grew troubled. “What the hell am I going to do with you, Eduardo? I can’t let you stay here and fuck up Alejo’s operations and I don’t want to blow your cover either. You’re a damn fine agent – it took me a good deal of hard work to have the police spill their guts about you.”

Treaty smiled. “Besides, I like you and you’re an absolutely amazing fuck.”

His face hardened again. He threw the agent two sets of cuffs. “Put them on. Ankles and wrists. Wrists behind your back. Now.”

Once the agent was secured, James produced a small hypodermic and jabbed it into the captive’s neck.

Ramirez felt a short, sharp sting and watched as his world retreated down into a black tunnel.

* * *

Once he was sure the captive was unconscious, Giaan’s protégé gathered his clothes and dressed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and dialed a long distance number. In a moment, Giambi’s intelligence chief was on the line.

“Hey boss, all done here. Good news is the leak’s been plugged. The bad news is that it wasn’t a rival gang – it was a DEA agent.”

Giaan cursed fluently in Hindi. “Damn … what did you do to him?” James could hear the slightly hard edge in his superior’s voice. The Giambi organization had strict rules on harming any type of law enforcement official. Disobedience was an automatic death sentence.

“Well, after I plowed his ass, I cuffed him and knocked him out. I really don’t want to blow his cover, boss … I’ve got an idea, but I’m going to need a little help to get it done…”

* * * 

Awareness returned slowly to Marco – the first thing that registered was the smell of brewed coffee and fresh pastry. He levered himself off the bed, opened his eyes and peered blearily around the richly appointed room.

It struck him like a thunderbolt. “I’m not blind! I can see!”

“Of course you can. And they didn’t cripple me or rip my tongue out, either. We’ve been fooled.”

Accier turned to see Crespo standing by the large window, dressed in a pair of snug grey briefs and a cowled sleeveless robe hanging open to display his slabbed pecs and six-pack abs. Marco was in a pair of pajama bottoms; the room was cool and his nips were hard and tight on his own chiseled physique. Off to the side, a large table was heaped with breakfast. Alberto sipped a mug of coffee, a sour look on his face.

“They told me you broke.”

Accier looked away. “I … I’m sorry, Alberto. After they took you away, that big blonde enforcer threatened to blind me. I woke up – couldn’t see a damn thing – he even lit a match right in front of my face. Then he threatened to cut off my hands if I didn’t give up Salcedo.”

Crespo’s face softened. Dios, that must have been terrifying. Sanz certainly knows how to press the right buttons. But that doesn’t alter the fact that Albarracin is going to have our balls for this.”

A gentle knock on the door and Sanz, along with what was presumably a bodyguard, entered. The handsome young man accompanying the drug kingpin wore a red string tank-top over his smooth muscular figure and a pair of black workout pants.

“Good morning, officers.” He walked towards the table and lifted the carafe to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Crespo rushed towards the crime lord, but suddenly found himself lying flat of the carpet, the wind knocked out of him. The bodyguard stretched out a hand to the prone policeman and pulled him back to his feet. To his chagrin, Alberto found the bodyguard was inhumanly strong. And damnably handsome as well. The young man gave the policeman a warm smile as he saw the considerable bulge in the gray briefs . “Please don’t do that again, señor. There is no need. You are among friends here.”

Shit, he's so damned fast I didn’t even see him move.


Sanz never missed a beat. He sat down, crossed his legs and sipped his coffee.

“I want to offer my apologies to you both. I know what was done to you was … unsettling … but I did need to find out who the traitor was in my organization. James was certain that he could get that information without any permanent damage and I’m glad to see he was right. It would have been inexcusable to actually cause you any real physical harm.”

He gestured to the two officers. “Please, sit. Enjoy your breakfast. You are my guests.”

“More like your prisoners.” Accier muttered as he crossed over and filled a plate with eggs, cheese and sausage.

Sanz chuckled. “No, you are free to leave in a few hours. I just need to make sure you don’t interfere in any of my immediate plans. And this is the most pleasant way to address that. I see no reason to treat you otherwise.”

Alejandro continued. “James felt that the two of you were honorable men … honest, compassionate, yet with enough steel to make hard decisions – a very rare combination for officers who work for Enrique Albarracin. Then again, you are quite new to his command, so his behavior has yet to corrupt you. Among his other talents, James is an excellent judge of character – and I trust him implicitly.”

Accier opened his mouth to speak, but Alejo put up a hand. “Please, Marco - let me finish. Captain Albarracin is a criminal in every sense of the word. His men kill without compunction, steal, rape and commit every atrocity imaginable. What do you think he did with the cocaine that you took from me? Do you actually believe it is still in the evidence locker?”

Crespo was silent as he took a croissant from the basket and munched into it. There had been certain furtive looks and conversations between the more senior of the captain’s officers that abruptly stopped when he or Marco entered a room.

Alejo sensed their growing discomfiture. “I only ask you this: prove what I have told you is a lie. I think you will find that your commanding officer is nothing more than a sociopathic thug … and somehow, I do not think either of you could bear to work for such a man once you know the truth about him.”

He paused, giving them a small grin. “On the other hand, I would be honored if you would consider working for my organization. I have only three rules – work hard, never lie to me, and use the talents God has given you to protect those who depend on you.”

He gave the two officers a knowing smile as his eyes lingered over their half-naked forms. “I also believe that you possess other … talents ... which I hold in high esteem. I know you two are partners - in every sense of the word.”

Marco and Alberto gave each other panicked looks; Crespo blushed scarlet at the drug lord’s astute observation.

Alejandro laughed. It was a deep chuckle – more like the purr of a very large and very amorous cat. “No need to worry – your secret is safe with me.” He stood and put the cup down on the tablet.

He looked at his Rolex. “I must go. Nestor …” He nodded to the bodyguard. “will see to anything you need. I took the liberty of purchasing new clothes for you since the ones you were wearing were quite scorched from the grenade blast. There is also a new pair of contact lenses for you in the bathroom, Lieutenant Accier.”

He stood and knocked on the door. He turned to the officers as he left. “I hope to see you soon, gentlemen. For the moment, then - goodbye...” The two gangsters left and the door clicked shut.

Crespo grinned at his partner. “Well that was a surprise!” He gently took hold of Accier and gently rubbed the tight obliques with his thumbs. Marco responded by wrapping his arms around the other man and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“You know, since we’re stuck here for a few hours, I’d hate to let that bed go to waste … it looks so soft.”

The dark-haired lieutenant pulled them both down onto the soft sheets. “Well, it certainly beats the hell out of the third-floor broom closet, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Peter Gardner entered his office and dropped into his chair. The debriefing on the sudden spate of art thefts had his mind reeling. Whomever was responsible, the FBI station chief thought, was good. Damn good. Scary good. It was going to take a lot of hard work and some incredibly lucky breaks to crack the case. All of a sudden, the opening notes to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony trilled on his cell phone. A tired grin crossed his face as he flipped it open.

“Hey Lucio, what’s up? How’s my favorite global crime lord?”

A smooth laugh from the other side of the connection. “You sound exhausted, Peter. Difficult case?”

He loosened his tie. “Yeah. Damn art thefts have everyone scratching their heads … what can I do for you?”

Giambi paused. “I’d rather speak to you about it out of the office. Will you be home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Good. I’ll call you at 9pm sharp. Thanks, Peter. Talk to you then.”

* * *

Lucio Giambi hung up the phone and looked at it thoughtfully. He opened up his email program and quickly began typing:

Hey Alec,

Keep up the good work, but I think it’s time you took a trip to Europe …

Lucio

* * *

Eduardo Salcedo was jarred back to consciousness after a violent, backhanded slap to his face. He woke to find himself bound tightly to a folding chair and looking into the furious face of Alejandro Sanz.

"Maleton! I trusted you with everything! And what do you do? You fucking betray me to the Rasquin cartel! Bastard!”

The drug lord slapped him again.

Cartel? Treaty didn't tell him I was DEA?

Salcedo was still recovering from the effects of whatever James had given him, but was alert enough to see he was near the edge of a cliff. The sun was at its zenith and the roar of water was close by.

Suddenly, a gun was in Alejo’s hand. “I should blow your fucking head apart!” He was quivering with rage.

“Alejo, no … that’s too quick and too painless for him. He deserves something for his betrayal far more lingering, agonizing ... and terrifying.”

Eduardo turned his head to see Treaty get up from a crouch and approach him. The blonde was wearing a tight black tank over blue jeans and his face was rigid mask of steely determination. He was barefoot.

As James crossed in front of the captive he pitched his voice so only Salcedo could hear. “Keep quiet. You’ll be safe soon.”

Treaty approached the drug lord and gently took the gun out of his hand, tucking it into the back of his jeans. He turned to the DEA agent.

“In case you don’t recognize it, Eduardo, we’re at Angel Falls. There’s over a 2,600 foot plunge to the bottom at this point … and I can’t think of anything better than listening to you scream all the way down...”

He walked slowly towards the captive man and Eduardo felt fear encircle his heart and begin to squeeze it in a viselike grip. James continued.

“Just imagine the pain as your bones break on the way down, crashing and bouncing into the rocks and finally, if you’re still alive and conscious, plummeting into the ice-cold water below and feeling your lungs fill up with water…”

James put a bare foot onto Salcedo’s chest and applied pressure. The front legs of the chair left the ground, and Eduardo felt his already shaky balance deteriorate further. He looked over his shoulder to the roaring spume of water below him. The chair continued to tip further back.

“See you in hell, Eduardo …” as Treaty's final push launched him backwards over the cliff. His screams were soon cut short by the roar of the falls.

* * *

Fifty feet below the edge, a wormhole bloomed into existence and received the screaming man into its event horizon. One of ODIN’s microprobes – which had been monitoring the events above, zipped in just before the anomaly closed.

Giambi had asked Colonel Tyler Morgan and the resources of The Castle for assistance in rescuing the undercover agent. With some planning and thanks to the collaboration of ODIN, LOKI and Travis Burke, the wormhole incorporated both spatial and temporal characteristics to ensure a successful extraction. Eduardo Ramirez was being transported - both in space and in time - to a safe location.

* * *
At 9pm exactly, Gardner's phone rang.

"Okay Lucio, what didn't you want to talk to me about earlier?"

Giambi sighed. "Peter, one of my Venezuelan subsidiaries was having problems with a DEA agent ... I'm afraid we had to remove him."

An icy hand closed around Gardner's heart. In all of his dealings with Lucio and his men, there was an unwritten and unbroken code of honor among them. What had happened that caused that covenant to be broken and why was he calling him?

"And what do you expect me to do about that?" The FBI man's voice was tight.

"I was hoping you could speak with him and explain the situation. His name is Eduardo Ramirez. My guy has kept his cover intact, but I'm afraid too many questions would arise if he were assigned to South America again. I've even held back his identity from my soldieri there. Their organization is not quite as mature as some of my others and sometimes emotions can run a little hot."

The station chief let out a deep breath. "Shit ... I thought you killed him for a moment. I should've known better. Who'd you send down there to cool things down? Sounds like something Giaan's smoke and mirror department would handle ... Javi Malaspina? Jimmy Treaty?"

Lucio paused. "Sorry for giving you the wrong impression. And yes, it was Jimmy, by the way."

Giambi chuckled. "If you keep this up, Peter, I'm going to have to lure you away from that low-paying government job of yours... Ummm, you're going to having an unexpected visitor drop in momentarily ..."

At that point the FBI chief heard a thump and crash from across the apartment. "What the fuck?..." He dropped the phone and rushed into the other room.

A naked and soaking wet man had appeared from out of nowhere, along with the remains of a broken wooden chair. He was cuffed hand and foot and looked completely bewildered by his surroundings. Peter guessed that he had been tied to the chair, but the impact - first on the bed and being bounced to the floor - had broken him free. How he got into his bedroom was an enigma to Gardner as well.

"What ... who ... where am I?"

How the fuck did he get in here? "Let me get those off you ... " Gardner left the room, returning with a cuff key. "Eduardo Ramirez, I presume?" He pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around the naked agent and helped him to his feet.

The man nodded. "Who are you?"

"Peter Gardner, FBI. Do you know what happened to you?"

Eduardo shook his head. "The last think I remember is being kicked over Angel Falls in Venezuela, screaming my head off and then bouncing off your bed and landing on the floor ... what are you smiling about?"

Gardner shook his head. Leave it to Jimmy and Lucio to handle the situation like this.

The station chief put an arm around the DEA agent and led him into the kitchen. "Let's just say I'm not unfamiliar with James Treaty ... Eddie, you happened to get involved with a criminal operation that is a helluva lot more decent and honorable than any government agency in the world. You would have been a dead man with anyone else. Let me tell you a bit about the Giambi organization and then we'll figure out what you're going to put into the report to your superiors."

The DEA agent looked shocked. "But ... but ... you're FBI ..."

"Those guys have pulled this country's nuts out of the fire more times than I can count ... I was about to order dinner. You like Chinese?"


* * *
Undoubtedly, you've seen my "Mexi-Mac" mask already and you were introduced (via Youtube) to Alejandro Sanz, the Venezuelan drug lord. I wanted to do something to bring him into my world, and having him become Lucio's South American captain was a perfect way to do that.

I've said this before, but the characters I create really do take on a life of their own. James Treaty was originally introduced as a security guard brought to Giaan's attention when he manhandled his cousin Kiran Patel.

Giambi's chief of intelligence took a liking to the young man, and he was subsequently given more and more responsibility. Jimmy also made an appearance in helping Alec Saldana at the Thornwood Foundation as part of his rotation through Lucio's various illicit operations. Here, you see that James has "graduated" to a troubleshooter for the Giambi organization.


Always a quick study, James employed a number of psychological techniques learned from Ariane Zutrovna to force the policemen to crack and betray Salcedo/Ramirez. From a prosthetic kneecap and neural induction to induce pain, to blackout lenses to simulate blindness, Treaty was able to incite terror and yet cause no lasting physical trauma. Alejo, of course was involved in the subterfuge with the two officers and played along to get the information from them.

The blackout lenses (called Pocket Darkrooms) were something that I particularly found intriguing. I came across mention of them on blackbody.nl. The original purpose of the lenses was to provide a sub with sensory deprivation magnitudes better than a hood or a blindfold. I thought this would be an excellent tool for an interrogation. Particularly for someone who didn't know they were in place.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Oh, my .....

Just found George Takei's page on Facebook - it's full of stuff that just makes you smile. Like this:


This is so accurate, it's scary!!!