DeMario was hand-sanding filler on the back of the trunk lid of his Mustang when the phone rang. “Central
Valley Irrigation Supply, this is DeMario.”
“Good evening DeMario. That CD that you sent us is a real treasure trove of information. How on earth did
you get that?”
“Don’t ask too many questions. You would need a search warrant to do it your way.”
“Well, no matter how you got it, this information, and other intelligence data we have gathered through more
conventional means, shows that we might see some sort of fight between two crime groups or syndicates in
Oakland this coming weekend.
We are mobilizing our special teams in preparation. We are just not sure exactly when,
where, or how this all might come down. I really shouldn’t be asking you this, this isn’t really legal, but it
could save some lives, is there any chance that you could try to get some more information?”
“No chance. I nearly bought the farm getting you what I could.”
“Did you have anything to do with the crash of that car into a canal with the gang soldiers in it down your way a
few days ago?”
DeMario winced. ‘Please do not use that term when talking about criminals.
It is very insulting to real soldiers,
marines, and sailors. And the answer is, who wants to know and who really cares?”
“Sorry, I won’t do that again. Thanks again for the CD. Please let me know if you find out anything else.”
After hanging up the phone, the wheels of DeMario’s head were spinning wildly.
Ed had said that he was going to
be in Oakland for a wine festival at Jack London Square. DeMario was pretty sure that some people in the Fairchild Group, the company that Ed worked for, were involved in smuggling illicit drugs in grape juice from Oakland. DeMario started mentally planning for a trip to Oakland, starting with what kind and amount of firepower he should bring with him.
Alex walked up to the door of the seedy warehouse office and knocked on a weather beaten door. An almost
invisible shadow in the twilight on the roof across the street trained an infrared laser beam on the window of the
office. In a few moments, the door was opened by a heavyset olive skinned man with stringy black graying hair.
“Come in quickly. Were you followed?”
At first Alex just looked at him, trying to match the guys face with a mental catalogue of memorized criminal
faces. “Not that I know of.”
“No matter, come with me.” The big guy grabbed Alex’s right arm and hustled him quickly to a waiting purple
van parked in front of an open roll-up door in the back of the warehouse. “Get in.”
As Alex stepped into the open side door of the van, someone pulled a black sack over Alex’s head and two other
people grabbed his arms. Alex started to struggle but quickly realized that it was futile. The next thing he
knew his two guns and his cell phone were gone. He could hear the engine start and feel the motion as the van
pulled out to go…somewhere.
Continued ...
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