Page 117 of Double Shot
Sadie took a few months to fully recover from the incident – not just everything that had happened but from that kill, so close and so personal.
There was more good news for us. The Escadrille Cartel completely collapsed. Their North American operations came to a near halt, as it found itself lacking funds, burned with enforcement agencies, and when the other drug lords and cartels smelled blood in the water, they were torn apart or consumed into those other organizations.
What followed that could only be described as a blood purge.
This flared and chased the Cartel from its financial holdings in the Middle East and Europe all the way down to their poppy farms and street-level drug dealers. There were heads left on spikes in some parts of the world, and the price of heroin rose even down on the street. The damage done was almost impressive enough to affect the bottom line of the biggest drug dealing cartels in the world, the manufacturers of opioids and opioid derived painkillers. We almost made the cost of Oxy rise, and that was simply astounding, even to me.
I was glad that we hadn’t done that much. That was how some of those interests started looking at who was causing the problems, and how to get rid of them.
That was how you ended up getting the Chiquita treatment. Threaten something big like prescription painkillers and you had national interests involved, and then the USMC and private military contractors were coming after you like you were public enemy number one.
The Escadrille had thousands of members, billions of dollars, and an utter ruthlessness in pursuit of its goals. However, a first world military had hundreds of thousands of people, budgets in the trillions, and had things like satellites and made men like Kyle Lachlan and me. The DEA claimed the organization dead less than three months after we left Kaijin’s corpse in a burning Texas compound. They claimed that the last holdouts had been eliminated in a massive raid in Miami, netting a few hundred pounds of cash, a truckload of weapons, and half a ton of heroin, destined for market.
It was a day or so after that when Kurt Worthington turned up at The Black Watch. I bought him a pint and introduced him to the regulars.
“How have things been?” he asked, giving his pint a sip. “Fuck me, its proper!”
“Itisproper; I told you, mate!” I chuckled. “And it’s been good.”
“How’s your bird?” he asked.
“She’s done well, took a bit getting over that sticking she gave.”
“I bet, that was right in the business, up close, right up close,” he said.
“She did, close enough she got blood on her face,” I said.
“Fitting end for that bloody twat.”
“You ever make up that lost pay?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he said. “I picked up a few souvenirs, but not enough to make good.”
“I hate to hear that,” I said, and drained my pint, and gestured for another. “So, what are you up to now?”
“Tried the private contractor thing, and it’s not been great. Working for the Cartel took money out of my pocket, once the books were settled, and hanging out with people that push heroin, they aren’t the best.” He shrugged. “I was given a good recommendation for those assholes, and that the work was clean and the pay was good. Turns out wrong on both accounts.”
“They had management problems, and yeah, drug dealing organizations don’t attract the best and brightest.” I thanked the waitress when she dropped off another pint.
“I’m looking at going into small scale security, personal protection and the like. Bodyguard work,” he said.
“Big Whitney Houston fan?” I laughed.
“Bollocks, no, Kevin Costner.” He laughed and finished his pint.
“Well, I wish you the best of luck, mate. Maybe you’ll end up blocking for some smoking hot Hollywood starlet, and maybe shag you a piece of that.”
“We call that living the dream,” he laughed.
“Living the dream,” I said. I thought of where I was now. Aston One-77 in the garage, Sadie in the middle of the continent sized bed, and my changed relationship with Lach. Itwasliving the dream. A dream I hadn’t daredtodream, and I couldn’t be happier.
I mean, I had gone from being tied to a frame, tortured and molested, to having thrown a few test laps into a Vulcan and telling the salesman that I just didn’t feel the legroom. My phone rang, and I looked down to see Sadie’s smiling face on the ID. “Pardon me a moment.”
“Of course, sir,” he said.
“Hello, Poppet,” I answered. I smiled. “Yes, of course I haven’t forgotten.” I looked over at Kurt and gave a nod. “At the pub, having a pint. Where else would I be on a Sunday?” She giggled on the other end of the line and I felt it get a bit hot around my collar. “Oh. Oh? In red you say?” She sent me a quick pic, and I felt a definite rise in my blood pressure. I smiled.
“I know this is a breach of etiquette, but I’ll allow it.” I hung up and slipped the phone back in my pocket.
