Texas IS Heaven 001

I got the tour of the little Texas town close to where the ranch resided. I met all the locals. They seemed to think the world of John. He was a big part of the town and considered a hero by many for his service. He was on the local school board and contributed to all the local charities.

He was a 'big man in town."

Slowly but surely, he fed me little bits of information. When he took me into the basement of the ranch house and opened the vault, I knew there was something more than a good-natured visit with a Texas cattle rancher in the offing. The room behind the vault door was at least 12 feet by 12 feet. There was a smaller safe at the end of the room and arrayed along either wall was the damnedest collection of weaponry I have ever seen.

"Man. This is some collection."

"It's not a collection. These are tools of the trade."

I looked at him confused.

"These are my working tools."

We sat down in the basement just outside the vault at a card table. He began to explain in earnest. He had become a contract enforcer. He wasn't mob connected, be many of his contracts came from them. He had also worked for the CIA, the NSA and a couple of other quasi-governmental agencies. Apparently, it paid well. I had finally asked him the gorilla in the room question.

"Why are you telling me all of this? "

"Several reasons. I always tried to keep a small network of friends who knew what I was doing. That could be my six o'clock. I don't mean follow me around but be there if I ever needed something in a hurry that I couldn't get otherwise. A place to lay low, an alibi. To be honest, most of them have been Seals. You were a natural to approach.

More importantly is the here and now. I am too fucking old to do this anymore. I need an apprentice. I don't have any family, not kids, nobody. I need someone to hand this too when the time comes. Whether or not you continue in the profession is of no matter to me. The ranch is a viable operation. I will make a good living. With the cattle and the custom exotic hunts it is good. If you added a RV park, some BnB type facilities, it would make another small fortune. I know you don't have anyone close. No kids. No wife. You are, in a way, a lot like I was in my younger days. What I am offering you is a chance to get out of the office in the meat packing plant and build a life on your own."

I listened, almost enthralled. He made it sound like a perfect opportunity. I was nearly sold until he leaned back.

"But there are some downsides."

Here it comes, I thought to myself.

"It's a 24 hour a day, 7 day a week commitment. You have to live this life every day. Even with a full ranch crew, you have to have your mind present even if your body is somewhere else.

That's just the ranch. If you have a predilection to take up the other side of my offer, it means staking everything you have on your abilities, your wits, and your skill. I can teach you what you need to know. What remains to be seen if you have what it takes inside to do the job."

That was the start of a very long night of discussions.

&&&&&

That pretty much sums up how I got into the "problem elimination" business. I took John up on his offer. I went back to Chicago, told my parents and siblings I was moving to Texas, put my shit in the SUV and headed South. Mom didn't take it well. I think Dad was glad to have me out of the factory. My younger brother was much more suited to that game than I was. At any rate, I have been at the Ranch for about 6 months. I have been learning the cattle business. It's damned hard work. These guys are up at daybreak and don't usually quite until dark. The first time I got on a horse, I didn't even last the usual 8 seconds. I got my ass dumped into a pile of fresh horseshit right off the bat. Yeah. I was the greenhorn. But I didn't let that stop me. If I could get through SEAL training, I could manage this.

On the other side of the card, John was slowly schooling me in the problem elimination business. I was sitting in the armory, tearing down a Glock 43 when John walked in. I glanced up and saw him there but didn't say anything. He slapped me on the back of the head, and I saw stars.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"What if that hadn't been me but some other son of a bitch with a hardon for you."

"I saw it was you."

"Yeah, maybe. You need to grow eyes in the back of your head and learn to use them. Where is your carry piece."

"I'm working on it.'"

I turned back to the bench and my eyes turned to flashes of light again. I reached up and rubbed my head. I turned and came face to face with the business end of a Model 1911, John's favorite piece of ordinance.

"Listen you stupid little fuck. In this business you never know when or where the threat is going to materialize. You have to become the most paranoid piece of shit in the place. Everyone is trouble. Remember what General Mattis said. Be professional, be polite, and have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

"Do you do that?"

Absolutely."

"Even me when we first met."

"You never noticed but the whole first 10 minutes you were fondling that rifle. Abigail was pointed right at your belly button."

He called that 1911 Abigail.

I looked back at the Glock 43 strewn in parts over the bench. I looked back at him.

"Sorta like this?"

He glanced down where my hand had come from under the workbench. I held a Taurus Judge chambered in 45 longcolt. It was angled at his upper thigh. It wouldn't be a clean wound. And he might get off a shot, but he would bleed out before he could get to the tourniquet in the cabinet.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You'd be dead too."

"Always take an honor guard."

He grinned.

"You might make the cut after all."

Two weeks later he called me into his office. He shut the door and locked it. The blackout curtains were drawn. He pointed to the chair, and he went behind the desk.

"We gave a contract."

He waited to see my reaction. I didn't say anything. I just looked at him cool and level.

"This is what I know so far. The problem is a 35-year-old female. She is the daughter of a known mob boss. She is unmarried. She has been known to dabble in the sex trades and in drug trafficking."

"Why is there a hit out on this chick?"

"Apparently, she either double crossed or ripped off a major cartel. They don't like letting someone get the upper hand, especially a woman."

"So, she is the target."

"Yeah. Only problem is this isn't a straight up problem elimination. The cartel wants to send a message. They want her kidnapped, torture, raped, and then left in such a way that it is apparent to everyone that this was payback."

"These cartels have enough muscle and wherewithal to take on this by themselves. Why pay us a phenomenal fee to get this done."

"They don't want anything to do with it. They want the mob to think it was somebody else. Part of the deal is to leave enough incriminating evidence behind to point the finger at a rival mob. They want to sow a little dissension in the ranks."

"John, this has all the makings of a major shitshow. I thought we were in the business of problem elimination, not problem creation. This could lead to an all-out war."

John pushed a piece of paper to me. I picked it up and nearly choked. On the paper was an account number in Switzerland. Beside the figure was $5,000,000. I looked at John.

"They already have 5 million on this contract?"

"No son. That is the 10 percent down of the total contract. You should add some numbers to that."

"Holy Shit."

"Yeah. Now you can see why I didn't send this one to the competition."

"So how does this work"

John grinned.

"That is not my problem. This is your trial by fire. Here is all I have on the problem. I suggest you get to work."

&&&&&

Two weeks later I hadn't seen the outside of the ranch house. I had spent every literal waking hour researching this chick. I now knew more about her than I knew about myself. I was in my room packing a go-kit when John walked in."

"You buggin ' out. This shit gets to be too much."

I looked at him.

"Houston. I got some field work to do on this thing."

"I'm impressed. Field work."

"Yeah. I want to know everything I can about this chick. I want to know what kind of toilet paper she wipes her ass with. I want to know who she is seeing, who she is fucking, and how she likes it. I got to get inside her, so this thing goes down right."

"You don't think a quick snatch and grab, a quiet lonely place and few hours to get done what the cartels want done is not a good plan."

"No. I don't. If she is who you say she is she probably has some of the best protection around her that can be bought. my guess is her old man knows that there is contract out on her and may already have her buried so deep, a fucking mole couldn't find her. I got surprised on an operation one time and it nearly cost me my life. I will not make that same mistake again."

John nodded.

"Do you need any help?"

"If you want to go, I would appreciate the backup. I don't mind doing it alone."

"I'll go. Might be fun to watch you work."

I already had most of my stuff loaded in the bronco. I had to wait while Jon got his shit together. He came out with two duffle bags. He tossed them in the back seat.

"You don't travel light do you."

"I always like to think I am prepared for almost anything. I noticed that the armory is a little light. I am thinking you operate the same way."

I nodded and climbed in the bronco. We were soon out the gate and headed to Houston.

John kept picking around the periphery of my plan. It was soon noticeable and pulled into a rest area. I needed to pee anyway. I turned to him and looked at him intensely.

"If you want to know what I am planning, why the fuck are you just dancing around the fringes. What the fuck is going on."

"Nothing. I just don't want you to think I am trying to second guess your plans. I do like to know what I am getting into in case I decide you plans suck and I want to bail."

I considered that and looked back at him.

"I don't have a plan yet. I want to know what this woman is doing and how she operates before I decide how to move. The next week or so is going to be done on very little sleep, lots of caffeine, and late nights."

I watched John and he nodded.

"I don't mind splitting up the duties. It would be safe if we were both marginally rested."

"I'll think about that."

"Do you have any kind of plan."

I nodded.

"I'll tell you about when we get started again. Right now, I gotta pee."

&&&&&

Once we were back on the road I held to my word. I told him exactly what I planned to do.

"We are going to an Airbnb. It is a house in an upscale neighborhood. Quiet and sort of secluded. It has a garage. As soon as we get there the Bronco goes into the garage and the rental car agency delivers a very non-descript sedan. That becomes our operational vehicle.

The next order of business is to find the problem, identify her place of residence and then start to collect data on her movements, her friends, her routine, her schedule. Anything and everything we can learn.

Only then will I start to formulate the actual plan of attack. She has to have vulnerabilities. Everyone does."

John listened as he watched the road.

"That is pretty well thought out. What about communications?"

There are two burner cell phones in my bag. I bought two so I could ditch one if need be. You can have one and I will pick up two more after we arrive."

"You know this is going to be a messy one. Up close and personal. You ready for that."

"It's not the sort of thing I would relish. But, if she has fucked up as many lives as she apparently has, I've killed terrorist for a lot less reason."

John's eyebrows went up.

"What have you found about her?"

"She runs a modeling agency in Houston. She apparently uses it as recruiting ground for a high-end escort service. She typically gets a girl hooked on drugs, coopts her into the prostitution gig. When the girl is washed or wrung out, she passes them onto a cartel in South America who smuggles them into the country and uses them there until they aren't able to make enough to pay to keep them.

She takes some of her cut from the cartel in drugs and not just the run of the mill stuff, but the really nasty stuff that you hear about fucking up teenagers."

"Why do you suppose the cops in Houston haven't put a stop to this."

"I looked at him. The cops in Houston are notorious. There are some good ones, but the force has a nasty reputation. I guess her Daddy's money and power keep her relatively immune."

"Sounds like a nice girl."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Just the kind of girl you want to take home to meet your mother."

John laughed as they drove into the outskirts of Houston.