Three phone calls down, one to go…
In the last hour, almost every highway exit stretching to the borders of each major quadrant across the city had been locked down. The “Gonzales Brothers” dispatched at least twenty men to cover the northern most region whilst the west and east perimeters were taken care of by none other than Division Chief Reggie Marsh of the Tijuana Police Department. Calling in a few personal favours and a suitcase full of crisp one hundreds worked wonders for getting the law to align with you instead of against. The powers of the Benjamin Franklin sigil helped miracles come true this side of the country and made fervid tasks that much easier to control. Within the short ten minute window of talking with the Chief and hanging up, a patrol officer had already paid a visit to the Almaraz household and discovered the place to be deserted. Orlon was informed that from the looks of things, the occupants had left in somewhat of a hurry. Though he could not have been less surprised at the swiftness of Miguel’s actions given the brevity of the matter at hand.
Orlon glanced up and peered through the window at the crowded city’s scuttling inhabitants. A sea of people busying themselves with tasks deemed important to them. A mother leading her young toddler by the hand into a local grocery store, a businessman crossing an alleyway and sneering at a dishevelled beggar lying on the sidewalk. Several yards further, a group of stray youths sauntering up the street wearing bandanas and loose-fitting hoodies. Thinking the world belonged to them and they had a God given right to rule these streets as they please. Orlon glared at them with contempt and anger. ”You assholes know nothing about the realities of life.” He murmured under his breath. ”Give it time. You’ll be working for me soon enough.”
The car’s air-con hummed out a cool breeze through a small side vent. The harsh mid-morning sun produced a stale and humid toxic atmosphere that meant only limited amounts of time out in the open. The baking heat outside reminded him of the two guards he had executed a couple of hours ago. He remembered the absolute fear in the eyes of his men watching on as the spectacle unfolded. A constant flow of perspiration draining out of them by the second. Was it the scorching temperature of the day or more the fact that their very lives were hanging on by a thread? By his reckoning, day was just breaking at the time without the scorch of the morning sun. He was definite. They all felt unfiltered, paralysing horror.
Orlon placed a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. A blanket of regret for his drastic actions passed over his thoughts. Father had taught him that discipline should be dealt in the severest of ways. Anything less and you run the risk of creating a hairline fracture in your authority as leader of the operation. And coming from someone as respected and revered with such importance was advice not to be taken at simple face value. Orlon interpreted those legacy teachings to the letter and strove to maintain them throughout his duration as designated patriarch.
He ran through a long list of contacts on his cellphone, arriving at “S” and discovering the name Sergio Fernandez. Orlon shook his head at the prospect of conversing with that man. He himself was a feared autocratic dictator amongst his people, running a rival operation in the South. Another similarity between both men was the fact that their current role had also been passed down to them. Though a long standing truce based on pre-divided occupied territory had been in force for several decades. Their father’s pact remained steadfast to this day, though neither man ever held any personal regard for the other. It was a union of mutual necessity, if nothing more.
As Orlon went to dial the number, the phone vibrated in his hand. A withheld incoming call from an unknown caller. Surprised, but quite sure of their identity, he answered; waiting for them to speak first.
”Orlon… Can you just hear me out first?” A voice spoke back.
”There’s nothing more to be said.” Replied Orlon. ”Your actions said everything that needed to be. Though I can’t quite believe my ears right now. You seriously had the balls in ring me? You’re really are changed man, Miguel.”
”I’m the same man who stood by your side for all these years. That has and will never change. I just need you to understand exactly what is going on?”
”Oh? You need me to understand?” Hissed Orlon. ”An interesting choice of words for a man who’s about to taste an essence of punishment as yet never thought possible. Very brave indeed. I’m impressed with your courageous gall.”
Miguel sighed over the line. ”Orlon, please believe me. I’m a nervous wreck and don’t mean to make matters worse through any unintentional disrespectful negligence on my part. I just want you to learn the truth. That I’m being setup and happen to think there’s an uprising being planned behind your back.”
”Big words, my knowledgeable friend.” He smirked back. ”You mean like a coup, right? That’s useful to know. And where have you got this dramatic information from, pray tell?”
Miguel paused for a moment. ”I’m sorry. It’s only a hunch for now. But it makes perfect sense. Plain and simple, Orlon. I didn’t hurt Emerald. I swear it on the life of my wife and young child. I’ve been wrongly accused with the intent that the only man you can unequivocally trust, is now remove from your presence. I believe you are in a great deal of danger.”
”I see.” Remarked Orlon. ”Had the man I used to have known said the same thing, I’d have trusted in his instinct like a shot. But there’s one glaring problem in your fascinated theory that doesn’t quite add up. Emerald expressly named you. You knocked the guards out, attempted to have your way with her and escape out of here into the night. So why in the hell would she lie about that? Is she the one planning to overthrow me?”
Again, a pause. Though a longer one this time around. ”I… had no idea. I don’t understand what’s going on, Orlon. There has to be a reason for all this.”
”And why did you get away so fast if you were sure you did no wrong? Which innocent would run from a crime scene?” The line remained silent, with the exception of slow, drawn out breaths at regular intervals. ”I was hearing rumours about you for the last several weeks but turned a blind eye to them. What I wish I could turn back the clock. But alas, we are where we are at this moment in time. So I’ll tell you what, Miguel. Why don’t you stop all this running around the city, wasting my precious time playing this petty game of cat and mouse. Let’s agree to a meeting point and discuss this. How does that grab you? After all, am I an unreasonable man? Aren't I?”
”I'm sorry, Orlon.” Miguel replied. ”But handing myself into the jaws of death isn’t going to help any of us out. I promise, I will get back to you with…”
”Shut the fuck up, you son-of-a-bitch!” Orlon snarled, cutting him off. ”It’d do you good to get this one over and done with as quickly as you can. I will find you. It's just a question of when and how soon. And I know you are hiding out somewhere in this city with your goddamn family. Like cockroaches in a maze. You have my word, Miguel. As God is my witness. I won’t hurt them if you turn yourself in to me within the next hour. You're well aware I don’t make offers twice. What will it be? Think carefully before you utter your next sentence.”
After some quiet deliberates on the other end, Orlon waited for his answer. ”Sorry, Orlon. But I think I’ll take my chances for now. I’ll be in touch.”
”You stupid fucking…” But before Orlon finished, the line went dead. He ground at his clenched teeth, trying to pacify the rage burning inside of him. A series of deep, hollow breaths later and all that was left was a simmering frustration. Orlon knew it was just a question of biding his time. The chess pieces had been moved into place and the trap was set. All that was left was for the ensnared fugitive to simply take the bait.
