Marc – Day twenty-four

When I pulled into the parking lot of the Filthy Fuckers MC’s clubhouse, it was filled with motorcycles and the shop’s lights were on. Odd for a Monday night if they didn’t have something planned. Beside the front door, an 8-passenger van was parked. Inside, the men stood in a group with their focus on Navarro.

It was as if being briefed on a military mission.

My assumption was that they were going to use the vans to transport their men to wherever they believed MS-13’s gang members were hiding. It would certainly make much less of an announcement than the rumble from twenty motorcycles.

I parked the car, took a deep breath, and got out.

In an effort to pay Navarro as much respect as I could, I leaned into the opening of the garage door, but didn’t step inside.

“Navarro!” I shouted. “Need to see you. Alone.”

I knew if he was alone, it would be easier for me to communicate with him. He’d be far less apt to be argumentative, and more receptive to my requests.

In a moment, he stepped outside. Wearing jeans, boots, and a black tee shirt, it was obvious he was preparing to do something clandestine, and not on his motorcycle. All outlaw clubs required their patched members to wear kuttes if they were riding their motorcycles, I knew that much.

He looked at my car, and then scanned the narrow lot. After satisfying himself that I was alone, he looked at me with thin eyes.

“What in the fuck are you doing on my property, alone, at one fucking a.m., detective? Around this clubhouse a man’s liable to get shot for trespassing. If you don’t have a warrant, I suggest you take your little black outfit and go home.”

“I need to make you aware of a few things,” I said.

He huffed out a sigh. “What?”

“Hear me out.”

He looked at his watch. “You’ve got three minutes.”

“I was headed home from a late-night raid, and I drove past to see if you and your men decided to move out or not. Imagine my surprise when I noticed twenty motorcycles, and two transport vans. My deductive reasoning tells me you’re headed to take care of MS-13.”

“We’re all going bowling in Tijuana. Should make it back by tomorrow am. Write that down in your little notebook, I might need it as an alibi.”

He was a hard man to deal with, that much was certain. He was far too street smart for me to bullshit him. I considered telling him the truth, then decided against it.

“I know you and your men saved those girls from the MS-13 a few months ago. I also know Cholo was abducted, tortured, and rescued. I know Smokey’s Ol’ Lady shot some shit-hat in her driveway, and I know I helped her out of one hell of a jam. I know you had an ATF informant in your club, and that I helped get his sorry ass gone. I further know the charges against one of your patches was dropped afterward. There’s a pattern here, Crip.”

His jaw tightened. “You can call me Navarro, or you can call me Nick,” he said through his teeth. “You haven’t earned the right to call me Crip, detective. Don’t let it happen again.”

I let out a sigh. “You were a Navy SEAL, and I was a Navy SEAL. I’m not going to--”

“Don’t lay that Navy SEAL horseshit on me, detective. This country shit on me. When I left the Navy, the Navy in me left along with it. Go find another squid to swap spit with.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got forty seconds.”

“There’s nine teenage girls being held by MS-13. They were kidnapped ten days ago. I don’t even know if they’re alive, but let’s assume--”

“Motherfucker,” he said through his teeth. “You set our asses up, didn’t you?”

I let out a breath. “Let’s assume they’re alive. I know your men slaughtered a hose filled with MS-13. I know Cholo was abducted for his role in that slaughter. And I know you went to Coronado, gathered up a few SEALs, and extracted Cholo safely. So, Navarro, don’t give me your sad sob story about how this country shit on you. I didn’t arrest you or your men for a reason. You play a crucial role in making my job easy. There aren’t any MC’s that have a code of honor that’s honorable. Notice I said any, and not many. I further know now that you know, that walking away from those helpless girls will be impossible. So, we need to come up with a plan.”

“You don’t know shit.” He glanced at his watch. “Time’s up, detective.”

He turned toward the clubhouse. After he took a few steps, I cleared my throat.

“There’s no statute of limitations on murder!” I shouted.

“I haven’t murdered anyone,” he said over his shoulder.

“The DNA all over the ground outside of Temecula, in the desert, says otherwise,” I said. “A man would do life for that crime alone. It was smart to soak the body in Sodium Hydroxide, but you should have done something else with the bones.”

He paused, and then turned around. With a clenched jaw, he glared at me. “What do you want from me, detective?”

“I need to go with you,” I said.

He blurted out a laugh. “Fuck you.”

“It’s the only way it’ll work. I need to go with you, or else--”

“Fuck you,” he hissed. “I’ll put a bullet in your skull, and bury you right beside him. Don’t threaten me. Ever.”

Abiding by the law afforded me many opportunities. Walking on the criminal side of the razor’s edge afforded me nothing, unless I wanted to become a criminal. Without my badge, my negotiating power was nil.

I decided to try another angle. “If I go with you, I can claim you led me to them. We got there right after the men were murdered. I’ll get the media involved, and your club can get the recognition--”

He let out a laugh. “Do you think we do what we do for recognition?” He took a few steps toward me and stuck his face within inches of mine. “Me, and the seventeen men who are standing behind me do what we do because this world is filled with fucktards, and we don’t care much for fucktards. Don’t let ‘em in the club, and we don’t care for ‘em on our turf. I’ll bring your girls back, detective, but you’re not coming with. Not now, not ever. You can get the recognition. All I want is for these pieces of human shit to leave me, my men, and my shop alone.”

“If you kill MS-13’s men and take the girls, they’ll tell everyone what happened once they’re interviewed. They’ll incriminate you and your men for murder. I can’t fix that.”

His jaw clenched. “Son-of-a-fucking-bitch.”

I knew now that he realized there were nine teenagers being held, that he wouldn’t be able to walk away. It wasn’t in his blood. He was far too prideful of a man to do so.

“There’s two ways this will work,” I said.

“I’m listening,” he seethed.

“One. Give me the address of where they are, and I’ll assemble a team and go take care of it. End of story.”

“Not interested,” he said dryly. “First of all, you won’t kill those MS-13 pricks. You’ll arrest them. There’s no funding to keep them in prison, so, you’ll deport them to Nicaragua, El Salvador, Ecuador, and Mexico. In 90 days, they’ll be back here doing the same shit. I want them gone. Forever. The only way to do that is to kill them. Secondly, I don’t trust you or your men to get anything done and done right.”

He had a valid point. If we arrested the men, they’d be charged with criminal entry into the USA, and deported. They would immediately come back, knowing their only feasible income would come from the same criminal activities.

“The other way is this.” I met his hardened gaze. “Your men take care of MS-13, and then leave. On your way out, you call me on a throw-away. I’ll claim it was a tip, and I’ll fall in behind you and take care of the girls. You get what you want, I get what I want. No risk.”

“They’ll ask why you didn’t call it in. Why you didn’t call for backup. Your plan has holes, detective.”

I reached through my window, gripped the radio’s receiver in my hand, and yanked it until the cord snapped.

“Looks like my car was vandalized,” I said. “I’ll say on my way in I saw a pickup truck filled with who I believed to be four Hispanic males speeding away from the scene. Upon hearing the cries of females from inside the home, I rushed inside and found the girls.”

He shook his head. “Lift up your right shirt sleeve.”

I raised my sleeve. He leaned toward me, studied my SEAL trident, and then nodded. “I’ll take option number two.”