WEEKLY SOUTHERN ARTS
"Sometime the boogaloo 
  • Home
  • From The Publishers
  • Summer 1970 - Fishing with Alligators
  • The Fire-Starters
  • Jimi Hendrix Was The Roy Buchanan of Rock & Roll & Other Rural American Stories
  • Real Genius
  • Guns, Faith and Murder
  • A Blue World
  • Nova Explains
  • Satan's Jr. High
  • The Million Dollar Store
  • The People Who care
  • Jesus and The Red Words
  • Sniffing Out White Supremacy
  • Artistic Con-cepts
  • “The Word From The Streets”
  • A Voice from the Crowd
  • How a White-man Became a Black-man In Order To Find His Whiteness—His Alright-ness.
  • Camille Bertault: 2 Views of a Secret
  • Judy Garland - "Soul Singer"
  • Robert & Jimi and the Twenty Seven Blues
  • The Last Vestiges of Mueller’s Collusion Case Just Died...and Nobody Noticed
  • The Great Pretenders
  • Imagine
  • Me and Junior Parker
  • The Republican
  • "Kill The Pigs!!!"
  • "Another of Trump's Henchmen Falls!!!"
  • Saving ISIS, Killing America
  • Cyrus The Great Strikes Again
  • The Big Lie - "Fear Russia Love China"
  • “The Russians are Coming!” (again)
  • "Impeach This!"
  • “Trump Backs Turkey Down”
  • Congressman Elijah Cummings Died last night at the age of 68.
  • Sweet Home Chicago (The Obama Shakedown)
  • Blind as a Bat
  • "I cannot Tell a Lie"
  • If Only Obama Was Still President, Syria Would Be Swell
  • Impeachment Fever
  • The Ballad of Hunter & Joe
  • "God Will Do It!"
  • Jeffrey Epstein & The Mysterious Case of The Infinite Pedophile Monkeys
  • The World is Insane: pt 4095 - “What is Less Than Zero?”
  • The Magic Bullet and The Lonely Death of Jeffrey Epstein
  • The Facts about Illegal Immigration
  • Chicago
  • Liz Warren Hits The Road
  • Traitors & Lies
  • “If The World Was Fair”
  • "The Few, The proud, The Insane: The Democrats"
  • "GOD & UNCLE SAM"
  • A Minor Complaint
  • Murder in The Meantime
  • The 22-yr-old Bottle Blonde
  • “Jerry “The Toad” & other Sesame Street Lessons”
  • "Riffing in Tongues"
  • The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence Revisited
  • The Few The Brave The FBI
  • Jesus and Liz Warren Want to Forgive You
  • The Witch Hunt Ends? Not Even Close.
  • Divine Guidance
  • The Crocodile & The Politician
  • Uncle Joe Apologizes
  • Why I Hate, Hate Crimes
  • It's Only a Matter of Time
  • Let It Rain
  • Dumb & Dumber
  • ....of Poets & Scientists
  • Goodbye Pork-Fried Rat
  • Hearing Duane Eddy
  • Is It Alright...To Be White?
  • "Hell is Real!!!"
  • Mauled by Reality
  • The Cult of The Secret Unknowing Marxist
  • Resist the Devil and He Will Flea
  • The Unwitting Socialist
  • Personal Stories
  • The Magula Report 2019
  • "The New Blood & The New Deal"
  • “The Wall"....and other, mostly silly conversations.
  • The War for the Soul of Mankind: “Stan Getz vs Eric Dolphy”
  • The "Others"
  • White Cracker-Ass Niggas
  • New York Gives The Thumbs Up To Mass Genocide
  • Rudy & Nat
  • A Close Shave With The Well-Intended Bigot
  • This is What Happens When My Favorite Band “The Mellow Herb” Comes To Town
  • The Hemispherical Brain Activity of a Wayward Somnambulist
  • Gun "Race With The Devil"
  • “Half Of All Millennials Think Barack Obama is More Important Than George Washington!!??”
  • "The Dow Posts The Biggest One Day Gain In History."
  • Good Morning Comrades
  • Sharks, Zombies & God
  • A Road Home
  • You're Getting Sleepy....Very Sleepy
  • Stupid People
  • Jezebel and Ahab Make a Comeback
  • Stevie Ray Vaughn: Derivitive Hack or Genius
  • Music & Reminiscence
  • “The Giant Facebook Id-Monster Attacks”
  • “Bullshit...it’s a Damned Invasion!”
  • Bobby-Jack
  • Lowell George searching for authenticity
  • For The Love of Krazy Kat
  • How I Came To Understand That Fighting The Power Was Useless. Unless...You Fight The Power By Giving Power to The Power To Fight The Power
  • Within the Lifetime Of The Average American...The U.S. Population Could Realistically Exceed That of China & India
  • The Problem of Blasphemy In a Secular Society
  • The Waitress and The Power
  • A Message From The Democrats After The 2018 Midterms
  • On This Day Before Election Day, These 5 Things Should Be Remembered As You Vote
  • A Lie Is As Good As The Truth....as long as it's a good lie
  • "Evil Republicans Suppress The Minority Vote"
  • The Enemy of Mankind
  • The Mob
  • Why Chinese Tariffs?
  • A Caravan To Nowhere
  • Ant Farm
  • “They’re Coming For Your Social Security!”
  • The Witchfinder Speaketh
  • Eating Sawdust & Voting Democrat
  • Muslims Kill Washington Post Journalist”...and other stories best left untold
  • Orwell's Nightmare
  • The Sobbing Walrus
  • A Telling Lie
  • Tribal Marxism
  • A Pimp and His Stable of Political Whores
  • "Evidence?.... I Don't Need No Damned Evidence!"
  • A Post Modern Lynching
  • Talkin’ Blues: A White Social Justice Warrior Meets a Bluesman
  • Pocahontas Wants To Impeach President Trump
  • A Belated Tip of The Hat To John McCain's Funeral
  • "Colin Kaepernick Fights The Power. My Brothers!"
  • Jack Ryan: Promoting Jihad & The Brotherhood of Man
  • Rediscovering Willie "The Fruitbat" Johnson
  • The Allegation
  • Message in a Bottle
  • A Coven of Witches
  • The Communist & The Exalted Cyclops
  • America vs Satanic Goat Worshipers
  • Forcing Transgender Penis Cakes on America
  • The Iidots Lament
  • Irritating Post: no. 529
  • Irritating Post: no. 642
  • My Brain is a Liar
  • My New Rap "Alligators"
  • Helpful Hints in Logic
  • The Unredacted News
  • A Loss of Composure
  • The Myth of Objective Fact Checkers
  • Surviving Politics
  • The Pit or The Pendulum
  • Do Not Forsake Me. Not For a Dollar. Not For a Dime.
  • Repeller of The Amorites
  • Sometimes I feel Like a Motherless Child...but only sometimes
  • Welcome To The Freakshow
  • Part One: The Monster Is Summoned
  • A Sideways Glance at Reality....
  • The Ballad of Trey Gowdy
  • Lies, Spies, and Thighs at The FBI
  • The Ballad of Charlie Crockett
  • Children in Cages
  • A Poem For Clifford Odets
  • Anthony Bourdain
  • Like Billy Eckstein Singing to an Empty Club at 1:00 AM on a Saturday Night in 1975.
  • A Letter From The Democratic National Committee
  • Bent
  • "There Were No Spies in The FBI and Other Fictional Tales"
  • The New Rules For Radicals
  • Blood In The Water
  • "3000 American Businesses Colluded with Russia For Profit"
  • I Spy (For The FBI)
  • Free Shit—and Bears
  • Cute Dog Videos
  • How The Press Aided and Abetted Terrorists
  • The Iran Deal Myth
  • The Scouts
  • Pinko Muthafuckas
  • Kelly Joe Phelps
  • Johnny Winter and, 1970
  • Happy Days Are Here Again
  • RAGe Against The Machine
  • Carlos and Buddy
    • How The Bird & Darwin Took Flight With a A7#9 Chord
  • Just a Few Glaring Examples Of Media Scummery
  • They Call it Stormy Monday
  • "I Gotta Take A Wiz" or, "How Starbucks Destroyed the World"
  • Who Needs War?
  • Why The Devil Don't Come Around No More
  • 2+2 Really Does = 4
  • The Tangled Web
  • Shadow Banning
  • What Changed?
  • Oblivious But Concerned
  • "Give Up!"
  • Jesus: The Spirit of Man and God That Illuminates The Darkness
  • Mickey Baker: Goin' To Kansas City
  • "Washington Saves America from Pot-smoking Mass Murderers"
  • Nontraditional Thoughts
  • Attack of The Trillion Dollar Omnibus Bill
  • Hearing Junior Wells “On Tap'' one more Time
  • Just Words
  • Muddy and Me
  • Racist Debtaes About Terrorsim
  • Fidel's Utopia
  • Unwitting Hypocrisy is The Best Kind of Hypocrisy
  • Excess Baggage
  • Excess Baggage pt. 2
  • Fake News Is The New Real News
  • The Death of Billy Graham and Manufacturing Consent
  • American Youth: The Rise of The New Media
  • Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Talk About Slavery and Shit
  • Just Smoke
  • Monkey in a Box
  • How The Children of Sal and Dean Destroyed The World
  • On This Cold Winter's Morn
  • The Crime of the Century
  • Evidence: What The Hell Is It?
  • They Were Pissed: America, Jack Kerouac, and the Beats
  • Negotiating The Maze Of Life and a Blues Shuffle.
  • Everyone Is Hitler (In their own Way)
  • The Mystery of The Giant Balloon Shark
  • Subterfuge and Its Discontents
  • God Debunks Global Warming
  • Day Two: God Continues To Debunk Global Warming
  • Strzoking Russia
  • The Al Franken Effect. Or, How to Destroy America and Lose Elections
  • The Big Maybe
  • The News Apocalypse
  • The Guitarticle (Guitar article)
  • The Nation of Lucifer
  • Slurring Pocahontas
  • Why Everything Good Said About Net Neutrality is a Lie
  • .....and behold, The Cause of Your Demise Is Upon You
  • The Trans-boy That Cried Wolf
  • Believe Nothing
  • Donald Trump Blasts The Heads Off Of Tiny Woodland Creatures
  • The Problem of Hypocrites
  • Roy Moore: Serial Pervert
  • I'm So Frustrated
  • The Devil's Whisper
  • Science Can't Dance
  • You're Gonna Have To Serve Somebody
  • Louie C. K.
  • Common Sense
  • Hunting For Witches
  • Living in The Age of "tRump"
  • The Devil is a Hustler
  • The Skinny
  • Eric Dolphy
  • ISIS Rode in On a Donkey
  • "The Manafort Indictment"
  • The Truth About the Middle East
  • Dennis Budimer's "Alone Together" Revisited
  • The Halloween Edition
  • The 20th Century Was Groovy
  • The Salesman
  • The Dossier
  • Elmore James
  • Isle of The Poor
  • The Patriarchy is Alive and Well
  • Moving Napoleon
  • Guns and Guerrillas
  • Playing Four
  • Hollywood and Scumbags
  • Why Everything You Think, Is Wrong
  • Killing Yourself With Terrorism
  • Being Liberal
  • Laced With Hate
  • A Message From Occupy Democrats
  • A Taxing Dilemma
  • What Really Happened with Aid in Puerto Rico
  • Colin Kaepernick and Beyoncé are geniuses. Part 1
  • When the Levee Breaks
  • The Second Coming of Anthony Weiner
  • How to Never Lose a Fight
  • Creating Chaos out of Meaning
  • Crime and Punishment
  • The Man in the Mirror
  • Guitar Gods of the Sixties
  • Entopy: A Play in One Act
  • The Ragged Tale of a Poverty Stricken Economic Genius
  • The Dreamers
  • Hey There Georgy Girl
  • This Is Not a Defense of Joel Osteen. Or is it?
  • The Ballad of Poindexter Glockenspiel
  • The Big Dummy
  • More Florida in Pictures and Text
  • How Do I Hate Thee
  • Florida in Images and More Images
  • "How To Solve The Healthcare Crisis and Why It's So Damned Hard To Fix"
  • The Big Lie
  • The Demise of the West
  • “Good Times! Good Times! You know, we talkin’ bout Good Times!”
  • "Justice My Ass!"
  • Wolves in Sheep's Clothing
  • The Coming Apocalypse and How to Avoid it: a Historical/Biblical Perspective.
  • "Muthafuckin' Chains!"
  • Lies Our Father's Told Us
  • Poetry and Politics - a few mixed verses
  • The Inner Man
  • The Vampire and The Carpet Salesman
  • Comey Speaks!
  • A Word From Nostradamus about the Comey Hearings
  • The Towering Babble
  • Chain of Fools
  • I Got Ramblin' on My Mind
  • Telling Ourselves Stories
  • Shit! Make Me Wanna Holler!
  • Even More Reasons Why The Paris Accords are Total Horseshit.
  • When Life Imitates Satire
  • Jethro and Becky Sue Come To America
  • Random Apocrypha
  • Why The Paris Climate Accords Are Total Horseshit
  • Urban Stories
  • The Kingdom of God: a personal rant
  • Urban Week @ South Beach
  • Serpico Revisited
  • The Road To Surf-dumb. Or, is it The Road To Serfdom?
  • This is Not a Political Article
  • My Hometown
  • What Does This Mean?
  • We're All Fools Sometime
  • One Pill Makes You Larger
  • "What a Maroon!"
  • Secrets and Lies
  • A Tale of Wine and Murder
  • "White House Under Siege!"
  • The Amateur Narcissist
  • Like a Rock
  • The Greatest of Ally of a True Idiot is.....
  • How To Prove someone's a Witch
  • Jesus Was a Sly Dog
  • An Open Letter From The Democratic National Committee
  • The Power of Language
  • The Existential Croûton
  • Random Facebook Thoughts
  • A Play "The Poverty Racket"
  • The Demise of the 4th Estate
  • Love To Hate My Enemies
  • Feelings, Oh, Oh, Oh, Feelings
  • Art or Reality
  • The Prison Yard Blues
  • Who is Richard Spencer and Why Does He Matter?
  • __an excerpt from "The Power of Voltron "
  • A Plea From a Progressive
  • ANTIFA - The Anti Fascists, Fascists
  • Conspiracy Theory
  • 4 More Poems, 4 More Pictures
  • "Are You Freaking People Insane?"
  • 4 Pictures 4 Poems
  • The Ballad of Carlos Slim
  • Pretending What's in Your Head is True
  • The Cognitive Dissonance of a Faithful Democrat
  • The Human Snakepit
  • George Freeman - Unsung Master of the Jazz Guitar
  • The Price of Milk
  • Suspicious Minds
  • Bill O'Reilly Sexual Predator?
  • The New Soldier
  • Orwell Revisited
  • Larry Coryell - The Godfather is Dead
  • A Tiger Beat
  • South Florida - HOT & COOL
  • Jean Paul Sartre & the Existentialist Mojo
  • Culture Matters, Immigration Matters, Sharks Matter
  • Thomas Sowell
  • A Tree Falls In Central Park on a Gay Banker
  • Black Codes From The Underground
  • Does an Idiot know they're an Idiot?
  • A Poem for Pooh
  • It's All or Nothing Baby!
  • Racism is Alive and Well
  • "Shut the Hell Up!"
  • Jerry Seinfeld - Social Pariah
  • A Man Must Nurture His Pet Peeves
  • Not the Usual Immigration Article
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 1
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 2
  • The Bad Seed
  • Dogma Never Sleeps
  • Trump and Clinton Debate
  • Was Jesus a True Pacifist?
  • Brexit Was the Shot Heard Around the World
  • Obama, How Great Thou Art
  • War is Good
  • The Willful Ignorance of Intellectual Children
  • What about All Those Peacful Muslims?
  • Terror! What Terror?
  • Biff and Shorty Play The Blues
  • Forty Miles of Bad Road
  • How Obamacare Became the law of the land: And Other Fairytales for Adults
  • Genteel Republicans vs The Alt-Right
  • Should Drugs be Legal?
  • The Prophet Speaks
  • The Dream Sequence
  • Voting 3rd Party and the Moral Low-Ground
  • Sayonara America
  • What does Never Trump Mean?
  • Barack Obama is the Most Brilliant Man Ever to be President?
  • If God Created War, Does That Mean That War is Good?
  • Never Let Your Enemies Define You
  • Facebook, Science & Religion
  • Bullshit by the Numbers
  • Bullshit by the Numbers - part II
  • The Heated Quest for the "No Information Voter"
  • I Love The Dead
  • Those Who Lurk
  • Battered, Bruised and Beaten
  • Trump and Hitler
  • America in Black and White
  • Trans-Athletics
  • Playing a Rigged Game
  • Who was that Mass Murderer?
  • The Kidnappers
  • The Game
  • Terror in Nice: A Variation on a Theme
  • The Idiots Guide on How to Destory the World
  • Terror in France
  • A Fictional Conversation Between a Pastor and a Historian About the Bible
  • The Immoral Necessity for Scapegoats
  • Who Really Shot Those Eleven Cops? Was It Donald Trump?
  • Killer Cops and Cop Killers
  • Happy 4th of July
  • How Do You Cast Your Vote When You've Only Got a Few Bullets Left?
  • "Yes, She's a Lying Sack of Shit....but She's our Lying Sack of Shit."
  • All Apologies
  • Will the Real Jesus Please Stand Up
  • Goodbye Scotty Moore
  • If a Bluebird Plays the Blues Why Can't it Play Free Jazz
  • Terror in Turkey
  • When David Slew Goliath
  • The Life & Death of a Global Fat Cat
  • Intentionally Censoring the News
  • The Brits Leave the EU
  • Chick, Christian, Roy & Kenny G
  • Who Really Committed Mass Murder in Orlando
  • The Tale of the Prince and the Shrew
  • A Dying Father's Last Father's Day
  • Mass Murdering, Terrorist's Father is Obama and Hillary's Best Friend
  • Why Cream still Matters 50 Years Later
  • Misguided Anger and Partisan Politics
  • The Deep Guilt of the Religious Left
  • Radical Islam! What Radical Islam?
  • Denial is a River in Egypt
  • A Response to all the Haters
  • Why Muhammad Ali was my Hero (in spite of being a Racist)
  • Why Trump Matters
  • The New Progressive Racism
  • A Tragedy in Cincinnati
  • The Evil that Men do (Women too.)
  • Differences? What Differences?
  • Racism Revisited
  • Battling Immigration Straw Men
  • Blood Quantum
  • Fighting Transgender Straw Men
  • Logical Fallacies about God and Money
  • Progressive Straw Men
  • Everybody is Robbing You Blind
  • On The Road To El Donaldo
  • Dear Mark: About Donald Trump
  • Identifying the Enemy
  • Why I Will Vote For Trump
  • I Totally Agree With Myself
  • Teaching Americans Where to Pee
  • Goodbye Lonnie Mack
  • Bernie Wants You To Pay His Fair Share
  • Bruce Springsteen vs. North Carolina
  • Mr. Smiley Is an Idiot
  • Why Does College Cost So Much?
  • Black Power and Bad Vibes At Whiteness History Month
  • How Facebook Showed Me That We're Doomed
  • Muslims kill Muslims by means of White People
  • The Slap
  • America Wants a 3rd Party Candidate
  • Jesus Loved Everybody
  • Call it what it is.
  • Belgium vs. Turkey. Which One is Worse?
  • Barack, Fidel and Che
  • How He Gonna Get His Money pt. 2
  • How He Gonna Get His Money
  • The Turn of The Screw
  • Dear America: Now, about Trump....
  • The Attack of the Anti Trumpers
  • Did You Know that America is Socialism....and boy, ain't it Swell
  • Trump - Prophet or Blowhard?
  • Black Lies Matter, All Lies Matter
  • The Donald and the Debate
  • Leonardo and The Bear
  • The Thunder Rolled and the "Trump" Blows em all to Hell
  • Fragmented Fairytails
  • Cars That Never Were but Should've Been, Part 6
  • Building The Perfect Beast
  • America: A Tale of Two Cities, Part 1
  • Uncle Bernie in New Hampshire
  • The Big L
  • The Diary of a Former Leftist
  • Free Speech not Hate Speech?
  • State of the Union
  • Losing My Religion
  • Don't Take Our Guns Away Until We Kill Those Honky Bastards
  • Bye Bye Europe
  • "Trump is a Racist!"
  • "Hell Yeah! I've Got Obama Care!
  • Trumponomics
  • Woman of the Year
  • Malicious Intent and the Art of the Microaggression
  • Muslim No-Go Zones - Myth or Reality?
  • Donald J. Trump and the Muslim Migration to America
  • There Is No God But Allah?
  • Roadhouse - The Reboot
  • Sometimes You Just Can't Win
  • A Few Thoughts Regarding Trump
  • Cars That Never Were But Should've Been, Part 5
  • You Can Have My Steering Wheel When You Pry It From Cold, Daed Hands
  • The Great Debate
  • Al, Thomas and Paul - Malthusians Then and Now
  • A Prophet Debates Global Warming and other retated Dogma
  • Memes, Scapegoats, Propaganda
  • Little Hillary and Her Monsters
  • A Prophecy for America
  • The Basketball Metaphor
  • Vladimir Putin: An American Hero
  • Little Things
  • The Democrats Debate
  • It's All Ablout da Benjamins
  • Remember When?
  • Mass Shooter
  • Cars That Never Were But Should've Been: Part 4
  • Should A Muslim Be President in America?
  • The Strange Case of Ahmed Mohamed
  • Debt and Other Devious Angels
  • Bernie Sanders is Caesar not Jesus
  • An inconvenient Truth
  • Who's really a Native American?
  • The Rebirth of the Silent Majority
  • Money That's What I Want!
  • The Syrian Crisis and the Memeing of America
  • Why Societies Have Generally Valued Men More than Women
  • The Problem of Evil
  • A few Thoughts on a Few Things
  • The Authentic pose of a Black White Man
  • Sweden: Socialist Utopia or Progressive Madhouse?
  • Why Dogs Matter
  • Guilty Until Proven Innocent
  • Was Jesus a Socialist?
  • "The Donald" A Man for the Ages
  • Harvesting the Wheat - or - Karma's a Real Bitch
  • Cecil The Lion
  • Cars That Never Were but Should’ve Been, Part 3
  • Secrets and Lies
  • Can Minorities Be Racist?
  • I Was Just Thinking....Hmm?
  • Iran Deal - Good or Bad?
  • Jihad or Not Jihad? That is the Question.
  • "Let's Do Lunch" with Planned Parenthood
  • America The Contemptible
  • Marriage, Bigotry and Cooties
  • The Things We Care About
  • The Simplicity of it All
  • A Dissenting Opinion
  • Cars That Should've Been, But Never Were: part II
  • Live Now, Pay Later
  • I Am, Whatever I Say I Am!
  • Bernie Sanders is the Dumbest Bastard on Earth
  • Cars That Never Were But Should've Been
  • Bruce Jenner
  • The Good Society
  • A Personal Jesus For My Own
  • Take a Ride on a Hell Bound Train
  • Requiem For a Car Show
  • Obama Channels Neville Chamberlain in Dealing with Iran
  • The Short Life of a Political Lemming
  • The Strongman
  • The Broken Window
  • The Selective Outrage of The Anti Israel Left
  • When the Blind Lead the Blind
  • Top Brass With Class
  • Living In A world On Fire
  • Lying Liars and the Lies They Tell
  • What The Hell Is Esotericism?
  • Unicorns, Free Healthcare and other Mythological Creatures
  • Heroes and Dunces
  • A Few Thoughts On a Few Things
  • The Return Of Super Fly
  • Should You Ever Bet On A dead Horse?
  • Money For Nothing
  • Across The Great Divide
  • Tom, Jerry, Eddie & Sydney
  • The Folly of Foibles
  • Who really killed Eric Garner?
  • The Art of The Sale
  • Political Bullshit and All That Jazz
  • Oh, The Horror of It All
  • To Torture or Not To Torture, That is The Question
  • Selective Justice
  • Executive Action
  • Give Us Your Tired, Poor and Ambitious
  • Johnny Winter, Ahhh-Yeahh!
  • Homeless and Transgender "Let My People Pee!"
  • Are We Insane? You Betcha!
  • Ebola and Racism
  • You're a Racist, Just Admit It!
  • To Discriminate or Not to Discriminate, That is the Question
  • The Life of an Imaginary Historian
  • Why Most Debates About The Minimum Wage are Bullshit
  • The Return of the Infinite Monkeys
  • Politically Correct Genocide
  • Language and the illusion of Meaning
  • Obama vs. Reagan
  • Is Barack Obama our Most Successful President Ever?
  • White Racism Black Racism
  • The Race
  • Should People Be Free to Discriminate?
  • Science, Religion and Brother Neil
  • Welcome To America
  • The Reincarnation of Jimmy Carter and the Return of Scarface
  • SCOTUS, Condoms and Collateral Damage
  • The American Dream
  • Attack of the Bloated Leeches or "Why Does the Economy Suck pt. II"
  • Why Does the Economy Suck?
  • Jaco Pastorius - A Passage in Time
  • How can we save the world, from people who want to save the world?
  • A Short Political rant: pt I
  • Jerry Reed, Tom Jones and the Original Guitar Heroes
  • Part Two: The Politics of the Eloi and the Morlock
  • Angel: part 7
  • Wayne Cochran "Going Back to Miami"
  • Blessed Assurances and other Iron Clad Guarantees
  • James Brown & the Art of the Indefinite Rhythm
  • If the Bible Say's it, I believe It!
  • Go For a Jog, Go to Jail
  • Life as Theatre and The Well-Intended Sociopath
  • Rory Gallagher & Taste
  • Utopia and the Militant Socialist
  • Matt Damon & the Teachers Union vs. the Capitalist Pigs
  • The Fight of the Century
  • The Last Damned Healthcare Article You'll Ever Need
  • The Gospel According to Mark
  • You Might Be an Idiot if.....
  • How To Interpret Political Speech and other Forms of Gibberish
  • Polygamy and the Search For Morality
  • The "Big" Gulp
  • When a Lie is the Truth and the Truth is a Lie
  • Jim Hall - The Subtle Radical
  • Making Deals With the Devil in Iran
  • Dennis and Mary
  • Thank You Lord For the Good Things You have Done
  • Excersise In Futility
  • Is Obama The Antichrist?
  • The Case for Limited Government (and that includes a limited military)
  • The Weekly Southern Blog
  • Angel: part VI
  • The Esoteric Agenda
  • Ted Bundy & The Hunt For The Devil
  • Things I wish the President Knew Pt. 3
  • Really Now, I'm Syria
  • What Will You Do?
  • Charlie & Clint: Dead & Deader
  • God Loves Me and Has a Plan For My Life...Right?
  • Trayvon & George : An American Hate Story
  • Is God's Grace Ecclesiastical White-out?
  • Jury Duty
  • The Left's Contradictory Love Affair With Gays & Muslims
  • Hee Haw and Grandma and Grandpa
  • Little Tommy & The Blues Kings
  • Gay Marriage: Part II
  • Kayaking "The Big Cypress" with Crocodlies
  • The Birth of The Jazz Guitarist
  • Running With The Bullshit In Pamplona
  • Divided By Abortion
  • Gay Marriage
  • Life on the Fault-line
  • Out of the Wild
  • A Generation Out Of Touch
  • Morning Faith with a Cup of Joe
  • For The Children
  • Made up Facts & True Beliefs
  • The Unforgettable - Nat 'King' Cole
  • Slavery Was Big Business....and It Still Is!
  • Garage Band - The 1960's
  • A Man's Best Friend is his Dogma
  • Voting With Our Private Parts
  • Investors of the World, Unite
  • Good Intentions...bad results
  • The Plural of "You"
  • How to Get God to Give You What You Want: Redux
  • We Have Not Yet Begun To Fight
  • Polls–Divination or Manipulation?
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Angel - Part II

"She used to work for the government. She just killed her husband. She’s in bed with drug dealers—and she may be the only person left who can save the world"… 

Picture
Victor 
 Angel stared at the picture on her computer screen.  George had used her last name!  She felt a peculiar sense of appreciation and then remembered that he’d also tried to kill her.  What was George up to?  Bioscience?  How was it that a DEA agent had been running such a firm in Miami?

As she sat there staring at the computer screen and pondering these questions, her cell phone rang.  She didn’t recognize the number, but answered.  On the other end of the phone she heard Victor Cruz’s voice.  “Ms. Arvelo?  Where are you?”

Angel listened carefully, trying to detect whether Victor had a hand in events in the hotel room.  Nothing.  Either he was a great actor or he didn’t have a clue about the attempted hit.  “Mr….I’m sorry, what is your name?” she asked coyly.

Victor laughed, “Ms. Arvelo, I’m quite sure you know my name.  I am the man who paid you $50,000 to be at a hotel where you are not.”  He turned serious, “Why have you not done as I asked?”  His voice was even, but there was clear menace in the question.

“I was there, but something came up.  Shall I return?”

“No,” Victor said, “Please join me at Charlie’s on 17th Street Causeway this evening.  Seven o’clock.”

Angel said, “I’ll be there.”

“Hmm,” Angel mused, “Chuck’s on a Friday night.  Well, it was a little older crowd but they had a good bar and good music, if you like ‘70s acoustic rock (and she did), and she could always enjoy a good steak.”


Charlie’s Charlie’s had been a mainstay of the eastside Republicans and the yachting community for as long as Angel could remember.  Ever since she was a girl and her parents made the move from Hialeah to Fort Lauderdale, she had enjoyed eating there.  She remembered sadly how much her father had enjoyed treating her mother and her to dinner there.  He always got the salad bar, teriyaki steak and a baked potato and he always started the meal by bowing his head and saying grace, thanking God for their good fortune in escaping Cuba and living in “Los Estados Unidos de América.”

Angel opened the heavy front door and walked in.  Looking to her right, she scanned the bar but didn’t see Victor Cruz.  The hostess said, “Ms. Arvelo?” 

Angel started.  She had come there often in times past, but she certainly didn’t know the hostess now.  “Yes,” she said.

“Oh good.  Mr. Cruz is waiting for you.  Please follow me.”

Angel followed the pretty young girl back past the bar to the more secluded rear of the restaurant.  There sat Victor and his driver from yesterday.  Angel noted that the driver sat in the corner with an unobstructed view of the room.  “Something more than a chauffeur,” she thought.

Victor rose as she and the hostess approached.  “Ah, Debbie, I see you found her,” he said. 

The driver remained seated, seemingly disinterested in their arrival.  A short, powerfully-built, Indian-looking man, he had what Angel assumed to be a genetically imposed dour expression.  Scowling, he looked up at her and then his eyes moved past her to survey the room.

Angel turned to Victor and said, “Yes, she recognized me as I entered.  You must have given her a good description of me.”

Debbie turned to her and held out her hand.  She exclaimed delightedly, “Mr. Cruz gave me a picture of you, see?” 

Angel saw that the hostess had a picture of her in her jogging clothes from the day before.  “Oh, I see.  Well, you couldn’t miss with that could you?”

Debbie smiled uncertainly and said, “Well, I’ll leave ya’ll alone now.  Your server is Anthony and he’ll be over in a minute.”

With that, she walked away.

Victor pulled a chair out for Angel across from him.  She sat down and he returned to his seat.

“Ms. Arvelo or, may I call you Angel?” he asked.  “Yes, it should be Angel.  After all, we are going to be good friends, no?”

Angel replied, “I guess $50,000 buys the use of my first name.”

Victor’s smile disappeared.  “Yes, about that.  I understand that the Tropic Resort has had to replace a window and make other repairs because of a young woman guest who decided to leave via the window rather than the door.  Diego managed to sort that out with the manager for me.”

Victor had nodded towards his driver when mentioning Diego’s name.  Angel looked at Diego, but he continued to scan the room.

Victor continued, “Yes, the room needed significant repair to its air conditioning system, I’m told.”

Angel said, “Yep, it was blocked by a man with a gun.”

Victor’s face twisted into a mocking sneer, “A man?  I believe you knew that man intimately.  Wasn’t that your husband from your days in my country?  George Ramirez?”

Angel’s face showed nothing.  She had always assumed that the cocaine cartel leaders in Colombia had as good intelligence on the DEA as the DEA had on them—perhaps better.  Victor’s comments merely confirmed that suspicion.

Victor continued, “Do not worry, Angel, I own the hotel and the management will ask no questions.”

Angel said, “Okay, now I have a question.  Why did you send me into an ambush?”

Victor laughed and said, “I was not sure that it was an ambush, but I needed to know if it was safe.  Using one of the people who tried so hard to stop my business seemed like a good idea.”

“I see,” said Angel, “and what were the events that caused you to suspect an ambush?”

A waiter strode to the table and Victor looked at him.  “Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks for the lady and I’ll have a Mount Gay Rum neat.”  The waiter looked toward Diego and Victor curtly said, “He will have a Coke.”

Angel noted that he knew what she liked to drink.  That settled it—his intelligence operation was too good!

As the waiter walked away, Victor turned his attention back to Angel and explained, “You think I am a vicious criminal, no?  Perhaps I am, but I have been fighting an enemy of mankind that no one else even believes exists.”  He motioned to Diego who pulled a dossier from a valise next to him.  Victor spread the documents on the table.  Angel noticed that some of the documents had the letterhead “Halpan” on them.

Victor pulled a picture out of the file and pointed to it.  “This is the man I am fighting, Javier Carlos Rodriguez Blanco, the local chapter head of Green Again Planet.  Better known, perhaps, as GAP.”

Angel laughed and said, “Javier Blanco?  Isn’t he the flake who is always showing up at County Commission meetings in Miami-Dade and Broward Counties complaining about Everglades’ pollution and leading pickets whenever the circus comes to town?”

Victor nodded, “Yes, the same man.”

Angel scoffed.

Victor said, “I thought you were smart enough to look deeper.  Perhaps this is why you and your friends never caught me?” 

Angel glared at him, but thought to herself, “He may be a vicious, murdering druglord, but he has a point.”  She said, “Okay, tell me why you are fighting Javier Blanco.”

Victor continued, but in a manner that indicated he had memorized the facts through repetition, “Javier Carlos Rodriguez Blanco, also known as Javier Blanco, is a Venezuelan-trained doctor.  He grew up in Caracas but his family had a farm to the south where he spent much of his time as a boy.  He was disliked by his father, who considered him weak and useless.  He was remote, detached from both family members and others.  As he grew, he became a loner with few friends and an increasing affection for the animals he knew on the farm.  Disliking what he believed was abuse of the farm stock, at fifteen he declared that he was a vegetarian.  During college, he came under the influence of environmental activists—activists who used the environmental movement as a front for their anti-industrial, romantic notions.  They sought to create an agrarian utopia but Javier, who knew farming well, was under no such illusion.  His goal was larger.”

Victor stopped for a moment and said, “Let’s eat.  You must be hungry, I know I am.”  He hailed the waiter and ordered the French onion soup and teriyaki steak, medium, with a baked potato.  Angel asked for the same and looked towards Diego inquiringly.  Victor saw her look and said to the waiter, “Make that three and bring another round of drinks.”

As the waiter walked away, Angel asked, “So what was Javier’s goal?”

Victor looked at her sharply, as if searching to see if she were mocking him.  Angel met his look and raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner.  He said, “Javier Blanco’s goal was the restoration of the earth to a state where man no longer holds sway.  Neither industrial cities nor agrarian farms appealed to him, as both were the efforts of man to control the environment.”

Angel said, “You mean he wants to destroy mankind’s social and political systems?”

Victor glared at her, obviously annoyed, and hissed impatiently, “No, Angel…he wants to destroy mankind!”

Angel was surprised by the sudden display of emotion but showed nothing.  Even if what Victor said was true, she wasn’t going to give this murderer the satisfaction of seeing her surprised or, more accurately, intrigued by his story.

With a mildly mocking tone, Angel said, “So this outcast you describe is the outgoing, vocal leader of the South Florida envirowackos?  I thought you said he hated people?”  She smiled innocently.

Victor spat out, “Miss Arvelo, do you wish to remain blind or do you want to understand what is happening?”

Angel feigned a contrite air and said, “I’m sorry.  Please continue.”

“As you know, we have pushed into remote areas of Colombia to grow coca since you Americans started spraying the open fields with herbicides.  We arranged for new plantations in the jungle and worked a deal with the FARC guerillas to keep prying eyes away.  For some time, we enjoyed great success.  Our biggest problem was, as usual, how to get our product to market here in the “land of the free.” Victor laughed, “Your Coast Guard made it difficult for awhile, until we found that tunnels from Mexico to Texas worked well.” 

He suddenly looked sad and Angel was again surprised.  It had not occurred to her that a man who had caused so much misery could feel sadness. 

“I thought it best to have my family away from harm so I built a home for them in the jungle.  I spared nothing to make it secure and comfortable.  My wife, Maria Elena, and our two boys joined me there.  I had to travel frequently on business, but I knew my family was safe while tucked away in this remote area.  Three years ago, while I was away, the village where we lived was stricken with a strange sickness.  Maria Elena called me and told me that she and the boys had a cold.  I told her to take them to the doctor in the village and said I would be home in a couple of days.  After all, I was busy and it was just a cold.”

Victor paused, glanced at Diego, who looked briefly at him, nodded, and returned to scanning the room.  Victor turned to where Diego was looking and the waiter was approaching with the soup and fresh drinks.  He leaned back in his chair and waited for the food to be served.  Angel thanked the waiter but didn’t begin to eat.  She sat, watching Victor, who seemed lost in thought and no longer present at the table.  Finally, he looked up, grabbed his napkin and placed it in his lap and said, “Well, let us enjoy our soup, eh?”

 

Angel used her spoon to break through the thick gruyère cheese on the top of the soup crock.  She let the steaming onion broth cool in the spoon and then brought it to her mouth.  It was delicious!  She realized that she was, in fact, very hungry.

Victor ate his soup quietly.  Diego looked impassively at Angel and then began to eat, still regularly scanning the room.

Finally, Victor said, “The next day, my wife called again.  Her voice was weak and she told me that our boys were dead.  She told me that many of the villagers were also dead and begged me not to return.  She said there was death in the air and it was too late for her.  I was stunned, I had left three days before and they were all healthy.  I told her I was coming home immediately.  However, it would take me a day to get there from Miami, even with a chartered jet.  Maria Elena again told me I must not return but I refused.  I told her that I loved her and that I was bringing a specialist with me and would be there as soon as possible.  Diego brought a doctor friend of ours with us and we headed to the airport.  When we arrived, finally, in our village, I went directly to my house.  There was no one there.  Diego called me and told me that Maria Elena was at the clinic in the village.  I grabbed the doctor, went down the hill to the clinic and found her and her mother among the bodies scattered around the clinic.  They were both dead.  Three hundred others were dead as well.”

Victor stopped.  He drank his rum in one long gulp and sighed, “My Maria Elena and our children were the good part of me.”

Angel was surprised to find that she believed Victor Cruz.  This, she thought, was no act.  This man had truly lost what mattered most to him.

Victor continued, “I told the doctor to take samples of blood and, using the facilities of the clinic, see if he could figure out what had happened.  Within a couple of hours he told me that the clinic’s limited equipment was not sufficient to determine what had occurred.  He took blood samples with him and returned to Miami.  Diego and I began to organize a burial effort.  Since no one who had been in the village had survived, I reached out to the FARC to help us.”  His fist clinched as he said, “Those bastardos would not come until I paid them for their trouble.”

Angel said nothing, but thought, “There’s a surprise!”

“The doctor called me two days later and told me that there was a virus in the blood samples he had taken.  Every sample contained traces of it, but it, like the people, was dead.  Then he told me that it appeared to be manmade.”

Now Angel was really listening.  Who would make such a virus and was it what George had been talking about with Don Wilson?

Victor continued speaking, as if to himself, “I asked the doctor to discreetly check around to find out if the Americans had created this virus in one of their biological warfare experiments.  I told him money was no object, but I needed to know.  It took several months to be sure, but he was eventually able to confirm that the virus that killed my family and my people was not produced by the American government.  What was strange, however, was that he also confirmed that it could not have been made anywhere but in the United States.”

The waiter appeared with their steaks.  With a wry glance, Angel noticed that, for the first time, Diego showed enthusiasm for something other than looking around the room.  As she buttered her baked potato, she thought about Don Wilson’s questions of the day before.  What had he said George told him?  Something about “the virus would fix everything.”

She began to piece things together in her mind.  George had assumed the identity of “Juan Arvelo” and ran a medical research firm called Halpan in Miami.  She wondered, “Could the George I knew be involved in some kind of biological weapons development?”  Thinking about it, she realized that yes, George was the original “spook.”  He lived for secrets and lies.  That was why, she thought, their marriage disintegrated.  What had first been an enchanting fairy tale in a faraway place became more and more a story of constant deception.  Her respect for George’s skills as an agent never wavered, and his passionate desire to stop drug dealing, a passion that she initially shared with him, became increasingly fanatical.  So much so that she became concerned for his sanity.  As his frustration over the drug trade grew, he became more and more irate.  She realized that, while she could overlook his rage against the druglords, she couldn’t so easily dismiss his lack of commitment to being a faithful and loving husband.  His increasingly frequent and prolonged disappearances had driven her crazy with worry and suspicion.  She had hated the way that his constant evasions caused her to become ever more like the nagging wives she had always detested.  When their assignment ended, it was a relief to use that change as a reason to call an end to the marriage as well.

She hadn’t realized how lost in thought she was.  Victor asked her, “Is your steak not as you like it?”  It was then that she became aware that she had been lost in thought for some time.  Diego had already eaten half his steak!  She replied, “No, I was just thinking about your story.”

Victor seemed pleased with this response and, while encouraging her to enjoy her steak, continued with his story.  “It took nearly all of the last three years to identify the source of the virus that killed my family and friends,” Victor said, “What I eventually learned was that Javier Blanco was instrumental in the development of the virus here in Miami at a firm called Halpan.  The virus used in our village, it seems, was simply a test.  Three weeks ago, we were able to obtain confirmation of this through some Americans taken captive by the FARC.  It took almost two days to convince them to talk, but we learned that someone involved with the virus development had infiltrated the DEA.  Indeed, the captured Americans were DEA agents.  It cost me a sizable contribution to FARC’s operations, but I was able to persuade them to release the captives into my hands.  It turned out that they were preparing for another “test” of the virus in a remote region of Colombia.  Diego and I were able to oblige them.  We took them to the clinic where my family died, introduced them to their own virus sample and watched the results.  What we saw was an even more virulent strain of virus.  Within six hours, they were unable to stand up.  Two hours later, they were dead.”

Angel whistled.  She said, “That’s quite the story.  So what does this have to do with sending me into a possible ambush?”

She thought to herself, “I know now what George was doing there.”

Victor answered, “Ms. Arvelo, are you so self involved that you can’t see that this is important?”

Angel said, “I hear what you’re saying, but I also just heard you say that you murdered two DEA agents.  You offer no proof, only a sad story and the picture of a man who is, depending on your point of view, either a righteous warrior against animal cruelty or a fool.  In neither case have you shown proof of anything more.  Do you really think I would accept your word on this?  You are responsible for death and destruction all over the US and South America.”

Angel surprised herself with the vehemence of her response.  She supposed the thought of the DEA agents dying in the abandoned clinic was what got to her.

Victor angrily slammed his fist on the table and hissed, “You think I am lying about this?  And you think you, and your damned precious DEA are so perfect?  How do you think I remained free?  I PAID DEA agents for the information that kept me free!  When I tell you I lost my family, I am telling you the truth.  I have determined who is responsible and I will have my revenge.  You are an intelligent woman—don’t act like such a fool!”

Angel took a deep breath, paused, and then said, “Okay, what else do you have in that dossier that supports your story?”

Victor sat, stewing in his anger.  Finally, he snapped, “Look for yourself.”  He pushed the file over to her.

Angel flipped through the dossier and saw pictures of bodies strewn around a small building with the words “La Clinica” painted over the door.  There were close-ups of a beautiful, black-haired woman and two boys, all dead.  There were a number of receipts for materials purchased by Halpan.  While Angel couldn’t be sure that the materials were items required to concoct a powerful biological weapon like the “virus” Victor described, it did fit that George had been involved in Halpan and was talking about a “virus.”

She looked up from the documents and, staring sharply at Victor, said, “If I believed your story, what of it?  Why are you telling me?”

Victor, somewhat sullenly, answered, “You are former DEA.  You can help me stop Javier’s plans.”

Angel asked, “Plans, what plans?”

Victor said, “Surely you understand that the previous efforts have just been tests?  Javier Blanco isn’t interested in merely killing coca farmers in remote areas of Colombia.  I believe he wants to attack major urban centers.”

Angel said, “I don’t know if that is true, but we ought to be able to find out.  Now, why did you think there would be an ambush in that hotel room?”

Victor looked at Diego, who remained impassive.  He looked back at Angel and said, “While we have been looking for the murderers of our people, we have come to realize that someone is now hunting us.  I received a call telling me that a man would meet me at the Tropic Resort, Room 212.  The man, the caller said, had definitive information on the virus I’d been investigating.  He was willing to provide the information—for a price.”

Diego suddenly spoke!  “Don Victor, tell her about the attack.”

Victor smiled and said, “Okay, Diego.”

Angel was surprised at the kindly tone in Victor’s voice.  Obviously, Diego was more than just a bodyguard and chauffeur.

Victor said, “A previous effort was made in Bogotá earlier this year.  Diego was contacted and told that the virus that killed our village was being passed via courier the next day.  The contact, a dealer who sometimes worked for me, was a reputable man.”

Angel raised an eyebrow.

Victor ignored her look and continued, “The contact told Diego that the transfer was to take place in the parking lot of a warehouse in the Occidente section of the city.  Diego assembled a team of our associates and prepared to intercept the virus.  Unfortunately, the transfer wasn’t a transfer at all.  If Diego hadn’t planned for contingencies, none of our associates would have survived.  As it was, our contact and two others were killed and, in their response, our associates killed the attackers so we couldn’t question them.  What we learned from examining their bodies was that they were an international assembly.  There were two Colombians, a Cuban and two Koreans in the ambush party.  The two Colombians were the bait.  They supposedly had the virus.  The Cuban and the Koreans were set up in sniper positions.

Had Diego not taken the precaution of having snipers in place and a team ready to extract our contact people, more would have been killed.  As it was, our snipers were only able to spot the ambush party after they began to fire.  Our contact fell with the first shot. And our ground team lost two more before the attackers were killed.”  Victor smiled, “Diego, as usual, was in the middle of it.  I’m told by others that he took out the two Colombians personally.”

Angel nodded at Diego.

Victor said, “Angel, I think you can help us figure out who is doing what.  I have spent both time and money on finding the killer of my family.  Now the field, it seems, is turning.  I need a detective with good contacts in South Florida—a detective who can think on their feet.  You have proven to be this kind of detective.  You have a retainer already.  If you can help me stop the spread of this virus and avenge my family, you will receive a hundred times as much.”

Angel sat for a moment, thinking.  George, she now realized, must have been part of whatever group developed the virus.  There wasn’t any proof that Javier Blanco was the leader of the group but, then again, there wasn’t any proof that he wasn’t.  How could it be that DEA agents were attempting to spread such a lethal virus?  Who else at DEA might know of this?  Did Don Wilson know?  Was he testing her to see if she knew when he called?  And what of the man she followed to the house in Golden Beach?  She sighed, took a deep breath, and said, “I will do what I can.”

Victor smiled triumphantly and said, “Excellent!  Diego, let us go.  You may take the dossier if it helps you.  Perhaps tomorrow we can meet again after you have reviewed it more carefully.”  His eyes narrowed and his face hardened as he said, “We will do whatever is necessary to stop these madmen.”

Angel knew that she had just agreed to help a man who, quite literally, had the resources and the will to do anything he wished.  She thought, “I hope you know what you’re doing!”

Victor dropped two hundred dollar bills on the table as he rose from his chair.  Angel picked up the dossier and Victor and she followed Diego out of the restaurant just as the band began their first set.  The hostess sang out cheerily, “Thanks for coming, ya’ll.”

Angel nodded and Victor smiled.  Diego opened the door and, staying on Victor’s right side, proceeded towards the steps leading to the parking lot.  Angel was on Victor’s left as they approached the few steps.  As they began to descend, Angel heard Victor grunt.  She turned towards him and saw the hole in his chest.  Suddenly, she was knocked to her left and backwards as Diego pushed both Victor and her to the ground.  He had a pistol in his right hand and was scanning the leafy hedge bordering the parking lot.  Angel left him to do the surveillance and turned her attention to Victor.  The blood was oozing out of his chest and, as she watched, his face turned gray and his eyes, fixed on Diego, went dim.  She bent down to hear if he was still breathing but heard nothing.

“Diego!” she cried, “He’s dead.”

Diego said, “I know,” and ran towards the hedge directly in front of the steps and a hundred feet distant.  He soon returned and, without looking at her, said, “They’re gone.”

Angel said, “Let’s get out of here.  Now!”

They lifted Victor’s body and carried him to the Bentley.  Diego tenderly held what was left of Victor and laid him carefully in the trunk.  He looked at his fallen friend for a moment and then turned to Angel and said, “I will call you tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.  Be ready.”  With that, he closed the trunk lid and walked to the driver’s side door.

Angel replied, “Ten o’clock it is.”

She walked to the mini, checking the parking lot to see if anyone had witnessed what happened.  Apparently not.  No one had been on the restaurant’s veranda as they left and she had seen no one in the parking lot.  She started the car with her keyless remote as she approached it and climbed in.  She sat there for a moment and thought, “What a night!  Victor Cruz, the scourge of the DEA, struck down right in front of her!  She checked her watch.  It was 8:30.  In less than 24 hours she had two dead men on her hands and, she thought ruefully, in both cases Diego cleaned up the mess.

She put the car in reverse, backed out of the parking space, and headed for home.



Thomas A. Hall