Main fanfic page
Excerpt from Kingdom of the Blind, part 1
Sands had been missing since the attempted coup d´etat on the Day of the Dead when his line had been compromised and he didn´t call in with any of the others. Six men had gone in already, intelligence gathering, trying to find out what the hell went down. None of them had come out. The little information that had been sent back was incoherent fragments of what sounded more like folklore than actual witness reports. A dead general, a dead cartel boss, a dead AFN agent, a dead fugitive and as yet uncounted dead civilians. Three mariachi with lethal guitars, a retired FBI agent, and a small dog. A man with no eyes and three arms, who killed three people while the blood was still hot on his face.
[ three down, one to go ]
TO: Agent Robert Carson, Agent Carl Bowers
Carson and Bowers were not new, but they weren´t old, and this was their first big assignment. Carson was married and Bowers was single, and they fit to gether a bit like water and oil. Carson complained that Bowers spent too much time with the Senioritas and Bowers complained that Carson needed to extract the stick from his ass.
This was Mexico afterall, and Bowers had spent spring break in Cancun, and what was the point of being in Mexico if it wasn´t to get drunk off of cheap Tequila and getting head from some easy woman with a fast tongue and even faster fingers. It was pointless for Carson to remind Bowers of the mission, and eventually Carson too seemed to warm to the idea of it doesn´t count if you´re out of the country.
It was only natural that Carson ordered his third shot of Tequila while questioning some bean sweating cabron in a shithole bar in the middle of Campo Chama. Bowers was on his fifth, and would have ordered a sixth if he´d had the chance. They both looked at each other and didn´t even have to say outloud that this guy probably didn´t know what he was talking about anyway.
And maybe he hadn´t, but that didn´t make a difference when the bullet went straight through Carson´s head and wound up in Bowers´ shoulder. It would have hurt if it hadn´t been followed up by a bullet that pierced Bowers heart faster than the glass could reach the floor and shatter into a million pieces.
TO: Agent Jonathon Detrick, Agent Samuel Fite
Detrick and Fite had been partners for 6 years, and they´d never been sent to Mexico before. They were good at their job, and worked well together despite a 10 year age difference. What Detrick forgot, Fite remembered, and what Fite didn´t follow up, Detrick did. Detrick's 4 year old son called Fite ‘uncle´ and when they left for Mexico he hugged both father and uncle good bye and cried so loudly they could still hear him as they reached the end of the tarmac.
The first thing they asked when they got to Campo Chama was where Carson and Bowers left off, and the first action they took was to meet his last contact in that same bar that Carson and Bowers had had too much Tequila in. They followed the lines, and they found the patterns, and all they really found out was that there were three mariachi´s and a man with no eyes.
Despite the fact that Fite was 32 and Detrick was 42, it was Fite that was the powerhouse of the two of them. When their contacts weren´t forthcoming, it was Fite that slammed their head into the wall and Detrick that pulled him off. Later they´d both laugh about it, but their contacts soon learned that it was Detrick they wanted on their side, because Fite was crazy, but he listened to his partner.
They rarely deviated from their patterns, and the one time they did they were in Palos Prietos and eating what passed for fine dining in a pretty nice restaurant for a place like Mexico. When they got into Detrick´s rented El Camino (because you have to have a Mexican sounding car if you´re in Mexico or what´s the point?) the key wouldn´t turn and when it did, their bodies weren´t fully recovered for two days.
TO: Agent Carl Fischer, Agent Gloria Campbell
Fischer and Campbell had been in the agency for going on 20 years, and partners for 15. They had a shorthand way of speaking to each other that not many understood, not even their spouses. Fischer´s wife suspected that he was sleeping with Gloria because Gloria knew how to handle a gun and her legs were killer. Gloria´s husband trusted her implicitly, but he never had been the sharpest tool in the shed, and he was sweeter than he was observant.
The first thing they asked when they got to Palos Prietos was where Detrick and Fite left off, and the first action they took was to contact his last dialed number on his secure line. There were three sides to every story in Mexico and that was expected, but Campbell used her legs and boobs to her advantage and Mexicans like to talk when they´re drooling and their brain is shutting off.
They worked on paper work, tracing the trajectory lines until midnight or later. Every night when they went to bed they fucked until they came atleast twice and passed out naked in their sweat soaked sheets. In the morning they kissed and talked intimately over coffee, but once they had their showers it was all professionalism until midnight came around again and it all repeated.
They went to a church one Sunday because Fischer was Catholic and he´d always thought the only true religion was Roman Catholic, and that America´s watered down version wasn´t the real thing. They sat together and Campbell wondered if the irony was lost on him that he was sitting in church next to his adulterous partner. She never got to ask him because she died in his arms just after she heard the shot that killed him too.
TO: Agent Michael Balrow, Agent David Robson
Balrow and Robson hadn´t been in the agency all that long. Five years is long enough, but not long in the scheme of things. They were considered rogues, because their paper work never quite added up. The reasons for their actions always left something out, and nothing ever quite got explained to the agency´s satisfaction. Their record was in the upper echelon though, so despite the agency´s wariness of their MO, they stayed on and even got raises.
The first thing they asked when they got to Las Tranquitas was where Fischer and Campbell left off, and the first action they took was to throw all of the previously gathered intelligence away and travel back to Culiacan. Balrow said clearly the intelligence never got them anywhere anyway, and Culiacan was where they needed to start. Robson didn´t bother to point out the trail was awfully cold back there, because he learned long ago to not question his partner´s hunches.
Robson smoked too much for Balrow´s tastes, but they worked well together despite the arguments they had. The bond they had was as hard to define as their methods were, but it was clear to anyone that knew them that it was there. Balrow had the hunches, and Robson followed them up, and 2 and 2 always added to 4, and they rarely didn´t get their guy.
One morning Robson was being polite and smoking a cigarette at the bar instead of inside Balrow´s car and he heard a man with jangling pants say something about a man named Sands. He cursed the devil for saddling him with a partner that was always right and stubbed out his cigarette and went to tell his partner to not tell him he told him so. They followed the red truck and it never even occurred to them that the other 6 men hadn´t lasted this long.
It´s easier if you don´t think about things like that.