Chapter Two-Hundred and Sixty-Five

Chapter Two-Hundred and Sixty-Five
Gil was reading a report when he heard a sharp knock on his door. He shouted, “Come in.” 

The door opened and several US Marshals walked in.

Confused, he demanded, “What is this all about?” 

The lead Marshal stepped forward and laid a report on his desk. “This, Mr. Mayor, is where we are arresting you for failing to do your duty for the people of the City of Granite Falls. We are taking you into custody for bribery, allowing a drug lab and drug dealing to go on right under your nose in complete compliance. We can prove you got paid for your part of this conspiracy to commit these offenses.”

Gil reached for the warrant on his desk. He read the evidence they had and would use against him in the courtroom and the warrant had been signed by the county judge he knew well.

Gil Holland felt the walls closing in on him. “I’m not the only one caught in this.” 

“Yes, we know. The others are under arrest as well,” Tom Levens, US Marshal assured him. “Please stand up, so we can cuff you.”
Gil stood. 

Levens then read him his rights.

One of the other Marshals came around his desk and grasped his wrists. Then he snapped the cuffs on.

Gil growled under his breath as he was escorted out of his office. He walked into the hall with his head held high.

The people in his office stared at him with scandalized looks on their faces. He could hear the whispers but he looked straight ahead and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

Same building, sixth floor…
Trey was packing up his office as his transfer to St. Louis had been approved.

When his fellow officers came in, he looked up. “Oh, come on guys, I’m not leaving the force, I’m just transferring.”

His best friend Gary Walls came over and set a document down on his desk. 

Trey paused to reach for the paper and read it. He sucked a breath in as he looked from the paper to the men standing around him. “What the fuck is this?” 

“It is exactly what you think it is.” Gary seethed as he looked angry. “We’ve been watching you for a while now and it finally came together. You slimy traitor.”

Trey closed his eyes and knew there was nothing he could say to justify what he did. “So now what?” 

Gary scoffed. “Like you don’t know. You will walk out of here in handcuffs and just like in monopoly, you will go directly to jail with no chance of a pardon.” He kept glaring at Trey. “I need your badge and your weapon. Liam here has your bracelets. They aren’t gold like you think you deserve but they will fit you well. The Marshals are waiting for you.”

Trey took off his DEA badge, handing it over, then reached for his weapon. He thought about doing something stupid but instead, he handed it over to Liam.

Gary just shook his head. “It's better this way, man. I almost called you brother but you no longer deserve that title. You lost that honor when you broke the law by looking the other way.”

Trey nodded. “I hear ya.” Then he stretched his wrists out and for the first time he felt the heaviness of the steel bracelets they usually put on the drug dealers. It just brought home the damage he had done to DEA agents everywhere.

With an angry grunt, Gary grabbed his shoulder and moved him out of the office. 

Every step Trey took on his perp walk felt like a mile.

When they got to the doors, the Marshals were waiting for him. They loaded him into a van alongside Gil Holland and Hal Roarke. The only one missing was Jenson Dalton. So he asked about him.

Gil shook his head and replied, “Jenson is taking the easy way out, he’s dying.”

Trey snorted. “Well, at least he won’t spend the rest of his life in prison alongside some of the men he put there.”

Hal nodded. “I wonder if we’ll see Ronnie or any of the others before they go to trial?”

From the door of the van, Sheriff Mark Carter shook his head. “I doubt you’ll see them again. They had an appointment with the cartel this morning. The cartel they were fucking over. I think they are going to hell in a handbasket, the hard way.”

All three men winced at the thought of facing the cartel and they all said a silent prayer for their lost souls. 

The door slammed shut and they began the long ride to the US Marshals offices and their own jail cells.

Five miles away…
From the edge of the trees, Hondo, Hawkins and the others all watched the scene.

Carlos stood and looked around the farm yard. 

Eight men lay bleeding on the ground. Ronnie, Luther, Johnny, Abe, and Sonny. Then three Mezla men alongside them.

The firefight was brutal but in the end, the Braza Cartel won the day. 

Carlos walked over to where Ronnie and the main Mezla man were lying. With a growl, he kicked dirt on Mezla while he glared at Ronnie. 

“So now what?” Ronnie asked Carlos. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he glared up at the other man.

“It is simple, you cabrón…moron. Now you and your men will die.” Carlos snarled.

Ronnie chuckled and his laughter turned into a cough. “Yeah, you just gonna leave us lying in the dirt then?”

Carlos shook his head. “No, Senor Cabrón. We are going to carry you out to your little drug boat and put you on board then we’ll set fire to it. You and your amigos will burn and it will send a message to the Mezla Cartel as well. They failed to get the recipe and they got their men killed. I will let one of them go so he will report to them what we did here. None of you will survive...just an underling gets to live.” He snickered. “You all thought you were big, eh? Mucho macho!” He tilted his head back to laugh. Then he went on, “More of them will die if they come for retribution against us but at least your foul-faulta plan to have me killed didn’t happen. And I am supposed to tell you about your amigos in the town here. They all got arrested and they are headed to prison. “What were the names again?” He turned to one of his men.

The man handed him the file.

Looking down at the paper, Carlos nodded.  “Ahh si…Trey, Gil and Hal. And it seems the man you knew as Jenson is dying. Everything you did here will be swept away and no one will remember you or your names.”

“You fucker.” Ronnie growled breathlessly. 

Carlos smiled. “The Braza Cartel will live to fight another day. Nostros ganonomos.” Pausing, he added, “In English that means…We win. Senor Cabrón.” He laughed again. “We will regroup and find another team to make and sell the drugs. Only this time, we will keep our eyes on them a little better.”