ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (32 page)

“B.J. if you want to earn your bones with me, I have a mission for us in San Diego.”

I thought, here it is. I’m being challenged. He’s running a heart check on me to see if I’m all talk. Is he trying to gain control of my territory?

“I know a speed cook down there that has a safe with up to $50,000 in it along with a bunch of guns. There should be a bunch of speed there for us to seize too.”

The money, guns and speed didn’t distract me from wondering if Dennis thought he now held the upper hand on me. “Dennis, is this speed cook an evil piece of shit? Is he in violation of any rules and regulations?”

“No. He’s actually a good dude. He’s been loyal to his crew for 20 years and runs a good program.”

I studied Dennis and wondered if I’d misjudged him that badly. The only other option was that he was running a check on me. “Dennis you just said this guy has honor and loyalty… I get my juice from regulating those without any.”

Dennis nodded his head, “Just checking to see where your head’s at. I’ll find a job like that pretty easy… Do you have any shit on you I can buy?”

I stared at Dennis for a few minutes quietly. Where did he stand in regard to my rules and regulations? If he was in violation of them, then I’m a hypocrite for selling to him. I thought about how I needed to go to San Bernardino to go get some more from Bob. I didn’t want to take any of what I had left except for a small issue for my self… I decided he’s not in violation and sold him some.

CHAPTER 76

Mark Argenta watched himself in the mirror from his chair in the living room flipping over tarot cards. In the reflection, instead of seeing an ugly bald deteriorating old man in a wheel chair, he saw a powerful cunning mastermind. He thought, I look so religious and innocent with this gold cross on my neck sitting in a wheel chair. He thought back to that day almost ten years ago. He remembered in detail how the two Mexicans from the Michoacán cartel stood over him ready to kill. He remembered the fear of dying that had brought on the stroke that sent him to his knees. He remembered their names, Ernesto and Felipe. He remembered feeling his body convulsing and looking up at a gun pointed at him. He remembered hearing the older one say, “Don’t shoot him Felipe. Maybe we shouldn’t kill him. We’ve already killed his two top lieutenants. He’s got nothing left. Now he’s having a stroke. Maybe we should let him live in shame and pain for the rest of his miserable life.” He remembered watching Felipe pull the gun away and ask, “But Ernesto, he turned Maria into a heroin addict and then a prostitute, then she killed herself to get away from him!” Ernesto had responded, “We’ll let him live in his misery… If he gets his mind back, we can kill a member of his family every month to keep him in hell for what he did to Maria.”

Mark Argenta saw himself for who he really was in the mirror and thought, I shouldn’t have pretended that I couldn’t walk and confined myself to this wheel chair. Now I can hardly walk from the atrophy. I guess that’s the cost I had to pay to protect myself. He laughed at the benefits. The sympathy, the cover and the help from the government.

He flipped over another tarot card. The Phoenix. He laughed to himself, they should have killed me. Now like this Phoenix, I’m rising from the ashes even stronger than before because I have El Diablo from Mexico City lifting me up. He thought about the phone conversation he had with El Diablo concerning the Michoacán cartel. He laughed how at this very Moment the authorities in Mexico and the U.S. were being fed lies about their cartel. They were being blamed for another cartel’s actions near Juarez where over a hundred women were murdered in the last year. The authorities were being fed that the Michoacán cartel was murdering women they had slept with in the past to celebrate huge loads of drugs making it into the U.S… Mark Argenta laughed, that should put the clamps down on my enemies. He thought about what else El Diablo had said. “My Mark Argenta… You’re to send my money for the heroin profits to me on the wire every week. I’m expecting you to handle that for the profit I’m allowing your from the speed. Don’t get the two confused. The heroin profits are mine, the speed profits are yours. Remember that as easily as I can manipulate the chess pieces against your enemies, I can manipulate them against you if you double cross me. I’m going to arm you with some information to keep you a couple of moves ahead of the speed game. In the U.S. the feds are cracking down and making it nearly impossible to get to the chemicals used to make speed. That is going to backfire on them and push business to the Mexican side of the border. Over here we have easy access to the chemicals the U.S. is making so hard to get. You can expect that the prices for speed will climb as it gets harder to get the product. This will give you the best position to control the trade with every other speed empire on the U.S. side of the border in a frenzy to stay in business… I have another diabolical plan I’ll share with you in person that will allow you to obtain these unattended networks thirsty for speed.”

Mark Argenta flipped another tarot card over, the snake. He thought, that’s got to be Ricky. Ricky had said there was a problem that had to be ironed out with the money and that he’d tell me about it in person. He thought, I better play it like El Diablo does and have a couple moves already organized. I can have a visual aid, a little show of power for Ricky to see when he comes over. Plus, I can let him know about the crunch the feds are putting on the chemicals and let him know I’m about to have a line on them from Mexico. That way Ricky will know I’m involved far enough to know the price on them. He won’t be able to bullshit me!

Mark Argenta flipped another tarot card, the bloody eagle. He looked at it and thought how that meant there was a sagacious threat around the corner…

CHAPTER 77

Bob drove Tim’s truck through the canyon and thought about the money he just lost. I can never win at that freaking casino. How much did I bring with me? Was it only that five hundred I got from Tim? Fuck, I need some sleep. Bob thought, I must have stayed up for three weeks making all that shit for toe tapping Tiny from Tennessee.

Bob saw Tim standing in his driveway and pulled the truck next to him. “Bob, the chemicals just got dropped off from Ernie. I just called the Disciples to come over and keep watch again.”

Bob hustled to the back yard and walked to the back corner of it to the garage to inspect the chemicals. Tim walked behind and closed the backyard gate and looked the street over. From there he walked to the backyard fence and opened the lock on the gate. Bob met him there and said, “Same plan as last time?”

Tim nodded, “Yeah. The Devil’s Disciples are on their way. We’ll keep one on each side of the canyon to post up and watch for the C.R.A.S.H. drug team. If we get an emergency call you know you have three minutes to get the lab out this gate and into the wash. Plus we’ll have a few of the Disciples meet the task force in the front yard to give you even more time while the task force is ordering them to the ground and shaking them down for guns.”

Bob looked from the gate and the 15 yards to the wash, going over the plan visually. I can run the flask of chemicals out the gate and slide down the wash to hide it. “I like that wash right now. It’s over 8 feet deep from all the rain. You can’t see us walking, running or riding down there. Even if I were to get caught down there running away, there’s no way they can bust you for the lab if it’s in the wash and they didn’t see how it got there.”

Bob heard the engine of the Harley Davidson’s pulling up. Tim said, “They’re here.”

Tim ran out to meet the five riders in helmets with Bob behind him. Bob looked and noticed all five had on skull cap helmets, black vests with their Devil’s Disciples patches and all of their tattoos showing down their arms. Bob noticed a couple of different bikers from the last visit. They were a lot bigger and older. Like last time, Tim didn’t bother making introductions and Bob realized Tim was taking precautions and remembered him saying earlier, “This is business. The Disciples are getting paid in speed to help keep watch and run a distraction if necessary, not meet you and try and turn it into a hustle. I don’t want to be in the middle of a war over whose cook you are with Ricky’s family involved.”

On his way to the garage to get busy mixing chemicals, Bob thought, that’s smart of him…

CHAPTER 78

Racing into the canyon in the black Z-71 Corvette, Ricky noticed the tattooed down biker posted up at the liquor store and thought, he looks like he’s keeping watch for someone. Ricky looked at his watch to time how long it took to get to the middle of the canyon where Bob was. He accelerated at the halfway point of each turn like a pro, never able to get it out of second gear. He parked in a lot across from the house and noted that it took two and a half minutes. Getting out of the corvette Ricky couldn’t see anything from the dust kicked up in the dirt lot. As the dust settled he saw three hefty tattooed-down bikers staring at him from the yard. The biggest one looked like a Rottweiler standing at the fence with a face full of black and silver hair. He had a 44. revolver sticking out of his waistline.

Ricky walked across the street to the fence and noticed the two other bikers walking to the other one. They also had guns sticking out of their waistbands. They looked to the biggest one like they were ready to follow his lead. Ricky got to the fence and said, “Where’s Bob. I’ve got to talk to him.”

The biggest biker stood in the way. Ricky noticed his jacket said he was a Devil’s Disciple and instantly wondered, are they trying to take over Bob as their cook?

In a deep gravelly voice the Devil’s Disciple said, “Hold it right there. Nobody is supposed to come over right now. Why don’t you call him? What’s your name anyway?”

Ricky felt his anger almost explode and realized he’d left his gun in the Corvette. “Hey holmes, Bob works for my company. You might want to go get him. Tell him the C.E.O. is here in the Corvette.”

Ricky watched the big Rottweiler looking biker just grunt with a stubborn look on his face. Nobody moved. The big biker said, “Why don’t you call him. We work for someone else and can’t leave our post.”

Ricky felt his temper boiling over, “I’ll be right back. My phone’s in the car. Have someone go get Bob!”

Ricky ran to the Corvette across the street and ducked into the car.

From his position at the gate the big biker saw Ricky reach under his front seat and slide what appeared to be a gun in his waistband. The big biker said to the other two, “One of you go get Tim and tell him there’s trouble brewing out front.”

Ricky put his Walther PPK in his waist and his mind wondered again, are they stealing my dope? Is Bob skimming a little off the side? Armed with anger Ricky got out and stared at the big biker and noticed one of the other bikers was gone.

The big biker watched Ricky shut the door and march his way at a fast dangerous pace like he didn’t give a fuck. He thought, here we go…

Ricky watched the big biker reach for his gun and found himself doing the same thing a little faster. Right as he felt his hand finding the familiar trigger with the gun on the way up he saw Tim running out the front door yelling.

“Ricky!! It’s alright!! Come on in!!”

In the split second, Ricky knew he would have smoked the big biker with the speed of his draw. The big biker hadn’t even pulled his gun out. As he slid his gun back into his waist he noticed the biker at the door behind Tim had an A.R.15 machine gun that would have ended things.

CHAPTER 79

I followed Bob’s directions through the canyon in the Ford Festiva and couldn’t see the addresses to the houses anywhere. Some of the canyon had houses on both sides, other parts just one side, and nobody seemed to have addresses painted on curbs. I pulled over to a mail box and saw one, I was close. I turned the next corner expecting to see the fence Bob spoke of to indicate the right house.

I saw the fence, the two bikers and someone who walked as fast as I crossing the street, pulling a gun.

I pulled over and parked knowing that was Ricky pulling the gun. I got out and ran to the fence right as Ricky went in the front door with someone. The bikers met me at the fence and I said, “I’m B.J. Where’s Bob? He said you knew I was coming.”

The big biker nodded at me, “Yeah, we knew you were coming, but we didn’t know that other guy was.”

I walked past the bikers and entered the open front door. I saw who, I assumed, owned the house walking back inside the sliding glass door to the backyard and overheard Ricky yelling at Bob. I walked through the house and right by the owner and into the backyard hearing the bikers tell the owner, “It’s B.J.”

I felt the owner follow behind me into the backyard. I stopped at the open garage door and listened.

“Bob what the fuck is wrong with you! Are you spun out of your mind? Why are you risking all of my shit with a bunch of Bikers standing out front? It looks like a fucking bust at this house!”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of lame, Ricky! If I’m spun out it’s because I’m the one cooking all of the shit nonstop while you’re kicking it at your house relaxing and pushing buttons!”

“If you mean handling all of the business with Tennessee like a pro, than yeah, that’s what I’m doing! While you’re over here like a spun duck fucking our shit up!”

“Ricky! If you’re handling that business with Tennessee, where the fuck is my cut out of it! I’m fucking broke and haven’t slept for three weeks from doing all of your dirty work!”