No Room for Mercy (43 page)

Doss and company had strategically set up their Suburbans. Two were
parked across the northbound highway horizontally, giving the Chicago
Gang cover from the gunfire while Malik and his three remaining
soldiers, with their SUV parked on side of the road facing Carmella’s
remaining two cars, fired off shots from a vantage point located
behind the two parked SUVs about fifty feet before them on their left
side.

Carmella, meanwhile was pinned down, her car in between her attackers
and the two cars that had stopped to help her wage battle. She
crouched on the ground to the rear of her car as bullets lodged into
the bulletproof windows and flattened the tires where she lay on the
ground. She soon caught sight of one the shooters kneeling beside the
hood of one of the Suburbans and let off rapid shots with her .50
caliber.

Bullets from Carmella’s gun penetrated the hood on the SUV
nearest her and she heard a man gasp as he fell forward, yelling he
was hit. Doss pulled the man back behind the Suburban and fired on
the rear of the car and Carmella scooted back behind it as one of her
soldiers fell dead beside her.

Carmella crawled to the front of the car and eyed her girls across
the way, who were engaged in all-out battle, but were obviously being
overcome by the gunfire themselves.

Bay, meanwhile, had scooted over to the second Suburban and came up
from the rear of the vehicle with her Dragunov. Others in the Chicago
Gang were spraying sporadically trying to hit anything moving; Bay
however, was selecting her targets purposely. She’d taken down
both drivers of the two Jaguars just ahead and was locked in on
another soldier. She squeezed the trigger and the woman collapsed to
the ground, leaving Carmella and five soldiers, three who were
severely wounded and could no longer fight.

Carmella’s driver grabbed her amid a lull in the gunfire and
the two made a beeline for one of the Jaguars. They were halfway to
the car when more gunfire erupted. Malik was still in on the action,
and the gunfire from him and his remaining soldier had sent Carmella
and her driver to the asphalt in the middle of the road.

Jay-D and another soldier were closing in on the two remaining
soldiers, who’d surrendered under the belief that they were
going to be arrested by the U. S. Drug Enforcement Agency given their
jackets and badges. They dropped to their knees in the desert sand
beside the cars with their hands in the air, believing they would be
taken to into custody.

Jay-D, however, walked up on the two women and opened fire with a
Tommy gun, killing both females instantly and giving no reason for
their being murdered as they turned and jogged back towards the
jeeps.

Doss, meanwhile, had walked up on Carmella and her last remaining
soldier. Two bullets to the heart from his .45 semi-automatic ended
Carmella’s last surviving soldier in quick succession as he
went and stood over the wounded woman.

“Who are you? Who is sending me on my way?” Carmella
asked as she lay on her back looking up at the star-lit sky.

“Remember Saint Charles?” Doss asked as he pointed the
gun at Carmella.

“
Chicago? No quiero escuchar mierda tienes que decir,
American! Carajo! Simplemente me mata!
”
(Chicago? I don’t want to hear shit you gotta say,
American! Fuck you! Just kill me!)

Doss only understood the last two words Carmella had spoken, ‘kill
me’. “Not a problem,” he said as he let off three
shots that slammed into Carmella’s face, ending her life.

The gun battle had lasted all but a minute and a half, but it’d
seemed like an eternity. As the corpses of Carmella and her crew lay
sprawled out in the desert and along the highway, the Chicago Gang
headed back to their two remaining rides to clear out the scene.

Carmella’s tractor trailer pulled up at that moment and came to
a halt. The driver saw the flashing lights and bodies laid out in the
middle road that was blocked by what he believed to be DEA agents and
he readily surrendered.

Dawk was nearest to the driver and he approached the old man
cautiously. Ironically, it was the same old man that had given
Carmella the gold-plated .50 caliber hand gun back in 2001 that she’d
used to kill Lucky in Saint Charles.

Dawk, unaware of the man’s history, pulled out his .45
semi-automatic and shot the driver in his forehead, dead center, from
a distance of forty feet, thereby closing a chapter on a bloody feud
that had lasted just over three years. He returned to the Suburbans
where he saw the crew struggling to get Junior and two more wounded
soldiers inside the vehicles.

“We good, dad?” Dawk asked.

“We got a major problem, son. These guys may not make it, but
we can’t leave ‘em here. We have two options,” Doss
said as he doused Malik’s incapacitated jeep with gasoline
preparing to set it ablaze. “We can take our people to Valle
Hermoso, where all hell is sure to break loose, or we can cross back
into our country and figure out what to do from there.”

“What you wanna do, dad?”

“Let’s go home. I’ll figure something out before we
get there,” Doss answered as he and Dawk walked back towards
the two remaining SUVs, leaving behind a burning jeep and nine dead
bodies on the ground.

*******

Gunshots were ringing out throughout southeast Valle Hermoso. Word of
Carmella’s demise had spread quickly throughout the town and
riots were erupting in and around the drug lord’s stomping
grounds. Her safe house was destroyed by bandits under the belief
that money lay hidden inside the walls, but none were found. When
government jeeps rode through the area, everyone that bore witness
knew what was about to go down.

Quintessa Lapiente` could hear the gunfire in the distance and see
the orange flames billowing up into the air. She stood on her balcony
watching as soldiers near the front of her property began spraying
gunfire on approaching vehicles. Two of her bodyguards ran into her
room and she turned and faced them. “Who is it? Who’s
attacking my home?” she asked in a rage.

“The mayor has sent military men, Senorita Lapiente`. We will
not hold them off for long!”

“Has he lost his mind! My daughter will crush him!”

Quintessa’s bodyguards eyed one another and then turned to her.
“You, you haven’t heard, Senorita?”

“Heard what? What should I know?’

“Carm—your daughter is dead, Senorita Lapiente`. She was
hit some miles north of here just minutes ago,” the man said
somberly.

Quintessa’s heart sunk to the pit of her stomach at that
moment. “What?” she asked in disbelief.

“We have to go, Senorita,” one of the bodyguards spoke in
a hurried tone as he reached for Quintessa’s hands.

“No!” Quintessa yelled as she snatched away from her
protectors.

The gunfire outside was growing ever intense. Lapiente` soldiers were
falling all around and the Mexican military was closing in on the
villa. The mayor, whose daughter had been kidnapped by the Lapiente`
family three years ago, had learned that Carmella had been killed and
it was music to his ears. He’d been wanting revenge ever since
he was forced to submit to Carmella’s will, but had always
feared a reprisal. The woman’s death had released him of his
fears. He was now sending a paid band of Mexican military men to
finish off the Lapiente` family once and for all.

“Senorita, Quintessa,” one of the men said anxiously, “if
we don’t leave now we will all die tonight!”

“No!” Quintessa cried aloud. “My entire,” the
grief-stricken woman rested her hands against her balcony and looked
over the land at the Mexican soldiers running towards her villa and
knew the end was near. “My entire family! My family!”
Quintessa cried as she looked back at her last two remaining
soldiers.

“They’re coming! Do you know a way out?” one of the
men asked in a frantic manner.

“Si!” Quintessa said as she led the way out of the
bedroom. “I know of a way!”

The gang of three ran through the home towards a set of stairs and
hurried down to the first floor and emerged in the courtyard under
the stars. Men were screaming aloud in Spanish far off in the
distance as automatic gunfire erupted sporadically, horses and goats
ran through the courtyard. An explosion near the front doors sent
Quintessa and her bodyguards scattering through the villa. Quintessa
ran towards a bench near a bush of roses and opened a hatch just as
Mexican soldiers entered the courtyard from the opposite side.

“Run, Senorita Carmella! They’re here!” one of the
soldiers yelled as he opened fire with a M-16 rifle.

More screams were heard as Quintessa disappeared into the belly of
the tunnel. She sighed as she knelt at the foot of the ladder,
listening to the intense gun battle unfolding above ground. More
explosions were heard, followed by rapid gunfire.

“Where’s the woman? Quintessa? Where is she?”
echoed through the courtyard.

“She lives to fight another day!” Quintessa said lowly as
she began traversing the tunnel towards the opposite end.

Quintessa’s mind was working overtime as she traveled the
tunnel. Her best bet was to link up with her suppliers from Bogota
and rebuild. Avenge her daughter’s death and reinstitute a
pipeline back to America. She had a bullet-proof Land Rover waiting
inside the barn on the opposite end of the tunnel and the keys were
inside.

The nearer Quintessa got to the end of the tunnel, the happier she
grew. Her escape was certain, but she was hit with a dose of reality
when the door leading up to the tunnel was pulled open. Quintessa
paused and watched in horror as three grenades landed at the base of
the ladder. She ran towards the opposite end of the tunnel screaming
aloud and calling out to a higher source. God was nowhere to be found
on this night, however; just as the three grenades exploded back to
back to back, shaking the tunnel violently and releasing a torrent of
smoke, the door on the opposite was opened and four Molotov cocktails
slammed down into the tunnel followed by two grenades.

The explosions, coupled with the gasoline bombs sent flames shooting
throughout the tunnel. The lights were shattered and the cavern was
illuminated with an orange hue whose flames were rapidly turning the
supposedly secret passageway into a large oven. Quintessa screamed
aloud in agonizing horror under the realization that she was being
cooked alive. What lay before her watery eyes was a pure vision of
hell. A vision of hell she knew she could not escape. The hatches on
both ends of the tunnel were open, supplying oxygen to the flames.
The walls inside the tunnel were hot to the touch and Quintessa was
finding it hard to breathe. She stood in the center of the tunnel
screaming in terror and agony as the oxygen evaporated from the
cavern and she was slowly engulfed in flames.

Mexican soldiers stood by in silence, listening to the horrific
screams of Quintessa Lapiente`, who was being burned alive in what
was supposed to be her escape. Flames soon shot up from both ends of
the tunnel and the Mexican army celebrated by releasing multiple
rounds of bullets into the air inside the courtyard. The Lapiente`
family and all their strength, had been eradicated on this night.
They were a family betrayed and a cartel defeated, on their own turf
to add insult to injury.

The mayor had taken back what rightfully belonged to the people—the
town of Valle Hermoso itself. How long he held control of the city
was unknown; one thing was certain, however—the Lapiente`
family would no longer pose a problem in this arid desert town just
south of the U.S. border. They were now a defunct and irrelevant
organization who would only be remembered in conversation and
short-winded tales that would chronicle their demise.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON

Doss and the crew had crossed back over into Brownsville and were now
in the underground garage of their hotel walking around the two
Suburbans tallying up the damage done on the hit. Bullet holes
riddled the left side of one SUV and the passenger and rear windows
had been shot out the other, but the bullets to SUVs were the least
of the crew’s problems. One of the soldiers from Fox Park had
died before the crew had even made it back to America.

Doss thought about dumping the guy in the desert, but had Bay or Dawk
been killed, he would’ve risked getting captured or worse in
order to take his children home and given them a proper burial. The
dead soldier from Fox Park deserved the same treatment was his
reasoning. The guy was twenty years old and had a two year-old son
and lived with his baby’s mother. Her child’s father
deserved a proper burial is Doss’s mind and she would be paid
handsomely for her loss. Doss also knew he couldn’t leave the
guy behind because if his body was ever found, the hit would possibly
be traced back to Saint Louis, but the bigger picture was the fact
that Doss cared enough to bring the guy home and not dump his remains
on side of the road.

Dawk and Malik had placed the man’s body inside a body bag,
stored his corpse in the Suburban’s cargo area and Bay and a
couple of soldiers was making repeated trips to an ice machine and
pouring buckets of ice inside the bag to keep the guy’s body
from decaying. Another soldier from Fox Park caught a couple of slugs
in both legs, but he was maintaining, sitting in the bullet-riddled
SUV smoking a cigarette and drinking brandy to deal with the pain,
handkerchiefs tied around the three slugs in his lower legs.

Junior was the biggest worry for the crew. He’d taken a slug to
the left armpit and it’d exited out the top of his shoulder
blade. Carmella had gotten off a lucky shot that hit an open area on
the bullet proof vest Junior had worn. He was sitting quietly in the
front seat of the second Suburban with his eyes closed in obvious
pain.