Once Upon A Wish : Book One (7 page)
Read Once Upon A Wish : Book One Online
Authors: Richard Poche
Tags: #noir, #noir crime, #hit men, #noir crime thriller, #drug cartel fiction, #edge of your seat thrillers, #gripping thriller, #hit man book, #hit man series
He watched as Lashon bought groceries at a
local mom and pop store. At night, his dress and body language
changed. Lashon added a baseball cap and shades to his outfit.
Joined by his homies on the street corner,
Lashon walked with a swagger that he didn't have when he
accompanied his grandmother.
He watched as Lashon loitered by a pay
phone.
“I can kill him now,” Hernan said.
“Too risky,” Nestor said.
Hernan yawned. “How long are we going to
track this guy?”
“You do the killing, but I give you the
green light. No witnesses. We don't take unnecessary chances. That
will be one of our rules.”
“Okay.”
A police car glided down the street.
“See what I mean?” Nestor said. “If you
popped him now there would be a cop coming just at the right time.
We don't take those kind of risks.”
Everyone had a routine. Once he had the
target's patterns down, they could make their move. He noticed on
both days that his grandmother went out for a walk every morning at
ten o'clock. She would return an hour later.
Like clockwork, she left the home at
exactly ten o’clock.
Both Nestor and Hernan remained silent in
the car as they watched the old woman amble out of the fenced
gate.
dogs guarding their yard. Nestor figured Lashon to be a small-timer
trying to go big in Cisneros' territory.
Hernan put a white surgical mask over his
mouth and took out the leaf blower from the trunk. He looked back
at Nestor who gave him a nod.
He entered the yard, looking as nonchalant
as could be. Pressing his finger against the doorbell, he heard no
sound then knocked hard.
“Who the fuck is it?” came the reply from
outside the door.
“City of Oakland,” Hernan answered. He put
special emphasis on his Mexican accent the way Nestor had coached
him to. Said the accent would lower people’s guard.
Lashon ripped the door open wearing nothing
but a pair of baggy sweat pants. He rubbed sleep rocks out of his
eyes and blinked hard at Nestor.
“What you want?”
Hernan raised the pistol as fast as Lashon
opened the door. The bullet to the temple blasted Lashon to the
ground.
He shot Lashon again in the heart, as
instructed by Nestor.
Turning around, he turned on the blower and
casually walked back toward the truck.
The grandmother returned from her walk
earlier than expected.
Nestor made a quick u-turn and whistled for
Hernan.
The young man jogged toward the truck.
Lashon’s grandmother saw him get into the
truck and raised an eyebrow at her open front door. She quickened
her step as she saw her grandson’s legs splayed out on the floor.
Coming closer, the old woman wailed so loud that crows flew off
their perch from a telephone line above.
Nestor hit the gas. He rolled up his
windows and turned up the volume on the radio.
“Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so,” Hernan said.
“What do you mean you don’t think so? We
can’t leave any witnesses. That’s the rule. Remember?”
Hernan nodded his head. “We can go
back.”
Nestor turned a corner and the truck came
to a stoplight.
A group of schoolchildren crossed the
street. All walking in file. A young Hispanic girl waved hello at
the men in the truck.
the radio.
A young teacher trailed the kids. She had
curly brown hair to her shoulders and she smiled at the men,
shrugging her shoulders as if to say ‘What can you do?’
“Sorry,” she said. “Field trip today!”
Nestor nodded his head and managed a
smile.
The hits got easier and easier. They
preferred hits during the morning hours. Nestor would take a few
days to track the movements of the targets and find the optimal
time. They performed hits throughout Oakland, Vallejo and
Richmond.
Nestor didn't bother reading or listening
to the news. Hearing about the things they did would only make him
nervous.
Cisneros always came through with payment.
They would wait behind an abandoned Mexican restaurant in town and
a man would drive up in a Subaru. He would throw a brown bag into
their pickup and speed off.
Nestor was on edge during the pick-ups. He
knew that one day the man in the Subaru would point a gun at him as
opposed to throwing a bag of money.
Hernan spent as much time as he could with
Ana. He would see her once a week. And take her to the duck pond to
talk.
month.
Their rent and other bills were paid.
Nestor decided to risk a little capital at the horse races that
Saturday.
He put a sizable chunk of money on the
daily double and lost. Then he doubled down on a fourth race exacta
and lost again. In the stakes race, he won a superfecta and
high-fived Hernan. He had never felt this confident in his life. He
finally had a win streak going.
“Let's go get some chili burgers!” he said
to Hernan.
Hernan started to smile big until he saw
the Escalade parked in front of them.
The driver side door opened and the large
Latino man stepped out. Nestor remembered Cisneros referring him to
him as “Carlos with a K.”
They approached the vehicle with caution
until Cisneros popped his head out.
“So you won!” Cisneros shook Nestor's hand
as they entered the vehicle.
Karlos closed the door and waited
outside.
good job,” Cisneros said. “Damn good. You have done your heritage
proud. In fact, I'd say you two are probably the most efficient
damn hit men I've ever had. I can't afford to lose you. Too
valuable an asset to the company.”
Cisneros slipped Nestor a manila
envelope.
“You'll find everything that you need in
here. And within the week, please.”
“Of course.”
“Pay is the same. You know, gambling is a
bad habit. I never gamble unless I know for sure the odds are in my
favor.”
Nestor nodded his head.
“The other day I bet on the damn Raider
game. Should have known not to bet. I mean, their running back is
fresh out of rehab and says he found God. That's the last thing the
owner wants to hear. When a player finds religion, it takes away
his edge. Takes away his drive and ruthlessness. A woman can have
the same effect.”
As if on cue, Karlos opened the door and
motioned for Hernan and Nestor to exit.
“Keep up the good work, gentleman.”
Cisneros took out the cell phone from his breast pocket and began
texting.
truck. Walking behind Hernan, Nestor opened the manila envelope to
see who their next victim would be.
Inside were surveillance photos of
Ana.
showered. He would have to figure out a way to fix the problem
himself. He did not like the head games of Cisneros. He had to
figure out a way to get a chess move ahead of the man.
Nestor parked in front of Ana’s apartment.
He counted five rooms on the second floor and four rooms on the
first.
A young Mexican man chugged by, pushing a
cart of ice cream. He slowed as he reached the apartments and rang
the bell on his cart.
A door blasted open on the second floor. A
barefoot boy, about seven years old and wearing nothing but a pair
of shorts, bolted for the ice cream man.
Ana followed behind. She wore a red bikini
top with a large towel covering her waist. The little baby fat she
had around her waist was sexy. He understood Hernan’s infatuation.
Ana had a carnal vibe about her that made a man’s heart beat faster
whether he wanted it to or not.
“Antonio!” she called out. “Don’t
run!”
The boy did not listen and eagerly looked
inside the vendor’s cart. He smiled as he took out a red, white and
blue colored snow cone.
The boy reminded Nestor of himself, because
his own mother had been a prostitute. Nobody told him that, but he
figured it out from innuendo of his other family members. Memories
flooded his thoughts as Nestor watched the boy interact with his
mother and the ice cream man.
Nestor took out his wallet and removed a
photo in the billfold. A long faded and wrinkled photograph of his
mother holding him on a porch in Tijuana.
She had sparkling brown eyes and smiled
directly into the camera as if she had no worries at all.
Nestor could not remember exactly how old
he was when his mother disappeared from his life. He knew she had
been murdered, but he never found out by whom or what the
circumstances were. His grandmother took him in and never once
spoke of his mother or the murder. He got only snippets from his
many aunts and uncles, most of who shunned or ridiculed him.
He folded the photo and put it back into
his billfold. Then he fingered the gun in his back holster and
stepped out of the vehicle, tunnel vision on Ana.
put herself in between Nestor and her young boy.
“Go inside, Antonio.”
The boy looked at Nestor with
suspicion.
Nestor could only look away. He did not
want the boy to see such a strange man talking to his mother but he
had no choice.
The boy complied and Ana shut the door part
way, keeping her eyes on Nestor the whole time.
“I don’t see men here,” her voice low and
hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But there is no
other way. Can we talk in private?”
“I don’t fucking see men here,” Ana said
through gritted teeth. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Please,” he said. “Someone wants to kill
you.”
Nestor looked around nervously. He wanted
to be one move ahead of Cisneros. In the back of his mind, he felt
Karlos watching them from afar, and didn’t want to dismiss the
feeling as paranoia.
Ana glared at him and started walking down
the steps. She led him into an alcove in front of the laundry
room.
Nestor noticed the broken lights on the
ceiling of the hallway. There were cobwebs in every corner and
graffiti on the walls.
“Okay now...what!?”
“A very ruthless man wants you dead.”
Ana just rolled her eyes. “I have no idea
what you are talking about.”
“Maybe it is best that you don’t.”
Ana started to walk away. Nestor spun her
back around.
“This is serious,” Nestor hoped his tone of
voice would convince Ana of the gravity of the situation. “How much
money do you need to leave here? Go far away. And don’t come
back.”
“I don’t take handouts. My clients are
here. They call me. I do the job. I get paid.”
Nestor took a deep breath.
“Hernan and I work for the biggest dealer
in the Bay Area. You are involved with Hernan. He’s obsessed with
you. Our employer seems to think that you will affect his work. He
ordered us to kill you.”
“So don’t kill me,” Ana walked away and
this time Nestor grabbed her arm hard. Ana didn’t pull away. She
just looked at his hand and then directly into his eyes.
“This is not the kind of man that can be
reasoned with. He makes up his mind. His decision is final with no
going back. If it isn’t us, it’s someone else.”
Ana wrenched her arm away from Nestor’s
grip but her face had a look of surrender. “I have to think about
it,” she said.
“Ana!” An older woman’s voice called out from the second
floor.
Ana stepped out from the alcove. Nestor did
not follow.
“I’ll be right up.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Mommy!” Antonio came down the steps. He
licked the juices of the melting snow cone of his hand.
“Antonio! You’re making a mess. Come
on.”
Ana took Antonio by his wrist and led him
back up the steps. The boy looked behind himself and watched Nestor
disappear into the shadows.
standing in front of the couch.
“We have a hit to do, right?”
“I took care of it.” Nestor said eyeing
Hernan from the side.
“You took care of it?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought I did the killing.” Hernan stood
firm, but his hands fumbled in front of him.
“This one was special.”
Hernan stared at Nestor with unblinking
eyes.
“What’s your problem?” Nestor asked.
Hernan reached down on the couch and picked
up the manila envelope. He reached inside and took out Ana’s
picture, turning it over to show it to Nestor.
Hernan stared at Nestor with an intensity
that he had never seen before. Nestor licked his lips and started
to speak. Then he averted Hernan’s glare by staring at the
picture.
“You kill her?”
local mom and pop store. At night, his dress and body language
changed. Lashon added a baseball cap and shades to his outfit.
Joined by his homies on the street corner,
Lashon walked with a swagger that he didn't have when he
accompanied his grandmother.
He watched as Lashon loitered by a pay
phone.
“I can kill him now,” Hernan said.
“Too risky,” Nestor said.
Hernan yawned. “How long are we going to
track this guy?”
“You do the killing, but I give you the
green light. No witnesses. We don't take unnecessary chances. That
will be one of our rules.”
“Okay.”
A police car glided down the street.
“See what I mean?” Nestor said. “If you
popped him now there would be a cop coming just at the right time.
We don't take those kind of risks.”
Everyone had a routine. Once he had the
target's patterns down, they could make their move. He noticed on
both days that his grandmother went out for a walk every morning at
ten o'clock. She would return an hour later.
Like clockwork, she left the home at
exactly ten o’clock.
Both Nestor and Hernan remained silent in
the car as they watched the old woman amble out of the fenced
gate.
dogs guarding their yard. Nestor figured Lashon to be a small-timer
trying to go big in Cisneros' territory.
Hernan put a white surgical mask over his
mouth and took out the leaf blower from the trunk. He looked back
at Nestor who gave him a nod.
He entered the yard, looking as nonchalant
as could be. Pressing his finger against the doorbell, he heard no
sound then knocked hard.
“Who the fuck is it?” came the reply from
outside the door.
“City of Oakland,” Hernan answered. He put
special emphasis on his Mexican accent the way Nestor had coached
him to. Said the accent would lower people’s guard.
Lashon ripped the door open wearing nothing
but a pair of baggy sweat pants. He rubbed sleep rocks out of his
eyes and blinked hard at Nestor.
“What you want?”
Hernan raised the pistol as fast as Lashon
opened the door. The bullet to the temple blasted Lashon to the
ground.
He shot Lashon again in the heart, as
instructed by Nestor.
Turning around, he turned on the blower and
casually walked back toward the truck.
The grandmother returned from her walk
earlier than expected.
Nestor made a quick u-turn and whistled for
Hernan.
The young man jogged toward the truck.
Lashon’s grandmother saw him get into the
truck and raised an eyebrow at her open front door. She quickened
her step as she saw her grandson’s legs splayed out on the floor.
Coming closer, the old woman wailed so loud that crows flew off
their perch from a telephone line above.
Nestor hit the gas. He rolled up his
windows and turned up the volume on the radio.
“Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so,” Hernan said.
“What do you mean you don’t think so? We
can’t leave any witnesses. That’s the rule. Remember?”
Hernan nodded his head. “We can go
back.”
Nestor turned a corner and the truck came
to a stoplight.
A group of schoolchildren crossed the
street. All walking in file. A young Hispanic girl waved hello at
the men in the truck.
“
Hola
!” Hernan yelled out.
“
Hola
!” said two other giggling
girls.
the radio.
A young teacher trailed the kids. She had
curly brown hair to her shoulders and she smiled at the men,
shrugging her shoulders as if to say ‘What can you do?’
“Sorry,” she said. “Field trip today!”
Nestor nodded his head and managed a
smile.
The hits got easier and easier. They
preferred hits during the morning hours. Nestor would take a few
days to track the movements of the targets and find the optimal
time. They performed hits throughout Oakland, Vallejo and
Richmond.
Nestor didn't bother reading or listening
to the news. Hearing about the things they did would only make him
nervous.
Cisneros always came through with payment.
They would wait behind an abandoned Mexican restaurant in town and
a man would drive up in a Subaru. He would throw a brown bag into
their pickup and speed off.
Nestor was on edge during the pick-ups. He
knew that one day the man in the Subaru would point a gun at him as
opposed to throwing a bag of money.
Hernan spent as much time as he could with
Ana. He would see her once a week. And take her to the duck pond to
talk.
month.
Their rent and other bills were paid.
Nestor decided to risk a little capital at the horse races that
Saturday.
He put a sizable chunk of money on the
daily double and lost. Then he doubled down on a fourth race exacta
and lost again. In the stakes race, he won a superfecta and
high-fived Hernan. He had never felt this confident in his life. He
finally had a win streak going.
“Let's go get some chili burgers!” he said
to Hernan.
Hernan started to smile big until he saw
the Escalade parked in front of them.
The driver side door opened and the large
Latino man stepped out. Nestor remembered Cisneros referring him to
him as “Carlos with a K.”
They approached the vehicle with caution
until Cisneros popped his head out.
“Should have given you a
hot tip,” Cisneros said. “
Amped
was my horse.”
“So you won!” Cisneros shook Nestor's hand
as they entered the vehicle.
Karlos closed the door and waited
outside.
good job,” Cisneros said. “Damn good. You have done your heritage
proud. In fact, I'd say you two are probably the most efficient
damn hit men I've ever had. I can't afford to lose you. Too
valuable an asset to the company.”
Cisneros slipped Nestor a manila
envelope.
“You'll find everything that you need in
here. And within the week, please.”
“Of course.”
“Pay is the same. You know, gambling is a
bad habit. I never gamble unless I know for sure the odds are in my
favor.”
Nestor nodded his head.
“The other day I bet on the damn Raider
game. Should have known not to bet. I mean, their running back is
fresh out of rehab and says he found God. That's the last thing the
owner wants to hear. When a player finds religion, it takes away
his edge. Takes away his drive and ruthlessness. A woman can have
the same effect.”
As if on cue, Karlos opened the door and
motioned for Hernan and Nestor to exit.
“Keep up the good work, gentleman.”
Cisneros took out the cell phone from his breast pocket and began
texting.
truck. Walking behind Hernan, Nestor opened the manila envelope to
see who their next victim would be.
Inside were surveillance photos of
Ana.
showered. He would have to figure out a way to fix the problem
himself. He did not like the head games of Cisneros. He had to
figure out a way to get a chess move ahead of the man.
Nestor parked in front of Ana’s apartment.
He counted five rooms on the second floor and four rooms on the
first.
A young Mexican man chugged by, pushing a
cart of ice cream. He slowed as he reached the apartments and rang
the bell on his cart.
A door blasted open on the second floor. A
barefoot boy, about seven years old and wearing nothing but a pair
of shorts, bolted for the ice cream man.
Ana followed behind. She wore a red bikini
top with a large towel covering her waist. The little baby fat she
had around her waist was sexy. He understood Hernan’s infatuation.
Ana had a carnal vibe about her that made a man’s heart beat faster
whether he wanted it to or not.
“Antonio!” she called out. “Don’t
run!”
The boy did not listen and eagerly looked
inside the vendor’s cart. He smiled as he took out a red, white and
blue colored snow cone.
The boy reminded Nestor of himself, because
his own mother had been a prostitute. Nobody told him that, but he
figured it out from innuendo of his other family members. Memories
flooded his thoughts as Nestor watched the boy interact with his
mother and the ice cream man.
Nestor took out his wallet and removed a
photo in the billfold. A long faded and wrinkled photograph of his
mother holding him on a porch in Tijuana.
She had sparkling brown eyes and smiled
directly into the camera as if she had no worries at all.
Nestor could not remember exactly how old
he was when his mother disappeared from his life. He knew she had
been murdered, but he never found out by whom or what the
circumstances were. His grandmother took him in and never once
spoke of his mother or the murder. He got only snippets from his
many aunts and uncles, most of who shunned or ridiculed him.
He folded the photo and put it back into
his billfold. Then he fingered the gun in his back holster and
stepped out of the vehicle, tunnel vision on Ana.
“
Oye
, Ana!” Nestor called
out.
put herself in between Nestor and her young boy.
“Go inside, Antonio.”
The boy looked at Nestor with
suspicion.
Nestor could only look away. He did not
want the boy to see such a strange man talking to his mother but he
had no choice.
The boy complied and Ana shut the door part
way, keeping her eyes on Nestor the whole time.
“I don’t see men here,” her voice low and
hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But there is no
other way. Can we talk in private?”
“I don’t fucking see men here,” Ana said
through gritted teeth. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Please,” he said. “Someone wants to kill
you.”
Nestor looked around nervously. He wanted
to be one move ahead of Cisneros. In the back of his mind, he felt
Karlos watching them from afar, and didn’t want to dismiss the
feeling as paranoia.
Ana glared at him and started walking down
the steps. She led him into an alcove in front of the laundry
room.
Nestor noticed the broken lights on the
ceiling of the hallway. There were cobwebs in every corner and
graffiti on the walls.
“Okay now...what!?”
“A very ruthless man wants you dead.”
Ana just rolled her eyes. “I have no idea
what you are talking about.”
“Maybe it is best that you don’t.”
Ana started to walk away. Nestor spun her
back around.
“This is serious,” Nestor hoped his tone of
voice would convince Ana of the gravity of the situation. “How much
money do you need to leave here? Go far away. And don’t come
back.”
“I don’t take handouts. My clients are
here. They call me. I do the job. I get paid.”
Nestor took a deep breath.
“Hernan and I work for the biggest dealer
in the Bay Area. You are involved with Hernan. He’s obsessed with
you. Our employer seems to think that you will affect his work. He
ordered us to kill you.”
“So don’t kill me,” Ana walked away and
this time Nestor grabbed her arm hard. Ana didn’t pull away. She
just looked at his hand and then directly into his eyes.
“This is not the kind of man that can be
reasoned with. He makes up his mind. His decision is final with no
going back. If it isn’t us, it’s someone else.”
Ana wrenched her arm away from Nestor’s
grip but her face had a look of surrender. “I have to think about
it,” she said.
“Ana!” An older woman’s voice called out from the second
floor.
Ana stepped out from the alcove. Nestor did
not follow.
“I’ll be right up.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Mommy!” Antonio came down the steps. He
licked the juices of the melting snow cone of his hand.
“Antonio! You’re making a mess. Come
on.”
Ana took Antonio by his wrist and led him
back up the steps. The boy looked behind himself and watched Nestor
disappear into the shadows.
standing in front of the couch.
“We have a hit to do, right?”
“I took care of it.” Nestor said eyeing
Hernan from the side.
“You took care of it?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought I did the killing.” Hernan stood
firm, but his hands fumbled in front of him.
“This one was special.”
Hernan stared at Nestor with unblinking
eyes.
“What’s your problem?” Nestor asked.
Hernan reached down on the couch and picked
up the manila envelope. He reached inside and took out Ana’s
picture, turning it over to show it to Nestor.
Hernan stared at Nestor with an intensity
that he had never seen before. Nestor licked his lips and started
to speak. Then he averted Hernan’s glare by staring at the
picture.
“You kill her?”
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