2..Periods

Chapter One Inside the Men’s room of a Miami bar, Al Sutter popped the clip into his Glock after he flushed the toilet. He quickly slipped his gun into a holster above his crotch and exited the stall. He checked his image in the mirror to make sure he looked the part of a drug trafficker. I’m getting too old for this shit, he thought. So I bust up a pipeline. Big deal! For every conspiracy that I break up, there must a dozen others that go on unimpeded. Sutter was bothered by the fact that he had just read a report that stated in the last ten years the price of cocaine had gone down and the purity of the drug had gone up. I am fighting a losing battle with the real chance of getting killed. Every year the arrests for drug went up and those efforts barely put a dent in the availability of drugs in the black market. For every scumbag that I put away, it seems like there’s always three more ready to take his place. This negative reflection on his 15 year career was troubling him. No one in the DEA could talk freely about this looming failure to the press. However, for the first time Sutter could remember, the newly elected Congress and the President were starting to raise questions about the budget that funds the drug war. Each year Sutter had grown more skeptical about the whole approach to waging war. Tonight, his doubts seemed to echo louder than ever before. After this operation, I’m out of here. Sutter left the bar and waited outside its entrance. Passersby walked a bit faster as they approached Sutter. His wide jaw, front gold tooth and hawkish nose were striking features that stood out. His piercing steely eyes were constantly checking out his surroundings. He noticed everyone making eye contact as he surveyed the street. This was the fifth time Sutter would be meeting his target, Carlos Benitz. He made it a point to charm his prey, win their trust and then destroy them when it came time for him to testify against them in the court of law. Sutter spotted Benitz’s Navy Blue four door Oldsmobile as it rounded the corner. Sutter noticed someone was seated next to the driver as he approached the car. He opened the back door and got in. Before Sutter could close the door, the driver quickly pulled away. “Hey Chief!” Sutter greeted, Benitz, “look at you, dressed to the nines.” “Hugo,(Sutter’s alias) what the fuck is wrong with you?” “What? What are you talking about?” “I told you this is trendy place. You can’t go in there wearing those rags.” “Ay! Don’t worry about it. We can go somewhere else.” Sutter took note of the front seat passenger. How old is this punk, 16? 17? “This is my cousin, Cito.” The skinny Mexican stared straight ahead without acknowledging Sutter. He may look like a kid but he’s probably packing heat. Sutter thought. Then Sutter’s suspicions softened as he examined what he ultimately was doing. Another generation flushed down the toilet. If this kid doesn’t finger Benitz or cut a deal, he’s gonna be looking at 20 years. He’s life will over before he’s 21. And what for? “You in school, Cito?” Sutter asked. “Nahh.” He turned his head toward the backseat, “Fuck school.” Sutter could see that Benitz didn’t want any conversation from his young associate, giving dirty looks. “Cito shut up! Benitz sneered, “Talk to me Hugo. Now what’s this shit about having second thoughts with the location.” “A parking lot? I don’t like it. It’s too easy to get boxed in by the cops.” “Look,” Benitz countered, “I have a system that works. Okay? My surveillance hasn’t let me down, yet and I’m not gonna change. But why are you being this shit up now? You got a better idea?” At this point, Sutter noticed they were heading toward the beach and wondered where they were headed. “Yeah, why not make the transfer on the water. I could get a boat under the fall of night. It’ll-“ “No way!” Benitz raised his hand, cutting him off, “The point has already been set. Anything else you got a problem with?” “Ahh, what’s wrong with the water? You can see the whole-” “Look, I’m not going into every detail why I do what I do. We’re not changing the pick up site.” Sutter noticed the driver and Cito glanced at each other as they shook their heads and looked away. Sutter watched as they passed a police car going the opposite direction. Benitz slid over closer to Sutter. “You know, I’ll bet you’re very good at what you do.” “What the fuck are you talking?” “Oh I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Benitz folded his arms, “Mr Albert Henry Sutter!” In a split second a million thoughts race through his mind as his face froze in horror. How did my cover get blown? Was it a spy for the DEA? Was I setup by a colleague? Instantly, he reached for the Glock in his waist band. As soon as he released the safety trigger, Sutter shot himself in the thigh. As he cringed, he was looking down the barrel of a .357 Magnum held by Cito with both hands, who fired three shots in rapid succession. All three shot hit Sutter turning his face into a pulp of flesh. “Goddam! You idiot!” Benitz screamed, “He’s dead already!” “Fuck’in G shot himself, he was so surprised.” Cito exclaimed. “Yes, that expression on his face when he heard me call out his name was priceless.” Benitz smiled then began barking orders. “Okay, drive to the overpass and step on it.” Cito had packed a change of clothes for all three of them. When the car reached the overpass, Cito and Benitz lifted Sutter’s body from the car, tied 80lbs of weights around its feet and dropped the body into canal. Just after they heard the splash, the high beams of a car shined about a half mile from the overpass. They quickly got back in the Oldsmobile and Jose sped away. They pulled behind closed gas station. Cito had a key to restroom. After unlocking the door, they washed off the blood and changed their clothes. Cito put the bloodied clothes in a black plastic trash bag and threw it into the dumpster in back. Benitz and Cito got into a Silver Honda Accord and drove away. Jose drove out to Highway 1 and headed North. He drove all night to a junkyard outside of Jacksonville and ditched the blood soaked vehicle there among a bunched of rusted cars and parts. Using his cell phone, he called Benitz and left a message that he was fine. * * * The next morning, Benitz lay awake in his bed in Miami, dreading to make an important call to his Boss, Carmen DiDonna. This hit didn’t exactly go the way Benitz wanted. If the expression on Sutter’s face when his cover was blown was priceless, it could come at a hefty debt to DiDonna. “Yeah” DiDonna answered in a gruff voice. “It’s done.” “Nothing leftover? “No. The Olds had to go.” “Sounds messy,” DiDonna sneered, “ I don’t like messy” “It’s been taken care of. Anything else?” “No, I’ll see you.” DiDonna hung up the phone, “at you your funeral.”