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  A Quiet Street in El Paso

  Hector Morales lived in Juarez, Mexico five miles from the Border Patrol station. He was thirty-seven, with dark black hair and a thick solid mustache. He was married with a ten-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter and a baby on the way. They lived in a small but comfortable house. He worked for a nursery and landscaping company in El Paso and had a work visa. He knew he could move to El Paso but loved his country and had no desire to leave.

  Monday through Saturday Hector would drive his red pick-up truck through the border station at the same time: seven o’clock on the dot. All the guards knew Hector and he would pass through the gate with a wave and a smile. He would return every day around six and wait in the long line of tourists and fellow Mexican workers. He would inch his car forward, approach the station, and pass through without question.

  Hector loved his job, his family and his life. He worked hard and was paid a decent wage. But he wasn’t making enough to support his family in the manner he wanted to. He was no different than thousands of Mexican men who worked across the border.

  Things had changed for Hector two years earlier. He began making the extra money he needed. Every Tuesday he smuggled in chemicals to make meth. But then that changed and now he was bringing in black tar heroin, known on the street as heroin smack or the big H. He was paid three hundred dollars a week, the extra money he needed to support his family in a better way.

  Table of Contents

  A Quiet Street in El Paso

  A Quiet Street in El Paso

  Dedication

  Chapters

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Meet Jim Daddio

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  A Quiet Street in El Paso

  Jim Daddio

  A Wings ePress, Inc.

  Crime Novel

  Edited by: Jeanne Smith

  Copy Edited by: Joan C. Powell

  Executive Editor: Jeanne Smith

  Cover Artist: Trisha FitzGerald-Jung

  All rights reserved

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Wings ePress Books

  Copyright © 2019 by: Jim Daddio

  ISBN 978-1-61309-397-9

  Published In the United States Of America

  Wings ePress Inc.

  3000 N. Rock Road

  Newton, KS 67114

  Dedication

  To my wife Jill, who continues to believe in me.

  Chapters

  One

  In a large and crowed upscale shopping promenade in downtown Monterrey, Mexico a well know professor from the local college walked side by side with his wife and ten-year-old daughter. The day was clear with a bright sun and a cool breeze. The family walked slowly through the plaza enjoying the day and looking in the windows of the many shops on the street.

  “Such a beautiful day,” the professor said.

  The professor's wife replied, “Yes. I do enjoy this time of the day to explore the shops and stop for a nice lunch.”

  The professor heard noises but paid little attention to the commotion. Suddenly several men ran passed them and the noise of gunfire filled the air. At first, he wasn’t sure what made the sound. He figured it was fireworks. Then he heard loud screaming and without warning a bullet struck him the back. A second bullet struck his wife in the shoulder. He tumbled to the ground. His wife screamed in pain. She staggered for a minute and then slithered to the warm cement. When the paramedics arrived, the professor was dead, and his wife seriously wounded. The daughter was not hurt.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen in Mexico’s upscale and modern city. These types of daylight attacks were supposed to happen in the border towns like Tijuana and the smaller cities in the north.

  It didn’t take long for the authorities to announce the attack was brought about by rival gangs trying to control the drug trade in the city. The senseless killing caused outrage from the community and pressure was brought to the local government to make hasty arrests and bring the drug cartel down. A local citizen who was well known and loved in the community had been slain and his wife wounded. It was time for action.

  Within a few days, several police offices and government officials were arrested for taking bribes and withholding information. Several names were printed in the paper and all aspects of the media continued to rage a war against the corrupt government. The pressure was on to clean up the drug cartels.

  ~ * ~

  The man known as The Captain, El Capitan, stood at the front door waiting for his wife and two children. He had arranged for his driver to take them to the airport. The family was taking a vacation to the coast of Spain. They would leave, and he would join them in a couple of days.

  He watched as the limousine sped down the long winding driveway toward the security gate. The Captain held the opening device in his hands. As the limo approached the gate, he pressed the button on the left side and the gate slid open. His wife and two boys did not see the four-armed guards as they positioned themselves close to the ten-foot wall.

  The Captain was one of the wealthiest drug lords in Mexico. He had formed one of the largest illegal drug operations in the country. Operating out of Monterrey, he had remained in background over the years. He had built an empire based on fear, police protection and force. He had also invested millions in legal business and was well known in the community for his family’s involvement in the arts and charitable activities.

  But it was the drug business that fueled his wealth. Over the years, he had been able to stay hidden from names being associated with the drug trade. His payments to government officials and the law enforcement agencies kept him unknown and untouchable.

  That was about to change, and he knew it. The attack by a rival gang had changed everything. He had to make some type of deal because he felt certain his name would soon be mentioned. He thought maybe he could stay and fight, not only the rival gang, but with his team of lawyers he could attack those people who named him. But he had changed his mind. He would leave everything. He had connections in other towns in Mexico and the States. His legal businesses were worth millions and he had several millions in offs
hore bank accounts which would enable him to move out of the area and start a new drug ring.

  He stood in front of the management teams from the three legal companies he owned. He explained due to ill health he would be taking a leave of absence and they would oversee the day to day operations. He didn’t know how long he would be gone and encouraged them to find buyers for the companies. They assured him they could run the companies and keep them profitable. He didn’t care. He knew he had to get out of Monterrey and soon.

  That night he assembled the team from his drug organization. He announced, “As we know, there was an attack in a busy shopping area by, well, it appears some members of our team have broken away and decided to start a war. They didn’t count on killing an innocent bystander. Or maybe it was planned that way.”

  “What would make you think that,” one of the men asked.

  “I believe they knew I wouldn’t start a war. I believe they planned this and by killing a well-known and respected man in the community, the citizens would demand action from the authorities. It has already happened. I believe my name will be mentioned very soon. Some names have been already and others will also be made public. The people responsible for this attack are not known. I am. They have successfully taken over by just one act of violence.

  “The police will investigate and will not be able to find the attackers. They will choose someone to be arrested. I cannot wait. I will not retaliate. I will not fight. It would bring disgrace to my family. I have made a deal already. If I leave with my family and do not return, my name will not be made public. The cost was high but necessary.”

  They remained silent. The Captain continued, “I have contracts in several cities in Mexico and the States. I have learned El Paso is wide open for a new drug called Black Tar or Cheese Heroin activities. I believe we can step in and in a very short time take control of the existing operation. I have outlined a plan already. I hope you will all join me.”

  “Are sure we can make enough money to support our families,” another man asked.

  “Nothing is certain. If any of you want to remain and join the outlaw gang, it is okay. I have no control over your lives or decisions. Those who do not wish to join them can come in with me. I have made you all rich and my plan will continue to do that.”

  Two men walked out. The others agreed to follow The Captain to Juarez.

  Two

  El Paso, Texas was under siege. The drug war in Juarez, Mexico had found its way across the border. There had always been a problem with illegal immigrants and drug smuggling. And to make matters worse, there was a new worry: the smuggling of guns across the border. The city fathers demanded something be done to stop the senseless crime that had filtered into their city. The latest criminal activity had become worldwide news and the city of El Paso was becoming a war zone.

  The discussion in El Paso among the local police departments, the Department of Home Land Security, the FBI and the Drug Enforcement Agency was: What is the most pressing problem threatening the city of El Paso? Is it human trafficking of illegal immigrants, the cartels who control the drug trade or the thousands of businesses who hire the illegal immigrants. And what to do about gun smuggling?

  They agreed most of the attention from the local law enforcement agencies continued to be the influx of illegal Mexicans crossing the border. Ever since the Department of Homeland Security had taken more of an involvement in the human trafficking problem, the local police tried to cooperate with them and with the Mexican Border Patrol. That was evident in the raids and capture of close to a thousand illegal immigrants in the past year.

  Even though those events were highly publicized, it was only a small dent in the operation of hundreds of Mexicans and U.S. citizens who engage in bringing in the illegal immigrants.

  ~ * ~

  An officer with the DEA approached the cell of a large Mexican jail in Juarez. He could feel the buzz. Not only had his team stopped a major smuggling ring, but they had captured several members of a large group responsible for bringing in thousands of illegal Mexicans and immigrants from several Central American countries.

  Bill Carson waited outside the jail. He had received a tip that several people arrested also had connections to the drug trade his team had been working on for several years. Bill was waiting for his partner, Dan Moody. When Moody arrived, they entered the cell area and were escorted to a room where two young Mexican men were waiting.

  Bill and Dan pulled open the door and walked inside. Bill announced, “My name is Bill Carson, and this is Dan Moody. We are with the Drug Enforcement Agency. This is Mat Watkins. He is with the local police in El Paso. He's works hand-in-hand with Homeland Security. We understand you wanted to talk to us…you speak English?’

  “Yes, sir,” one of men called out.

  “What are your names?”

  “I am Carlos, and this is Manny.”

  Bill and Dan sat and faced the two men. They could hear the humming of the video recorder. Bill said, “You know this is being recorded, right?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. What is it you want to talk to us about?”

  The young man spoke English without much of an accent. He started, “First, I want it known my friend and I have nothing to do with any drug cartels. We only deal with people who want to cross the border. Understood? I know this man Mat. He arrested us before.”

  Bill responded with a smirk, “If you say so.”

  The man named Carlos didn’t like Bill’s tone or response but continued, “We are asking for a deal.”

  Dan quickly responded, “We don’t make deals.”

  Carlos said, “Too bad. You can leave now.”

  Bill leaned over and said, “You don’t have much of an accent. Are you really a Mexican?”

  The other Mexican said, “This is stupid. You’re acting like an asshole and…”

  Bill shouted, “Hey. Watch your mouth. You asked for us. You better have something. Wasting our time means harder times for you.”

  Carlos reached over and grabbed Manny’s arm. He nodded. He turned back toward Bill and said, “What I am saying, and what I will give you, is big enough you should, you know, help us out here.”

  Bill paused for a minute, then said, “I’ll tell you what. You give me something big and I’ll let Mat here work with Homeland Security. Promises? I can’t make any.”

  Carlos looked at Mat. “But you’ll talk to them, right?”

  Mat shrugged.

  “Here it is.” Carlos cleared his throat. “I'm sure you are aware of the recent murder of a professor in Monterrey. In two days, there is going to be a showdown between two drug cartels…in the States. It will be a shoot-out. Big time.”

  Dan stood. He walked around, placed his hands on the table and leaned close to Carlos. “You said here in the States. I don’t get it. Why?”

  “There is a faction in El Paso that moves the drugs once they cross the border. The local cartel there believes those responsible for that murder want to move into El Paso through Juarez. They want to make a statement, you know, send a message you can’t fuck with them. They want to do it in broad daylight. Right close to the city center.”

  “Jesus…when?”

  “Like I said it will happen in two days. And you should know that it isn’t only about drugs. It’s about guns…automatic weapons. Those guns come in from Mexico City. It’s becoming a big business.”

  ~ * ~

  The next day there was a meeting at the El Paso police department. Beside DEA, the Police Department, representatives from the Sheriff’s Department, Department of Illegal Immigration Control, the Mexican Federal Police, and Homeland Security attended the meeting.

  The Mexican Federal police arranged to have a full SWAT team at the border. The sheriff agreed to do the same. It was agreed two SWAT teams in full gear, working with Homeland Security, would demonstrate a show of force to stop the attack before the massacre started. The word would be out that there had been a leak and the cart
el would pull back. The plan worked. There was no shootout. The city of El Paso did not need more violence to bring unwanted attention to the already troubled city.

  Three

  Mat Watkins slowly tried to open his eyes as the morning sun streamed through the room’s partially closed blinds. A detective with the El Paso County Police Department, Mat was facing another fierce hangover, and the simple task of opening his eyes was causing pain to rip though his brain.

  Mat lay on his stomach with his head buried in the soft, lumpy pillow. He stretched out his arm and reached for a cigarette on the night-stand. He found a loose one and fumbled around for a lighter. He turned over, sat up and lit the cigarette. He took a long drag and held the smoke in as long as he could and then finally exhaled. He called out in agony. His head pounded as if someone were using a jack hammer on it. Inside, his stomach churned with a nasty sour feeling.

  He looked up as a naked thin blonde walked into the bedroom. She called out, “You look like shit.”

  “And I feel like it, too.”

  She held up a cup. “Coffee?”

  Mat shook his head from side to side. “I need a Coke…in a glass, warm with no ice.”

  The girl, Susan Weber, stage name Divine, didn’t reply as she turned and trotted off into the kitchen. She was a dancer at The Pink Lady. Billed as a Gentleman’s Club, it featured nude dancing and private champagne rooms used for lap dancing.

  Susan returned and held out the Coke. Mat took the glass, dropped in three pain pills, and drank it down. It was his remedy to calm his aching body. Susan crawled onto the bed and slid her body on top of his. She purred, “What a fucking night. Did you take Viagra?”

  Mat laughed. “Hell no. You got me so hot watching you dance at the club…I was ready as hell.”

  “Think you could get ready again?”