Tell Him Valdez is Coming

Nelson Crow robbed banks for a living. He enjoyed his work. It was relaxing and he was very good at it.

He was like the famous Willy Sutton; he robbed banks because "that's where the money is." And in between jobs, given his past career, he tried to live the life of shibumi after he read the book by Trevanian.

From the Mississippi River to the Pacific, over four years his take was $12.5 million from 42 banks.

In all his jobs only two citizens and four police officers were injured; none killed. It was a safety record for which he was proud.

Crow did not like violence though a limited amount of violence, or at least the perception of violence, was a necessity in his line of work.

Crow set aside 15 percent of every job for "pain and suffering" to give to anyone injured on one of his jobs. He also set aside 10 percent of every job to give to a church charity, usually a homeless shelter in the city he had hit.

Despite Nelson Crow's ethical banditry the FBI was not amused. And the FBI had no idea who their uber bank robber was they were severely frustrated.

Unfortunately for Crow someone did learn his identity. Unfortunately, it wasn't the FBI or local authorities that found out; it was a crime boss in Memphis. A crime boss who thought he'd found the goose that laid the golden egg.

Crow was an independent operator; he worked for no one but himself except as personal favors and he paid tribute to no one unless he decided he wanted to.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Here's the deal Mr. Crow: you work for me. I give you 40 percent of the take and the FBI is none the wiser to your identity."

"Let me offer you a counter proposal: I'll do one job for you, give you the entire haul and the FBI is none the wiser to your activities. I understand more than bank robbery the FBI hates white slavery and the DEA hates facilitating drug distribution for the Mexican cartels."

The boss looked at Crow for a long time then laughed.

"Nice bluff, Mr. Crow. Ballsy, I'll give you that. But I don't think so. The FBI likes evidence. So does the DEA. Whatever you've heard is just that, hearsay."

"As far as you know."

The boss knew he'd just been threatened.

"Tell you what," Crow said, trying to change the atmosphere, "let's just agree that we're not compatible working together and part as professionals, keeping each others' 'trade secrets'."

The boss smiled a smile that Crow immediately took as insincere, "Well," he raised his hand in resignation, "Okay. But I think I could improve your life significantly. It's a shame. But, hey, que sera sera, eh?"

"Yeah, que sera sera. Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

A week after Crow's meeting with the crime boss, while Crow was out of town, a group of men paid a call at his home.

Joanie had just gotten out of the shower when the doorbell rang. She padded to the front door in a thick terrycloth robe, her short red hair wet and slicked back. She looked through the peephole and saw a man in a suit. It was 9:15 in the morning.

"Who is it?"

"FBI, ma'am, please open the door."

"Put your badge up to the peephole."

The agent complied. The ID and badge looked legit so she opened the door. As soon as the door was opened the FBI agent pushed her violently away from the door and onto the floor. Eight other men swarmed in the house, the last man closing the door.

Joanie made no move to get up. She gathered her robe around her throat and kept her legs together as she looked up at the men standing around her.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your call," the FBI guy said.

"Just a wild guess but you're not FBI," Joanie said, nonplussed.

"Good guess."

"Crow's not home."

"We know. Right now he's scouting a bank in suburban Chicago. So the easy way or the hard way?"

Joanie was defiant and didn't answer. This brought a kick to her side by one of the other men and as she curled in pain the fake FBI agent punched her in the face, knocking her out.

"I was hoping she'd take the hard way," the man said to his companions with a smirk.

Joanie Mathis was Crow's live in girlfriend - of 15 years. Privately, Joanie told their friends that Crow had "commitment issues." But for all intents and purposes and under the common law of the state of Missouri, they were husband and wife. And they were deeply in love.

Joanie was the one thing from Crow's past life that made everything else "right" for him. Tall, willowy, fair skinned, red hair and, according to Crow, "a very big brain." She kept him sane, kept his past demons from devouring him. She was, quite literally, his anchor in life. Though anyone who knew Nelson Crow or "Bob Valdez," the name he used in his past career, would never suspect that Nelson Crow needed an anchor.

Joanie awoke violently to severe pain and extreme pleasure.

She was in her bed, kneeling, her hands spread wide and handcuffed to the headboard. A cock was in her ass, its owner holding her tightly by the hips and jerking her back and forth violently with his rapid thrusting. Despite the pain, she felt an orgasm start to build.

She was on the edge.

A hand in her short-cropped hair violently hauled her head back, arching her neck, and then she heard a 'pop.'

She recognized the smell of the amyl nitrate popper as it coursed through her lungs, hit her blood stream and exploded in her brain, took her over the edge and multiplied the pleasure of her orgasm 100 fold.

As she sagged in her orgasmic stupor she felt the man pull out and another immediate replace him. The replacement had a different idea for the doggy position: he hauled her back by the hips so that her legs, sex and belly were flat on the bed and her upper body was hung, stretched out by the restraint of the handcuffs. The man sat on her legs right behind her ass and drilled into her.

Her scream was muffled as the hand in her hair pulled her head to the side where her mouth met cock. The cock pushed past her lips and into her mouth and went as deeply as it could before she gagged.

In gagging she had bitten down on the cock unintentionally and this immediately brought a yelp of pain from the sodomizer and another punch to her jaw followed by the black relief of unconsciousness.

After the nine men were done with her they uncuffed her and left her lying on her back, unconscious, obscenely sprawled like a broken doll. Both her eyes were blackening; a vicious looking bruise was forming over her ribs and cum mixed with blood oozed from her mouth, cunt and ass.

The last man out of the room made a call from the phone at the bedside table.

~~~~~~~~~~

Crow's cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was home.

"Hey lover, what's up?"

There was a male voice on the line. The accent was thickly southern. "Mr. Crow, you might want to come home. Joanie isn't feeling well."

"Who..."

The line went dead.

Crow dialed the number again and got a telephone company recording that said the line was a problem on the line.

Crow dialed a friend.

"Hi, Rita, it's Nelly. Could you do me a big favor?"

"Sure Nelly, what's up?"

"I just got a very strange call from home. I'm in Chicago. Could you go check on Joanie? I think something's wrong."

"Uh, sure, Nelly."

"Rita, uh, be careful. If it looks like anyone is there other than Joanie, don't go in, just call me immediately."

"I'll get Harry to send a couple of the boys."

"Okay, but, uh, I want you to go with them. I think Joanie may need you."

"You're scaring me Nelly."

"Yeah. I think we need to be scared. Call me."

"Sure."

Rita was Rita Cukjati, the wife of Harry Cukjati, a capo in a mob family in Kansas City. The Cukjati's and Crow were friends and the family that Harry worked for provided some protection to Crow because the family liked his style. They thought Crow was a standup guy.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Nelly, Harry. You sittin' down, buddy?"

"Jesus Harry, tell me this isn't going to be as bad as I think it is."

"Wish I could but I can't. Rita's with Joanie at KU Med. Aside from some bad bruises, two black eyes, a sore jaw and some deep bruises around her, uh, privates, she's okay.

"Joanie said there were eight or nine guys. Two or three crackers and the rest were Mes'cans. I don't think I need to say more, do I?"

There was a long silence and then Crow answered, "No, Harry, I get the picture."

"Uh, Nelly, what you gonna do? Who were these sick fucks?"

"What do you know about Anthony "Little Tony" Speezio out of Memphis?"

"Fuckin' piece of shit out of some fuckin' pig's ass. Gives us all a bad name. Runs drugs and white women; slaver, you know? He did this?"

"Yeah, I think so. We had a little, uh, encounter in Memphis a week ago. He knew about my profession somehow. I know about his activities, in fact I got some video that would end his career, maybe his life, pretty quickly if the wrong people saw it.

"Is he protected?"

"Fuck no, not by any of the Italians. There's sort of a Mes'can standoff between him, the Columbians and the Mes'cans.

"Couple of years ago Tony fucked the Columbians big time and the only reason he still breathes air is that someone down in Mes'co is guaranteeing his safety. The Columbians and Mes'cans don't want to go to war over this so the sick fuck still breathes."

"Hmmmm. Okay. I'm headed to Memphis. Tell Joanie I love her and give her whatever she needs, okay? I owe you."

"Nelly, uh," Harry sounded nervous, "I understand your feelin's on this but uh, keep your head man. This could just be the opening act. You don't want to fuck with Tony and I don't think Mike can do anything more than hide you if push comes to shove, if you know what I mean? It's not that Tony's the problem it's just that we don't need to get crossways with our friends south of the border."

"I understand Harry. You ever known me to lose my cool?"

"You're the coolest Nelly. Just watch your ass."

"Thanks, take care of Joanie for me."

"Sure thing."

~~~~~~~~~~

Nelson Crow had not survived so long in his current profession, or in his previous profession as a freelance counter-terrorist in Europe and the third world, if he had not had a cool head. When he boarded the plane in Chicago he was absolutely cold inside.

At a phone in the Memphis airport he made a call to Little Tony.

"Speezio residence, may I help you?" It was the maid.

"Tell Tony that Valdez is coming."

"Excuse me..."

The line went dead.

"Mabel, who was on the phone?"

"I don't know Mr. Speezio. It was a man."

"Yeah? So, what'd he say? Probably a fuckin' telemarketer callin' at dinner."

"I don't know Mr. Speezio. All he said was 'Tell him Valdez is coming.'"

"Valdez is coming? What the fuck?" Tony laughed with a mouthful of steak, "Burt Lancaster, playing a Mexican, coming on a horse to see me? Isn't he dead?"

But dinner guest, Pete Domenico, one of Little Tony's lieutenants felt uneasy.

"Uh, Tony, remember Al said he'd heard our Kansas City associate worked around before getting into the banking business and thought he went by Valdez?"

Little Tony stopped chewing his steak and looked into space for a minute then he turned to his wife, Elaine.

"Lainie, why don't you take Maria out to the farm tomorrow? Spend a few days, you know, doin' girl things. She's headed back to school next week isn't she?"

"Tony," Elaine was slightly shocked, "I thought we were all going to paint the town while Maria was back home. What gives?"

"Ah," he waved his knife as he stabbed his steak with the fork, "I just been thinkin' you two don't spend enough time together."

"Tony..."

"Elaine, please, just do it." Tony said, gently but firmly.

"Sure Tony. You need some time for Mr. Valdez?"

"Maybe."

~~~~~~~~~~

Crow arrived in Memphis on a Tuesday evening and promptly disappeared.

After dinner on that Tuesday night, with Pete Domenico at his side, Little Tony tried to call the cell number he had for Crow. It was no longer in service.

A call to Crow's house got an associate of Harry Cukjati's who told Little Tony that Crow no longer lived at this address and he suggested looking him up in Memphis.

Little Tony then called Al, one of his soldiers. He did not like what he heard.

"Well Tony, you know, I can't be for sure...you know what I told you in our meeting. I heard that this banker had been some sort of hired gun, a spook or something like that. Had quite a rep in certain parts of the third world."

"What the fuck you sayin' Al, this guy a hitter?!"

"Well, uh, he did whatever he was paid to do. Remember about five years ago that family war on Corsica?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my guy tells me he thought our banker was responsible for ending it. You know, 24 people in a village was executed, men, women and children. Pretty much wiped out one side of the war in one night."

Little Tony was angry and frightened simultaneously.

"Your guy, your guy! Fuckin' gossip!"

"Tony, look, I'm only tellin' you what I heard but my source is pretty solid."

"And your guy said this banker went by Valdez?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

~~~~~~~~~

On Friday night, in a warehouse along the river, Helena Melindez sat tied, wrists and ankles, to a chair under a bright medical style lamp.

"Do you any fucking idea who the Fuck you're fucking with?!" She spat with fury at Crow.

Crow looked disinterestedly at the woman and spoke quietly and calmly while setting up a video camera on a tripod.

"You're Helena Melindez, wife of Caesar Melindez, lieutenant of the Juarez Cartel and associated with Little Tony Speezio.

"You're 32 years old, a former junkie and hooker from Juarez that Caesar plucked off the street, against the wishes of his family, and cleaned up and married.

"Because of your former profession giving you repeated doses of the clap you developed pelvic inflammatory disease and can't have children, a point which is a constant embarrassment to Caesar.

"Have I pretty much got it correct?"

The woman stared in disbelief, her anger cooled significantly.

"Ye...Yes." Then in a flash of anger, "Caesar will come after you, you pig! He'll come after you and fucking kill you, puta!"

"Hmmmm, well, maybe.

"Then again, maybe not. I hear Yelina Salinas is running the Cartel as of a few weeks ago. I hear she's a tough boss. I hear that there's bad blood between the Melindez family and the Salinas'. So, Caesar's kinda of in a precarious position.

"And, he won't be going to Little Tony, at least not for help, when he learns that Little Tony is the cause of his family problems, vis-a-vis your impending rape."

The woman stared at Crow totally bewildered. Crow rolled a small table next to her chair, pulled up a stool and sat down.

On the table the woman saw a tourniquet, alcohol swabs, band-aids, a drug vial and syringe. Her eyes were wide in terror.

"I thought you said you were going to rape me. What's...what's with the, uh, dope?" The woman spoke quietly, fear replacing the rage in her voice.

"I'm not a total monster, at least in my current profession. I thought I'd take the edge off of this unpleasant experience for you."

Crow held up the vial, "Some of your husband's product; high grade shit.

"Do you have a preferred vein?"

The woman's body was now shaking; tears were welling up in her eyes. "Please," her voice a trembling whisper, "I have money of my own. I'll pay any price; name it, just don't shoot me up. It took so long and it was so hard to get clean. You have no idea..."

Crow's voice was quiet and gentle, "Actually, Mrs. Melindez, I do." He reached out and touched her cheek. Her trembling increased. "I spent a few years in the Golden Triangle working for Khun Sa. I don't remember a lot about my time there because if I didn't have a needle in my arm I was smoking an opium pipe.

"My most vivid memories of that time come from a stinking Bangkok slum where I was forcibly detoxed by agents of the U.S. Government.

"I remember the agony, the cramps, the sweats, the shakes, the delirium. God, there was a time I thought I would never stop throwing up or having diarrhea. I think the diarrhea was more from the dysentery than withdrawal but, hey. Occasionally I will wake up in the night in a cold sweat from a nightmare about that time. So I know your fear.

"You don't know my pain though, not that it matters. And not that it will matter in a few minutes but I am sorry for what's going to happen to you tonight. Relatively speaking, you're innocent.

"Shit, unfortunately, happens."

Helena Melindez began to cry quietly and beg. "Please, please don't do this to me...please, I beg you."

Crow took her forearm in his hand and lightly caressed the soft skin on the underside of her arm looking for a vein.

"There's a good one, Helena. I bet I make it on the first stick." He smiled at her, caressed her face again and whispered, as comfortingly as he could, "You need to relax and this will all be over before you know it. We're going to make a little movie for Caesar and his boys.

"Believe it or not, I think the only ones who are going to enjoy this night is my associate Romy and his crew.

"Isn't that right Romy?"

"Fuckin' A, boss man. I purely do likes to fuck me them Mes'can bitches. Only thing be sweeter is rich white college pussy, ya know? The crew and me gonna have some prime bonin' tonight, yes sir, yes sir. She be some fine meat, yes sir. Fine, fine fuck meat, yes sir." Romy laughed; in Helena's ears it was the laugh of a demon.

Helena's mouth was open in mute horror as she watched a huge black man appear from the shadows and rest his arm on top of the video camera. She turned back to Crow, the horror distorting her beautiful face.

She started to plead but while she was busy being terrorized by the new prospect of being gang raped by a gang of black men Crow put the tourniquet on her arm and stuck her with the needle.

As the smack hit her blood she stared at Crow in silent terror until Crow saw the glaze come over her eyes and her lids fall, half covering her eyes. She tilted her head, still staring at him, mouth open. She drooled a bit and then sagged back in her chair and moaned quietly - in pleasure.

Romy came over from the camera and loosely held her bound wrist, feeling for a pulse and then he checked her carotid pulse. She looked up at him and smiled slightly in her drugged haze.

"Jesus Nelly, how much you give her? She looks pretty gorked." Romy suddenly had a crisp British accent; dropping the Memphis gangbanger slang that he introduced himself with.

"Enough. She'll be fine. Okay, here's the play: You're going to play cameraman. I'm going to have my way with her. And if you promise to be gentle, you can have a turn."

Back in his gangbanger accent, "Homes, yo, I always bes gentle wit the Mes'can bitches."

Crow looked at Romy and spoke quietly and distinctly, "Romy, you know, the 'banger talk is getting annoying."

Romy laughed and back in his native British, "But it's good though, right?"

"Definitely Academy Award material. So...We'll get us on tape and then you bring your crew in and have them gather around her, dicks in hand, for the final shot."

Crow started to undress while Romy went to the camera.

"Okay, we're rolling in three-two-one."

Without turning to face the camera Crow advanced on Helena while talking.

"Caesar, I'm going to have a little fun with your wife; my associates and I, actually. Then you can have her back. No ransom or anything.

"In case you are not inclined to kill her after my friends and I finish violating her you should know I kidnapped her; she was most definitely not a willing victim. She fought like a hellcat and she held up your name proudly, as a threat to me, until I slipped a needle in her arm.