Don Winslow - The Power of the Dog

The plan is to chill out for a few days, then if everything is cool-and there’s no reason it shouldn’t be-they’re going to meet up at the Sea Lodge in La Jolla, chill out on the beach for a few days, call in some broads (Peaches actually says “broads”) from Haley Saxon, have a party.

Callan remembers the girl he saw there, Nora. Remembers how much he wanted that girl, and how Big Peaches took her away from him. He remembers how beautiful she was, and thinking that if he could somehow touch that beauty it would make his own life less ugly. But that was a long time ago, a lot of blood’s flowed under the bridge since then and it’s not possible that the girl Nora is still in that house.

Is it?

He don’t want to ask, though.

Three days later, Peaches is on the phone like he’s ordering Chinese food: Whaddya want? A blonde, a brunette, how about a black chick? They’re all hanging out in Peaches’ room even though they all have adjoining rooms right on the beach. It’s actually pretty cool, Callan thinks-you step right out of your room and you’re on the beach, and he’s getting off on watching the sun set over the ocean while Peaches is on the phone ordering pussy.

“Whatever,” he tells Peaches.

“And a whatever,” Peaches says into the phone, and then he chases them out because he’s got business to do they don’t need to be a part of. Take a swim, take a shower, have some dinner, get ready for the broads.

Peaches’ business arrives about an hour later, after it’s dark.

They don’t talk a lot. Peaches just hands him a suitcase containing three hundred large in cash as his share for the information.

Art Keller takes the money and leaves.

Simple as that.

Haley Saxon has some business, too.

She decides on the five girls she’s going to send to the Sea Lodge, then gets on the horn to Raul Barrera.

Some wise guys from the old days are in town throwing around a lot of cash, and guess who they are. You remember Jimmy Peaches? Well, he suddenly came into a lot of money.

Raul is very interested.

And sure, Haley knows exactly where they are.

Just leave my girls out of it.

Callan lies in bed watching the girl get dressed.

She’s pretty, really pretty-long red hair, nice rack, nice ass-but she wasn’t her. She got his rocks off, though, gave him his money’s worth. Gave him head, then climbed on top of him and rode him until he came.

Now she stands in the bathroom fixing her makeup, and she sees him in the mirror, looking at her.

“We can go again if you want,” she says.

“I’m good.”

When she leaves he wraps a towel around himself and goes out onto the little terrace. Watches the small waves break silver in the moonlight. A nice-looking sports-fishing boat sits about a hundred yards out, its lights glowing golden.

It would be just goddamn tranquil, Callan thinks, if I couldn’t hear Big Peaches going at it in the next room, still going at it. Fucking Peaches never changes-pulled his “I like your girl better” routine again, except this time it was his brother. Little Peaches didn’t care-he’d already sent his girl to his room and he just said, “Take her,” so they switched women and rooms and that’s why Callan has to listen to Big Peaches huffing and puffing like an asthmatic bull.

They find Little Peaches’ body in the morning.

Mickey knocks at Callan’s door and when Callan answers it Mickey just grabs him and pulls him into Big Peaches’ room and there’s Little Peaches, tied to a chair with his hands in his pockets.

Except his hands aren’t attached to his arms.

They’re severed; the carpet is soaked in blood.

A washcloth is stuffed in Little Peaches’ mouth and his eyes are bulging. You don’t got to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out they chopped off his hands and left him to bleed out.

Callan can hear Big Peaches in the bathroom, crying and throwing up. O-Bop sits on the bed, holding his head in his hands.

The money is gone, of course.

What’s in the closet instead is a note.

KEEP YOUR HANDS IN YOUR OWN POCKETS.

The Barreras.

Peaches comes out of the bathroom. His fat face is red and streaked with tears. Little bubbles of snot pop out of his nostrils. “We can’t just leave him,” he cries.

“We got to, Jimmy,” Callan says.

“I’ll get 'em,” Peaches says. “Last thing I do, I’ll pay these bastards back.”

They don’t pack or nothing. Just get into their separate vehicles and go. Callan drives all the way up past San Francisco, then finds a little motel near the beach and holes up.

Raul Barrera has his money back, although it’s three hundred thousand light.

Raul knows that money went to whoever gave the Piccone brothers the tip.

But-and give Little Peaches credit, the man was tough-he never told them who it was.

Claimed he didn’t know.

Callan goes into the basement in Seaside, California.

He finds one of them old cabin-style motels not far from the beach and pays in cash. He doesn’t go out much at all the first few days. Then he starts taking long walks on the beach.

Where the surf whispers to him rhythmically.

I forgive you.

God…

Rancho las Bardas Baja, Mexico, March 1997

Nora sleeps with The Lord of the Skies.

That’s Adan’s new sobriquet among the narco-cognescenti-El Senor de los Cielos, The Lord of the Skies.

And if he’s the Lord, Nora is his Lady.

Their relationship is in the open now. She’s almost always with him. The narcos have tagged Nora, with intentional irony, La Guera, “The Blonde,” Adan Barrera’s golden-haired lady. His mistress, his adviser.

Guero was laid to rest in Guamuchilito.

The whole village attended the funeral.

So did Adan and Nora. He in a black suit, she in a black dress and veil, they walked in the cortege behind the flower-strewn hearse. A mariachi band played lachrymose corridos in praise of the deceased as the procession marched from the church Guero built, past the clinic and the soccer field he paid for, toward the mausoleum that held the remains of his wife and children.

People wept freely, ran up to the open casket and threw flowers on Guero’s body.

His face in death was handsome, composed, almost serene. His blond hair was combed neatly straight back and he was dressed in an expensive charcoal-gray suit and conservative red tie instead of the black narco-cowboy garb he’d favored in life.

There were sicarios everywhere, both Adan’s men and Guero’s veteranos, but the guns were hidden under shirts and jackets out of respect for the occasion. And although Adan’s men kept a sharp lookout, no one was too worried about the threat of an assassination. The war was over; Adan Barrera was the winner and, moreover, he was behaving with admirable respect and dignity.

It was Nora who had suggested not only that should he allow Guero to be buried in his hometown with his family, but that they attend the funeral, not just publicly but prominently. It was Nora who urged him to make large cash gifts to the local church, the local school and the clinic. Nora who led him into donating all the money for a new community center to be named after the late Hector “Guero” Mendez Salazar. Nora who persuaded him to send emissaries in advance to assure Guero’s sicarios and cops that the war was over, that no vengeance would be sought for past deeds and that operations would continue as before with the same personnel in place. So Adan marched in the funeral procession like a conquering lord, but a conquering lord who held the olive branch in one hand.