A Trap Within A Trap

Chapter 5

Thousand dollar suited body guards, guarding each of the three important men dressed indicative of their respective parts of the world. Guests invited by Feed to partake in the new narcotic's enterprise. Mendoza; Born in L.A. of the La Eme, Mexican Mafia. Step son of Marco Valdez, who ran most of the east Central American cartel with the blessings of three American presidents, including and starting with Regan. Fabersham; American Anglo Saxon of the ivy league elite, representing suburban groups of the mid-west, and south. The good God fearing law-biding citizens that earn their living as farmers or blue collar workers, need to get high without the guilt of taking illegal drugs, and so have turned to their respectable doctors. Doctors who are in Fabersham's pocket, and willing to serve for cash. Hussein Hussein; Dressed in a white Ralph Lauren suit, with aviator sunglasses as chic' as he could be, yet if you get him talking, the Sheik would speak to you of Allah's path. Then obstinately switch to America's demise during the great Jihad to come, then it's off to the strip club high on a cocktail of alcohol, benzos, and opiates. His revolution funded by the glorious bulbous flower that has been sprouting from his peoples land since even before prophet Mohammed.

These where all Feeds small players, and he let them think they were cartels. It gave him leverage. Keep them isolated yet fed, and content. This was going to be side money he wouldn't let "The Family" catch wind off until it was too late. This will work out perfect for the new venture which fell in his lap just over a year ago, from a lab geek that couldn't pay his debts. After being routinely fingernail pulled, and sliced between his toes as penalties of non-payment, being sure not to interfere with his job. This pencil dick fiend wasn't different from most Americans lured to work in the U.S. capital, in search of power, validation, and settling for the corruption with a healthy dose of hypocrisy.

This kid after dying of blood loss during his unintentional final metro-sexual torture session, had within his possession classified documents. He was an analyst, with a twelve band a week habit that was going into the red. The "cleaners" came across the files, and recognized the official U.S. insignia of the eagle with shield, arrows, and bogus ass olive branch on the cover of an otherwise ominous manila folder. This memorandum outlined hustlers gold. 'Even evil fucks like me get a helping hand once in a while.' The procedure, and materials needed to produce (Molybdenum Isoquinoline) 'We decided to call it Mojo for obvious reasons.' It's history was first to medically rehabilitate drug addicted soldiers of the wars within Korea and Vietnam during the 60's and 70's. The dilapidated performance and moral had been identified as a problem within the ranks. The research was abandoned, then re-appropriated by the U.S. Army to extend the high of something called "Clockwork orange", to be subsequently shelved in the 90's. Though expensive as fuck to produce, Feed used his ties within the black market and all of his expense accounts to house, equip, and replicate the drug. Processing equipment capable of powdered and misted metallurgy that could be used to make nuclear grade iridium was necessary. This being only the biggest red flag the worlds governments where all seeking to own, or otherwise destroy in the ever dynamic tides of world powers. 'Had to rub dicks with most of the world domination nut types.'

He stood fuming while awaiting Jaquez and his distastefully urban dressed assholes to show. As of now they were ten minutes late. Troy at 6' 5", with his 300lbs of solid special forces and convict swirl glided between Feed, and the visitors who were getting anxious well more like annoyed. Speaking low into Feeds ear "The cars transponders have their last location just off the interstate, and Jaquez? Isn't, hasn't responded to his beeper ...."

Feed was pissed looking at his Rolex, standing with the entourage of mid hitters from around the world, every one of them noticeably strapped. "I taught him better than this." he said allowed but low enough that it came out as a faint whisper between his teeth. Feed never had a son, just the undercover whore daughter of his, and so he procured seven of eight surrogate son's within his organization (not counting his God sons of which he accepted strictly for show specifically to strengthen his business ties). In truth he had no time for little snots. He didn't show much interest in his one and only offspring until she was twenty two, after showing promise in the family business by infiltrating a rivals organization and handing the goods over to him on a silver platter. Top names, structure, connects, numbers, addresses, recorded conversations the whole package. He was impressed, and decided a daughter was good enough for something other than "connecting" two families of the Mafioso. Once she was on the payroll and in the fold is when she was observed just as all his other high players, and thereby he learned more of her ... habits. Fetishes that a father would never, ever want to know about his little girl.

"Excuse me gentlemen." Feed said taking a step away from the group and entourage, while turning tour guide style. "There's a small business matter I'll have to attend personally." Mendoza grimaced reflecting his general dislike of waiting on others when he himself should be considered the main client. 'Who gives a fuck what you peons really think. Fuckin wetback! I feed you ingrates letting you all quibble over the money, so that I gain power.' He decided to put on the charm for now, since he had a feeling he was going to be yelling the rest of the day either at Jaquez or over his dead body. He'd never had to reprimand Jaquez ever during the twelve years he had been working for him (four of which he was uncharacteristically recognized as his proverbial his "son"). "Gentlemen, it should only be a few more moments. For now refreshments are to my left." Motioning towards a group of female college interns on break bye the catered food truck. The visitors snickered, and grinned with greedy eyes. Feed knew what would be required of the young females. They knew bonuses where in their next checks for services rendered for the sake of the business. Only the youngest, the brightest, and gorgeous wide eyed students were invited for this internship. Less still where given a few months to read between the lines for the additional sources of income she (and occasionally he) could earn to fill their hungry pockets that mommy & daddy refused to fill. 'My visitors I'm sure smelled the virgin pussy (well virgin enough) from a mile away and would enjoy the hunt. 'For we predators are a bird of a feather' he thought grinning walking away.

Troy silently moved as Feeds shadow as he walked towards his office from the hanger bay to make a few calls and find out where the fuck Jaquez and his New York crew where. He began plans for the search as he walked. 'If I have to put a helicopter up to find these dumbasses, I'm taking it outta his cut for the next few months. It'sexpensive keeping the birds off the grid since the fuck tards exploded that vanin the garage of the World Trade Center's building number one. Just what thefuck did they plan that to accomplish anyway!?.' "

Troy started talking into his collar and listening from his ear piece and Feed noticed his usual calm demeanor now amped. "Sir!" he said just as Feed reached out for the door knob. With an apologetic face for his outburst which reverberated throughout the hanger attracting unwanted attention, Troy chimed "We have him sir." Feed waited knowing how thorough Troy was, he'd have a complete report before completing his sentence. "Sir the problem is, it's being broadcasted ... Sir Jaquez is in a shootout on the Channel 7 News!"

AN: Comments are appreciated, but votes are forever