Background
Dax Connor rescued Lael Jackson from an attempted rape. The assailants were found dead. Dax has been charged to stay in town until the investigation in complete. Lael has invited him to stay with her mom and herself. Characters are listed below.
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From previous chapter: Going to sleep under any circumstance was second nature for Dax. When you have a chance to sleep, take it. You never know when the next opportunity might arise. He had gone to sleep with the sound of artillery fire, people yelling and claxons blaring. Those were noises appropriate to the circumstance, so didn't bother him at all. The sound he now heard snapped him awake immediately. It was a sound he knew quite well. Someone was using a set of lock picks on the front door, and one tumbler had just sprung.
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Dax moved quickly out of the bed and headed toward the front door. Dressed in boxer shorts and a Tee Shirt, carrying a 45 pistol, he felt ill prepared for the encounter. As he walked down the hallway, he switched off the nightlight. His mind was racing, trying to decide the best course of action. If the guy trying to pick that lock is any good, it won't take more than sixty seconds. It's way too late to call 911 or wake Beth and Lael. I'm going to have to let whoever is out there come in. If I'm lucky, it will be one guy.
The front door opened directly into the large parlor. Dax positioned himself 12 feet back and about 45 degrees to the right of the door. The room was darkened, so this positioning put him out of a direct sight line. He had chambered a round before going to sleep, so the gun was ready. He held it comfortably in front of him, slightly above waist level.
With one more click of the lock pick, the door started to open very slowly. Too early to tell if there was only one person, but the one coming in pushed the door inward toward the hinges. This was meant to minimize the door squeaking. If he wasn't wearing tactical gear, he was at least wearing a low sheen, dark outfit and soft, black leather, rubber soled shoes. The way he moved and looked screamed professional. It didn't look like he had a gun, but was carrying a thick manila file folder in his left hand. Dax just stood still, thinking, What in the hell is this guy up to? May as well let it play out a little and see where it goes.
The intruder walked in to the room and placing the manila folder on top of a sofa table, he turned back toward the door. After that move, Dax switched on a light and commanded, "Stop right there. Put your hands up and lock them tight behind your head. If you make a single movement other than that, I'll shoot you without hesitation."
The intruder did exactly as instructed. Turning toward Dax, he said, "Dax Connor, is that you?"
Incredulous, Dax responded, "Yeah, Gus, it's me."
At that moment, Beth walked in. She had the 38 in her hand. "What's going on? Boudreaux, what are you doing in my home? Dax, how do you know this guy?"
Dax grunted. "Gus, you are going to have to answer the first two questions, which are pretty damn good questions. The only one that I can handle is the third one."
"I'll do the best I can on the questions. Can I put my arms down?"
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"Tell you what. You take your hands down nice and slow, shut the front door, place your hands against it and assume the position, legs spread. I'm sure you know the drill."
He did, and Dax walked over and gave his body a thorough pat down. No guns or other weapons.
Beth could stand it no longer. "Okay, this is getting stranger and stranger. Somebody needs to start answering some questions."
Dax looked over at Beth and then looked down at his outfit. "Let me go throw a pair of pants on and maybe we can make some sense out of this."
Gus pushed back from the door. As he did, Dax barked, "Stay right there until I come back. Beth, if he moves, shoot him like I showed you."
Dax rushed back to his room, threw on a pair of pants and returned in about ten seconds. He took a glance at Gus before saying, "All right, you can put your hands down. Even though I only know the answer to the last question, let me start. Since the beginning, Lael, Jimmy and now you mentioned Boudreaux. Beth and Jimmy announced his name as Paul. The man in this room is a man I knew by the name of Gustave Boudreaux. He was a DEA Agent working out of Louisiana. I did hear that he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was fired from the agency. Okay, Gus, fill in some blanks for us."
"Okay, why not. My given name is Gustave Paul Boudreaux. Gustave is a common name in Louisiana. Not so much here, so I just reverted to Paul. Talk about fired Dax; I heard you got fired from the agency for whacking some foreign dignitaries' son."
"Alright Gus, or Paul, we're not talking about me now. Why don't you answer Beth's question."
"I can do that, but it's not going to be a short story. Is there any way we can sit down?"
Dax looked at her. "Beth?"
"Well, we can sit at the kitchen table. That way, if I have to shoot Boudreaux, the blood won't get on the carpet. Sit there, with your hands palm down, flat on the table."
Hearing this, Dax, struggled hard not to grin. The more he was around Beth, the more he liked her.
Beth looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:00 am. "Do you think we should call Jimmy?"
He pondered this a moment before replying, "Let's see what he's got to say. We can always call Jimmy in. Okay Gus, let's start with question one. Why are you here?"
"I wanted to bring some information by for Beth and the newspaper. The two guys who grabbed Lael yesterday used to work for me. They were supposed to get this information to you through Lael. I wanted her grabbed, but only to get this file to you."
"That doesn't make much sense. My understanding is that Beth was writing an expose on drugs here in the City and County. Wouldn't your name have come up?"
"Most likely it would have, but I'm not the only game in town."
Beth had pulled out a micro-recorder and asked Gus, "What do you mean? Who else would be here?"
"Beth, I'm going to ask you to turn off the recorder. Much of what you will want to know is going to be in the folder. The rest, you are just going to have to listen and mentally file it away. Is that a deal?" Beth turned off the recorder.
"Dax knows me from DEA days. I think I got a raw deal, but that's a whole other story. The bottom line is that I crossed to the other side. Why not? Over time, I learned who had what kind of stuff, what it would cost and what the market would pay for it. I settled in this area and was making a good living. If you bought marijuana anywhere between Macon and Atlanta, it was a pretty good chance that it came from me. We had a couple of big dollar clients for cocaine, but that was it. We never sold crack and we never sold meth. I found myself a big fish in a little pond, and it suited me fine. You might think I'm scum, but we did have some standards."
Beth snorted. "So, what happened? All my research shows there is a bunch of crack and lately, a bunch of meth in the area. Where's it coming from?"
"Ah - now you are getting to what's in the folder. The way this Country seems to work is things start in California and the West Coast, and sooner or later comes East. Later is here now. Have you ever heard about the Mexican drug cartels and specifically, Felix Mendez?"
"Of course I have, so yes to both. Are you telling me that the cartels are now operating in this area?"
"That's what I'm telling you. You'll have plenty of proof in the folder. They aren't after this market. They are really after the big nut, Atlanta. The fact is though, they can schmooze right in to here, absorb my market and be well positioned to move on to Atlanta. They need to be stopped."
With that, Dax, had to stop the conversation. "Surely, you don't expect Beth to print something that will help you and hurt the Mexican's?"
Gus chuckled. "That would be great, but I know that ain't gonna happen. The fact is, I've got plenty of money squirreled away in the Cayman Islands. Dax, like you, I know how to hide money, where if I don't want it found, it's not going to be found. The problem is that these guys are stone cold killers. They are the ones who popped my two guys."
"When I asked them to pick Lael up, they were taking a copy of what's in the folder to the Mexicans. I can tell you that it was never my intention that Lael be harmed in any way. I didn't kill the two, but given what they attempted to do, I can't say I feel much sympathy. They were killed because the cartel did not want you to have this information and they didn't want any names revealed."
There was silence. Gus finally continued. "I would like to ask you to read the contents of the file and then we can get back together and talk. Feel free to share it with the authorities. You would be totally in your rights to have me arrested right now. At this point, if arrested, I would be charged with breaking and entering. I was unarmed, didn't steal anything, damage anything or hurt anyone. I would be out on the street within three hours."
Beth looked over at Dax who gave a slight nod. "Okay, Boudreaux, for now we'll play it your way. You can leave."
As he got up to leave, Dax stood up. "Gus, I don't know if you got a bad shake from the DEA or not; don't know and don't care. You know me better than most people. You know what I'm capable of, don't you?
"Yeah, I do, Dax."
"Then you know what's going to happen if Beth or Lael are harmed in any way, and there is even a hint that you're involved?"
"Yeah, I most certainly do. I'll let myself out if that's okay." Boudreaux got up, walked out of the kitchen, through the parlor. He stopped at the door and turned. "Believe it or not, Dax, it was good seeing you. The one case we worked on together was a good one. Hopefully, you'll remember that part of the life of Gustave Paul Boudreaux."
Gus walked out the door. It was pitch black, so he turned on a micro light on his keychain. He walked out toward the road, guided by the distant tip of a lit cigarette. Someone was waiting for him.
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