12-22-2020, 10:19 AM
The key slides into the lock, is turned and the door opens. Home at last. One of the best feelings
a person could have.
"I'm home!" called out the short, plump older lady.
She walks from the living room into the kitchen and gasps, startled. There stands three unknown
figures; two in ski masks and one bare-faced.
"Hello Mrs. Flores. Or may I call you Mary?" Delicato asks.
"I don't, oh my God, I don't have any money but you can take my car, it's new!" she sputters while
nervously rifling through her purse for the keys she left on the table by the front door.
"This isn't a robbery." Delicato says flatly, marching the lady over to a chair.
The two masked individuals stand quietly and the lady takes a seat. Delicato pulls a chair over to join her.
"Why aren't you wearing a mask?" Mary asks.
Delicato leans in and says quietly "Your boss knows me."
The flustered woman looks around and panics. "Where's my husband? Did you - "
"Upstairs, on the bed. He'll be awake in a couple hours. He'll be groggy. Give him some water. He'll be fine."
Mary isn't used to this side of the business. Bank manager by day, wife and empty-nester by night.
Tears are now trickling, she was scared and knew she had every right to be.
"We figured the El Paso accounts were decoys, either that or purely from his drug operations." Delicato explained.
Mary wipes the tears from her face but keeps steady eye contact.
"Same with Albuquerque. Just too obvious. So we looked around a little. Wondered. Would he go
as far afield as Santa Fe? Could he be that far removed from his dirty child prostitution money?"
Mary's eyes lit up as shock plastered her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" she yelled.
"Oh, you thought it was all drug money, didn't you?" Delicato mused.
Then Mary winces, clutches at her chest and doubles over. She growls and begins to shake violently.
Delicato stands and takes a step back. The two masked figures advance forward.
The woman is now fully convulsing as froth escapes through her clenched teeth. Blood was present.
She hits the floor, jerks a few times then the moaning stops. And so does she. Less than thirty seconds
and she's gone.
"What the fuck just happened?" asked one of the masked men.
A phone begins ringing. They all three look around. It's coming from the dead woman's purse. Delicato
reaches in and grabs it. She holds it to her face, not saying a word.
"Hola chiquita! How are you?" said the voice on the line. She could almost see his sickly smile.
"Hell of a sense of timing you got!" Delicato fired back.
"It pays to be punctual, Delia." Sanchez said proudly.
"It's Delicato, and punctuality won't save you from what's coming."
"Aren't you going to introduce your two friends?" he asked.
Delicato looked over to her men, raised her index finger up to her lips and then pointed upwards in a circular
motion. They were being watched.
"Nevermind, it's bad manners over the phone. I'm sure we'll have time later for proper introductions."
"You know this doesn't end here." Delicato guaranteed.
"I hope not! You're a beautiful woman, Delia! My eyes rejoice upon your image!" he replies.
"So how did you do it?" she asked.
"Oh, Mary? That was all thanks to Your government's secret military tech."
"Some kind of implant?" she posed.
"American scientists, back in the fifties. Anyone with enough information would be fitted. They step out
of line, become a concern... well, you see how it works."
"This changes nothing!" she said in anger.
"If you want to dismantle an empire..." Sanchez began.
"You stem its flow of funding." Delicato shot back.
"Then, there is no empire." he concluded.
Delicato again looked over at her men and motioned for them all to leave.
"I do so enjoy our talks Delia, but I must love you and leave you. I have more pressing business at hand." he says in farewell and ends the call.
The three figures in black leave the house through a rear side entrance.
Sanchez stands looking down at a man bound and gagged, sitting in the corner of his entertainment room.
It's Delia's father.
a person could have.
"I'm home!" called out the short, plump older lady.
She walks from the living room into the kitchen and gasps, startled. There stands three unknown
figures; two in ski masks and one bare-faced.
"Hello Mrs. Flores. Or may I call you Mary?" Delicato asks.
"I don't, oh my God, I don't have any money but you can take my car, it's new!" she sputters while
nervously rifling through her purse for the keys she left on the table by the front door.
"This isn't a robbery." Delicato says flatly, marching the lady over to a chair.
The two masked individuals stand quietly and the lady takes a seat. Delicato pulls a chair over to join her.
"Why aren't you wearing a mask?" Mary asks.
Delicato leans in and says quietly "Your boss knows me."
The flustered woman looks around and panics. "Where's my husband? Did you - "
"Upstairs, on the bed. He'll be awake in a couple hours. He'll be groggy. Give him some water. He'll be fine."
Mary isn't used to this side of the business. Bank manager by day, wife and empty-nester by night.
Tears are now trickling, she was scared and knew she had every right to be.
"We figured the El Paso accounts were decoys, either that or purely from his drug operations." Delicato explained.
Mary wipes the tears from her face but keeps steady eye contact.
"Same with Albuquerque. Just too obvious. So we looked around a little. Wondered. Would he go
as far afield as Santa Fe? Could he be that far removed from his dirty child prostitution money?"
Mary's eyes lit up as shock plastered her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" she yelled.
"Oh, you thought it was all drug money, didn't you?" Delicato mused.
Then Mary winces, clutches at her chest and doubles over. She growls and begins to shake violently.
Delicato stands and takes a step back. The two masked figures advance forward.
The woman is now fully convulsing as froth escapes through her clenched teeth. Blood was present.
She hits the floor, jerks a few times then the moaning stops. And so does she. Less than thirty seconds
and she's gone.
"What the fuck just happened?" asked one of the masked men.
A phone begins ringing. They all three look around. It's coming from the dead woman's purse. Delicato
reaches in and grabs it. She holds it to her face, not saying a word.
"Hola chiquita! How are you?" said the voice on the line. She could almost see his sickly smile.
"Hell of a sense of timing you got!" Delicato fired back.
"It pays to be punctual, Delia." Sanchez said proudly.
"It's Delicato, and punctuality won't save you from what's coming."
"Aren't you going to introduce your two friends?" he asked.
Delicato looked over to her men, raised her index finger up to her lips and then pointed upwards in a circular
motion. They were being watched.
"Nevermind, it's bad manners over the phone. I'm sure we'll have time later for proper introductions."
"You know this doesn't end here." Delicato guaranteed.
"I hope not! You're a beautiful woman, Delia! My eyes rejoice upon your image!" he replies.
"So how did you do it?" she asked.
"Oh, Mary? That was all thanks to Your government's secret military tech."
"Some kind of implant?" she posed.
"American scientists, back in the fifties. Anyone with enough information would be fitted. They step out
of line, become a concern... well, you see how it works."
"This changes nothing!" she said in anger.
"If you want to dismantle an empire..." Sanchez began.
"You stem its flow of funding." Delicato shot back.
"Then, there is no empire." he concluded.
Delicato again looked over at her men and motioned for them all to leave.
"I do so enjoy our talks Delia, but I must love you and leave you. I have more pressing business at hand." he says in farewell and ends the call.
The three figures in black leave the house through a rear side entrance.
Sanchez stands looking down at a man bound and gagged, sitting in the corner of his entertainment room.
It's Delia's father.
