Garvey's Revenge

Chapter 16

George and Goldman waited in the warehouse at the sawmill. The rest of the deputies were in the rafters in position.

George looked at his watch. It was almost 9:30. "You think they're still coming?"

"Yeah. Sometimes crooks are late. The first sting I was on the bad guys was an hour late for the pickup," Goldman said.

"Oh," George said. He looked at Goldman. His dark hair was combed back away from his face. He looked intimidating in the long gray trench coat that hung from his shoulders. He also wore a black dress shirt and black slacks. George looked down at himself. He had on a white dress shirt and black pants. The two top buttons were unbuttoned on his shirt to show a large gold cross around his neck. He had to look like a mature gangster.

"So, how many stings have you been on?" George asked.

"Uh, the one I just told you about," Goldman admitted.

"What?" George was horrified at the revelation.

"Look, it's a small town. Not a lot of drug buys happen here. Most of us - this is the only place we've been cops in. I had worked for the Houston Police Department for six months before I got the job here."

"Shit. What did I get myself into?"

"Relax. We're prepared if this gets ugly. We're all good shots. The guys in the rafters can shoot a flea off of a cow's ass."

George grunted.

"Remember, if it gets ugly, dive behind that container that's a few feet away."

"I'll keep that in mind," George said and rubbed his bald head.

Maybe he was worried for nothing. Everything had gone smoothly on the phone when he talked to Jones. George had told him his name was T-Money. His regular distributor had to shut down due to a situation beyond his control. That was code for he got busted. George had told him he needed trees and flour for his customers. That was code for weed and cocaine. George had explained that his supplier had to be out of state to keep the cowboy cops in Dallas from getting suspicious. He had made it clear to Jones that if he liked his supply it could mean $50,000 a month in his pocket.

D.J. wasn't stupid. He had wanted to know exactly how George heard about him. George had told him that he got his number from a hooker in Phoenix he was with for the weekend. He had asked her if she knew any suppliers that can get him coke by the kilo and weed by the pound. Someone that was dependable with the deliveries, knew how to keep their mouth shut, and be cool under pressure.

Jones had asked what the hooker's name was. George had told him he forgot because he has a different girl every weekend. He didn't fuck with the same girl more than once.

George had suggested they meet on neutral ground and suggested the sawmill. He had met a new supplier out there eight years ago. D.J. didn't seem to be okay with it at first, but George had made it clear he wasn't coming into Phoenix. He had said the last time he was there he was harassed by the cops. D.J. had told him that he had some cops in his pocket and he would ensure his safety, but George wasn't going for it. He had to give a little then have one demand that he wouldn't budge on. That's how he established himself to D.J. as the real deal.

George snapped out of his train of thought when Goldman started talking.

"Got it," Goldman said and took the earpiece out of his ear. "The lookout said a Cadillac Escalade just pulled up with the headlights off. This is it. Act casual."