Luck Of The I wish
Luck Of The "I "Wish
Word Count 1550
Our small plane is being tossed around by the wind's unforgiving fury accompanied by rain pummeling the Beech Bonanza. We're a paper bag in a tornado, at the mercy of it's chaotic force. Our pilot Salinas also known by Demonio Mosca (demon fly) appears unaffected by the storm. The deluge is pelting the windshield with a single wiper swaying lazily to the rhythm of a Mozart 2nd movement making it almost impossible to see. Guess it doesn't matter, all there is to view are black clouds in a dark sky anyway. Salinas can only see half of what is going on being blind in one eye.
Johnny Rico is screaming from in back cursing the rocking motion. It's causing his can of beer to spill. We're on a course to imminent disaster, it's a flight plan straight to hell and he's worried about a fucking beer...incredible.
"Drink the Damn beer and
get me one. Break open one of those Kilos and give me a blast. I'm not going to Hell sober." I yell
It was gorgeous weather before we left La Hormiga in Putumayo Province this morning. There wasn't a cloud in the deep blue Colombian sky. We spent two days trekking through the jungle before this morning to purchase 60 kilos of pure uncut Cocaine straight from the
processing plant. We purchased the Cocaine at a discounted price buying direct from the producers cutting out a variety of middle men. The cost was $900 a Kilo that will yield $24,000 a Kilo in the States. The $55,000 to purchase the Cocaine is money from two investors in Costa Rica, Johnny and myself. The end result should gross somewhere around
$ 1,350.000 split between the four of us, the cut depending on the percentage of cash invested. It's just speculation providing all goes as planned. We've had to pay a variety of expenses to finance this expedition. For example, our plane fare, lodging, meals and incidentals. Then the lackeys to mule the Cocaine out of the jungle to the plane. A plane costing us $1,500 plus tip for a one eyed pilot and a V-Tailed Beech Bonanza that has an upload of only 1,200lbs. The boat and payments to sapos (snitches) to keep their mouths shut, paying others to give misinformation to Authorities. There's bribes and payoffs as well as other costs associated with this venture.
This is all dependent on the fact we aren't killed in a plane crash or shot down by FARC guerillas that we neglected to ask permission or pay for safe travel. Then there's the Colombian Military that hopefully hasn't been tipped off by some informant not to ignore the Cartels being notified that we cut them out of the deal by buying directly from the source. We should be relatively out of harm's way avoiding those
hazards once we make it out of Colombia. When we hit the ground in Panama the possibility of peril starts all over again. Johnny could give a shit about those details, instead finds reason to direct his concerns to trivial matters.
Lightening crackles and thunder booms while the engine on this propped death trap moans in desperation fighting against the storm's persistence. Salinas is singing along with Los Tigres Del Norte crackling through a single speaker that has become raspy with age.
"Here jefe tome!" Johnny commands.
He places a golf ball sized rock of Cocaine in my hand and pops open a bottle of beer for me.
"Is there anything else I can get for you El Rey (King)? Maybe a cigarette or parachute." He jokes
"You think this is hilarious don't you? You never take anything seriously!"I respond.
"You are serious enough for both of us. Always worrying for problems that haven't happened. You make your own bad ideas in your mind.
Listen, we have been carnales for a long years Santiago. Together we have been robbed, beat up, shot, stabbed, arrested, put in prison and left with nothing not a Peso. We survived two days in the ocean when our boat sinked. You remember? You know why the sharks no chew you up? Because you are a sour taste, bitter more than limones. Always looking at the bad side of life. You are too mean to die and I am not ready. Just one time think of all the fun times we have together. Also Dios (God) is afraid of you and El Diablo (Devil) doesn't want a battle with you for power. You have nowhere to go. So tranquillo hermano and enjoy the trip. The sun it shines somewhere." He preaches
Abruptly as in scene from a movie, we are swallowed up in an abundant conglomeration of black nimbus clouds, an abyss of darkness. The Beach Bonanza moans with a sound of despair. With what seems as the final attempt at resisting surrender the plane exerts the last bit of strength
and we burst through a thick wall of clouds into a sky of aqua revealing the same below. We are over the Pacific and almost out of Colombian air space. The turbulence has subsided as well as the rain and the wind.
Johnny shrugs his shoulders, smiles and begins to laugh applauding the miraculous event.
"Que Rico!" I scream
"Then times we have more money than God. Time is our friend and we are invisible. Luck of the I wish."Johnny says
"Irish. It's luck of the Irish."I attempt to correct him
"I thought you are Italian Mexican. You are Irish also?"
"Ya Johnny I'm a little bit of everything."
"That's true. Some pinche grunon pendejo( fucking grumpy asshole) I think you have in you too."
Salinas announces that we still have close to an hour or so until we land at Isla del Rey (Kings Island) a large island off the Pacific Coast of Panama
"That's your Island si?" Johnny says pointing at me.
"Ok stop with the sarcasm."
There should be a truck waiting for our arrival to unload the cache and deliver us to the boat we are taking to Mexico. It's close to two days there and better than flying because we aren't on anyone's radar. Just a fishing boat drifting about the waves searching for the next large catch.
I hand over the rock of Cocaine to Salinas and he crushes it in his hand, then with one quick motion places his entire palm over his nose and inhales with the force of a Hoover vacuum. I give him the beer as well seeing he deserved a small reward for getting us safely through a storm I'm convinced Dorothy would admit was a Tempest spawned in Hell.
I resort back to my rule of no alcohol, drugs or Shenanigans while working.
Johnny is familiar with my Modus Operandi and chugs his beer as display of defiance.
He gives me a relaxed salute and a thumbs up. I offer a smile wanting to voice my rebuttal to his earlier comments but don't have the enthusiasm to debate him at this moment. Best to let him believe his remarks were
a valid description of my character. I've gotta let him win every once in a while.
There are times when I want to terminate our relationship, end it and go it alone. Although I'd surely miss his gruffy voice along with his hysterical laugh. I'd probably worry about his welfare constantly wondering who was looking out for him. There always seems to be some type of catastrophe hovering over our heads when we participate in an operation like this as partners. Events of cataclysmic proportion materialize from somewhere beyond my ability to offer a rationial explanation for their cause.
It happens in most cases by no fault of our own actions.
There is one element that I'm absolutely convinced of concerning Johnny Rico , he would defend me to his death if the situation called for it. He would take a bullet for me and I would do the same. Trust is a rare commodity in this business, in this lifetime and I trust JR. Hell there were times in my past when I was the only friend I had and I wasn't sure he was one I could trust.
Skies clear with the sweet scent of redemption, it's fragrance replacing the smell of fear. Long thin wispy cirrus fingers scratch at the sky as though Angels were keying the paint on God's celestial blue Buick.
Salinas is sweating
profusely, his eyes owl sized, doing the Cocaine lip smack.
"Dame otra cerveca patron!" (Give me another beer boss) Salinas demands.
Johnny immediately responds grabbing two from the cooler and popping off the bottle caps with his teeth. I'm uncomfortable with both of them slamming beers but it was my faux pas earlier giving Salinas the Coke and a beer in the first place. Johnny stares at me sporting a determined expression contemplating my reaction. He's expecting me to voice my objection to them drinking but I remain mute without expressing my concerns.
The seat at last forms comfortably around my body. An hour to relax before we reach Panama.
There's a new President that has siezed power in Panama City. It's rumored he's partial to those of us that dabble in the import export game, President
Manuel Noriega.
#END#
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2018
Word Count 1550
