General Trinh is delivering papers
by: Walter Guest
After a few days reports began to trickle in on what Rudmetkyn had labeled, "The Los Angeles drug problem." The first reports came from the FSB field agent. Some months ago a drug ring operating in Southern California had received a demand for two hundred thousand dollars a month for permission to operate in that area.
Of course they refused. They didn't take it seriously.
Then one of their outlets was hit by a band of men.
It was done very professionally.
Two doors, front and back, were blown in at the same time. The charges were set so delicately that not a window was broken in the house. Some men poured in fast, firing automatic weapons.
Three men in the house were killed and the fourth was badly wounded. None of the attackers were thought to be hit.
They took close to a million dollars in cash and much more than that in drugs.
The lone survivor said the raiders had kept their faces covered but he thought they were a mixture of Asian and white men. One of the men left a message for the drug ring. "Tell them it will be better to pay," was all he said.
The drug ring decided to take action. They set up a fake payoff to lure in someone from the gang of extortionists. They didn't expect to snare the leader but they were desperate for any kind of lead. All they needed was one. There were ways to make anyone talk.
Who should walk into the trap but one of their own street sellers. And he was a junkie as well.
That was just what many in the organization expected. Some of their own were trying to get a bigger cut of the pie. Some bums on the bottom had gotten greedy. It was the only thing that made sense.
The junkie came up with a crazy story. "A brother told me there was a party here, man. Ever'thin' free. Free smack, free booze, free pussy. Swear to God, man!"
There wasn't even enough story to check out. He had never seen the "dude" before.
"Don't worry," one of the old hands said. "This joker's got no balls. Gimmee fifteen minutes with ‘em. I'll have ‘em talkin'."
Two hours later he wasn't so sure. "I tell ya the guy's got no balls. He shoudda been talkin' by now. But he'll talk yet. He ain't gonna die for nuttin'. I guarantee that."
Two hours after that he had the answer. "The joker didn't have no balls. He wouldn't have died for nuttin'. He musta been tellin' the truth."