The bearded man began to get up, but Trent placed his foot on his chest, pushing him back down. Trent was expressionless, a spartan soldier at work.
“Screw off, man. What do you want me to say? Sorry? I’m fucking sorry, okay? It wasn’t my fault. Leave me alone.”
Trent just stared at the man. “I don’t want an apology.”
The girl with the tongue ring hissed.
One of the others watching said, “Then what the hell do you want, asshole?”
“Show me a bag.”
The man frowned in disbelief. “What?”
“Just show me a bag.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You got a bag on you? Show me one.”
“Let me sit up.”
Trent took his foot off the man’s chest. The bearded man reached into his pocket and took out a small plastic bag. Trent snatched it from the man’s grasp and held it up, examining it. Max could just barely make out a gelatinous black substance inside.
The dope dealer said, “Are you… are you looking for some for yourself? I can get you better stuff, but it’s not on me.”
“Is this what you gave to my brother?”
The man on the ground didn’t reply.
Max watched Trent’s fist tighten and momentarily worried that he was wrong about the situation. That Trent really was going to kill this guy.
But then Trent calmed himself and simply pointed a finger at the man’s face, whispering, “Don’t show up here again. I mean that.” Then Trent flung the bag back at the ground and turned away.
The bearded man picked up the bag and hustled to his feet. He and his cohort looked at each other, stupefied, then fled down the alley. As the rain began to come down harder, flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, the rumbles of thunder growing louder.
Max placed his hand on Trent’s shoulder, his tee shirt getting wet from the rain. “Let’s go back inside.”
Trent looked up at Max. “It was black tar.”
Max looked at Renee, who was biting her lip. She shrugged, not understanding. Another clap of thunder sounded nearby. “We should get out of the rain.”
“Black tar?” Max asked.
Trent walked towards the back entrance of the bar. “Black tar heroin. They make that shit in Mexico. During my last assignment with the Army, this is the stuff we were trying to stop from coming into the country. It’s nasty stuff. The cheapest type. And it’s what my brother was getting high on when he overdosed.”
Renee looked at Max again, her eyes watery. Max held open the door to the poolroom, and they were flooded with a soft yellow light as they headed back inside.
Max felt guilty for thinking it, but he realized Trent was going to be the perfect recruit.
Chapter 6
They walked through the poolroom, the bar area. The bartender glanced at Trent. “Everything alright?”
Trent nodded back to him. “Yeah. Let me know if I owe you anything for scaring off your customers.”
“Not a thing, brother. They weren’t good customers.”
Trent gave the bartender an appreciative smile and continued to walk with the group.
The band onstage was warming up. Country music.
Max went over to the bartender and asked if they could get the side room that looked like it was available for exclusive parties. The bartender agreed and showed them into the room through saloon doors. The band noise was muted there, and the room was empty of other patrons. A waitress approached and took drink orders.
She said, “Frank told me to make sure that you’re left alone in here. Is that right?”
Max said, “That’d be great. Thank you kindly.”
They sat down, and the waitress took their orders, then left to fetch drinks.
Max got Trent talking.
Trent said, “Black tar heroin is some ugly stuff. But it’s cheaper and easier to make. After the cartels couldn’t make money from weed, they switched their focus to heroin.”
Renee said, “Why couldn’t they make money off marijuana anymore?”
“Because we legalized it in the US. Criminal organizations couldn’t participate in the legal marketplace. And opioid demand was rising fast. So, the cartels shifted to heroin.”
The conversation seemed to be therapeutic for Trent. He got going about everything that was eating him up inside. He talked about Josh’s fight with opioid addiction, and about how Josh had tried to keep it from everyone. Trent had retired from the Army fourteen months ago so that he would have more freedom to help his brother fight his addiction.
“I never would have left the Army that early. But Josh needed my help. And things went well for a while. But drug addicts get good at hiding stuff,” Trent said, sadness in his voice.
Ironically, Trent’s last tour with Army special operations was on the front lines of the war on drugs. Trent had been in Mexico, advising the DEA and training Mexican security forces. While he didn’t say it outright, Max knew enough to speculate that Trent had also done a few black bag jobs while down there. When the head of the Sinaloa cartel had been captured in early 2016, US military special operators like Trent had reportedly been on hand. One of them might even have been Trent.
Trent said, “Sometimes the dealers lace bags of heroin with the more potent synthetic stuff. It gets ’em hooked on the better stuff so that the next time they can jack up the price. The problem is that the synthetic drugs are often ten times more powerful. Sometimes hundreds of times more powerful. And if you take it in the wrong dosage, it’ll kill you. That’s what happened to Josh, they said.”
“Mind if I ask you something? You could have done a lot of damage to that guy in the alley back there. But you let him go. Why, if you think he’s responsible?” Max needed to push the recruitment now, and to evaluate whether, after losing his brother in this way, Trent was stable enough to handle the job.
Trent sighed, staring down at his calloused hands. “It won’t bring my brother back. Beating the hell out of him could put me in jail, though. That would just cause my parents more pain.” He met Max’s eyes. “Men like him aren’t worth it. And they aren’t the real problem.”
Bingo.
Max said, “What if you could go after a few of the men who were part of the real problem?”
The dinner conversation with Trent lasted another thirty minutes. Renee left to use the bathroom, leaving the two men alone. Max didn’t finish with a hard sell. He told Trent that he could have a day to think it over. But Trent didn’t need any more time.
“I’m in, Max.”
Max nodded. “Good.”
Trent took a swig of beer. “You know, I saw you once. When I was deployed.”
“Where?”
“Syria.”
“You’re kidding. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Didn’t seem appropriate. You were with a bunch of spooks, and it looked like you didn’t want to be seen. My A-team leader was there with you in the building you were in. To be honest, I had forgotten about it until just now, when you mentioned you used to do this type of work.”
“Why didn’t I notice you?”
“Probably the beard, back then.” Trent smiled.
Max snorted and shook his head. “So you already knew about me.”
Trent nodded. “Josh had mentioned something, a while back. So you were CIA?”
“DIA, actually.”
“But now you are working for the CIA?”
“Yes.”
Trent looked confused. “So… ”
“It’s complicated.” Max grinned, and then turned serious. “Hey, Trent, before we get into the details, I just want to make sure that with everything that’s happened with Josh and all—”