THIRTY-FOUR

Fido had known something was wrong from the moment his car pulled up around the corner from General Gomez’s warehouse at the Port of Balboa.

He had returned there to ask Gomez some questions about memories that had been triggered inside his head the previous night; memories of having met Gomez sometime before the shooting which had caused his amnesia. But as soon as Fido arrived he was greeted by a startling sight of red and blue flashing lights.

Cameras and media crews were all over the place, and a rowdy crowd of onlookers had been cordoned off from the main warehouse by the police. It was total chaos everywhere: policemen, EMTs and reporters were all running around like chickens being chased by a fox, and several outraged bystanders were attempting to push through the makeshift police barricades to get to the warehouse, which appeared to be the source of all the commotion.

Fuck! Fido got out of his car and quickly pushed his way through the crowd, approaching the nearest policeman he could find. “Hey, you,” he called out. “Listen, I’m a friend of the man who owns this place, General Miguel Gomez. What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there has been a mass shooting and an investigation is still ongoing,” the young officer responded in a patronising tone. “I’m afraid we can’t release any details to the public at this point in time. But rest assured, as soon as any more information is made available to us, you’ll be the first to know. Now please, sir, keep back and let us do our job!”

A few minutes later Fido saw the first of many body bags being carried out from General Gomez’s warehouse by the paramedics. The emergence of the body bags sent the crowd of onlookers into a violent frenzy; abuse was thrown at the policemen and arrests had to be made to maintain order.

Fido was just about to try barging through the barricade to get a look inside the body bags when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd through his peripheral vision.

It was Evita Torres. She was just standing there with tears streaming down her face, her hand was cupped over her mouth in disbelief.

Without even thinking Fido made his way towards her, resting his hand gently on her shoulder.

She turned to face him, a look of surprise appearing on her face. “Fido…?” Then she threw herself at him, hugging him tighter than a boa constrictor and burying her face deep into his chest.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Fido wrapped his arms around her too, returning the gesture. She was trembling, her tears soaking right his shirt as Fido closed his eyes and held her tightly. It was all he could think to do.

Fido had still been holding onto her an hour later when they finally received some news from the police as to what had happened. The story was that General Miguel Gomez and his entire security detail, including Evita’s father Pablo, were all dead; murdered in cold blood by a number of unknown gunmen. Fido did not have to guess that it was Loa Lacroix’s men behind it.

Evita would have fainted had Fido not been there to support her. He gripped her even tighter and tears began to form in his own eyes, hidden from the rest of the world, and Evita, by his sunglasses.

***

The entire police station was buzzing with activity, telephones ringing non-stop and civilians pouring in to demand police assistance.

Detective Randy sat at his desk with his boots up on the table. He had a crossword puzzle in one hand and a telephone to his ear in the other.

“Well, I’m really sorry, Teddy,” Randy interrupted his caller mid-sentence. “I’d fuck a two dollar whore to be out in the field at a time like this, but orders are orders; you’ll just have to deal with it yourself.” He slammed down the phone before the caller had a chance to respond.

Right on cue, Detective Jackson appeared beside Randy’s desk with a wide grin on his face. He was holding out a stack of papers proudly in his right hand.

“What’s this?” Randy asked as his partner handed the stack to him.

“Nothing,” Jackson winked at him. “You just told me to act like I was busy whenever we had to discuss… you know what.”

Randy rolled his eyes. “So what have you got for me?”

“Good news,” Jackson cracked an even more ridiculous grin. “I’ve just been in contact with our guy that’s in contact with that guy who knows Lacroix. Long story short, the trap has been set up for Fido.”

Randy smiled. That was the first piece of good news he had heard all day. He was just about to high-five his partner when suddenly he felt his phone starting to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and picked up. “Yeah? Ran-man here.”

“Hello, Randy.”

The smile immediately left Randy’s face. He recognised that voice. “Benny? Is that you?”

“You bet your two-faced arse it’s me, you fuck!” Benny Pupshaw shouted over the line. “Have you found your two stooges down by the underpass in Santa Ana yet?”

“Sorry,” Randy said with a frown, “can’t say I have.”

“Well, take note for when you do: you and your partner will both be reunited with them real soon.”

Randy began to fake cough in a poor effort to mask his laughter. “Now Benny, let’s be realistic here. I understand you’re upset over what happened but—”

“Upset?!” Pupshaw growled. “You tried to kill me, you motherfucker!”

“Yes, and it is unfortunate we did,” Randy sighed. “Clearly we underestimated you, Benny. But I’d hate for any ill-feelings to ruin our friendship. I’ll tell you what, how about you come down to the station and we can work this thing out, like two grown adults.”

“Oh, I’ll be coming to see you, Randy, don’t you worry about that. But next time we meet it will be on my terms! You two backstabbing bastards won’t know what hit you!”

The line went dead.

“Great, so Benny’s still alive?” Jackson asked while Randy pocketed his phone. “Do you think he’ll be a problem?”

Randy smirked at that. “Nah, the kid’s just talking tough. His balls will shrink back down to their normal size once his anger’s died down and he realises just how much shit he’s really in.”

“How do you want to handle him?”

“Put out an arrest warrant, and have one of our guys bring him in. Then have him shot. And let me know whenever Loa Lacroix’s boys are finished with Fido so we can all go out and celebrate. And get me that news bitch’s number; Sonya Bravo, the one who wanted to blow me. I feel like I haven’t been laid in ten fucking years.”

Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, that’s because you haven’t.”

***

“I’m sorry, for everything,” Fido whispered to Evita as the two of them rode up in the elevator towards her apartment.

After leaving the docks earlier, Fido had thought it best to escort her home.

“Your father was a good man,” Fido said. “And he was a true friend to me. Just like Gomez. I promise you that no matter what happens I will find whoever was responsible for this.”

“And do what?” Evita turned to him tearfully.

“What I do best. Kill every last one of them.”

“And what good would that do now, Fido?” Evita sobbed. “Would it bring my father back?! Is it worth risking your life for?!”

Fido chose not to say anything. He didn’t know how else he could offer to cheer her up. Talking to traumatised young women was hardly a specialty of his. He felt much more comfortable shooting people.

They both stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened and began walking down the hallway towards Evita’s room.

“Just answer me one thing, Fido,” Evita said. “Did you ever once stop to think about the rest of us when you left?”

Fido stopped walking and turned to face her. “Who are you talking about?”

“My father? Gomez? Me?”

“Of course I thought about you,” he said softly. “You were like a family to me; the only family I’ve ever known…”

“Then why did you leave us?”

Oh, crap! Fido thought to himself. This was just what he needed. As if he wasn’t already feeling shitty enough as it was after finding out the only father he had ever known was dead because of him and his search for vengeance.

Fido took his time formulating a suitable response, careful to ensure he did not say too much. “I just had to go my own way, Evita. My head was a jumbled mess. I needed to work things out for myself.”

The tears had returned to Evita’s big brown eyes. “You knew that Gomez would have always taken care of you, don’t you? You knew that he loved you like a son.”

Despite resisting the urge, Fido had to turn away from her. He hated feeling so uncomfortable trying to hold her eyes, but he couldn’t help it. Inside of her gaze, it suddenly felt to him like all of his weaknesses and shortcomings as a man were being put on display for the whole world to see. And he hated himself for being so weak.

“I couldn’t stay around any longer,” he spoke at last. “I felt trapped, Evita. I was lost. And I needed answers.”

“Answers to what?”

“About who I was. I mean before—”

“Nobody knows who you were before the shooting,” Evita cut him off. “Why can’t you just leave it at that? How can you go searching for something you have no idea how to find? Where do you even begin looking?”

Fido looked down unsurely at his feet.

“Why can’t you even look at me now?!” Evita pressed further, her face and eyes red from tears. “Tell me the truth, Fido. Why are you so afraid of opening up to anyone?! That’s why you really left, wasn’t it?! Admit it, you were scared we were getting too close to you. You were afraid to love!”

Fido’s eyes remained focussed on his shoes. What could he say? The shock of the past several hours had left him feeling like a train wreck inside, and he hated being put on the spot like this at the best of times. But the suddenness of this was just too much. Right now he just needed to escape. To have some quiet time alone and collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Evita,” he said quickly. “I need to go. I just can’t do this right now.” He turned away without looking at her and started back towards the elevator. But he made it all of about three steps before Evita stopped him. Her fingers tugged softly at the fabric of his coat. She held on tightly as Fido tried to take another step, not giving an inch.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t go, Fido. Please.”

They both stood there in silence, as though neither of them quite knew what to do next. Evita loosened her hold on him and he turned around to face her. Fido almost tried to take another step away, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. Not now. He removed his sunglasses, showing her his eyes, which were now blood-red with tears.

“Kiss me, Fido,” Evita said.

Fido hesitated. He had barely so much as even considered kissing a woman before; not that he remembered anyway. The truth was that he never thought much about it; his personal drive to carry out his revenge against Loa Lacroix had taken over all other desires in his life. But now he couldn’t control himself. He leaned in and he kissed her on the lips and their breathing quickened together.

Fido tried to find the words to speak as their eyes met after the kiss, but he was having trouble forming even the most basic of sentences.

“Ssh,” Evita extended her hand to him, tears still flowing from her eyes. Fido took her fingers and she led him down the hallway towards her apartment. She slid her key into the door as they reached it and opened it, guiding him inside.

The entire apartment was dark as all the blinds were down, so Evita flicked on a light switch.

A second later a piercing scream of terror escaped from Evita’s throat.

“Welcome home, white boy kochon,” said the gas-masked figure standing right there in the centre of the room with a combat shotgun in his hands. “Looks like you were about to be getting lucky. Ha, sorry to be a cock-blocker.” His artificial voice sounded monotonous, robotic.

It was Tommy Claymore: Loa Lacroix’s second-in-command.

The other Haitians around him all started to howl and jeer at the two new arrivals. There were seven of them, and their hungry, blood-red eyes were all but fucking Evita Torres right there on the spot.

“Stay away from her, you fucking animals!” Fido took a step forward, sheltering Evita with his own body. He reached into his jacket, searching around clumsily for his sidearm.

Suddenly a solid blunt object struck Fido hard on the back of the head and he was down on the floor seeing stars before he knew what was happening.

“Too slow, kochon,” the voice of Jacky Sanders hissed from somewhere above him.

Fido looked up through his blurry eyes, crying out as he watched Evita getting scooped up off her feet kicking and screaming by one of the Haitians.

“Leave her!” Jacky Sanders called out, making no effort to hide his excitement as he shoved his way through the rabid crowd towards Evita. “I’ve got first dibs on the bitch!”

Evita’s screams became louder still as Sanders moved in like a wild animal and tore her away from the others. He ripped open the front of her top, exposing the pale flesh of her chest.

“Fido!” Evita screeched out at the top of her lungs as the Jackal’s hands began clawing roughly over her.

With Sanders’ crazed laughter still echoing around the room, Fido looked up to see the gas-masked face of Tommy Claymore standing over him. He tried to get back up and lunge at the Haitian leader, but then suddenly he felt another hard blow to his head and his whole world descended into darkness.