Reads: 781  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic





The dead don’t talk. “los muertos no hablan”, was written above the body in red spray paint. Detectives; Lopez and Rodriguez, looked at each other and nodded. They knew it was their own people, protecting the Cuban agenda. Captain Steve Neilson walked over to them. “This is looks like a gang hit. You’ve got twenty four hours to spend on this, and then we go back to the mob hits on the bookies. I want a report by noon tomorrow.” He turned and walked away.

Across town, in Miami, Smitty was laying in the gutter, face down in his own blood. He had just been worked over by a mob enforcer named “Little Joe”. “You have twenty four hours to come up with the five grand; then I start breaking things. You got it, Smitty?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.” Smitty pulled his badge from his ankle holster. Joe grabbed him by his lapels and slammed him against the brick wall. “Are you stupid or something? We don’t do cops, understand? You should know that, agent COLLINS. What the hell?”

“Now who’s stupid or something? I need to talk to the don. If I went through regular channels, I’d be dead by now. You’re killing the wrong guys. Your bookies aren’t on the take. I’ll explain everything when I see the don."

Thirty minutes later, he was standing in don Francello's home. The don had Collins badge and id in front of him. “We have helped the FBI in the past, Collins. “You have our full attention, what the hell is going on?”

Collins started from the beginning. “Three months ago, one of our people in statistics calls me. He says that there is something wrong with the numbers coming out of Miami. Business is up, but tax revenues are falling fast. The stats are showing that suddenly everything is going in favor of the Cubans and against all other minorities including whites. The list includes crime statistics, business, banking, and finance, employment in the private sector and employment in local and state and federal agencies. We didn’t know what it was, but we knew the Cubans were behind it. I went undercover and came down here to talk with some of the people we have inside the Cuban community. Now I find out they are dead; ‘los muertos no hablan’. The Cubans will kill anyone who they suspect is looking at this and they have better intel than you or I could imagine. Which means that we are all dead men if we don't figure this out, fast. Your cell phones have been hacked and your cars have all been bugged by the Cubans. I can help your people with cleaning that up. I have a list of people that I need you to start questioning. You can ask a lot harder that we can, but we need some witnesses for the prosecution, who don’t look like they were tortured. Any help we get has to be ‘la familia’ as you say. No outsiders.”

“You came here to my house, and put these people and my family all in danger, and you expect us to help you? Why don’t I have Little Joe, here, drag you out and let the Cubans kill you?”

“With all respect, Don Francello, your bookies aren’t on the take. They are being swindled by the Cubans. The Cubans are taking your whole organization for a ride, before they kill all of you. I have only moved the timeline in an effort to stop them.”

Don Francello took a moment; “I hope you know what your doing Collins. Little Joe, follow every request from agent Collins, to the letter. Do you understand? ” “Yes sir, every request to the letter, Godfather.”


Thats loco. Thats loco. “If I hear ‘that’s loco’ one more time, I’m going to start cutting you into little pieces.” Little Joe, was standing over Manny, with a large set of pruning shears. Manny’s hands were tied to the arms of a chair, in a warehouse. “Then you’re going to end up over there with the rest of your buddies.” Joe pointed to the other end of the warehouse, where there were six bodies in the corner. “I already know everything. I know about the phones, I know about the chemicals, I know about the bookies you ripped off and the businesses you stole. I know everything that the Cubans have been doing, and I have heard ‘that’s loco’, about a thousand times.”

“So, if you know all of this then what the hell do you need me for, Manny screamed? Why don’t you just kill me, and get it over with.”

“Nothing would make me happier, said Joe, but a friend of mine needs witnesses for the prosecution. He works for the FBI. He helped us, and now we are helping him. So, you can either tell it to me and the camera over there, or like I said, you can join your buddies.”

Manny took another look at the bodies in the corner. He didn’t know any of them by name, but he recognized some of them. “Ok, I get it. I get some kind of a deal like witness protection or something? Put your tools away, I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’m going to record this, so that you can’t back out. Now, let’s start with the chemicals. Manny, if you leave out anything, I’m going to take my time cutting it out of you.” Joe hit the record button.

“I get it, Manny said. It all started at the auto repair shops. The mechanics work with this industrial chrome cleaner that you can’t get on your skin. If you do it will make your arms hurt real bad. They told us it absorbs into your blood and pulls the calcium out of your bones and muscle. They started using it on the other mechanics, to make room for more Cubans to find work. Then they told all the Cubans to start using it on anybody whose jobs we want. We put it on their cars and there trucks and their tools. The guy’s arms and shoulders start hurting real bad. The doctor’s can’t figure it out. They don’t know that they’ve been touching chemicals; and it doesn’t show up in their tests, so they tell them they have arthritis. They can’t work so well, and we take their jobs. Imagine being able to get rid of anybody, with just a little spray bottle. We get rid of coworkers, managers, and bosses. Once we get a mole inside a business, it is like taking candy, as you Americans say. Eventually, we run the business and hire who ever we want.

We don’t just use it on businesses. We got our people into the police, the FBI, the CIA, the government too. Hell, we even got a senator elected, using this stuff on his opponent, before his speeches. We can do it to boxers, football players, baseball, basketball, you name it. That is how we were able to win so much from your bookies. It is basically chemical warfare, one person at a time. If we make everybody sick, someone would notice. If we make one person sick nobody is going to make a big deal.

Then we started listening to American’s phone calls. Americans think that we can’t hack digital phones. We have enough people in the phone companies, so that we can do anything; voice recording, gps, text messages, anything. We even listen to the police. That makes it work even better. We know what people are going to do, before they even get there. We get inside information on every kind of financial deal. While you are collecting a few thousand from some deadbeat, we are skimming millions from Americans.

The people, in charge, tell us, that if anybody asks, we should say, ‘that’s loco’. When we say this, Americans get this dumb look on their faces.”

Little Joe turned off the camera. His rage was starting to build. It is because of Manny and the Cubans that three of his best bookies lost a few hundred thousand and are now dead because he mistakenly thought they were on the take. “So, that’s why they call you Manny the mole. You get a job, and then you start sending information to your friends, while you poison your coworkers. You get rid of the competition by killing them.”

Manny was starting to sweat. “We get a phone call and someone tells us who to poison. We just make them sick, that’s not murder. You killed your own people. That’s loco.” Manny realized he shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late.

Little Joe had a crazed smile on his face. He wanted to kill as many of these guys as he could, while he had the chance. Joe was about to add another body to the pile, when agent Collins walked in. Collins had been watching from the other room, and recognized an opportunity. When it was over, Little Joe was slumped on the floor with a broken nose, three broken fingers and a left knee that still worked, sort of. With a few quick moves, Collins had won Manny’s respect, that he would be protected, and when the don saw Little Joe, the respect of the don’s family, that the FBI was to be taken seriously. Collins untied Manny. “You need to get cleaned up and get some rest. We are going to Washington in the morning.”

Manny smiled, “You have no idea who you are dealing with. There are thousands of them, against one of you. They have money from the cartels, backing them up. In twenty four hours, we will all be dead. You can’t sneeze in this city, without the Cubans knowing about it. We’ll be lucky if we make it to the end of the driveway.”

“If Americans are so stupid, then what are you doing tied to a chair in this God forsaken warehouse, making a video for the FBI?” Collins said.


The next day; detectives Lopez and Rodriguez were standing in front of a body with the words ‘los muertos no hablan’, spray painted above it. Captain Neilson, walked over; “What do we have?” Lopez stepped forward, “We know that his name on the street is Manny the mole. It looks like another gang killing.” “Ok, well, you know the drill. Have your report on my desk, tomorrow. I have to go downtown. Someone hit Don Francello’s place last night. They killed him and some of his crew.”

Across town, in Miami, Smitty, aka agent Collins, was laying in the gutter, face down in his own blood. He had two bullets in his head. The prepaid cell phone in his hand read; file sent. Then it went dead.


The Cubans got the message. In businesses across Florida, employees were quietly handing in their notice and leaving. They would have to be more selective in the future about which businesses and which jobs to take without drawing so much attention to themselves. That does not mean they have given up.

If anyone were looking for the truth, they would simply have to look at 2010 and 2011 employee and tax records at stores like the local Walmart for example. Many stores in the area will show similar irregularities. No one will believe you, however, because this is one case where the truth is stranger than fiction. That’s loco.




Dermal Exposure

Most chemicals are readily absorbed through the skin and can cause other health effects and/or contribute to the dose absorbed by inhalation of the chemical from the air. Many studies indicate that absorption of chemicals through the skin can occur without being noticed by the worker. In many cases, skin is a more significant route of exposure than the lung. This is particularly true for non-volatile chemicals which are relatively toxic and which remain on work surfaces for long periods of time. The number of occupational illnesses caused by skin absorption of chemicals is not known. However, it is argued that an estimated 60,000 deaths and 860,000 occupational illnesses per year in the US attributed to occupational exposure, a relatively small percentage caused by skin exposure would represent a significant health risk.(1)

Submitted: April 21, 2012

© Copyright 2022 JOHN FRYXELL. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

More Literary Fiction Short Stories

Other Content by JOHN FRYXELL

Short Story / Literary Fiction

Short Story / Literary Fiction