Free Falling Down by David Cole

they need.”
    â€œSounds to me like you enjoy still being around.”
    â€œA word in your ear,” he said. “Some of the top suits, they don’t want you. Jordan Kligerman. He’s a good-looking stud, but he’s a pogue. Never rode a mile in a unit, never took down a suspect. He’s an accountant, he’ll use you up.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “Christopher. Who are these…these maras ?”
    He hesitated a long time. Not from wanting to hide things or avoid the discussion, just choosing his words.
    â€œThey’re the worst of everything,” he said finally. “The Colombians, the Russian mafia, these maras are the absolute worst of all the ruthless assassins I’ve ever known. You saw the woman and the kid? Executions. Meant nothing to them. Probably made the man watch before they nailed him down.”
    â€œAre drugs that serious a problem in Tucson?”
    â€œTucson,” he said. “I’ve been here since the old days. Before stretch marks.”
    â€œAnd I should be interested in this…why?”
    â€œIn the old days, you used to know who did what. Gambling, women, horses and dogs, racing, I mean. The dog track is still here, but now there’s a big greyhound rehabilitation group. They’ll place a greyhound in your home. Only problem is, especially with the males…they’re trained to race on the flat, to go after the rabbit. You try to adopt one of these males, they can’t go up and down stairs, they can’t even jump into your car. They only know what they’ve been trained to do. They don’t know anything else.”
    â€œAnd you? These days, you don’t know…what?”
    â€œThe border is broken, Laura. These days, it’s not just your average Jose coming across so he can feed his family. Now, the people coming up from Mexico. Hell. Coming up from Central America. They’re different people, different criminals, different values. But mainly, they’re criminals.”
    A low-rider cruised slowly by, subwoofer pumping a salsa beat, the five occupants turning their heads in unison to stare at us while driving by. I flinched.
    â€œNot a drive-by,” Kyle said. “They’re just curious.”
    â€œThis violence, it all seems so…so random.”
    â€œUnpredictable. Seen enough here?”
    Again, he sorted through what to say.
    â€œThis isn’t about the drugs. It’s about control of those drugs. I can get you a thick file, if you want in on this. I don’t know, I’m not high enough in TPD to know why they want to hire you. But if you choose to go with TPD, count on me. I’ll watch your back.”
    â€œWhy would you promise that to somebody you just met?”
    â€œYou look like a woman with trouble in her heart, you talk about smiles and cries.”
    He pivoted his upper body, looking up and down the street, deciding what he wanted to say to me.
    â€œAnother word in your ear,” he said finally.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI don’t know anything about this possible job at TPD. But don’t do it.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou see anybody on this street yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMost of them are illegals. Or undocumented workers, if you’re politically leftish. Most of the men, and they are mostly men, they send money back to Mexico. At Christmas, they all go home and celebrate Three Kings day. Then they find another coyote who’ll smuggle them back across the border, so up here they can earn more money to send home. They pay two to five thousand dollars to get smuggled across, with a guide. Most of them haven’t got the money, they’ve given all they earned to their families. So they take out loans to pay for the smuggling. It’s all just…just, well, it’s a system that benefits a few. The border is broken, Laura. People and drugs and all kinds of things flood northward. Whatever hushhush