Free Once Upon A Wish : Book One by Richard Poche Page B

ran to the window with his pistol
cocked.
“The sirens would alert us so they wouldn’t
use them if they were coming for us,” Nestor flipped on the TV
remote. “They'd come in silent and deadly.”
The TV report showed a composite drawing of
both Nestor and Hernan.
“Police are looking for these two men. One
about five foot eight with a slender build in his mid-forties. The
other is five ten to six foot with a slender build in his early to
mid-twenties.”
“Doesn't look anything like us,” Hernan
said.
“You're complaining?”
The sound of more sirens echoed
outside.
“I can't live like this anymore,” Hernan
said as he wiped away paranoid beads of sweat from his
forehead.
Nestor didn't respond. He stared at the TV
commercial in silence.
“What if Cisneros knew about the FBI?”
Hernan asked.
“I doubt it,” Nestor said, shaking his
head. “If you are thinking he set us up, I doubt that too.”
“I think it is a sign,” Hernan said. “God
wants us to do something else. To escape.”
“We can't just resign like we're working at
Taco Bell,” Nestor snapped. “We have to kill him. He won’t just let
us go.”
“Okay,” Hernan said.
The news report came back on.
“Today, restaurateur Ignacio Cisneros was
arrested on drug charges today at his restaurant in East Oakland.
Authorities say that Cisneros had transnational gang ties to the
Mexican drug cartel.”
The television broadcast showed a tall,
sharp dressed man addressing reporters.
“Today is an historic day for the city of
Oakland,” the television showed his name as Frank Nickles. “Our
streets are safer now that vermin like Cisneros are now longer
peddling drugs to our young people. This is step one in our
campaign to make Oakland safe again. We started at the top of the
food chain. And we’ll work our way down. The only people who aren’t
safe are the drug dealers.”
Nickles looked directly into the camera.
“You know who you are.”
“Great,” Nestor said as he rose to his
feet. “Now what are we going to do for money?”
     
The next morning Nestor and Hernan drove
out to the duck pond in silence.
Hernan tossed the bread to the ducks.
“It might not be so bad,” Hernan said. “As
long as I have time to come here, I’ll be okay.”
Nestor shook his head. He walked away,
staring at the expensive homes in the distance.
A woman in her early sixties walked up from
the trail onto the grass where Hernan stood.
    “ Hola ,” she said in a heavy Mexican
accent.
“Hi,” Hernan said. Nestor watched the woman
from afar as he lit a cigarette.
“I was told you guys came out here early,”
she said.
“What?” Hernan looked confused.
“It's really cold out here,” she said,
rubbing her arms.
Hernan shrugged his shoulders. “Cold
doesn't bother me.”
“Ice in your veins,” she said. “That always
helps.”
Nestor noticed that a man in a three-piece
suit watching him from about thirty feet away. He wore dark
sunglasses but Nestor could spot a bodyguard when he saw one. The
old woman noticed his suspicion and waved for him to come
over.
“Yes?” Nestor asked.
“They call me Miss Sosa,” she said. “We
have a mutual acquaintance in Ignacio Cisneros.”
Hernan looked at Nestor.
“How can we help you?” Nestor asked.
“I was hoping we could talk,” Sosa pointed
to a green Escalade parked in the lot. “In private.”

Senora Sosa poured a glass of Cabernet. She
handed it to Nestor.
“I know you don't drink,” she said to
Hernan. “That's a good thing. You need a steady hand.”
Hernan looked out the tinted window. Some
of the ducks had followed him to the car.
“Cisneros was part of a wide reaching
organization. He was just another node in the network but I bet if
you asked him about it he would say he was the center spoke.” Miss
Sosa laughed.
“We never talked shop,” Nestor said. “He
gave us jobs and we did them.”
Sosa nodded. “You do all the talking but he
does all the killing, correct?”
“I can pull a trigger