Brothers War

Disagreement

The gloomy sky opened up to let down rain as the procession led to Santa Maria Cemetery. The path dotted with wet and mottled brown leaves that had fallen to the ground from the trees around. The pallbearers carried the coffins of Don Guero and Teresa led by their two sons, Jimmy the eldest and Jackson. They led the way to the grave dug for their parents' final resting place. Behind them are their, friends - some of which were rich politicians as Don Guero, once leader of the Blood Bath Mafia Gang in Sinaloa, Culiacán was well known in the political sector - partners and followers.

Their faces as gloomy as the weather, the brothers stood on opposite sides of the priest who was to say the prayers that was to lead the soul of the dead to a better place.

" In the name of God the Father, the Son and the Holy spirit," the priest began as he made the sign of the cross to which every one joined him.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..." everyone joined him in chanting.

After the priest had led the prayers and the body laid to rest, the grave was covered up. It stopped raining and people came together in groups to discuss. Close allies of the Blood Bath Mafia Gang held quiet conversations as they talked about how the new Don, Jimmy was handling the cartel to the displeasure of many.

Jackson engrossed in a conversation with one of his father's close friends overheard the conversation and turned to seek out who the person was. Spotting the person, he saw that it was Señor Gonzalez who had aligned himself with Jimmy when he took over. Many persons for fear of Jimmy's ruthlessness as they knew what he was capable of doing if anyone so much as crossed him, had aligned with him.

Jackson sighed and turned to see that his brother was speaking hotly over the phone and he guessed Jimmy was chewing out the ear of whoever was on the receiving end. He scoffed. It was not surprising. Jimmy had always been hot tempered.

Jackson schooled his features before walking up to his brother who was placing the phone in his pocket.

Jimmy glared at him as he waited for Jackson to state his business.

Shockingly, Jackson put his arms across his brother's shoulder and guiding him, they walked about thirty paces away from where the people were gathered talking.

When they were out of earshot, Jimmy snarled, "what do you think you are doing ?"

"Oh, come on brother, relax," his palm facing downwards and spread out. "See, you need to chill out on the way you handle your people before you have a big pedo, a big problem on your hands."

"Handle my what, you say ?" Jimmy drew out.

Knowing it was a trick question, Jackson looked Jimmy in the eye as he answered. "Your people."

"Sí, exactly. And you will do yourself a lot of good to keep out of my f*****g business estúpido" Jimmy growled in his deep voice.

"Sí, your business," raising his hands, palm outward, Jackson stepped back.

To get a rise out of him, Jackson taunted as Jimmy was about walking out on him,"but you didn't hear them saying that about father and I am certain, you will not hear them say that about me."

In the split of a second, Jimmy had him by the collars and held his jaws between his finger squeezing hard. "Te crees muy muy, huh ? You think you are something special ?" His eyes blazing with anger. "Just because our Padre and Madre treated you like you were their favourite, do not for any second think you are better than me, puto." He pushed him backwards.

Their faces drawn like soldiers ready for battle, one could see that they both had equal measures of ruthlessness which they had inherited from their father, Guero, only Jackson was more principled than his brother. He followed his father's principle of 'you take care of your own, they stay loyal to you and they take care of you. They betray you, you kill them'. While Jimmy his brother had no regard for human life if it would not give him power and money and he operated by the belief of no one being indispensable except for himself of course.

They stood for a couple of minutes glaring at each other. Fire meeting fire. None refused to back down until Michael came over to whisper in Jackson's ear.

With a smirk on his lips, "eso que ni que," he agreed. "At least you know what I think of myself. That I am something special." With that, Jackson walked away with Michael following him.

Jackson sat in the back of the black sedan as Michael weaved through the evening traffic on the Baja California Dorsal highway, heading for home.

Huge gates opened up to receive the black sedan into the driveway. The guard on duty saluted in respect as he stood sentry at his post.

The vehicle stopped in front of a Yellow painted hacienda, which had potted plants dotting the footpath.

As Jackson strode in taking off his coat, his butler on hand to receive the coat and hang it on the coat rail.

"Don ?" Michael called as he followed Jackson into the den.

The den furnished for comfort having two settee with a comforter resting on the arm of one.

They sat opposite each other as the burning wood threw shadows across their faces.

"Sí,

What about the shipment to Portugal Michael, how is it ?" Jackson asked.

"About that, the men are ready. The shipment is going via the Kinder egg and taking the North Atlantic," Michael supplied.

" And the men, how many are they ?" Jackson asked.

"They are five Don, the best. I handpicked them myself as I know that this shipment is special." Michael answered.

"Good, see that it goes without a hitch," Jackson instructed, then thinking of the sea patrol, he asked," the officers on duty that evening, hope they have been taken care of ?"

Michael nodded. Taking the vodka that had been served by the butler, they drank from their glass cups and discussed other matters of business.

"I take it, you will be attending the Culiacán annual party this year ?" Nikolai Bratva asked of Jackson as they sat in Jackson's office.

The office is large and decorated to fit Jackson's taste, grey and sharp. There's a brown oak table close to the far end of the office with two black foam padded chairs on opposite sides of it. In the centre, are rectangular shaped brown leather sofa chairs and a glass topped centre table with a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses on top. The walls on either sides are lined with bookshelves with books filling them.

Jackson and Nikolai Bratva are seated on the sofa chairs, facing each other.

Nikolai Bratva is Jackson's supplier of guns and ammunition from Russia. Nikolai Bratva has come in from the United States where he had gone to carry out a contract and since the same contract meant he would go to Mexico, he decided to pay a visit to his friend and partner.

"Of course, I will be attending, amigo," Jackson replied.

"And your brother, will he be coming too ?"

"Yes, he will. You know he loves any opportunity to show off and exert his power. But then, why did you ask ?" Jackson returned, nursing his glass of Chardonnay as he looked interestingly at Nikolai.

Nikolai shrugged, then relaxed into the sofa chair before replying, "well, you know how people perceive him. Many are displeased. He has stepped on a lot of toes ever since you both decided to go your separate ways, surrounding himself with people who do not have principles."

"My brother has always been hardheaded, wants his way or no way at all. He doesn't recognize that there are ways to do things. Many of these things, our father taught us but..." Jackson sighs. " I don't know Señor Bratva. I just wish he sees reason before it's too late.

"Well, it is good we have someone like you my friend who is..." he did not finish as the door burst open and in came Michael.

Jackson glared at him, " hermano, better have a good reason for barging in like that."

Michael apologized to both of them and when Nikolai had left as Michael would not say what had brought him in the presence of another, he showed his boss a video which showed the hijacking of the shipment that was to arrive in Portugal.

Jackson's face contorted in anger when he finished watching the video.

"The people responsible ?" Jackson growled.

"We are working on that, Don," Michael replied.

"Do that," Jackson ordered as he stepped out of the office.

The Culiacán annual party was held to remember and appreciate those who had contributed to the growth of Sinaloa, Culiacán. This year, it was held at Hotel la Culiacán, an imposing tall building painted a welcoming yellow that shone like gold when hit by morning sun. Gardens ablaze with cannas decorated the opposite sides of the walk way.

Jackson met with reporters shoving their microphones in his face with lights going off from the clicking of cameras.

Michael and another bodyguard guarded Jackson from the onslaught.

The party was well into sway and people were mingling, wine glasses in their hands.

Jackson had just finished talking with a family friend when someone bumped into him.

It was Sebastian, a dealer in drugs and human trafficking. Jackson knew to hate him becaue he knew his side business which his father had hated. He even suspected Sebastian of being responsible for his parents death in the shootout, because of the argument between Sebastian and his father the week before the shootout.

" Well, well who do we have here ? Hmm. The brother who refused to do business with me. I have news for you though, I am business partner with your brother."

Jackson didn't reply him, rather he pushed him to one side as he went to seek out his brother who was deep into conversation. He dragged him by the arms.

"Don't you ever do that again," Jimmy said, pointing at him.

"Why are you doing business with Sebastian ? You cannot do business with an enemy of our father," Jackson replied.

"Our father is dead and I am the leader now," Jimmy said haughtily.

His statement made Jackson grab him by the lapels of his suit jacket, drawing attention before Michael intervened by whispering in Jackson's ear, "we have found the culprits, one of them is at the Warehouse and the rest are dead."

The haze of anger over Jackson reduced and he freed Jimmy and left.

The Warehouse was where drugs were packaged before shipping. In that warehouse, there is a private room, called the torture room.

When the door slammed open, the man, Iktan, strapped to the chair flinched. Raising his head up, he saw with his one good eye Jackson who approached menacingly as one whom the devil rode on his coattails and the smell of fear on Iktan was palpable.

Jackson took off his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves. Then he went to stand in front of the table, three feet away facing Iktan. On the table were torture tools of all kinds, pincers, pliers, rusted knives, cigarette pack, lighter and so on.

Jackson picked up the pliers and coming to stand in front of Iktan, he squatted to be at eye level and smiled. Iktan gulped. Then Jackson took the hand strapped to the side of the iron chair, " sorry for the way my men treated you. They don't know how to have fun, but me..." he yanked out a nail which drew a hoarse scream from Iktan.

He went back to the table, picked up what looked like a long nail and the pincers. Coming to stand in front of Iktan, he drove the long nail into his right ear. Signalling to Michael, who came and took his head in his hand, shoved it backwards and forced his mouth open. Then Jackson raised the pincers up and growled out, "who sent you ?"

"Jiii...your brrrr," Iktan stammered.

"Speak up puto, who sent you ?" Jackson commanded.

"Don Jimmy, your ..." Jackson ripped out his tongue.

"Don," Michael called out when Jackson had gone silent for a couple of minutes. Jackson looked at him and the hurt and anger could be seen in his eyes.

Jackson turned Iktan into a work of art, yanking out his remaining fingers, stumping out cigarettes' light on his hands, slicing his naked thighs and wrists and walked out leaving Iktan to bleed to death.

When Jackson came out the door, the evening sun was slowly receding.

Taking out a cigarette, he placed it on his lips and Michael lit it.

Jackson drew in the smoke harshly, then blew out and ordered gravelly, "gather the men, we are going on a hunt."