money, then they will. Maybe that’s what’s happening here.”
“It seems probable. We saw that a year after Katrina. Many of the gangs from the ninth ward were relocated to Houston. Several of them created alliances when they were there and came back better armed and connected. The 39ers were a result of the G-Strip and 3NG gangs coming back to town and not having a neighborhood to operate out of. Theirs was gone after the hurricane, so they were spread all over the city. They had to do something to survive. The group that was formed became deadly, until we took out enough of the top leadership.”
“Does the problem ever get solved?”
“Not really, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t keep trying.” Rubbing his finger on top of his glass, he shook his head. “There are days that I want to give up, but I don’t. The damn carnage is endless. One of the guys I work with is a retired marine, and he said that sometimes what he sees on the streets reminds him of Falluja. It’s that bad.”
Joel shook his head and crossed his arms. “I spent fifteen years abroad for the most part in hellholes, and I often wondered why people who pretty much had every opportunity available to them decided to behave like people who had none.” Holding his hand up, he went on. “I know there are all kinds of arguments about how everyone here doesn’t have the same opportunities, and I agree. But compared to the rest of the world, they do.”
“I hear you, man. But none of the people who are living the neighborhoods and involved in gang life see their life very differently than someone who lives in a war-torn country. What they see every day on their corners is like war to them. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to care or want to walk far enough to see that there are other possibilities.”
“That is true all over the world.” Joel took a sip of the bourbon and immediately put it down. There was no need to go down that road again. “So what is your take on what’s happening in Algiers?”
“I think the local bangers posted something on social media and caught the attention of a larger crew. Maybe someone made an offer that the local guys couldn’t refuse.”
“How would they connect?” Joel asked.
“Social media is how it all happens. Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram, to name a few. Street gangs have advanced on pace with technology, as members exploit mechanisms that afford anonymity and instant communication. There are recruitment wrap videos all over YouTube. All you have to do is look.”
“So how do you solve something like this?”
“Keep tapping on the low-level guys until they give you the next in line, and so on and so on. See if we can gather info with all the surveillance we have out there and, God willing, catch a couple of breaks.”
“So why did both men found in the clinic have Vivi’s picture and home address on their phones?”
“That, my friend, is the million-dollar question, and one I intend to answer. I would’ve sent her out of town if you weren’t here protecting here. Quite frankly, that’s the thing that scares the shit out of me.”
“Me too,” Joel mumbled to himself. The idea of what was out there threatening Vivi and the girls made him uncomfortable. The fact that she was on a date without protection tonight was fucking crazy. He had a feeling that old Wyatt was only paying attention to the beautiful woman in front of him and not potential threats. It didn’t matter if he was a trained agent or not.
“I can see your wheels spinning, and I suggest you stop them. Vivi will never forgive you or, most importantly, trust you if you show up at the restaurant.”
“Shit. Was I that obvious?”
“It was all over your face. You must suck at poker.”
“I’m a great poker player. Something about Vivi has me all screwed up, and it’s messing with my regular mojo.”
“Well, you should figure out what it is, because her life is in your hands.”
“I know…” Scrubbing
“It seems probable. We saw that a year after Katrina. Many of the gangs from the ninth ward were relocated to Houston. Several of them created alliances when they were there and came back better armed and connected. The 39ers were a result of the G-Strip and 3NG gangs coming back to town and not having a neighborhood to operate out of. Theirs was gone after the hurricane, so they were spread all over the city. They had to do something to survive. The group that was formed became deadly, until we took out enough of the top leadership.”
“Does the problem ever get solved?”
“Not really, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t keep trying.” Rubbing his finger on top of his glass, he shook his head. “There are days that I want to give up, but I don’t. The damn carnage is endless. One of the guys I work with is a retired marine, and he said that sometimes what he sees on the streets reminds him of Falluja. It’s that bad.”
Joel shook his head and crossed his arms. “I spent fifteen years abroad for the most part in hellholes, and I often wondered why people who pretty much had every opportunity available to them decided to behave like people who had none.” Holding his hand up, he went on. “I know there are all kinds of arguments about how everyone here doesn’t have the same opportunities, and I agree. But compared to the rest of the world, they do.”
“I hear you, man. But none of the people who are living the neighborhoods and involved in gang life see their life very differently than someone who lives in a war-torn country. What they see every day on their corners is like war to them. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to care or want to walk far enough to see that there are other possibilities.”
“That is true all over the world.” Joel took a sip of the bourbon and immediately put it down. There was no need to go down that road again. “So what is your take on what’s happening in Algiers?”
“I think the local bangers posted something on social media and caught the attention of a larger crew. Maybe someone made an offer that the local guys couldn’t refuse.”
“How would they connect?” Joel asked.
“Social media is how it all happens. Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram, to name a few. Street gangs have advanced on pace with technology, as members exploit mechanisms that afford anonymity and instant communication. There are recruitment wrap videos all over YouTube. All you have to do is look.”
“So how do you solve something like this?”
“Keep tapping on the low-level guys until they give you the next in line, and so on and so on. See if we can gather info with all the surveillance we have out there and, God willing, catch a couple of breaks.”
“So why did both men found in the clinic have Vivi’s picture and home address on their phones?”
“That, my friend, is the million-dollar question, and one I intend to answer. I would’ve sent her out of town if you weren’t here protecting here. Quite frankly, that’s the thing that scares the shit out of me.”
“Me too,” Joel mumbled to himself. The idea of what was out there threatening Vivi and the girls made him uncomfortable. The fact that she was on a date without protection tonight was fucking crazy. He had a feeling that old Wyatt was only paying attention to the beautiful woman in front of him and not potential threats. It didn’t matter if he was a trained agent or not.
“I can see your wheels spinning, and I suggest you stop them. Vivi will never forgive you or, most importantly, trust you if you show up at the restaurant.”
“Shit. Was I that obvious?”
“It was all over your face. You must suck at poker.”
“I’m a great poker player. Something about Vivi has me all screwed up, and it’s messing with my regular mojo.”
“Well, you should figure out what it is, because her life is in your hands.”
“I know…” Scrubbing
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