The Holy Death

Chapter 36

"So, what kind of jobs do you do?"

"I fly anywhere and take anything or anybody. I don't even ask what the cargo is or why it is. I'm a master at border jumps. Needless to say, my skill set is in high demand here. Why? What kind of job do you have in mind, little lady?"

"First, it's not 'little lady'. It's Elizabeth. Call me Elizabeth."

"Okay, shit, I'm sorry."

"And second, I thought you didn't ask questions."

"Well, I would kinda like to know where I'm going, unless you wanna go the scenic route."

"Okay. I was told you've been to the lair of the Santa Muerte."

"Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't. What's it to you?"

"You are going to take me there."

"Uh, huh. Yeah. No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I have business with this 'Santa Muerte' guy, and you know where he is. You will take me there."

"The hell I will. Are you out of your fucking skull, lady? The Santa Muerte? A legendary killer who works for the most powerful drug cartel in this part of Mexico? And you wanna go see him? What, is this a social call, or do you have some kind of death wish?"

"I have business with him. What kind of business is none of your concern."

"Okay, fine. I still ain't gonna do it."

"I'll pay double your regular rates."

Ramirez was about to object, but then thought about it. Double my regular rates? She don't even know what my regular rates are! "Oh, I dunno, my regular rate is pretty steep as is."

"Name it."

"Oh, well, I usually charge fifty thousand. That's US dollars, not pesos."

"Fifty thousand? For a few minutes of flying?"

"Well, you did say double, so it's actually a hundred thousand."

"Really? A hundred thousand?"

"Hey, what can I say? Choppers are expensive, what with parts and maintenance. And then there's liability, and I gotta keep myself in beans and tortillas, so there's that, then there's my kid's college fund..."

"A hundred? My god, Father is going to kill me. Alright, fine. For a hundred thousand dollars, you'll fly me to the Santa Muerte's hideout."

"Yeah, okay, for a hundred thousand, I'll take you to the Santa Muerte."

"You're a thief."

"Hey! I'm an entrepreneur!"

"Whatever. Where's your chopper?"

"My chopper? It's over there."

Raton Ramirez pointed to a dilapidated old Hughes 500. Rust patches were visible through the faded paint. Elizabeth once again turned up her nose.

"That? You've got to be kidding."

"She may not look like much, but, well, she flies, anyway."

"Seriously? I just got off a death trap, and now you want me to fly in another?"

"Death trap for someone with a death wish. I dunno, it seems somewhat apropos, don't you think?"