CHAPTER 19: THE TRIPLE CROSS

SEPTEMBER 15, 1970

SOA CLUBHOUSE

JT knew it was best to not let his frustration and uncertainty show, but at least this was his club, not his military unit. They were his brothers, and they were supposed to be completely transparent amongst themselves. JT found it hard to look Thomas in the eye. He felt he had failed him and Megan, and that their miscalculations had already cost them more than any of them could bear.

"Wayne," JT said to Unser, who had a special invitation to this club meeting, which in itself had to go through a unanimous vote. "Anything?"

"I'm fairly familiar with Oakland, but the Mayans rule the streets in most of the city and have the support of much of the criminal element, even if its grudging support. You been able to acquire their clubhouse location?"

JT shook his head. "Unfortunately not, Wayne. We tried very hard to obtain this information from our captives so we could pinpoint Frisco's location and launch a surprise attack. God knows we tried. We don't even know if they have a single clubhouse."

"The only location we can name is the Martinez Imports Trading Company at the marine terminal. It has a legitimate import-export license but Oakland PD believes it's a front for weapons and drug smuggling."

"Makes sense," Keith McGee spoke up, "Its believed they're smuggling illegal arms from the Communist Bloc into the country via the IRA which receives support from Moscow. At least two ships a month arrive from Belfast. Most of these arms, of course, were destined for the Weather Underground."

Unser continued, "The exchange spot Frisco mentioned is only a block from that property. That part of the Oakland Marine Terminal is next to some of the city's most dangerous neighborhoods. If you're going to go in with 3 men, it's suicide. And they're only letting you go that close to their gang property because they're sure none of you will make it out of there alive."

"We beat the odds when we got out of Da Nang, we can beat them again," Clay said.

"We don't have a choice right now."

"If you handle this right, you may be able to sneak an additional man into an overwatch position, if only to make sure they don't already have snipers trained on you on your approach. The best time is to get in position around 3:30 PM when there will be helicopters from the news station overflying the port to give their first traffic reports of the evening. That should cover up the sound of your approach." That was the quickest route for them to capture the freeway conditions on both the Interstate highways through downtown Oakland as well as the Bay Bridge.

"That's what we'll do. Keith, you come with me and Thomas. Clay and Piney, can you take care of the rest?"

"You bet."

INTERSTATE 580, TRACY, CALIFORNIA

Alejandro picked up the Motorola car phone as the Mayan driver steered their vehicle along a part of Interstate 580 running through the open farmland of San Joaquin County. Several Mayans followed behind them on their BMW and Suzuki motorcycles. He knew the signal might get spotty as they approached Charming, so he had to make the call to Oakland now.

"Donde estan? Where are you now?" Frisco asked from the port warehouse.

"We just stopped for gas in Tracy. We're back on the 580 now, should be at Morada Hills State Park in about a half hour. Is Benito still being held there? We must make sure before we attack the location."

Frisco looked once more at the blinking dot on the computer screen, still impressed with the new technology. "Yes, they haven't moved at all. This atlas doesn't show the details about the park, just that the eastern section is a campground and that's where Benito's signal is coming from. The end of Wahewa Lake Drive."

"We can figure that out on site, don't worry," Alejandro said.

"I don't think they'll be moving him anywhere far, so don't forget to make sure nobody's watching the trails." Frisco was referring to their plan to enter the state park via the back hiking trails rather than the main entrance where the park rangers collected fees. While the Sons easily took their prisoners inside by van, they fit in as locals. Morada Hills wasn't one of those California state parks frequented by outside visitors, so a group of Hispanic bikers would definitely attract undue attention.

"I understand. We'll be careful. The Sons die today."

PIER 3, PORT OF OAKLAND – INDUSTRIAL AREA

Sure enough, the first of the news stations' traffic choppers overflew the port as JT, Piney and Thomas arrived at Pier 3, a long rotting wharf that covered the area of several city blocks with several cross streets on it. Keith McGee also accompanied them in the van, but as JT slowed down to round a corner, he quickly dove out the side door and made his way behind a dumpster, then approached a fire escape heading to the top of an abandoned steel mill. Keith felt in his element here, as Oakland was as close as anywhere in California got to the gritty dockyards of Belfast and Queens. He made his way quickly up the fire escape and emerged inside the building, careful to limit his exposure in case the Mayans had scouts on the rooftops surveilling the area. Keith's sniper rifle had a long enough range to hit a target several hundred feet away though he wanted to get as close to the target as possible.

He saw the faded signs of the Martinez Imports Trading Company rising up amid the superstructures of several large cargo ships and cranes. He took a shortcut, making his way down a catwalk spanning what used to be a major production area of the steel factory. In the meantime, JT pulled the van to a stop in the middle of a T-shaped intersection with derelict warehouses on two sides and an overgrown lot on the third.

"It's time," JT said. "Keep Eduardo inside the van. I'm not releasing him until I see Megan."

"Let's hope Keith got it covered up top," Thomas said. His main apprehension, though, was the thought of seeing what else the Mayans had done to Megan. If only he had never struck up that conversation with her at the bar, none of this would have happened to her. And through their entire relationship, she had wanted him to leave the criminal life behind, yet he couldn't resist the money that came with the drug business. Despite the guilt he felt, he also knew that it would be difficult for him to leave this kind of life behind.

JT squeezed Thomas on the shoulder. "We did everything we could, brother."

"No matter what, I'm going after Frisco. We may never have another chance. There's so much Benito and Eduardo were able to keep from us."

JT nodded. "I know you haven't been in battle before, but make no mistake, we're deep in enemy territory and if we're to make it out alive, you need to follow my lead. But I promise you, we'll do the most that the situation allows us to." Yes, these weren't trained soldiers, but most of these Mayans had spent their entire lives on the killing streets of Mexico, which they had now brought to Oakland.

JT was about to question where the Mayans were when he heard the rumble of motorcycle engines, then the sound of wheels on gravel. He looked around again, and Keith looked through his scope, and the entire area seemed abandoned following the steel plant closures, which also mothballed the surrounding part of the port and shipyard.

Frisco was the first to dismount his bike, followed by several other Mayans wearing their kuttes, who walked over to Frisco with what want meant to be intimidating swaggers. All of them made an attempt to stare down JT and Thomas, but neither of the Sons flinched.

"John Teller! You came!" Frisco shouted down the block. There had been a couple homeless people in the area, but they immediately scampered away, not even bothering to push their shopping carts away with them. "Looks like we're all here for the party!"

"Let's cut the bullshit, Frisco!" JT shouted back across the empty expanse of the abandoned, trash-strewn industrial street, giving up any pretense or forced politeness. "Where's Megan?"

"I need to see Benito and Eduardo first!" Frisco yelled. "Those are my terms."

"No, we'll give you Eduardo and myself. Then once Megan's safe, you get Eduardo back. One step at a time, just to make sure you're not playing any stupid games!"

"Bien," Frisco said, then motioned to some of his men who were beyond Frisco's line of sight. "Bring her here." He then smiled to himself. "I can't wait to see their reaction."

MORADA HILLS STATE PARK – CAMPGROUND

After double checking a local map he picked up at the Arco gas station in Tracy, Alejandro found an alternative route to the campground that bypassed Morada Hills State Park's main entrance where the rangers collected the fees. Alejandro was well aware that this was Sons country and knew it was possible the rangers or other law enforcement stationed here might be loyal to the Sons and call the cabin to warn them of the Mayans' arrival.

Instead, he led the other Mayans down a local country road that cut through several cattle ranches before climbing into the Morada Hills, a geographic anomaly that many Charming residents flocked to for hiking, fishing, and boating especially in the summer. While it was September now, the weather was still warm and traffic at the main entrance had been backed up. After some more driving, the road they were on cut through a corner of the park, and then there was a narrow but paved maintenance road that led directly to a scenic loop than ran one hilly ridge away from the campground where the cabin stood.

Fortunately there weren't any park vehicles driving down the maintenance road. Of course Alejandro and his thugs had no qualms about killing anyone who got in their way, but they preferred to not deal with the hassle of hiding the bodies until their objective here in the park was complete.

Alejandro left two Mayans to guard the bikes parked at a turnoff on the scenic parkway and brought four others to go on foot, following first a little-used hiking trail then making their own way through the undergrowth. Even the Sons couldn't have known, Alejandro thought, smiling to himself. They had no idea the Mayans were aware Benito really wasn't going to be exchanged at the Oakland pier. They had used the car phone to make a final call to Oscar, who double checked the tracking equipment and confirmed that Benito was indeed being held just over the ridge that Alejandro was looking down.

"You sure its coming from there?" Alejandro asked.

"Si, I compared the position on the computer with this map," Oscar replied, his fingers tracing the position on a state park map from a state map. "It shows the signal is coming from the fourth cabin from the left."

"Can you tell specifically where inside?"

"No, this is as much detail as we can see."

"Okay, we got it," Alejandro replied then motioned for the four Mayans to attacked the cabin and retrieve Benito as he stayed back to observe their movements.

The Mayans crept through the woods and into the campground, which in addition to a dozen log cabins sat amid a hillside also had several RV sites, bathhouses, and a game room. This time in the afternoon, it was deserted as most of the people renting this campground were out fishing and boating or touring the park. Amazing how the Sons could hide their captives in a place like this, though.

Inside the cabin, Clay Morrow saw the Mayans approaching across the large gravel path that ran through the campground.

"Piney, the bastards are here," he said as Piney came out from the other room with his weapons ready.

"Four guys," Clay gave him an update as the Mayans continued to approach.

"More in the woods I'm sure. Another fucking army."

"I reckon after we drop even more bodies, the other charters will have had enough of Frisco's bullshit."

Clay nodded to Piney. "Ready?"

Clay then strode up and fired a shotgun blast out the window. The blast struck on the Mayans in the chest, sending him flying backwards dead. Piney took his M-16 and fired several rounds out the door as the Mayans took cover.

"Hijos de putas!" one of the three surviving Mayans cursed. "Ataquen la casa! Rapidamente!"

The three men opened fire with their East German assault rifles, spraying the cabin with several bursts of gunfire as Piney and Clay managed to squeeze off a few rounds, none of them hitting.

"Cuidado! Careful not to hit Benito, we don't know where inside they're holding him!" the Mayan shouted.

"I'm going in, listos?" another Mayan said then the group kicked down the front door.

From his vantage point, Alejandro saw the three Mayans charge into the cabin. A few seconds later, he heard a loud boom and felt the ground shake as a large explosion ripped the cabin off its fountains, a fireball rising into the sky. He could hear windows breaking in several of the nearby cabins and vehicles. Around him, some twigs were shaken loose and rained down on him in the forest and he almost lost his footing.

"Madre de Dios," he gasped. "Hijos de putas."

Then he saw Piney and Clay run through the smoke, their M-16 assault rifles drawn. They had retreated out the back door and detonated their Claymore explosives by remote control, from the safety of a natural depression in the far side of the woods.

"I see movement on the treeline. It's their overwatch position!" Clay said.

Both he and Piney opened up on the ridge. Alejandro tried to shoot back but he suddenly found he was too exposed. Soon, the other Sons would be there too, he figured. Alejandro rolled out of the line of fire and started running down the other ledge. He saw Clay get on a motorcycle and start making his way up the moderately steep hill.

Alejandro began shouting for the two Mayans on the bikes to get ready. "It's a trap! The Sons are coming for us! Arriba! Arriba! Make sure my bike's running! Stop them!"

That side of the hill was too rocky for the bikes so the two Mayans went on foot. One of the Mayans opened fire on Clay's bike as he went over the ridge, striking it in the wheels. Clay lost control and fell off the bike, tumbling through the woods. Alejandro wanted to go in for the kill, but saw another man in a Sons of Anarchy kutte approaching from his right, holding an Uzi submachine gun.

Alejandro noticed his rifle was jammed and took out his pistol, firing several shots at the other Son just as Clay got back on his feet and began pursuing him.

However, Clay was forced to take cover again as automatic fire pocketed the tree trunks around him. He saw the two Mayan reinforcements were trying to flush him out and take him down. It was clear that these Mayans weren't used to fighting in the woods. Now unlike in Vietnam, he was the guerilla fighting on his home turf, Clay thought to himself. I got you, motherfucker.

This distraction allowed Alejandro to focus on escaping the other Son, and he made his way off a rocky overlook, tumbling down the hills, rolling over and over again in pain, bruising himself all over his body but he had to do whatever he could to escape this ambush.

Instead of continuing to fire, Clay crawled along a creek bed heading down the hill toward the scenic drive. The Mayans were confused by the sudden lack of return fire after rushing into a small clearing, where they stepped into a small puddle, soaking their shoes with muddy water.

"Fuck!" one of them said.

"Where the fuck did he go?" the other Mayan mouthed. He then fired his gun several times into the air and yelled. "You fucking coward killed Benito and you don't have the cajones to show your face? I'm going to find you, motherfucker! Vas a morir! You hear me, you cowboy motherfucker?"

"Loud and clear, pendejo," Clay whispered to himself, then emerged from the creek bed. The first Mayan was shot three times through the back, the bullets penetrating his internal organs and coming out the other side. His comrade saw him gasp and drop with both sides of his shirt stained with blood. He landed in a puddle with a bloody splash.

The other Mayan fired his pistol in the direction that Clay's shots had come from, but then there was silence except for the cascading waters of the creek, the rustling of the leaves in a gentle breeze.

"I know you're here somewhere. Puta madre."

Clay stood back up from his spot in the creek and shot the man in the stomach. The Mayan returned fire, getting four shots off but Clay was now behind some large ferns. As he was reloading, Clay came forward again and finished off the Mayan with two more shots to the chest.

MORADA HILLS STATE PARK – SCENIC LOOP

By this time, Alejandro had made it down to the bikes. He opened fire in the direction of the woods, but was met by more furious gunfire from both Clay's pistol and the other Son's Uzi carbine, which was far more powerful. He knew he had to retreat. He opened fire into the trees again, forcing Clay to duck and take cover. There was chaos among the light traffic on the scenic road as drivers quickly sped away from the sound of gunfire coming from the woods. The cloud of black smoke rising into the sky from the campground on the other side of the hill only contributed to the panic, and several park police units had also been notified already, with two squad cars speeding away from the ranger station at the state park headquarters.

Alejandro quickly turned the ignition on his bike as he saw that the other Son had also made his way down the hill. The Son opened up with his Uzi again, but Alejandro floored the accelerator and sped off. He near rode diagonally as he went to the other side of the sedan they had arrived in, using it as cover. Bullets from the Israeli-made Uzi submachine gun tore through the vehicle, sending pieces of the leather seats into the air and striking the engine block, steam coming out of the ruined radiator.

He looked back and saw that his pursuer had now grabbed one of the Mayans' other BMW motorcycles with the clear intention of chasing him down. Alejandro looked ahead and saw that the scenic road went through a series of switchbacks as it went through rock formations and other pieces of forestland, heading downhill. Shit, he thought. Each large curve on the road slowed him down a bit. He was used to Oakland's grid street pattern. Very few curves where he was from aside from a couple of the newer flyover interchanges on the major freeways.

He saw that his pursuer, though, was not delayed a single bit. In fact, the mysterious rider in the SOA motorcycle jacket took a shortcut right through the woods, expertly making his way through the pine trees and jumping over several fallen logs on the forest floor, coming back onto the road only ten car lengths behind him. A small Volkswagen Beetle honked as the Son came out of nowhere and appeared right in front of it. The rider ignored the horn and continued picking up speed now that he was back on blacktop. Alejandro pulled his pistol back out of his motorcycle jacket and fired behind him, but the difficulty of navigating his bike at the same time caused his aim to go high. He wondered where that Son had learned to ride one of the Mayans' bikes. He always thought the American models were very different.

The park police had set up a roadblock up ahead, two officers in their tan uniforms getting out of their vehicles with their guns drawn. Alejandro turned his attention to them and opened fire, gunning down the first cop just as he aimed at the bikers. He missed the other officer, but the gunfire and the bike forced him to jump out of the way beyond the shoulder. The other Son continued bearing down on them. The cop managed to run back onto the road and open fire, discharging his weapon four times, but none of the bikers were hit.

Now the road finally straightened out as it entered a flat piece of the pine forest. Alejandro felt a sharp pain as several Uzi rounds struck his lower back, coming out through his kidneys and splattering blood onto his handlebars. The force of the rounds and the pain caused him to lose control of the bike. Alejandro hit a boulder on the side of the road and flew forward off his bike, slamming into a tree twenty feet above the ground then falling back down. He tried to move through the pain but couldn't. It was clear that his back was broken by the impact.

The other BMW bike came to a stop and his pursuer cut the engine, walking over and taking off his motorcycle helmet. To Alejandro's extreme shock, it was none other than Benito Chavarria.

"I know your head must be spinning right now, and not just from the collision," Benito said, looming over Alejandro. "Like what the fuck is going on?"

"Benito….you…..fucking traitor…." Alejandro said, gurgling on his own blood.

"Actually no, I'm not," Benito said, no longer trying to hide his American accent as he spoke Spanish. "I was never one of you."

Benito nodded as Alejandro looked at him in shock. "I've been keeping some secrets for the past three years. Maybe now you understand why your attack on Otto Moran and Wayne Unser's homes in Charming failed. My real name is Chico Villenueva. I was born and raised in Charming, and I'm a member of the Sons of Anarchy."

"You….fuck…." Alejandro standard.

"No, fuck you, mojado" Chico said before firing a bullet into Alejandro's brain.

Author's Note: I know some of y'all are probably very surprised at the twist, but it will be explained in the next couple installments I promise. And if you go back and re-read the previous chapters carefully, everything should hopefully make sense.