Hammer pulls the Toyota in front of a row of shabby subdivided town houses and the engine shuts off. He swings open the door, closes it and heads for the country club. After surveilling the area for an hour, he finally laid eyes on the General. Abernathy is at Café Triste enjoying his expresso, and his security not far by his side. A tall skinny black hair man named Cain approached the General in disgust. From outside looking in you can tell the skinny man is upset about a situation. The unexpected happens, Abernathy makes a gesture with his hand and on cue the patrons in the Café depart. The Café is empty only Abernathy, his security and the tall skinny man remain.
Abernathy stares down Cain, a look of disbelief on his face.
"Mr. Cain," addressed Abernathy. As he stood to his feet. "I understand your concern's I do. But have the decency to set an appointment."
"An appointment! I don't have time to set a fuc—" At that moment a fist collides with Cain's cheek sending him into a table, which topples. Abernathy makes for him, pissed, and grips him by the scruff of the neck. Abernathy, being the burly size man that he is throws him into a wall. Wails on him with heave one twos to the face Digs him the ribs with a right fist. He brings Cain brings him up and says, "Piece of shit. You have taken Mr. Matteo's money for years. Money that comes with conditions. Non-negotiable conditions. Sure, you pedal his dope, and you make moves. And because of this you feel obligated to barge in barking demands. Which brings me to my next issue. We pay you 15 percent to do business here. The additional 10 percent you steal, we ignore. We anticipated it, as you people are such cliches. The fact that you steal our product to coke out your whores and buddies is also tolerable. What we will not tolerate is getting nothing for our money. No profits, no protection, no assurances. You understand, Cain?"
Writhing in pain, Cain nodded.
"Good. The shipment will continue as scheduled. If not, then I'm looking at a dead man," Abernathy takes his seat and looked up at his security. "Get this piece of shit of out my sight."
They compelled, helped Cain up and escorted him out of the Café.
Hammer looking through a Nikon D3100 camera, lens, focuses on Cain's face. He snaps several pictures enough to run through facial recognition. Lowering the camera, Mathayus looked across the courtyard, focused the camera on the SUV's license plate that Cain climbed into.
The SUV speeds off and that's when Hammer taps his earwig activating it. "West, I'm sending you some pictures. I need you to run his face through facial recognition."
Sitting behind a curved monitor West hit a combination on his keyboard and looked at the opening photo of Cain. He ran Cain's photo through the facial recognition database, and it went through hundreds if not thousands of faces. It suddenly stopped getting a hit.
"Mathayus, your mystery man is name Cain Toscano-Anderson. A low-level foot solider in charge of drug smuggling for Donovan Matteo."
"From the looks of it the drug smuggling business isn't doing too well."
"You would be correct Mathayus," Walker interrupted. I have boots on the ground in the city. And according to my source, Cain has received constant attacks by other enemies."
"Rival cartel?" Asked Hammer.
"You would presume, however it's people he owes money. People that he either gamble or partied with."
"Uh-huh. I guess someone can't hold their beer."
"Cain, however, wised up and started a new method of smuggling these days. What the new method is unclear, but my source will continue to dig."
"West," called out Hammer. "I'm sending the SUV's lienee's plate, number see who it's registered to."
"I can do you one even better," replied West. "I can track the license plate from the sky and give you, its whereabouts. Just a minute," he hits some keys and recon's a satellite. An airel citywide map appears on the monitor and a red icon dot flashes indicating the SUV location. "Got the location Matty sending you a pin now."
Hammer phones beeps and he checks it. "Got it headed there now."