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the
Delight’s leader, had explained how they were moving away from the attention
attracting biker style and transforming their organization into a well-oiled,
international drug distribution syndicate. Scorpion, originally from Canada and
believed to have been assassinated, would be working on developing their
network, both within North America and abroad.
    Martinez had
accepted to join them and quickly moved up in the ranks. Following Jazz Kovac’s
death in an automobile accident in 2005, Scorpion had assume leadership but
maintained his involvement in domestic operations to a minimum, preferring to
devote his time to his continued international development efforts. As a
result, Martinez had now been overseeing distribution for the southern half of
the United States from his Houston hub for the last eight years. Two other
associates played similar roles for the northern U.S. and Canada.
    As is the case
with any given business, problems sometimes arise and must be dealt with. For
Martinez, one such problem had been Dewayne Ryerson, a Houston-based competitor
who had reverted to violence and intimidation to increase his market share. Not
a man of great patience, Martinez had soon grown weary of Ryerson’s
unacceptable tactics and hired someone to terminate him. Unfortunately, the
killer, and his two accomplices who had been present when the hit was
contracted, had subsequently been caught and confessed… and pointed the finger
at Martinez.
     
    The door to the
meeting room where Martinez waited opened and Mike Hopkins, his lawyer,
entered.
    “So, what’s
today’s chat gonna be about?” Martinez demanded though his fear showed through
his tough façade.
    “I have no idea,”
Hopkins admitted. “All I know is the Attorney General’s office told me they
wanted to meet with you again.”
    “Just wanna rub it
in my face that they wanna kill me?” Martinez retorted. “I got that part.”
    “We’ll see what
they want, Pablo,” Hopkins replied, “But it’s not looking good. Murder for
remuneration is a capital offence and they have a pretty solid case. I mean,
Jesus, one of the guys recorded the whole conversation with you and your prints
are on the cash.”
    “Hey, tell me shit
I don’t know, okay?” Martinez shot back as he glared at the wall.
    The door opened
anew and Craig Cunningham from the Attorney General’s office came in, though
without his usual entourage.
    “Morning,
gentlemen,” he said as he sat. “I’m going to get right to the point. Mr.
Martinez, I’m certain your attorney has made it clear to you that we have an
open and shut case on you for the murder of Dewayne Ryerson. I’m guessing if we
go to court with this, the trial will be over within a day or two and you will
be found guilty. We’ll go for the death penalty and we will get it. We
had you sent here to impress upon you how serious we are.”
    “Is there a point
to this?” asked Hopkins.
    “There is,”
Cunningham replied, his eyes remaining fixed on Martinez. “We’re willing to deal
with you. The more you give us, the more we give you.”
    “Whatcha willing
to give me?” asked Martinez.
    “Off death row to
start,” Cunningham replied. “A further sentence reduction is a possibility and,
if you really make us happy, relocation and witness protection.”
    “That’s most
generous of you,” said Hopkins. “What are you expecting from Mr. Martinez in
return?”
    “We want the
Devil’s Delight,” the prosecutor replied. “We’re working with the federal
government on this and we want every shred of information which Mr. Martinez
has in his head or stashed somewhere. We want to know who he works for,
records, locations, contacts, routes, everything. We want to take this gang
down and Mr. Martinez is in a position to give us everything we need to make
that happen.”
    “No offence, but
that sounds like an all or nothing deal,” said Hopkins.
    “None taken and
you’re damned right it is,” Cunningham agreed,