Sunday, December 2, 2007

The Maestro

"The Maestro"

Heinrich De Meester was one of the most notorious bank robbers in Holland , though he was more famous as “The Maestro,” by those in America who ran in all the wrong circles.

I am a musician, a conductor and composer, all in one.

Most would suggest that my music has a staccato tempo, but in my mind? It’s allegro fortissimo.

Even though he was almost cut off from the world in his little shack just north of Mazatlan , Heinrich knew that the American dollar was weakening against all the world’s currencies, but this was ridiculous. A bribe was a bribe and it should be honored no matter what, because even criminals should have some code of ethics, or everything would degenerate into anarchy.

He did the math as they came down his road, right into the sights of his HK fully automatic battle rifle. Two four-door trucks, eighteen men and they made absolutely no effort to conceal themselves or outflank him? This meant that there was a changing of the guard and the local drug lord was deposed. This war party also meant that the fifteen grand in protection money that was to protect him from the F.B.I. and the Federales was not going to be refunded.

He sighed; he was going to miss his little Sinaloan sanctuary. The fact that the new drug lord had sent so many men, meant that he knew Heinrich was no mere gringo. As far as he was concerned, though, the new drug lord really didn’t do his homework.

He waited until they came into the one area of his property where there wasn’t any cover to be had, then he opened fire. His first left-to-right sweep took out the drivers, as well as most of the men. The trucks veered left and right, respectively, leaving the riders in the back exposed.

As I go into my solo, everything seems to be in perfect rhythm: their danse macabre...their bodies and the shell casings hitting the gravel.

“Maestro” or not, of course the one major drawback to a bullet symphony is that even a hack can get lucky. One conscripted man that was of little or not threat because he was near-sighted, squeezed off four rounds during his death spasms. Two of them missed Heinrich entirely one struck his body armor, and the last one ricocheted off the top of the armor and into his neck.

Two objects fell towards the ground. The last shell that Heinrich’s battle rifle ejected and himself...he won their unofficial race. He was in immense pain as the three surviving men, dripping with sweat and blood, stood above him. As they sent The Maestro to his final curtain call, one thing went through his mind...

Everyone is a critic.

6 comments:

jewgirl said...

I love it. So dark. Great suspense. Funny ending. Delish as always, bubbie.

Writeprocrastinator said...

Katie-lah,

Thank you much.

Bridget said...

Very interesting piece! I'll be spending more time with your writing over the next few days, I hope I find more of these strokes of exceptional writing.

Writeprocrastinator said...

Welcome Bridget and thank you. I can safely say that this was the weakest of all my stories.

Quin said...

not the weakest.. not the strongest... but

great ending, great last line.

and the word but takes away all of the stuff said before it...

Writeprocrastinator said...

Quin,

"great ending, great last line."

That's it, it is more punchline than story.