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From: Willy Tamarack <willytamarack@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack" 7/30 {Willy Tamarack} (no sex)
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Date: Mon, 27 Jul 2015 07:10:06 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Tamarack07.txt" begin>

Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack - A Stupid Mistake
Part: 7 of 30
Universe:
Summary:
Keywords: (no sex)
Language: English


***************************************************************************

   @(C) 1996-2015 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the
written permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds
goes to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   !!!!!  ATTENTION !!!!!

   Before we get going here, several notes.  The following is a sex story.
A stroke story.  A porno story.  The content is unsuitable for youngsters
and some adults may find it objectionable.  I've ensured my material is
properly coded and registered.  Adults, who have custodial responsibility
for young minds, must ensure this smut doesn't fall into their children's
hands.  To charge the government with that responsibility.  Wow !  Don't
get me started.

   All my stories are total fantasy.  They are fiction, made up.  MSU (made
shit up).  I started this effort in several forms before deciding on "The
Chronicles" for a direction.  Yes !  Willy's alive and has escaped from the
authorities.  A short sail to Palos Verdes and Willy's on the prowl for his
past.  Maybe a little too gun-ho ?  Well, shit happens !!

   And while the plot and subplots of the following tale stem from the
author's fertile imagination...The characters...Well, the characters are
also total fantasy.  They don't exist, never have and never will.  Any
public figures mentioned are for background and time line purposes only.

   Remember now...Sex should be fun !  As always e-mail your comments to
the usual.

   The Chronicles of

   Willy Tamarack

   A Stupid Mistake

   (no sex)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Nineteen

   Washington D.C., USA

   Still December 2009

   Agent Wayne Montana of the Drug Enforcement Administration had just sat
down to read the latest report on the shootings in Las Vegas, really
Henderson, Nevada.  There was no record on the caucasion.  Both of the
Mexicans were illegals.  The DEA office in 'Vegas believed the Mexicans
were connected to the cartels but right now there was no proof of that. 
They had no guns on them when they were arrested and a search had turned up
nothing.

   He called up the Las Vegas DEA office roster on his desktop and scanned
the names.  No one he recognized.  Except for that trip to the west coast
to interrogate Tamarack four or five years ago, Wayne hadn't left the head
shed in D.C.  Not like years ago when he was chasing that prick all over
the U.S.A.  What a bust that was.  He was scanning the names of the
undercover agents they had in 'Vegas and a name popped up.

   "Mindy Weathers." He stared at the name for a long time.  He recalled
the mission.  Weed coming down from British Columbia.  Certain they had a
big bust, several tons coming in on a boat.  Except the dope wasn't on the
boat and then the subjects showed up in 'Vegas.  He brought up her personel
file.  Good picture.  Nice looking agent.  He'd fuck her in a heart beat.

   Recently she and her comm specialist busted a large coke shipment from
Mexico.  Close to ten kilos.  A good bust.  Wayne's cell phone started
ringing.  "Montana here."

   "Tamarack's disappeared."

   "Say that again, please.  Did I hear you correctly ?  Willy Tamarack has
disappeared?"

   "Yea, we figure he stole a security officer's uniform and just walked
out into the night after turning off half the lights on the ground floor.
Escaped in the security chief's car.  Have an APB out on the car but still
haven't found it."

   "Keep me posted." Wayne hung up.  Mister Tamarack, this time you're a
dead man.  Wayne couldn't help but connect the recent shooting in Henderson
with the disappearance of Willy Tamarack today.  He'd bet his retirement
that the caucasion was connected to Tamarack.  He could feel it.

   Wayne Montana brought up the 'Vegas office roster on the desktop then
picked up his cell phone and placed a call to Las Vegas.  After several
moments of waiting he was talking with the agent-in-charge.

   "This is Wayne Montana out of D.C.  Could you have agent Weathers call
me as soon as it's possible.  Thanks." Wayne hung up the phone.  This time
you're a dead man, Mister Tamarack.

   *****

   Meanwhile back off shore California, the lights on the shore had
disappeared hours ago.  There used to be a glow of what I figured was the
South Bay out in front of me.  But that disappeared in a fog that I'd
drifted into.  I'd lost the wind about twenty minutes ago; about the same
time the glow of the South Bay started to disappear.  The sails were
totally slack, the boat just drifting with the ocean currents.  I busied
myself with counting the money, familiarizing myself with the weapon and
smoking and rolling joints.  Anything to keep me from thinking about
drifting out into the north Pacific.

   I secured the money in an inside jacked pocket, wrapped inside one of
the weed baggies.  Three thousand on the button in twenties, tens and
fives. I ripped the jacket off from the employee's break room.  I was
pretty sure there would be an overhaul of the security at Camarillo State
Mental Hospital very soon.  There probably should be, it was too easy.

   The gun went into the jacket pocket and buttoned down.  It was loaded
and had a round in the chamber, saftey on.  I felt comfortable handling it.
The weed was wrapped up in one of the towels along with my other weed, my
file, and that's about it.  Well, I had several sandwiches I made in the
cafeteria at dinner time.  Peanut butter.  Good protine.  I was hungry.  I
ate.  I smoked another joint as I was just along for the ride now.

   The fear washed over me.  I found the heading was drifting through
north. I used the rudder to turn to the southeast direction I wanted.  I
smoked another joint and then decided to rest.  I used some of the towels
to pad my back.....

   .....It was my condo.  I recognized the man.  I recognized some of my
stuff.  My stereo for sure and the pictures of surf scenes on the wall
behind the man.  He was an agent of the Drug Enforcement Administration,
come to question me.  He was sitting between a young woman, who I didn't
recognize, and a woman who I remembered from my days in the service and
later even.

   They were half naked, both well endowed women.  I remembered filming the
event.  It was really a video camera.  Wayne Montana was out of his shirt
and the younger one was naked and riding his crotch as she mashed her tits
into his face.  The older one was yanking his pants down.  Instinct told me
that she was the wife who died in 2002.  The one with the two boys died
long before I ever wanted to remember again.

   Another window opened.

   Wayne Montana was still out there.  I could feel him searching for me. I
recalled seeing him, years after he burned my cabin to the ground.  That
had to be a P.R.  disaster.  How do guys like that keep their jobs ?  I
remembered a more recent interrogation room and chatting with some guys in
uniforms about growing weed, in Spanish as I recalled.  Suddenly Montana
bursts through the door, yelling and screaming.

   "I've got you now, Tamarack !" He repeated it over and over.  The joy
and hatred on his face was frightening.  I remembered consciously going to
another world, some place deep inside.  Where there was always good weed to
smoke, pretty girls to fuck and warm waves to ride.  I couldn't remember
thinking about those things again until several days ago.

   I remembered lights as bright as the sun.  A sea of green.  My friends.
I remembered how I laid, hidding among them as my world exploded in the
violence of automatic weapons fire.  Then the grenade and it wasn't a stun
grenade as it blew half my cabin away.  The fear I felt escaping.  Then
nothing...

   ...Until the beach and the brown, young girls running up the beach
toward me.  I was carrying a surfboard.  In the distance were two grass
shacks.  There was another guy standing on the porch of one of the grass
shacks, raising what appeared to be a bottle of beer.  I couldn't quite
make out who the guy was.  I remembered fear there, too.  But not so
much.....

   .....The flapping sails woke me.  I looked around.  I glanced at the
compass.  Heading north again.  Off to my right was land.  I could just
barely see it.  I started bringing the boat around.

   *****

   I was hunkered down and just zipping along with nearly a direct tail
wind.  In the distance I could see the cliffs of the Palos Verdes
Peninsula. That's where they picked me up.  That's where I'd start my
search.  I must have been surfing ?  Immediately I remembered the young kid
at the Bay...Lanauda Bay.  The memory just popped into my
consciousness.....

   .....It was years before my cabin burned to the ground.  I was down here
surfing and some young guy at the top of the cliff gave me some shit about
not being a local.  I wasn't arguing but mentioning I didn't see this guy
in '62 or '64.  I remembered thinking I'd go down the alternate trail which
was a little more difficult.  Out in the water this fool couldn't touch me.
He had a short board.



   The kid just appeared beside me, maybe fourteen, fifteen.  Skinny thing
with long stringy hair.  My hair was at least as long but was tied into a
ponytail with a green scarf.  The kid was carrying a long board, thin
rails, pintail, wearing a black wet suit from ankle to neck.

   "Hey !  Back off, dude.  He's riding the point.  He won't bother you at
`middles.' By the way this guy's been riding here since before I was born.
Used to live up on P.V.  Drive west.  You're missing waves flapping your
mouth."

   The guy stepped aside and down the trail we went.  We waxed up together
and I paddled out with "Scooter" Fisher to the indicator at Lanauda Bay
that morning.  We each rode several ten foot plus waves that day and
accompanied ourselves quite well for being among the few non-pros in the
lineup.....

   .....The boat was now heading out to sea again.  I was quite close to
land and was still moving at a very good clip, leaning over the side to
level the boat.  It was exhillerating !  I came about and was now heading
almost directly down wind.

   The mouth of Palos Verdes Cove opened to my left.  I couldn't see much
with the sails in the way but the vibes were very strong.  I'd just smoked
another joint and was almost one with the boat, half lying at the tiller. I
brought the boat around again to the southwest and slipped my ass on to the
rail, leaning as far as the tiller would allow.  I watched from behind as
the expanse of the Cove opened to my gaze.

   I remembered being real scared.  The waves weren't big that day.  And
then out of no where came the tidal wave of white water, at least two
stories high.  Fuck !  I was scared again.  I leaned into the wind.  I was
real stoned and felt I was falling out of the boat as it plowed through the
ocean swells.

   Chapter Twenty

   I was a distance out to sea.  I could see where the dominator went to
ground back in the early sixties.  That "Scooter" kid lived out here. 
Lanauda Bay was opening in front of me.  The Bay was flat.  I sailed the
boat into the deepest waters as I navigated toward shore.  I almost fell
several times as I tied up the sails and coasted to the all rock beach.

   The sound was always worse than the damage to the boat as it ran up on
shore.  I pulled the boat further up on the beach.  I tied down to a large
rock.  I checked the pistol in my pocket and patted the buldge of money
before heading toward the trail.

   *****

   It was just dawn when Manual drove the truck into Palos Verdes Estates.
The other watcher was sitting in the passenger seat.  This was the earliest
he figured he could pull off this trick.  He parked at the corner and sent
his passenger up to replace the other man.  The other man was usually eager
to get in the truck and get a meal but today the one, who just left the
truck, returned, motioning for him to come.

   Manual got out of the truck and made his way up to the house.  He
entered the backyard and found both of his men.  One of them was bare ass
naked, not a stitch on him.  He was shivering in the cool morning.

   It took over twenty minutes to extract a story from him as he insisted
that he be taken to where they were staying to get some clothes.  All three
of them were in the truck when the phone rang.

   Manuel picked up on the third ring.  It was the boss man, telling him to
call off the watchers.  The "gringo" was killed in 'Vegas.  Manuel listened
for just a moment before saying, "We had a problem here last night.  I'm on
my way to you now."

   "I've got enough problems here.  Tell me."

   "Tamarack was here."

   "Tamarack !?"

   "Yea, Tamarack.  According to the guy, who was watching the house last
night, Tamarack showed up about two, interrogated him for a couple of hours
then disappeared."

   Estaban Rodriquez asked immediately, "Why didn't he follow ?"

   "Tamarack stripped him naked."

   *****

   There was a good, gusting north wind, creating white caps in every
direction.  The ride was rough and I was forced to use all the skills I
learned as a boy, sailing these waters.  The Balboa peninsula was off to
the east as the sun approached the horizon.  Fourteen hundred hours.  The
sun set early down here in December.....

   .....Something took me over back there.  I'd slept in the reeds at the
cliff side until zero two hundred.  Really I was whipped and had to get
some rest.  The sail down from Ventura was more strenuous than I had
anticipated.  I got to my feet, did some streaching before tackling the
climb to the top.  In a half hour I was at the top and traipsing off across
the street toward "Scooter's" place.  I'd moved a lot of weed through
"Scooter's" place.  I remembered that.  Him and that other kid, Perry
Hooter.  Perry more in 'Vegas than down here.

   I slipped into the bushes just inside the property line.  I moved
through them slowly, breaking a couple of twigs in the process.  I pressed
myself into the joining of the house and the backyard fence.

   I put my foot on the raised irrigation head and boosted myself up on to
the top of the fence, holding on to the roof.  I slowly crouched, steadied
myself then jumped to the ground.  I landed in a crouch and had the
automatic in my hand, safety off.  I remembered long ago, going without a
weapon but tonight it felt very comforting.

   He was Mexican.  I could tell as soon as I peeked around the corner of
the house and into the back yard.  I watched for a good fifteen minutes;
then snuck right up behind him before pushing the chair over on to it's
side with him in it.

   The watcher was stunned when he fell over in the chair and then there
was the man standing over him, pointing a gun at his face.  He could have
sucked on the barrel.  The man holding the gun was a gray haired, older
guy. His eye's were gray, like his hair.  He spoke Spanish like a native of
the watcher's home state, Sinaloa; and asked a lot of questions about how
things were back home, like he knew where the watcher came from.  He even
mentioned a few names that the watcher was familiar with.  They were
important people in the state.  Just the fact that this old man knew these
names was impressive.

   The watcher thought the old man was kidding when he ordered him to
strip. Even his shoes.  Said the watcher was lucky he didn't tie him up
with his own belt too.  As the old man backed away from the naked watcher
he told him, "Yo soy Willy Tamarack." Then he disappeared into the
night.....

   .....I had the breakwater in sight.  It was getting toward sunset and I
had to be tied up and out of here.  I chose Newport harbor because my
parents had been members of the Balboa Bay Club since the war ended.  The
big one, World War II.  I was familiar with the area.  Maybe...Well there
were a lot of maybes from here on out.

   I reviewed what I learned from my interrogation of the Mexican watching
"Scooter's" house.  I was sure the Mexican was from Sinaloa, at the bottom
of the food chain.  The guy he reports to was going to be there that
morning to pick him up and feed him.  They were staying in Wilmington, with
relatives.  He talked a lot but had no idea why he was looking for a long,
haired hippie with a teenage girl friend ?  I was positive it had something
to do with a large amount of marijuana.  Five years is a long time.  Events
must have changed the order in that time.  There were big holes in my life
but a picture was starting to become apparent.  I had observed the
recognition in the watcher's eyes when I told him my name.

   *****

   Mindy Weathers moved through the bar until she came to the pay phone. 
They were hard to find now a days.  She looked back at her partner and
lover, Anderson Davies.  He was playing slots with some bimbo who claimed
she could score them several ounces of coke.  Mindy got a message to call
this number several days ago but one thing led to another.

   They had spent one night and most of the next day fucking and sucking
with this broad.  Mindy's partner was a bull with a couple of Viagra in him
and she loved to share other women with him.  She dreaded the day this
assignment would end.  She dialed the number.

   It rang only three times before it was answered.  It was late back
there. Maybe early was a better word.

   "Montana." Was all he said.  She had looked up his job title on the DEA
members only site.  He was senior.  Busted a lot of big shipments in his
day.  Being undercover she couldn't ask the questions she wanted to ask. 
But he was out of D.C.

   "Agent Weathers.  Sorry about the time, sir.  You wanted me to call."

   "Thank you for being so prompt, Agent Weathers.  I was once in the
field. But that was a while ago." He paused just a moment before asking. 
"Have you ever heard the name Willy Tamarack ?" He spelled it for her.

   "No, sir."

   "If you do, please call me.  Thank you, Agent Weathers." He had hung up
before she could answer.  She looked at the phone before replacing it in
the cradle.  She walked back to the bar and joined her partner and the
woman he was with.  They were supposed to make the buy tonight.  They'd
been waiting for a while on this one.

   They had a hunch that it involved the group they were after several
years ago.  They had connected the three high school friends together
through several business transactions, really money transfers were more
like it.  It was always really hard to pin down where the money came from
and the paper work always pointed in another direction.

   Anderson worked on it daily, trying to find the connections in an
electronic world.  At night he used his cock and mouth and fingers to drive
her crazy.  Or maybe, they'd go hunting.  It was so easy in this town. 
Flash a roll in just about any bar or casino in town and you became a babe
magnet.

   The woman was talking on her cell phone, setting up the buy.  They left
the bar about ten minutes later.  It was a couple of hours before they got
home with their "evidence." The next day she asked her partner if he ever
heard of Willy Tamarack ?  He hadn't.

   *****

   The waters were much calmer inside the breakwater.  But it was well past
the time I should be sailing with lights.  I could now see the dock of the
Balboa Bay Club ahead and started to bring the boat around.  I had my stuff
ready to go and was lying near the bow of the boat when it came to an
abrupt stop at the dock.  I held on to the dock for dear life then looked
around and could see no one observing me.

   Off to the right about a hundred-fifty feet away was the gate to the
dock area.  The unlit parking lot was off in the distance behind a very
tall fence.  I could swim to the beach but immediately blew that off.  I
was wet enough from sailing for two days.  I pushed the boat away from the
dock then struggled to my knees before picking up my stuff.  I started
walking along the dock toward the gate.

   Chapter Twenty-one

   Perry Hooter drove into the shopping center and parked his car.  He left
the engine running and stayed in the car, listening to music for about ten
minutes.  He then drove out of the parking lot and in the direction of his
home.  It was ten minutes until he drove into his garage, finding his
wife's car gone.  Mandy was at work.  It was Friday.  A week since he drove
the weed up here from "Scooter's." Wow !  What a week !

   When he entered the house he could smell incense mixed with marijuana.
The girls were out by the pool.  Perry went out through the sliding glass
doors and on to the patio.  Erin was holding out a pipe to him.  He
accepted it and took a big drag off the stem.

   "Early next week still a go ?" Amanda was asking the question.  Perry
nodded his head and then exhaled.

   "Yea, Amanda.  Mandy doesn't work until Thursday and after that I've got
to make some money.  So if we don't do it then, it won't get done for
another three weeks and I'm sure there will be somebody snooping around
here by then." Erin was sucking on the pipe.

   "I'm ready when you are, Perry." Erin stated.

   Perry was taking another hit off the pipe.  The front door flung open
and Wendy Collins walked into the house.  She closed the door and called
out into the house.  "Okay if I spend the weekend here ?"

   Perry ran toward the entryway then wandered over to her.  "Sure, Wendy.
Any problems ?"

   "No.  Willard has to go to Phoenix with his parents and do something, I
can't remember.  He'll just be out of town.  I'll move back there next
week."

   Perry put his hand on her shoulder.  "No.  I want you to stay here. 
Don't you kids ever watch the news ?  `Scooter' got shot and killed two
days ago.  This is a no shit tough business, Wendy.  I'm glad you're home.
You get your room back.  Erin and Amanda will double up in the guest room."

   Wendy was in shock as she walked to her room.  She'd known "Scooter"
just about the whole time she'd lived with Perry and her mother.  He was
like an uncle.  She got out her cell phone and called Shelly Summers.

   "Yo !  Shelly, some bad shit is going down here.  Perry wants me to stay
home for a while.  Hey !  Gotta run."

   Shelly was stunned at the brevity of the call and could not fathom what
could be so serious as to cause Wendy to act this way.  Maybe, she'd go
over to Wendy's tonight instead of the party she was trying to get Wendy to
score some weed for.

   Wendy looked at her phone, feeling bad about the way she shut Shelly
out. But she really didn't need to go through what she just heard from
Perry.  She searched through her purse for a joint she rolled last night.
The knock at the door came just after she took a big drag.

   "Come in." She squeaked out.

   It was Perry.  He closed the door behind him.  "You okay ?  Your mother
would kick my ass if you can't handle this.  `Scooter' knew what he was
doing.  Some Mexicans were following him and would have ended up here if
`Scooter' hadn't done what he did."

   Perry took the joint out of her hand and took a drag.  "Your mother and
I still plan on having people over tomorrow night.  Why don't you have
Shelly come over ?  It'll be a good group."

   "What do I tell her about `Scooter' ?"

   "Not a fucking thing.  That's a family matter.  That doesn't include
Willard either, understand ?" Wendy nodded her head.  Perry took a step
toward her and grabbed her by the chin.  He forced her to look at him.  She
was scared.  "What do you understand, Wendy ?"

   "Keep my mouth shut to all outsiders, Perry."

   "Good girl, Wendy." Perry held the joint out to her and she took a drag.
They shared the joint for several rounds.  Perry finally got up, gave her
knee a squeeze and went into the other room.  Her mother would be home
soon. She called Shelly and invited her over Saturday night.

   *****

   Wayne Montana was behind his desk going over what little he had on
Tamarack's escape from the mental hospital in Camarillo, California.  This
guy was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.  Wayne would make sure
that the chief of security at the institution in question would never work
in the security field again.  He believed every word of the report so far.
Sounds just like Tamarack.  But to believe he sailed from Port Hueneme down
to Newport Harbor in a sixteen foot sail boat was a little much unless
you'd seen him elude and escape a highly motivated group of law enforcement
officers with tracking dogs.

   He sat back in his chair and tried to imagine what that would be like.
Wayne would never have attempted it but then that's what Tamarack does
every time he got close to the cock sucker.  He did the unexpected.  Those
idiots at Camarillo can't even find his file and it wasn't in the computer
yet.  Wayne was sure Tamarack had his file.  They'd never find that again.

   It mattered little how he got there, Wayne was sure he was in the
Newport Beach area.  He looked through the file he'd accumulated on
Tamarack since that first encounter, flying that cocaine in from Jamaica.
They should have captured him that first night, but they didn't.  Wayne
considered it a blemish on his career.

   All that filled the file led up to the assault on his cabin.  If they'd
only got him to surrender.  But he fired at them and even killed a civilian
who was along because he had some personal issue with Tamarack.  It was the
Russian who gave him up.  And Wayne never believed for a moment that
Tamarack had anything to do with the Russian's compound going up in a huge
fire of explosions several years later.  Regardless of what he heard from
some spooks at Langley.  Tamarack was nowhere near trained enough for that
type of assault.

   Wayne's cell phone rang.  He answered on the third ring.

   "Montana."

   "Agent Weathers, Mister Montana.  My partner here in Las Vegas is a comm
guy.  He inserted Tamarack into our search data base after we talked the
other day.  He got a hit on it yesterday.  I'm sending you the transcript
now.  The call originated in SoCal, San Diego.  The one recieving the call
was located in Wilmington, near San Pedro.  Sorry we couldn't get better
coordinates."

   "Excellent work, Agent Weathers and please call me Wayne.  Keep your
eyes and ears open for this guy.  I've got the transcript now.  I'll send
you a photo.  Thanks again, Weathers." Wayne studied the transcript.

   The first section of the transcript detailed voice number one telling
voice number two to call off the watchers, the "gringo" was killed in
'Vegas.  Wayne shivered a bit.  The "gringo" had to be the man with the six
shooter.  In his wildest dreams he wanted to connect Tamarack to the dead
"gringo" and now his wildest fantasy had come to be fact.  He studied the
rest of the transcript carefully.

   Voice number two: "We had a problem here last night, boss.  I'm on my
way to you now." Wayne wondered where "here" was besides San Diego and
Wilmington ?

   Voice number one: "I've got enough problems here.  Tell me."

   Voice number two: "Tamarack was here." And there it was in black and
white.

   Voice number one: "Tamarack !?" Disbelief ?

   Voice number two: "Yea, Tamarack.  According to the guy, who was
watching the house last night, Tamarack showed up about two, interrogated
him for a couple of hours then disappeared."

   Voice number one: "Why didn't he follow ?"

   Voice number two: "Tamarack stripped him naked." Sounded like Tamarack.

   [continued in]

   "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack"

   Part Eight
   "Suckin' & Fuckin' !" 

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