The next morning, one of Riddick's associates drove him to Chicago O’Hare airport. Riddick always travelled light and was carrying nothing more than a duffle bag with about two days worth of clothes and not much else.  He wasn’t planning on staying in Mexico for long.

As he stepped into the bustling terminal of the airport, a cacophony of sounds enveloped him. The echoing chatter of travellers from diverse corners of the globe blended with the constant announcements over the intercom creating a symphony of human movement and anticipation. The rhythmic clatter of rolling suitcases and the intermittent rumbles of luggage carts added to the symphony, a testament to the ceaseless motion of this modern transportation hub.

Amidst the sea of hurried passengers, Riddick navigated the labyrinth of duty-free shops, cafes, and security checkpoints. The shimmering glass windows revealed the mighty airliners resting on the tarmac, their engines idling in readiness for their next journeys across the skies. As he moved forward, he couldn't help but observe the diversity of faces and attire, a kaleidoscope of cultures converging at this transient crossroads. His heart quickened with the anticipation of his adventure, and he couldn't help but marvel at the intricate dance of people, planes, and destinations that unfolded around him in this bustling airport.

He had always loved airports, something was exciting about them, and to him, they represented an adventure on the horizon.  In another life, he liked to think that he would’ve been a commercial airline pilot, it’s something he would’ve been good at. The attention to detail, the importance of the job, and the precision required were all things that appealed to his nature,  instead, he had fallen into a life of crime at a young age, and he would never escape it.

He approached a Starbucks counter and ordered a café mocha with no whipping cream, he was feeling his sweet tooth on this particular morning and it needed to be satisfied.  The female barista behind the counter found him attractive, and Riddick observed her eyes scanning his biceps.  He smiled back but said nothing and made his way towards his gate.  He was flying first class, as he always did and he had no problem paying extra for access to the VIP waiting lounge.  Riddick spared no expense in anything.

As he sat in the comfortable leather chairs listening for the announcement that his flight was boarding, he received several calls on his cell phone from some of his associates, and one from his “girlfriend” Ashley.   Neither of those calls have been from Jimmy Chen or Clayton Radcliffe, the two people he was hoping to hear from the most.  He was getting anxious about the hit on Julie Koop and wanted it done as soon as possible.

He finished his coffee and tossed the cup in the garbage, and shortly thereafter an announcement came over the loudspeaker that his flight was boarding. He grabbed his duffle bag, and after standing in line briefly, walked onto his plane and sat down in his first-class seat.

Riddick was flying to a small Mexican town called El Galaeño not far from the border with Texas. There, he would be meeting Isabella Fuentes, a female captain in the El Diablos crime family.  She had spent the last year overseeing the building of the tunnel, it would be used to smuggle cocaine into the United States.  The project was taking longer than normal, so Riddick was flying down to crack the whip and get the project moving faster.  He was notoriously impatient, and usually, when he wanted something done, he wanted it done immediately with no delay.  He hated waiting for projects to be completed.

His flight to Texas had been a short one, and from there one of his associates met him and drove him to El Galaeño.  As he approached the Texan border, the rugged landscape gradually transformed and the familiar cacti and mesquite trees of Mexico came into view as they drove deeper into the country.  After crossing the border, he felt a shift in atmosphere and culture, as if he had entered a different realm altogether.  The transition into Mexico was marked by a blend of excitement and uncertainty. The once-familiar English road signs were replaced by Spanish, and the architecture took on a distinctive character.

After about two hours, Riddick's driver dropped him off at his hotel, and he checked himself into his room.  He opened the door to his hotel room to cool conditioned air, and he threw his duffle bag onto the bed.  He had booked the nicest hotel room he could find in the area, it wasn’t too far from the tunnelling project.

After a quick shower, he got dressed in a nice pair of dress pants and a grey Hugo Boss button-down shirt, the slick material highlighting his well-built chest and biceps.  He hadn’t shaved his head for a few days and had a little bit of stubble on his face.  He looked at himself in the mirror and thought he was looking younger lately.  Always a good thing.

Riddick spoke almost no Spanish, and he had to use a translation app on his phone to hail a taxi which arrived faster than he was expecting.  He jumped into the back of the cab and was glad to find that the driver had a good grasp of the English language. Riddick gave him the address of the restaurant, and they sped off as he felt a rush of anticipation coursing through him once again. He had made reservations at the charming La Rosa Mexicana, a quaint restaurant nestled in the heart of this medium-sized town.

Riddick arrived at La Rosa and tipped the taxi driver generously, and immediately upon exiting the cab caught the scent of sizzling fajitas drifting across the parking lot.  The place looked deserted, he was hoping Isabella was already there, which she was.

Isabella Fuentes had climbed the ranks of the El Diablos crime family quickly with her tough ruthlessness and take-no-prisoners attitude.  And while she had never killed anyone herself, she had no problem ordering the execution of a rival and had done so many times.

Immediately upon entering the restaurant, Riddick's eyes connected with Isabella who was patiently waiting for him in a booth not far from the front entrance.  She had already ordered a bottle of red wine and was gracefully sipping it as Riddick approached her.  The restaurant was cosy and dimly lit, a single yellow light hanging down above each booth.

“Isabella?” Riddick asked cautiously.

“Yes.  You must be Mr. Riddick,” she responded with a smile.

“Please, call me Bronson,” he said graciously.

Isabella was not what Riddick had expected, she was very attractive.  He had expected an older woman who would look tough, cold and sinister.  Instead, Isabella looked to be in her early 30s with gorgeous dark hair and eyes. She spoke good English with a heavy Mexican accent.  When she spoke, her voice was intelligent and sexy.  She radiated a fascinating mix of strength and feminine beauty.  It caught Riddick off guard.  Looking at Isabella Fuentes, one would not think that she was a member of the mob nor that she was involved in the cocaine trade at such a high level.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bronson.  I know you’ve been down here once before, unfortunately, I was out of the country,” Isabella said.

Bronson was a little speechless which wasn’t normal for him.  He was usually quite suave around women.

“How was the flight?” she asked.

“Good.  First class. Short,” Riddick said while looking over his shoulder for a waiter.  He was jonzing for a drink.

A waiter soon appeared at their table and Bronson ordered, he had a look at the menu and was pleased to see that they had some American-style cuisine that he could choose from.  Riddick ordered a steak, medium rare, and Isabella ordered the same.

“You know, my stomach has never liked spicy food, unfortunately. I was hoping they’d have some American fare on their menu,” Riddick said.

“Ah yes, of course.  I love this restaurant, they have a wonderful menu. They even have pizza.  I think you’ll find something that appeals to your American tastes.”

The small talk didn’t last long and Riddick quickly steered the question towards the tunnel project.  He saw the wedding ring on Isabella’s finger and decided to do away with any flirting.

“Look, Isabella, you know why I’m down here. And you know for me to get on a plane and come down here personally is serious.  I hate leaving the Elysium, I feel safe there. The further away from the nest I stray, the more of a target I make myself for the FBI. So what's going on down here?  It's like Mussolini’s in charge or something, and even that fucking guy got the trains running on time.  It’s pissing me off.  Trump's crackdown on border security is making it harder and harder for me to move cocaine into the United States.  I need that tunnel completed as soon as possible,” he said sternly.

Isabella’s face remained attractive even under interrogation.

“I’m sorry Bronson. We've encountered unexpected geological challenges, and the equipment issues aren't helping either. We need to find a way to get this project back on track,” Isabella said with her sweet Mexican accent.

Bronson looked frustrated.

“Geological challenges?” he asked.

“Yes. Things were going well until we encountered a large water main in our way.”

”A fucking water main?  I’m getting impatient, and we can't afford any more delays.  A water main? That’s the issue?” he asked, his anger rising in his tone of voice.

Isabella took a sip of her wine looking completely unconcerned and unintimidated.  Very few men intimidated her and Riddick certainly didn't either.   

“Yes, a water main.  On top of that, the American government has been funnelling money into border security.  At first, we were working in the dead of night with no problem, but now American border patrol agents have night vision goggles, and infrared heat detection systems and it’s made it extremely difficult to work at night.  I’m not even sure if and when we will be able to get it finished,” Isabella explained.

This was not what Riddick wanted to hear. He felt some stress building and rubbed his forehead.  He let out a sigh.

“How much is done? How much has been dug?” he asked.

Isabella didn’t hesitate in her answer.  She was a straight no-nonsense woman and Riddick liked that.

“Just shy of one mile. The project has come to a grinding halt.  You are of course welcome to come out to the field tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“Maybe.  I don’t know.  I don’t think I can risk it.”

Riddick reached for his bottle of Corona and took a sip.  Suddenly, their waiter was once again at their table side.

“You know what? I’m gonna need something stronger than beer. What scotch do you have?” he asked the waiter.

The waiter had a difficult time understanding English, so Isabella asked the same question in Spanish.

“Mi amigo americano aquí se pregunta qué tienen disponible en este maravilloso restaurante.”

Riddick found Isabella‘s Spanish sexy.

“Tenemos Glenn Fetick y Glenn Levitt, así como Johnny Walker etiqueta roja,” the waiter replied.

“I’ll take a Glenlivet, double, neat.”

Isabella repeated Riddick’s order to the waiter in Spanish.

“Tomará un doble Glenlivet sin hielo.”

The waiter smiled at Isabella and turned to leave.  Once he was out of earshot, they continued their conversation.

“Bronson, this is partly your fault.  You’re the one that’s been squeezing off funding for this project. Two of our earth movers are sitting in need of repair right now and you’ve known that for a while. Now, you can hop on a plane and fly down here and try to crack some balls, but at the end of the day, you’re the one that’s holding back.”

Riddick felt his anger rising even more, he didn’t like being called out.  Isabella wasn’t wrong though, and he knew it.

“You fucking Mexicans. You can’t handle more than a two-hour workday.  That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Isabella’s anger was obvious.

“Excuse me?” she responded.

Riddick immediately regretted what he said.  He let out a breath.

“I’ve spent a fortune paying off local authorities to look the other way. The American border guards are a different story though, they can’t be bought off.  Trump has whipped them up into a frenzy about the border. They’re like Nazis over there.  The untouchables,” Riddick said with a frustrated tone.

“Bronson, we’re doing all we can. Let’s talk about the 500-pound elephant in the room for a minute. You’re paying these workers next to nothing and here’s the problem that that creates. Many of them only work for a few days and then quit, and the more workers we go through the higher the odds that one of them goes to the authorities.  This project is getting riskier by the day.”

Her words had stung, but Riddick couldn’t deny that she was speaking the truth and he respected that.

“I’m struggling to get cocaine across the border right now and this tunnel is essential for me. If it doesn’t get completed, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.  I can stand the thought of having to sell my yacht.”

Isabella gave Riddick a sympathetic look. Her beautiful brown eyes were bright and shiny and they calmed Riddick down.  Riddick was about to speak again when their waiter approached their table with their meals and placed them down in front of them.

“Gracias,” Isabella said.

Riddick cut into his steak and saw that it had been overcooked.

“Goddamn mother fucking piece of shit. FUCK!!  It’s overcooked!” Riddick fumed.

Isabella didn’t even look up at Riddick.  She was finding his presence growing more unappealing by the minute, she hated Americans.  Riddick ate it anyway.  A few moments of silence followed as they both ate their meals.  Riddick had a look of regret on his face.  He stabbed his fork into another piece of steak but paused before putting it in his mouth.

“I apologize. I’m under a lot of stress right now. The FBI is building a RICO case against me.  I don’t want to die in jail.  I also don’t want to die broke. I need to get this tunnel finished and I’ve pumped too much money into it to abandon it now.  I need to get the flow of drugs moving.”

Isabella assured him that she would continue doing everything she could to get the tunnel finished as soon as possible.  After a few moments of silence, Riddick spoke up.

“So, a lady captain hey?” he asked changing the subject.    

Isabella did not care for the direction the conversation was going.

“Do you have a problem with that?” she responded.

Riddick smirked.

“No. Well, maybe yeah,” he said.

Isabella had Riddick sussed.  He was an old-school sexist.

“Many men have a problem with women in positions of authority. Why would you be any different Bronson?”

Riddick pondered the question as he tipped back the last of his scotch.

“Yeah. Whatever,” was all he said.

“Women are undeniably strong Bronson, and our strength is a force to be reckoned with. Biologically, our bodies endure immense challenges from the moment of conception. But it's not just about biology; our emotional strength is vastly superior to that of men. Women often navigate a complex web of emotions with grace and empathy. We have an inherent ability to connect with our feelings and use them as a wellspring of power to confront adversity and uplift those around us.  It's important to remember we all start female in utero.  Why do you think men have nipples?”

Riddick looked at Isabella curiously.  He was scouring his mind for a joke about male nipples but couldn’t produce one on the spot.

“Well, when I see a group of women build a bridge…”

Isabella didn’t respond.  Rodrick motioned toward the world outside.

“You see that road out there?  All those bridges you drive over every day? The skyscrapers, the hospitals. Who do you think builds all that shit?  Women?  See that’s the thing Isabella, men are better at adapting to nature than women are.  Men could survive without women, but it doesn’t work the other way around.”

Isabella’s soft, feminine face didn’t change or harden at all.  Her Elegant beauty remained in place even after Riddick's sexist rant.

“Just get the tunnel moving again hon, don’t worry about the expenses.  You don’t need to call me directly, keep talking to my point man down here, Bobby.  I have reason to believe my phone might be tapped, I need to be careful.  As far as the money goes, let Bobby know how much you need to get digging again.  I’ll make sure you get it.”

Riddick took out his wallet and dumped a large sum of American cash on the table to cover both their meals.

“I gotta go.”

Riddick stood up and walked out of the restaurant leaving Isabella on her own to finish her meal, Riddick had barely touched his steak. She had found Riddick rude and unappealing.  His reputation as a sexy tough guy hadn’t rubbed off on her at all, but Isabella had never been attracted to the tough, bad boy type.  Bronson Riddick often made the mistake of assuming that all women were.    

    ********************

Riddick returned to his hotel room and was watching TV when his phone vibrated, it was a text message from Jimmy Chen.  Riddick had been anxiously awaiting anything from Jimmy about the situation with Julie Koop.  He sat up on the edge of the bed to read the message:

Trailed Koop to the coffee shop in White Rock. The hit almost went down right there. Called it off at the last minute too many pedestrians. Too many witnesses in the area. Roads not suitable for quick escape.

Riddick was disappointed, he paused briefly before responding.

Fine. Just get it done.  When?

A few minutes passed before a response:

Going to trail her tomorrow. Confident we can put a few bullets in her.  Possibly in her driveway.

Riddick had no concern as to where Julie Koop was shot dead. He also had little concern for Jimmy Chen or Clayton Radcliffe. They were both hitmen, and they knew the risks involved.

It’s a cold reality that contract kills can and sometimes do go bad.  The biggest threat to a hitman is failing to make a quick, clean getaway after a kill.  The nightmare scenario of a police officer being close by after the sound of gunshots rings out is a real fear that all hitmen have in the back of their minds.  Contract killers will often spend weeks stalking somebody trying to find details about their daily habits, and where the ideal spot for the execution might be.

What Julie didn’t know, is that Jimmy Chen and Clayton Radcliffe had trailed her to Cravings Coffee shop that morning.  They had parked their car across the street and watched Julie get out of her Mustang and enter the coffee shop where they sat watching her talking to Sarah.

There had been a conversation between Chen and Radcliffe as to whether or not they should attempt a long-distance shot from across the street through the front window of the coffee shop taking her out right there and then.  They had decided that it was too risky and had called the hit off.

Julie Koop had no idea how close her life had come to ending inside a small, quaint coffee shop next to the sea.