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High Stakes Haul: The Vegas Trucking Underworld

Esteban was speeding down the highway, hauling a load of soft drinks from Vegas down to Flagstaff Arizona, and he was making great timing. He was a part of the Vegas Trucking Underworld, a criminal organization that was setup by a group of people that were simply known as ‘The Bosses,’ led by a mysterious figure that was referred to as ‘The Kingpin.’

 Each boss worked with a Broker and that Broker would hire a driver, the only stipulation was that the driver had to have a legitimate trucking company and regular drivers and offices that conducted some legitimate business, as a front to the illegal gambling operations that the Underworld participated in.

 The way it worked, the Brokers would get in contact with another (opposing) group known as ‘The Company Men,’ who were corporate businessmen: most of them millionaires or billionaires. The Company Men would then take the load that was costing them the most money to get delivered and offer it to the Broker with an expected time of delivery; the Broker would then call a driver and offer the load to them. The driver would then attempt to deliver the freight before the expected delivery time of the Company Man, and they would also pick their estimated time as well. If the load was there even a minute before the Company Man’s expected time, they had to pay 1 and a half times the original load pay, but if the driver got the freight there at the time they had quoted, or before that time, then the Company Man had effectively lost the bet and had to pay out an amount previously determined and agreed upon between he and the Broker.

 Esteban drove down the road, his cruise control set at 90mph, and he reached up and keyed the microphone on his CB radio.

 “Breaker, breaker 1-9, this is the Piggly Wiggly reaching out to the Wheels of Wisdom, you out there Jim?”

 In a moment, the voice of an older man, sounding to be in his late 60s, came over the CB speaker.

 “Hey, Esteban, where’re you at this evening?”

  “I’m currently on I-40/US-93 south, headed to Flagstaff. Broker Adams said that the company bet 4 hours; I’m gonna have it there in 2 and a half.”

 “Very nice, son.” Said Jim enthusiastically. “I’m currently on my way up to Portland, at the moment, I have a load of steel on the ole flatbed and I’m hammer down that way.”

 Just then, Esteban saw blue lights in his mirror, and he noticed that he was being chased by a sheriff’s deputy, reaching up and keying his mic once more as he laughed.

 “Hey, Jim.”

“Yeah?”

 “I have a smokey on my tail.” Esteban said in his thick southern accent, laughing as he clicked the cruise control off and pressed his accelerator to the floor.

 “You can’t outrun me, Esteban.” Said an older Latino voice over the radio. “I have a suped up engine and boosters installed in this car.”

“Then let the race begin, Chief Deputy Lopez.” Said Esteban as his truck began to approach speeds of over 100mph. “I have a bit of a suped up engine of my own.”

 “Yeah, you think you’re so cool because you’re part of the Vegas Trucking Underworld organization, and you have the protection of the bosses. You just remember the rules: we own the streets, and I may not be able to touch you at your shop, your house, or at the pickup and delivery sites, but if I catch you on the road, you go down for life. Racketeering’s still a federal crime!”

 “Yeah, but you have to catch me first.” Esteban said with a laugh as the truck reached a top speed of around 120mph, pulling further and further away from the deputy and his car.

 Suddenly, the deputy’s car started to gain on the semi-truck, reaching break-neck speeds.

 “I told you I’d get you this time!” Lopez shouted over the CB.

“Lopez, you need to slow it down.”

 “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you, you hillbilly!”

Esteban rolled his eyes as he let off of his accelerator and put the engine brake on the first level, feathering the brake pedal as well.

 “Come on, deputy, I’m serious.” Esteban said with a bit of concern in his voice.

“I’m getting you this time, boy! You can’t stop me!”

 “Lopez, tap your breaks now before it’s too late.” Esteban said calmly as they began climbing a hill.”

 “I don’t think so, Ludlow! I’ll get you! I’ll….”

Before the deputy could finish, the blind turn came into view, but it was too late for Lopez to correct the vehicle, and he shot over the guardrail and into the nearby trees.”

 “Tried to tell you.” Said Esteban with a laugh.

“We’ll get you yet, Ludlow! WE’LL GET YOU!” deputy Lopez shouted over his CB radio at the driver.

 “What happened?” asked Jim.

“He didn’t account for a blind turn: now the smokey on my tail has effectively become a bear in the bushes.”

 “Just not any bushes he wants to be in, I imagine.” Jim added.

“Not at all.” Esteban agreed.

 About 45 minutes later, the sun had come close to setting, and Esteban sped down a large straight at 105mph, passing cars on the right, left, and sometimes driving onto the berm to pass slower moving vehicles.

 He finally reached his destination in 2 hours and 48 minutes, and he sat talking to Broker Adams on the phone while his freight was being unloaded.

 “You never disappoint, kid, I’m more than proud of my decision to bring you on with us: you’ve earned your spot time and time again.”

 “What can I say…” said Esteban with a laugh. “I love the work and the money.”

“And I have another $100,000 payment deposited to your account. But what about the load of freight that we have going to Dallas that we talked about, son? That bet’s worth millions to me.”

 “Don’t you worry.” Esteban assured. “I have one of the guys on that one as we speak.”

 “That’s what I like to hear, kid. You sure did pick a good team to help you out, all the way down to the old man in the Mercedes.”

 “What can I say besides, I got lucky.”

Adams laughed. “No, kid, luck didn’t have anything to do with it. Call me in the morning and check in: I have another run in the works for you.”

 “Of course.”

“And Esteban, who do you have on that Dallas run?”

 Esteban chuckled. “The man we call Flash Lightning.”

 

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