Obviously crime pays or there
                                                                    would be no crime...

                                                                    G. Gordon Liddy

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     It is well known by veteran robbery detectives from large metropolitan areas like Houston or Los Angeles that many professional bank robbers have or try to keep a full time job. By doing this, the thieves-the bad guys— can accomplish two key things. First they are off the police radar merely because they have a full time occupation. Most Street Cops will not even give them a second look if the guy is busting his ass forty, fifty hours a week, getting his hands dirty, going to work every day...

    
    
    Seated at one end of the bar are four men—three off duty, seasoned men, mid to late 50s, with a bit of gray hair mixed in—city plain clothes detectives and one FBI Agent. Mind ya’ this is no regular old wooden bar. This bar is the one from the old, world famous...at least at one time—world famous, Rice Hotel. She was constructed by men, real carpenters and masons...brick by brick back in 1912 on the actual site of the former Capitol building of the Republic of Texas and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places...

    Send the team into the field of temptation one time too many and they may be lost forever. This one was reported lost, KIA (Killed in Action) back in 1996. The new kids sing of their conquests and accomplishments in the schools up north, but a few...only a few key party officials know otherwise. These six men are now on an Official Party hit list.

    The Communist had lost operational control. They lost the covert squad on a mission to the west. Oh the target was tortured and eradicated, but their men never came home. On that day, they became self aware. These six men were now officially guns 100% for hire on the black market...on the open market. No longer settling for mere foot soldier’s pay, they confiscated somewhere over twenty million dollars and hung out a magical shingle which simply stated to all, Guns for Hire.

    

    Up high, another day and another airplane flying along. The bright shiny silver DC-9-30 airliner is at altitude; today she’s spewing out two beautiful condensation trails, dodging thunderstorms and towering cumulous nimbus clouds. She’s trying to make it to her intended destination. The tall puffy clouds surround the jets, the cumulus buildups...the beginning part, the updraft of the warm air, the parts of a thunderstorm on a typical spring day all across the US. All around the sky are huge cloud formations and stormy dark dreary skies. Off to the southwest at a distance, rain is falling...coming down rather hard; lightning is popping from the clouds to the ground below. The streaks of electricity are extremely beautiful, but dreadfully dangerous at the same time...

    Sal lifts his beer for another big drink...he continues. “Lost my older brother in a Thud (North American F-105 Thunder Chief) one day up north of the DMZ- the Demilitarized Zone and the pilot of the Thud I was crew chief on two months later. He takes a big drink. “Neither pilots were ever found. He, too, was like an older brother to me. Man, I loved him like a brother.” 

 ... Unlike combat in the jungles of Vietnam or in the deserts of Afghanistan, city combat is extraordinarily different and difficult. Ask any large city police officer. There are always innocent citizens around to deal with...and no one can fade the heat of shooting anyone except the bad guys.