Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1)

by Dana Arama

  The alley between the buildings was empty and safe. “I want you to stay here, while I go and question our stalker.” I said quietly.

  “No. We don’t have time for this now.”

  Laura Ashton,

  Cancun, November 12, 2015, 9:50 a.m.

  Guy looked at me in surprise. He said, “First of all, we have a lot of time, and second of all, he’s a pro. Why shouldn’t we end this now?”

  “Because wherever he came from, a lot more can come as well,” I answered him hurriedly. I knew we were talking about a professional. Even though I anticipated being followed, I didn’t recognize the man. Guy had spotted him by chance. It wasn’t a surveillance by the cartel, but by the American authorities. The surveillance was for me. I didn’t want Guy to know about it. I left the country with my real passport and on a mission like this, it was considered a mistake. And if Guy was who I thought he was -- a Mossad agent -- he would also have an abundance of passports, but he had used the one identifying him as Niava. It was a pity, our passports acting to our detriment.

  When I was back in the office and had realized I had no way to get to Mexico, I picked up the phone to Arlington, to the Anti-Drug Authority and spoke with the manager there. This was a man who could allow me to travel freely because he could choose what he wanted to report. I knew I had to promise him something that only I could give him. What I promised him was the location of the successor of El Chapo. Information like that on the new leader of the cartel was like treasure for the Anti-Drug organization, and for the head of the organization especially. Information that only a few people know holds much power. I promised that my investigations would produce a lead to find Gail. I promised the head of the Anti-Drug Authority the information that he wanted, because he personally knew me and Gail and he also knew that I would do everything in my power to save her, especially with an opportunity like this knocking on my door. The trail was to ensure that I keep my promise.

  He wasn’t worried I wouldn’t locate my target. He wanted to make sure that I passed on the information to him. Because there was a significant chance that once I finished my personal mission and found Gail, I would sabotage my own professional success for his personal failure. Because the only person I hated more than the person who now held Gail was my uncle -- the head of the Anti-Drug Authority. I hated him, I despised him, I was afraid of him… and he knew it.

  “We should leave the stalker in his place. We already know about him; we have already managed to elude him. If we burn him, the ones after him will be more careful.

  Think of Jonathan. We don’t need time to waste on unnecessary battles. Every moment is significant.”

  “Yes, I get your drift, every moment counts,” he agreed.

  I wanted to have this meeting already. My body was charged, just as it always as before meeting with her. My heart was racing, I felt pressure in the back of my head and every cell of my body was electrified. Maybe it was just the anticipation of seeing her again. She was the one, that from the first time we met, I had difficulty breathing when I was close to her. I had no idea how she was going to react when she saw me. If I wasn’t equipped with David Gideoni’s name and accompanied by Guy, I don’t know if I would have the courage to appear in her stronghold.

  Guy Niava,

  Cancun, November 12, 2015, 12:00 p.m.

  The sun scorched and dried the Mexican faces around us; even their traditional sombreros didn’t help. We stopped at a small corner kiosk and bought a bottle of water. An old man sat there, using a piece of torn carton as a fan and complaining of global warming. “What is it going to be like in the summer?” he asked, as if he expected that as soon as summer arrived, the world would end. My watch showed that it was twenty-eight degrees Celsius, and I thought that the temperature was pleasant.

  In addition to the water, we also got directions to what we thought was supposed to be Zorro’s place, an assumption which proved correct.

  Zorro looked as though she’d come from the same manufacturer as Laura, only with green eyes and an even more pronounced sex appeal. The first thing she said to Laura when she saw her was, “So you’re blonde now.” So, Laura had not always been a blonde.

  “What’s important about hair color?” Laura asked, humorously which seemed out of character. The humorous spell ended quickly, and Laura announced, “David Gideoni sends his regards and requests that you help us.”

  Without answering, Zorro looked me up and down and asked, “Are you with her?”

  The question had a few potential meanings and so I looked at the two green flames in front of me and answered, “For this particular matter, I’m with her.”

  Zorro bit back a smile. She had asked, I had answered, and the conclusion was obvious to both of us.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  I looked around. There were workers preparing the stage for the night’s show, porters pushing crates of drinks, and kitchen staff coming and going with boxes of vegetables and other food items. “First of all, we need a secluded place where we can talk.”

  “You’re right.” Zorro put her arm through mine and though it was the same gesture that Laura had done, and the feeling it evoked was different. “Anything that has to do with David Gideoni,” Zorro said, in strangely accented Hebrew, “needs seclusion.”

  ***

  Zorro’s office was a space mainly occupied by a round wooden table topped by a piece of thick glass. Underneath the glass were etchings of an artist describing some sort of religious ritual. On the far side of the table was a small desk with a blank screen atop it. Between the two tables, next to the wall stood a simple iron cabinet. As soon as we sat around the table, a smiling waitress walked in with a tray with three frozen margaritas. “In this heat, there is no hour too early for a good margarita,” said the waitress. She served us and before she went out asked, “How long do I need to give you before the next round?”

  Zorro answered, “They look as if they need permanent cooling… give us about fifteen minutes and come back with the new margaritas that Bart served yesterday.” Only after we clinked glasses did Zorro say, “Speak.”

  I looked at Laura and asked, “Do you want to present the situation?”

  Her eyes were staring at Zorro, but she spoke to me, “I think that the Israeli story will make the difference between cooperation and just friendly hospitality.”

  I nodded, and said, “The situation is related to Israel, which is why Gideoni sent us here.” I told Zorro most everything I knew. I left out my personal attachment to the story. She didn’t have a personal debt to me. Her debt was to the State of Israel, to the Mossad, to Gideoni, who had saved her.

  Zorro listened attentively, and when I was finished, she took a sip of her drink and thought things over for a few more minutes before she spoke. “I understand that you need to follow the money-drug-arms route. Or, alternatively, locate whomever agreed to this deal.”

  “Exactly,” Laura and I agreed unanimously, like soldiers.

  “There are a few options. You will have to check what suits you the best, because according to the schedule, you will only have one chance and it too is problematic.”

  “Please explain.”

  Zorro smiled. “Basically, the cartels are divided into two groups based on old alliances. For over fifty years they have been fighting over territory for growing poppy and marijuana fields, and human resources… which means control over villages. They battle over contacts with government officials, guard officials and corrupt judges.

  “Another side of this battle is transporting the drugs into the United States and from there onto Canada and Europe. The transportation is a sensitive issue because it concerns all other issues as well: villages which have safe passages, police control checkpoints that can stop you or accompany you safely, and, most importantly, help you cross the border. Whoever controls the corridor which leads to North America controls
the market. The eastern corridor has been controlled by the Juarez and Gulf cartels. Then there is the west corridor. Needless to say the west coast is flourishing with drugs. The corridor between El Paso and Juarez is the most important and sets the standard, because its revenues from drug dealing are the highest.”

  Zorro’s explanation was cut short by a knock on the door. She acknowledged it and the smiling waitress came in once again with tequilas, red as blood.

  “Ooh! These look delicious. My barman likes inventing new drinks. This is a mixture of red grapefruit and watermelon. It looks deliciously amazing.”

  We each took a glass from the tray. The drink had a mixture of bitterness with sweetness and did exactly what it was meant to -- freshen the day.

  The waitress left and Zorro continued with her explanation. “Both the Gulf cartel and the Juarez cartel are old rivalries. Both of them were established in the Seventies. The Gulf cartel had their own armed guards called Los Zetas. Around the end of the Nineties, the Los Zetas betrayed the Gulf cartel and disengaged themselves. They changed sides and made a pact with the Juarez cartel.”

  “Why are the Los Zetas so significant in the arena?” I asked.

  “Because, it is a cartel which consists of ex-lawmen; local cops, federal cops and soldiers -- special units. They are the ones who raised the level of violence on the Mexican streets and brought the famous beheading. They are very sophisticated, more so than the cops chasing them, and so is their ability to handle teams and arms. The detachment from the Gulf cartel caused a double loss. Not only did it lose the protection of ex-lawmen, with all their alliances and connections, but they also became a target for the government.”

  “That was a big risk they were taking,” I noted

  Zorro looked at me with utmost seriousness and replied, “In the drug business, the reward is so great that it is always worth the risk!”

  “Understood,” I answered, and she continued.

  “Lately, a number of key operatives from Los Zetas were killed and instead of the older commanders, young commanders took over. Since then, a higher but less skilled level of violence has been seen.

  “The second group is the Juarez cartel, who over the years controlled the Ciudad Juarez area. The Juarez controlled the territories of the fields and the transport routes of the drugs. They managed to do all this with the help of corrupt officials. Their trouble started in the late Nineties, when the head of the cartel, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, died. By the way,” she smiled, “It happened during plastic surgery. The sleeping beauty went to sleep and never awoke. Fuentes’s death caused a big problem, as their connections were based on his acquaintances with the corrupt officials. From that moment onwards, the cartel lost a lot of its power.”

  “So, this is only the background story, in order to understand what is happening today in the field?” Laura asked, looking earnestly at Zorro, waiting for her to continue.

  “Yes. That’s correct. The Gulf cartel signed a treaty with the Sinaloa cartel, which controls more than forty-seven countries, where they are the sole cocaine distributors. This makes them the largest South American cocaine drug distributor in the world. Besides cocaine, Sinaloa supplies heroin, marijuana and amphetamines. Their smuggling into the United States is concentrated in the Arizona area. There is a group of citizens trying to put a stop to the smuggling, but the smuggling doesn’t just happen above ground, but through specially-constructed tunnels.”

  “The amount of money they have allows them to hire people, just like any other industry,” Laura said.

  Zorro nodded and took a sip of her drink.

  “And what happened to the opposing cartels?” I asked

  Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. Zorro went to open it. An excited gush of Spanish, spoken in a masculine voice could be heard by the door. Zorro answered him calmly and turned towards us. “There is a small problem in the kitchen. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back.” She closed the door behind her, and we were left with our empty glasses and a story only half finished.

  “You do realize that she could rat on us now?”

  “Do you want to go and see what’s happening out there?”

  “Yes. I will ask where the toilet is. I don’t trust her at all,” Laura said and stood up, but as she was about to walk towards the door, it opened, and Zorro entered with three new drinks.

  “You have to taste these. They taste like heaven. I know he put passionfruit in it, but he refuses to tell me the rest of the ingredients.”

  “We have to get out of here by four,” Laura smiled, as if a moment ago she hadn’t said she mistrusted our host.

  “A bit of alcohol, a lot of flavored ice. There is so little alcohol that even you won’t get drunk. Let’s continue the analysis of the situation. We left at the point of the cartel opposing the Sinaloa -- The Tijuana cartel. In the beginning they accumulated a lot of power, but as soon as their leader was killed in a shootout, the cartel was left a mere shadow of what it was. It currently limits its activities only to Tijuana.

  “Beltran Leyva was in the same Juarez treaty as Tijuana and Los Zetas. He was the head of the newest cartel. Him and El Chapo have an ongoing conflict -- a personal conflict, really. It started when El Chapo’s son was released from prison and by chance or not, Leyva Beltran’s brother, Alfredo, was arrested. That was the turning point from business to personal. That was when the murders of key cartel players started and the climax of it all was when they assassinated the twenty-two-year-old son of Joaquin Guzman, the head of the Sinaloa, in a parking lot.

  “In the last three years, three out of four Sinaloa brothers have been either arrested or killed. Remember this detail. It is important in order to understand the complexity of the present situation,” Zorro commanded.

  “If I understood correctly, it seems as if all the cartels are losing their power slowly,” I commented.

  “And as everyone knows, there is no such a thing as a vacuum in the field,” Zorro said. She brushed stray hairs from her face and continued. “The authorities hunt down the small cartels, and rightfully so, along with the big cartels, and in their place a new power has emerged. A branch that used to belong to the Sinaloa -- The Jalisco, or to be specific, the new generation of the Jalisco, called the CJNG.”

  Another knock came at the door and, without waiting for an answer, a young man peeked his head in the room. He didn’t say a word and Zorro got up from her seat. “I’m sorry, duty calls. Will be right back.”

  The ‘be right back’ turned out to be longer than expected. “I think you need to go to the toilet,” I hinted to Laura. She nodded her head, got up and put her ear to the door, listening to the outside noises. By the look on her face, she was listening to something very disturbing on the other side. She opened the door wide open to see Zorro talking to the young man. They both shut up and looked at us when the door opened.

  “Where is the bathroom?”

  They pointed left, silently, towards the way we came, and Laura made her way in that direction. Afterwards the door closed shut again. I continued waiting. Would the conversation outside influence her decision to help us?

  A few moments later the door reopened, and Zorro and Laura walked back inside.

  “I am sorry for the break, but I have a business to run, we were at the Jalisco story. Well, ‘The new generation’ popped up for the first time in the spring of the year two thousand and eleven within half a year, became the terror of Mexico. Not only are they unprecedentedly violent, armed with weapons they manufacture themselves, they are growing stronger as they employ a sophistication even higher than Los Zetas. Every organization that the authorities manage to contain leaves a space for them to take over.

  “They are also flexible and adapt to every new situation. They were the first to deal in meth, because they didn’t insist on just dealing with the traditional drugs. They took control of the crystal
meth market and didn’t stick to just smuggling heroin, cocaine and marijuana to the United States, to Europe and even to China. They bribe officials with the money, buy arms and improve their position all the time.

  “They also distribute movie clips of them using violence against citizens, against authority officials that oppose them, against policemen and police stations and against other cartels. What do you think happens because of this?”

  “I assume that has to do with what doesn’t happen.”

  “Correct. There is no civilian objection like with the Templar cartels, when the kidnappings and the punishments inflicted on the region caused public outrage. The Jalisco are frightening, and they are spreading like cancer. At this point they are Sinaloa’s main threat.”

  Zorro rose from her chair, walked to the iron cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. “Before we get to the real story, we should have a real drink.”

  She poured two fingers of drink into each glass, capped the bottle and sat down again.

  “And now to business. The latest events are --” She waved a finger in the air. “One, a few years ago, in the ‘Black Swan’ mission, El Chapo, Guzman, the strongest drug lord up till now, was captured. The head of the Sinaloa cartel. He was captured and managed to escape, and he and his extended family are in hiding. From time to time pictures of his sons are found on social media, pictures which are supposed to show business as usual, and in a certain way, business really is as usual. The farmers carry on growing in their fields, the kitchens are still brewing drugs and there is a continual flow into the United States, which is their main market. But the man who really manages the business is not part of the family, but an outsider who has earned their trust.”