by C. T. Sloan
“What’s the concern with motorcycles?” I ask the head of security.
“90% of assassinations are done by motorcycle. Easy to get in on a target and easy to get away.”
“Oh, well. The vehicles are bulletproof, right?” I ask.
“Yes, but they are not bomb proof,” Mr. Skoca replies.
Just then I realize how serious the situation is down here.
***
We spend the next couple of days interviewing members of the Veracruz police force as well as members of Mr. Rex’s Mexico operations. And they all give us different perspectives on what is going on down here. Though they all agree on one fact in particular - Mr. Rex’s support of the Veracruz police is hurting Los Zetas’ operations in the region. On our last day, the Chief of Police hands us a box. “This is a gift for Senor Rex. A show of gratitude from every member of the Veracruz police force.”
I look down at this four inch by ten inch box. It is made of fine mahogany. I wonder what could be in the box? Well, I’ll have to wait until we get back to Dallas before I can find out. As we head back to the airstrip, I notice that our head of security is not with us.
“Where is Mr. Skoca?” I ask.
Harold looks around the SUV. “Good question. I have no idea.”
I figure that perhaps Mr. Skoca still has some business down here and will not be joining us on the flight back. We arrive at the airstrip, hop on the plane and make it into the air within minutes.
Harold and I spend the flight comparing our notes from the over 30 interviews conducted over four days. “I’ll get started on writing the story and send you drafts each evening,” I say to my editor.
“Sounds good. Remember to write this more as a narrative. Think of this story as a movie. We want to really make people understand the risks Mr. Rex is taking,” Harold suggests.
We get back to Dallas by the early evening. As soon as we get off the jet. Mr. Rex’s private helicopter is waiting for us. I am so not used to traveling like this. There are no layovers. No waiting. We simply go from the jet to the helicopter and head back to the Rex Building. As the clock strikes eight, we land atop of the Rex Building. Minutes later, I find myself back in the arms of my boss.
I wrap my legs around Mr. Rex and sprinkle kisses all over his face. Mr. Rex places his hands on my butt and kisses me back. The fact that Harold is in the room doesn’t bother me at all. Four days away from Mr. Rex is four days too long.
“How was the trip?” Mr. Rex asks the two of us.
“Great. We have more than enough information to write a really in-depth story on Veracruz.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Rex replies as he looks around. “Where is Mr. Skoca?”
Harold and I look at each other for a moment. “He stayed behind,” I answer.
“He stayed behind?” Mr. Rex repeats.
“Yes, Mr. Rex,” I respond.
“He was supposed to be on the flight,” Mr. Rex tells us as he picks up the phone. Mr. Rex dials a number. After a few seconds, my boss looks at his phone. “His phone is off,” my boss announces in a tone that I could only describe as slightly worrisome.
“Maybe the battery on the phone is dead,” I suggest.
“Mr. Skoca’s phone is never off,” Mr. Rex responds in a slightly agitated matter. Now, I begin to worry.
Harold and I just kinda stare at each other as Mr. Rex sits down and begins to make phone call after phone call. The office door opens. Several of Mr. Rex’s security team rush inside with concerned looks on their faces.
“Our last contact with Mr. Skoca was six hours ago,” one of the security men announces.
“What?!” Mr. Rex yells.
A wave of panic hits the room. For the first time, I see my boss - the richest and most powerful man in Texas - appear genuinely worried.
“Get the Chief of Veracruz on the line. Tell him to find out what happened to Mr. Skoca,” Mr. Rex demands.
As the security men try to contact the Chief of the Veracruz Police, I look down at the box in my purse - the gift from the Chief of Police to Mr. Rex.
“Sir,” I say to my boss as I reach into my purse and pull out the box. “The Chief of Police had this gift he wanted to give you as a show of appreciation.”
Mr. Rex looks at the box. I hand it to him. He unhooks the latch and opens the box. I can’t see what is inside. For a moment, my boss doesn’t seem to know what he is looking at. My boss pulls this round shiny object from the box.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s a glass eye,” Mr. Rex responds. Now, I am officially creeped out. My boss pulls a note out from the box. He opens the note and begins to read it out loud. “On behalf of every officer in the State of Veracruz, we are forever grateful for the support. Inside this box is the glass eye of Ramon ‘Paco’ Rojas, second in command of Los Zetas inside Veracruz. His death has helped turn the tide against our mutual enemies. Peace be with you,” Mr. Rex narrates. He puts down the note and picks up the eye. Holding that glass eye, I can see Mr. Rex imagining the worst for his head of security. The security men, inside the room, work their phones. After a few minutes, one of the security staffers runs out of the room. Mr. Rex puts the glass eye back into the box and stows it in his drawer. Silence fills the spacious office of the T. Rex while tension permeates the room.
Minutes go by. Then a full hour passes as Mr. Rex talks to the security team down in Mexico. Apparently, they have no idea what happened to Skoca. They had assumed that he had left for Dallas. Every ten minutes, my boss tries to call Mr. Skoca’s phone. Each time, there is no response.
“Sir, do you need a drink?” I ask my boss.
“No,” he responds flatly.
I exit the office and catch my breath. Mr. Rex looks completely disturbed and I don’t know how to console him. Outside, the assistants are feverishly working the phones. I realize that I need to stop acting like a scared little girl and put on a brave face for my boss. No matter what happened to the head of security, business must go on.
“General Morales is on the line, Mr. Rex,” a security staffer announces as he runs into the office. The CEO grabs the phone and begins to talk to the Chief of Veracruz in his native Spanish. That catches me completely off guard. Mr. Rex’s Spanish sounds as good as a native Mexican. While I try to figure out what my boss is saying, Harold is jotting down notes on his pad.
“Can you understand what Mr. Rex is saying?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“What’s going on?”
“They found him.”
“Really?!” I blurt out with an excited exclamation. Then I add nervously, “Is he alive?”
“Yeah,” Harold responds as he furiously writes up his notes.
“What happened to him?”
“He was found disheveled but uninjured.”
A wave of relief rushes through my body. I look up at Mr. Rex who appears to be back to his calm and confident self. Mr. Rex hangs up the phone.
“He’s okay,” Mr. Rex announces simply to the delight of the room.
“Was his kidnapped, Mr. Rex?” one of the security men asks.
“It looks like it. I’m hoping to get Mr. Skoca on the line soon,” my boss replies. “Go update the rest of the security staff on the situation.”
The security men leave the office in high spirits. Around thirty seconds later, Mr. Rex’s phone rings. He picks it up.
“Mr. Skoca. Are you okay?” Mr. Rex asks. I couldn’t be happier to hear those words coming out of my boss’s mouth. Harold continues to take notes. Then I realize that I should be doing the same. After all, I’m the reporter here and my editor is doing my job for me. Mr. Rex continues to listen to his head of security.
“I’m glad to hear that you are safe. Get back to Dallas as soon as possible,” Mr. Rex tells his security chief before he hangs up the phone. As soon as my boss puts down the phone, I ask him what happened to Mr. Skoca.
“Someone tried to abduct him in town. He had escaped. However, he did not want to
use his phone because he feared that his electronic devices were being traced. Also, he believes that he was being followed. He flagged down the police vehicle about an hour ago,” Mr. Rex explains. All I can think is damn, all that insanity was going down while Harold and myself were conducting the interviews.
“Can we use all of this in the article?” I ask meekly. Mr. Rex thinks about it for a moment.
“Go ahead and use it. The more graphic illustration of the situation in Veracruz the better. I would request that you do avoid using Mr. Skoca’s image. He is obviously a high profile target. And he may become even more of a target after the article is released,” my boss explains.
“Understood,” I respond as my editor gives an affirmative nod.
***
It’s one in the morning. Just about every floor of the Rex Building is empty save for the cleaning crews. A skeleton crew of execs stay in the office to keep on top of Rex Industries’ overseas interest. Mr. Rex, myself and Harold remain in the office as we anticipate the return of Mr. Skoca. To be honest, if Harold wasn’t here, I probably would have jumped on my boss’s bones. It’s been four days since we’ve fucked and I could really use nice pounding from the T. Rex.
The office doors open. A security exec informs us that Mr. Skoca is in Dallas and enroute to the office via helicopter.
“Excellent. I want to personally welcome him back and then I’ll be headed home,” Mr. Rex tells the security man.
Several minutes pass. The office doors open and Mr. Skoca comes walking through the door, sharply dressed with noticeable scratch marks on the right side of his face. Mr. Rex walks up to his security chief and gives him a hearty hug.
“Glad to see you home safe,” Mr. Rex tells his security chief.
“Thank you, sir,” Mr. Skoca responds.
The security chief looks around the room and notices Harold and myself sitting on the couches. He appears a little flustered that we are also in the room.
Mr. Rex looks his security chief up and down. He tells him, “Why don’t you go home and take a rest for a while.”
“I am fine. I would like to follow up on the Veracruz operation,” Mr. Skoca requests.
“Okay. Do what you need to do. If you want to take a few days off to relax, don’t feel that it would be an imposition,” Mr. Rex tells his security man.
The two continue to talk some more. Both Harold and myself take notes. This incident is going to be perfect for the article. All I need to do is interview Mr. Skoca to find out exactly how he thwarted the kidnapping.
I patently wait as Mr. Rex and Mr. Skoca finish their chat. When the security chief leaves the office, I quickly follow him to the elevator.
“Mr. Skoca!” I call out.
The security chief looks back at me. He seems a little tired. But I don’t want to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
“Yes Julie.”
“I’m including the attempted kidnapping in the article. It will really highlight the dangers faced in Veracruz.”
I can tell right away that Mr. Skoca is less than enthused about reliving the details of what happened. He hops into the elevator and I follow him inside. He does not appear too happy about that.
“How exactly were you approached?” I ask as I hold my pen to paper.
“There were two cars.”
“Two sedans? Late model sedans?” I ask as the elevator descends down to the twentieth floor.
“Yeah. Um, everything happened very quickly,” the security chief explains.
“Did the men physically attack you out on the street or did they pull a weapon?” I ask.
“Why do you need to know all of this?!” Mr. Skoca demands.
“It’s for the article.”
The security chief begins to get exasperated. “Look Julie. I really don’t think it is appropriate to talk about this in the article.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“There is some information that we will not want to release to the general public. I was able to gather some intelligence during the abduction and it is important that we act on that intelligence.”
“So you will pass along the information to the Chief of Police in Veracruz?”
“Yes. Yes,” Mr. Skoca answers as he leaves the elevator. “Now, I have some important work to deal with. Have a good evening,” the head of security tells me as he high-tails it down the hallway.
I close the elevator doors and head back to the top floor. I am wondering why Mr. Skoca is so hesitant to talk about what happened to him in Veracruz. After a few seconds of thought, I deduce that he is somewhat embarrassed by being abducted. After all, he is the security chief. All I know is that Los Zetas must be really resourceful if they could get to Mr. Skoca.
***
After a week of compiling more interviews and several drafts, the article is ready to go. I send my final draft to Mr. Rex for review. I lie next to him in bed as he reads the ten thousand word article. I am so proud of all the hard work that went into this piece. Mr. Rex carefully reads every paragraph and every sentence. My only regret is that I was never able to get another interview with Mr. Skoca. After our conversation in the elevator, he has been avoiding me.
My heart races as Mr. Rex gets to the final page. I watch his eyes move from left to right as he finishes the last paragraph of the article. I want to ask him what he thinks. However, I’m too scared to verbalize anything at the moment. My boss turns over the final page of the draft. He leans over and gives me a kiss.
“Excellent work, Julie,” my boss declares. Oh wow. A kiss has never felt more satisfying in my life. We begin to make-out in bed. My boss runs his hands over my breasts and pinches my nipples. I place my hands on his ass and give it a nice squeeze. The two of us roll around the bed, playing with each other’s bodies. It doesn’t take long before I am pinned down by my lover’s strong hands. He spreads my legs apart and starts to drive that nice, hard dick inside of my body.
Mr. Rex begins to give me a reward for a job well done. He drives that big dick deep inside of my body while I grab on to his round, tight ass and strong back. Even in the traditional missionary position, my boss is master in bed. I lean up and kiss his chest as he continues to fuck me within an inch of my life.
We roll over until I am on top. I ride my stud as he reaches up and plays with my body. As I come closer and closer to climax, Mr. Rex pulls me down and begins to spank my ass. Oh yes! That makes me moan and scream. I find myself ready to cum. Mr. Rex digs his fingernails into my butt as I explode into orgasm. I need to write ten thousand word articles for my boss more often.
***
After handing in the final draft of my article, a few weeks go by. I spend my time assisting my boss as he manages the massive holdings of Rex Industries. After a particularly long evening, we get a call from Harold.
“The New York Times is breaking the fucking embargo. I am so fucking pissed right now!” Harold screams through the speakerphone. I have no idea what he is talking about. Mr. Rex is actually a bit amused by the editor’s tone.
“Calm down, Harold. What are you talking about?” Mr. Rex asks.
“We sent an advanced copy of Texas Monthly to a select group in the media. They were all told that they had to sit on the story until the evening before the magazine hits the newsstands. Well, the New York fuckin Times just spilled everything on their website. And the magazine doesn’t go on sale for another five days!” Harold yells.
Mr. Rex and I look up the Times’ website and there on the front page of the site is the headline. Reclusive Billionaire’s One Man War Against Drug Cartel.
“What does this mean?” I ask Harold.
“It means that the other new outlets are going to write up this story before we come out with the article. This could make the magazine look like old news by next Tuesday. This is going to be the biggest story of the year and the New York Times is acting like they broke the story,” Harold fumes.
Mr. Rex thinks for a moment. This is sort of an odd
situation because I am used to my boss having the big temper in the room.
“Harold. How can I help you in this situation?” Mr. Rex asks. It is such a generous open-ended question that I can’t help but admire my boss who is giving this man a blank check for a favor.
There is a bit of silence on the other side of the line. Then Harold replies, “If you could refuse all interviews until the magazine hits the newsstand, I would appreciate it.”
