—I feel it in my soul, —said Nicholas—. I wish that unfortunate incident had never happened. I really regret it!
—Two years after my sister's death, we moved to Orense, but I never forgot Chandrexa, that's why I decided to settle here again.
Suddenly a sepulchral silence enveloped them. Mireia didn’t want to think about anything. She left her mind blank, as the night whispered a song of cicadas accompanied by cello and by a quartet of crickets. The symphony was masterful when the crows came into action with a melancholy crooning of operetta, by which even Pavarotti would have been surprised. She was relaxed. The tension and fatigue accumulated after the long journey through the forest had disappeared. Now she enjoyed the sound of nature, those musicians were veterans, conscious of the need for intimacy of the couple, they interpreted for them a ballad. Turning the knob of the amplifier of their instruments, they reduced the volume of their music to the point where the sound of the water descending through the creek could be heard in the background. Nicholás thought what it would be like to make love to Mireia. If she would surrender as wildly and heartbreakingly as Lucia or, on the contrary, behave passively and awkwardly. He felt her breath very close. Blood ran through his veins like water in a pressure hose. Soon, despite the exhaustion that had slowed his erection for a moment, he wanted to kiss her and get into her skin, to feel her soft, smooth contact and the warmth of her breasts, whose sweat was drawing incomplete circles on her shirt.
Despite being older than him, the journalist seemed terribly attractive and if at first he held the impulse to kiss her, it was out of respect for the person of Lucia. It didn’t seem ethical to sleep with her best friend, because enough damage had already been done by her condemning her to oblivion. But within Nicholas a fire was set, the flames of which could not even be extinguish by his conscience, and being dragged by the force of the impulse provoked by that sudden passion, born from the most intrinsic, his interior rushed upon it, which reacted by trapping her waist with his long legs as he gave her a long wet kiss.
3—The silent watcher.
Lorena was happy, her days in prison were numbered. Although she still had five years to serve, Sergeant Nicholas had promised that if she collaborated with them, the prosecution would grant her the third degree and in one month she would be released on parole. They needed new incriminating evidence against Lucía Márquez. That is why, sharing cell with her was not mere chance, but a strategic plan planned point by point, with meticulous patience and skill by Sergeant Nicholas. Although the original idea of placing them both in the same cell was subordinated Corporal Redondo, a twenty-nine-year-old agent, daughter of a captain of the Benemérita famous for his intervention in the "Oubiña Case", which today was Retired with a good pay for his previous services to the mother country.
Lorena had become a real chameleon, changing personality as colour according to the needs of La Reina: if Lucia was depressed she simulated a strong depressive state, so that she felt more confident and comfortable at her side. If, on the other hand, she felt energetic, Lorena would put everything on her side to help her release that energy. Thus, little by little, she was gaining the friendship of Lucia, until becoming her right hand. There were no secrets between them. For Lucia, Lorena was like the little sister she had never had. That's why Lucia didn’t suspect that she was allied with the enemy. Sitting in the cell, Lorena passed her a joint: it was good one. Lucia looked dizzy. Her face was a blue colour, maybe she spent too many hours in front of the computer designing the operation Nore IV.
—When will it take place? —Lorena asked, taking advantage of La Reina's state of drunkenness.
—On August 10, at 2:00 p.m. Twenty-five thousand kilograms of “snow”, on the way to Monteferro, aboard at the "33 Outlaw", the fastest boats ever used in the history of drug trafficking. The greens will stay stiff, we've never dumped so much drugs in our history, in one single swoop.
—But will it take time?
—Of course, considering that we only have five boats and that each will carry a load of not more than five hundred kilograms of cocaine, using an average of thirty minutes, between round and round; that if the wind is favourable to us and not counting the minutes used in the loading and unloading of the merchandise. Assuming we make about six trips with the boats in full, that would mean a total of one hundred and fifty minutes. And we will only have discharged almost half of the cargo, about twelve thousand kilograms. We would need another two and a half hours to finish the job. But that would be too long and we can’t take five hours to unload all the merchandise, it is too dangerous. I have heard rumours that my dear and beloved sergeant Nicholas now works for the narco cops and he has been assigned on my case. He is the most stubborn boy I know and a worthy rival. Sure you're aware that the Russians have entered the game. If his nose is as good as with the rest, if we do not walk with eye open, he’ll be on our tail for sure. The boy wants to be a lieutenant. He is one of the few who still believe that the promotions are achieved with courage and not by getting rich with the bonuses coming from the mafias.
—I mean, an old school python, —Lorena added.
—That's exactly what it is.
—And how do you plan on getting so much drugs in less time?
Lorena went straight to the point with that question. That idiot everyone called The Queen was falling for it too easily, she didn’t understand what the mafias could have seen in her.
Lucia took a deep breath from the joint before answering her question.
—All will be done in less than two hours. To do so, the "Baja 33 Outlaw" will not be alone, will have the collaboration of all Zodiacs available, plus four furtive fishing vessels with capacity for one thousand kilograms each.
—It will be an invasion! —Lorena said, feigning great enthusiasm.
—Yes, the closest thing in history has been the landing of Normandy," concluded Lucia, handing the joint to Lorraine as she blew out a puff of blue smoke. The bars of the cell now looked like chocolate bars under the effects of cost. Lucia lay down in her bunk and soon fell asleep.
Lorena watched Lucia's every step in prison, without her noticing that evil presence. Her best friend and confidant was more than a frustrated wife, who murdered her husband for alleged mistreatment, which was never actually proven. However, the prosecutor was able to prove, or at least let the jury know that, according to the evidence, the real reason for the murder was probably the sum of twenty-two thousand euros, which would be collected by the widow in the event of the death of the spouse, from the life insurance policy signed by the innocent husband, a month before being shot by his wife in the hall of his house.
Of course, this was not enough reason for Sergeant Nicholas not to facilitate her freedom if she collaborated with justice. She had, after all, overpaid her mistake during her eight years in prison. Bearing in mind that her husband was Julio Corcuera, son of Martín Corcuera, head of the Corcuera family, the second family, after the Sousa, the most powerful of the five families that dominated drug trafficking in the northwest of the Iberian Peninsula; Lorena knew that as soon as she set foot outside the prison she could be dead, for the five families would go at her with all their weapons. But she had plans. Violate parole and leave the country for Padrenda, a small village bordering Portugal. Once in the neighbouring country it wouldn’t be difficult to obtain false papers, a new identity, which she would buy with the money collected from the life insurance of her deceased husband and travel to Rio de Janeiro. They would never find her there. Lucia had told her that she hadn’t had enough guts to flee to Brazil. After having everything ready at the last moment, she had backed away. What a coward! She served herself to the civilians on a tray. Her legend had the hours counted. Now, as Lucia rested in a deep sleep, she watched in silence. It was after midnight, her eyes scrutinized every corner of the cell now invaded by a darkness of a dungeon.
One morning, Lucia suddenly received Mireia's visit. They chatted amiably, Mireia told her in detail h
er maritime journey aboard the Nautic and at the same time admitted to having fallen prey to the charms of her most voracious enemy, falling in love with Nicholas. Which, managed to entangle her with his seductive smile leaving her impassioned and making love to her several times inside a tent, surrounded by nature.
—Do you really like him? —Lucia asked.
—Well, I do really like him. He seems honest and nice. He is also more of a mountain man, rather than sea. We have many things in common. Who knows? Maybe he's the man I'm looking for.
This latest information plunged into Lucia's morals. Despite the shock of seeing her best friend trapped in the nets, with the man she had still skillfully woven, and no matter how much she tried to erase it from her mind, it was still too early to do so. She tried to conceal the affliction that was invading her, facing coldly to the look of her friend, she said:
—Don’t you think you're too old for him?
—I don`t believe it. Only by five years, in addition I still have the breasts raised and the buttocks hard as when I was your age.
—I'm glad for you, —Lucia lied—. I hope you are happy. After all, ours would never be possible. It was only one night, but I assure you that this guy has something that has gotten me so deep inside that sometimes I can’t get him out of my head.
—I understand you and I'm really sorry, but your current situation is not the most appropriate to feed on false hopes with him. I promise you that if there were the slightest chance that yours would go ahead, I wouldn’t hesitate to get out of the way. I am your best friend above anything.
Lucia understood that Mireia was right. Her thing with Nicholas was impossible, so she should be glad that he found shelter in the arms of the best person she knew, for Mireia was more to her than a friend. She said goodbye to her, wishing her luck again with all her heart. In spite of this later alone with Lorena, in the reserved one of the library in front of the computer screen she burst into tears, Lorena was surprised once more of her fragility. She didn’t understand how such a weak and sensitive being could have gotten so high, in a world as hard and hostile as the narcotics.
4—Real professionals.
On the tenth day of August at two o'clock in the morning, four enormous reflectors of about four thousand watts each, lit up from the bow to the stern like a Dantesque movie star, to an old boat, barely supported by the still waters. Two kilometres from the Rouzós islet, southeast of the Middle Island or the Lighthouse, the largest in the Cíes Islands archipelago. The reason for this expectation was unknown, both for his captain, a thirty-eight-year-old canarian, and for the crew, who seemed to have awakened from a bad dream, covering their faces with their forearms, trying to protect themselves from the blinding light of the Foci. Nor did he understand why a half-dozen helicopters, equipped with projectors of light, illuminated the whole coast, searching for God knows what, drawing a huge quadrant in the sky, covering the area from the top of Monteferro to his ship. The most paradoxical thing about this scene would happen a few minutes later, after a little man with Robocop's voice, leaning against a megaphone, did not tire of repeating the same litany.
—Good evening, please stand with your arms up. Your ship will be inspected by the Civil Guard in a few moments.
It was then that it happened: from the sky as if it were no longer plagued, hundreds of stars and enough air traffic, new aircrafts appeared, these more military-looking, similar to those Indian-looking helicopters used in many missions by American troops since the time of the Vietnam War. These guys looked like real professionals, dressed in special camouflage suits and a kind of night vision goggles; Descended from the helicopters, sliding gently through metal vines, until they fell gently on the deck of the ship. Then, without speaking to anyone or asking questions, they put up each square meter of that old shell, looking for merchandise that every minute that passed, seemed to be farther from being found.
— Can I help with something? —The captain dared to suggest.
—We know you carry twenty-five thousand kilos of cocaine, —said a young sergeant with a shaven face and a very bad air.
The captain began to laugh, along with the rest of the crew; soon a great laugh seemed to spread all over the ocean, like an epidemic of plague in the Middle Ages.
—It's whiting, not cocaine, what we bring, young man. Someone will have misinformed you, twelve thousand kilos of whiting. Ha ha!
Sergeant Nicholas's guts were stirred, only to think that he had spent so many hours and effort in organizing an operation that had ended with the most resounding failure. After more than twenty-four hours of exhaustive search, during which specialized forces of the Civil Guard searched Nervión thoroughly, Nicholás gave up. It was clear that the drug had never been there. Everything seemed to be a setup, as much as the air support combed the area over and over again, there was no movement outside the normal, no trace of the "Baja 33 Outlaw" or the rest of the fleet of the operation "Nécora IV". In reality this never came to be realized; At least that night, the reasons of it Nicholas ignored them. A cold sweat filled his face, his ascent to lieutenant would have to wait after such a resounding failure.
He regretted to underestimate his enemy, the blind trust in his confidant had been his worst mistake. Now it was too late to repent. It was more than likely a diversionary manoeuvre to centre all the coastal security forces at one point, leaving the surveillance, or rather low, on the rest of the coast completely unguarded. This strategy had allowed La Reina to introduce the drug easily through any other place in the Galician estuaries. The play had been perfect: they had bitten the hook. In the afternoon he would be presented with such an occasion to catch Lucia. He had been so close. "Maybe we gave her too much advantage," thought Nicholas, "how to put at her service an ADSL line and next-generation computers, something totally forbidden in prison."
The CESID monitored all the movements of La Reina from the beginning, both emails and calls made through the mobile phone. Everything was pricked. The days before day ten, the calls had been constant, but not clarifying. The intelligence service detected a lot of Emails, with key messages from Lucia's email, impossible to decipher despite having several experts. Of course, La Reina acted in an unpublished language, whose keys were only knew by the mafias, reason why it could design a secret operation, in front of the noses of the intelligence service, causing them to believe, through a call of Lorena Vázquez to the sergeant Nicholas, that the operation would be carried out at the agreed date, time and place. From that moment the bait was lying. Then, just waiting for the sharks to bite. The place where the operation was finally done was the least expected, what was important was that the strategy had worked.
In the following days everything got revolutionized. The high commanders knew of the previous relation of the sergeant Nicholas with the Queen, distrust of this one and they decide to withdraw him from the case. Nicholás aware of his failure in the operation "Nécora IV", decides to leave the brigade and requests his transfer to the homicide department, where he is accepted. Nicholás is relieved. At last, the Queen is no longer his business. From then on his work would be another, the controls will not be able to prevent him to resume any type of relation with Lucia Marquez. Nicholas rejoices. Some days ago his new relationship with Mireia Martín stopped working, the shadow of her friend Lucia Marquez seems to weigh too much between them; Nicholás doesn’t manage to erase Lucia's presence from his memories, impossible to forget. As much as Mireia tries to capture his attention, Nicholas is absent. He only notices her presence during the long nights, when she lies down beside him and tries to caress him with her clumsy writer hands. Then he makes love to her and they both enjoy it, their minds go blank for a few moments. In which Mireia harbours the false illusion that they are a couple of lovers more, that Nicholas is hers and nobody else’s. But just at the end, the emptiness of his gaze returns to reality: Nicholas would always prefer Lucia. Why fool herself? She could read it in his eyes, every time he got into her skin.
A
s for Lucia, Mireia knew that what she felt for Nicholás was sincere. Nicholas in the background was never too clear that his work in the narcotics brigade would serve for anything. Now that he had gone to the criminal brigade, he was more motivated, more self-assured, convinced that solving crimes was a more honest job, than locking up traffickers to make a living in the only way fate would he had sought.
Nicholás wanted to know more about Lucia, more about her past, he was intrigued by everything that had to do with her life. How had she even become the Queen of drugs in Galicia? Who were her collaborators in the world of drug trafficking? Nicholas was aware that he was ignoring too much about her and her people. He was eager to meet them. Surely she had been a very elegant gangster, he was intrigued to know how she would have felt, when she began to rise in her career, and money began to rain from everywhere. But one thing at a time. First he would try to talk to his superiors to allow him to reopen the case on the dead girl, Maria Guzman, whom the specialists of the Orense criminal brigade had closed only a few months ago for lack of evidence. At night he would visit Mireia to tell him all the rumours, which was about Lucia's beginnings in the world of drug trafficking. He had the feeling that somehow, some of her collaborators were related to the death of the girl and it would suffice to discover which of the bands sold the drug to Maria. The rest would fall by its own weight. There seemed to be a sort of silence about the murder of the child, which had hitherto prevented them from moving anywhere. The real culprits had built a strong hold of containment, protecting the possible evidence, which would probably lead him to solve the case. He should find a way to dynamite the dam, for this he would start by opening a small gap that would lead him to the truth; Although there was total ostracism on the case. At least he knew that her death was related to the world of narcotics. He would start investigating that world. Maybe he would find the breach he was looking for.
The Queen of the Northwest Page 11
