I didn’t have a roll card, but would choose for my suspect someone not entirely of the house, perhaps someone’s son or step son. Someone who Juan would feel was spoiled.
The question was, why were we the targets?
The expressions from the bikers said, we were in trouble. The leader, easily seen from the patch on his vest that said, PREZ, had an apologetic expression. He stepped forward, and clasped Kane’s hand. “I had no idea this shit was coming down man. I would have warned you off if they hadn’t taken our phones.”
Kane turned to me, “Ms. Stone, this is Baron, he’s the president of the Iron Riders. Next to him here is their VP, Lake. Sgt. At Arms, Speed, and the Secretary, Bull. I don’t know these other two gentlemen.”
Baron looked back at the two men beside the door, obviously in guard positions. “That there is Mike, and Tank. Good men.”
They both nodded to me, and I gave them each a smile. “Nice to meet you. Perhaps an overview for us, would be good before the others arrive. Let’s skip apologies for now.”
Baron lifted an eyebrow, and then smiled. “Hey, I like her. Good, let’s catch you up.”
Baron took us out to the courtyard, next to the water fountain. The base of the fountain was three feet deep and at least eight feet across. It dominated the center of the courtyard and produced a loud white noise which would make microphones useless.
Looking around, Baron appeared satisfied with the position, and then started in on the story. “We came down under the impression we were going to discuss pricing and weight. That’s what I told you then, and what I believed until an hour after we arrived.”
“When was that?” Kane asked.
“Yesterday, about this time.”
“You all came down stag?” Kane asked.
“No, no we didn’t,” Baron said, looking worried. “We all have ladies with us. I didn’t like the last time we were here, with the supplied women pushed on us. I was hoping to keep that from happening. I may have made a mistake there.”
Baron seemed to be implying the women were in peril. Possibly already dead.
“When did they get taken?” Kane asked.
“About an hour after breakfast this morning,” Baron said.
Kane paced a couple of steps, his hands on his hips. “When did they ambush you with this new thing?”
“Ambush, yeah, that’s exactly what they did. It was all good yesterday. Then right after they said they were taking the girls shopping, Cato lowers the bang.”
“You mean, Carlo Borrego?” Kane asked.
“Yeah, that little fuck,” Baron agreed.
Kane glanced at me, and then said, “Well, that’s one mystery solved,”
I nodded my head, like I knew this Carlo Borrego, but spent my energy in memorizing the name. He was our threat. The one who felt threatened by Kane’s arrival. The joker.
“So, what was the bang?” I asked.
Baron looked to me, and then relaxed in almost a defeated way. “Apparently, the last six shipments meant for us were all tapped by Feds and others while in route. Cato claims that they were the only shipments that didn’t get through. For the last two months. Nothing was caught up except shipments meant for my club.”
Kane’s eyebrows came together. “And they said nothing to you about this? How is this surprising you?”
“Kane, dude. We got our shipments. We got them on time, and as planned. I had no clue this was an issue. They never told us shit,” Baron said.
Kane and I shared a look, and I smelled a rat but not from Baron. Looking to Baron, and including the others, I said, “They replaced the busted product, and never told you a thing.”
“Exactly,” Baron nodded. “I had no clue that our stuff was getting busted. None.”
“Where were the busts? Which side of the border?” I asked.
“Well, from what they’re saying, I think it was all on this side,” Baron said. “But I don’t know for sure. They haven’t told us much at all.”
“That’s not good,” Kane said, looking back toward the dining area. “If they aren’t telling, it means they aren’t looking for answers. They already have the answers they want. Was Roano Cortez at the table?”
“Yeah, but Cato had the floor,” Baron said. “He’s the only one talking. Today anyway. Berto, and Lake here, were the main attraction yesterday. Lake did good. Obviously he listened well the last time we hooked up. Sounded almost like you.”
The VP of the club looked puzzled for a moment and then sluffed it off his shoulders like it wasn’t anything major — making me think it was seriously major for Lake.
“That’s something at least,” Kane said, with a thoughtful tone as he brought his fist to his chin. “Could mean that this is a bluff, or they’re letting Carlo make his case. What was that gang in Chula Vista? The one you had the trouble with after TJ in 08’?”
“The Loco 49s?”
“That’s the one. Alright,” Kane said, nodding his head, “Anything else? Any possibility that this shit is from your group? Any at all? I don’t care, but we have fourteen lives on the line here, this is not the time to be proud.”
Baron looked to his men, Lake, Speed and Bull. No one said anything, and they all looked at their feet, trying to control their anger, but not willing to go against Kane at the moment.
Baron looked back to Kane. “Honestly, I can’t see how. I mean, what am I? All knowing? How would anyone even know to do it? We didn’t even know a bust had gone down.”
Kane nodded, and slapped Lake on the shoulder. “Hey, I had to ask. If I get ambushed in there, we’re fucked. Right?”
The men thought about that for a brief moment, and then agreed with grunts.
Kane laughed. “Yeah, alright, still sucks. I owe you a keg. Let’s get through this first, and you can call me anything you want,” Kane told them, his smile bringing smiles from them. “Good. Looks like food’s on the table, and I’m starving.”
*
Our mission was not their mission, and our goals were not their goals. Back inside, Kane reminded me of this by walking up to the servers, and discussing music with them. There were five subjects he wanted to plant in the ears of those within this house. Subjects which were specific, with targeted words. Anyone other than the bikers were useful to inject with these subjects.
As his bond-mage, he explained to me, I would have the ability to inject these subjects into others as well. As soon as I saw him begin, I did the same, approaching Juan, and discussing leather with him — a specific brand, and style of tanning.
Just as the table setting completed, three women entered the room, Latin beauties each of them, all my age, and approached me. They introduced themselves, with the last names of Cortez, the women of the house, and explained the other women had gone shopping, but they could catch me up with them if I would like. To decline would have been awkward, so I changed the subject to my shoes. Using the energy borrowed from Kane, it amazed me watching each of them become fascinated, first with me, and then enamored of anything I found interesting — as if I were a rock-star. The deep interest in my shoes would have been humorous if not so sincere. Two of them even tried them on.
When they noticed the four men entering the room, the starlight went out in their eyes, and they excused themselves. I returned to Kane’s side, hoping I wouldn’t be pulled out of the room. The oldest of the group barely noticed me, the other three all looked surprised that I was sitting down next to Kane, who sat down at the middle — and somehow making it feel like the head of the table.
I thought about the women, and their fascination with me, and the mystery of Kane resolved. It was just how he was. In all aspects, Kane was Power. And power, no matter who you are, is attractive.
I recognized the oldest of the group, who took the seat at the head of the table, as Señor Roano Cortez, the head of the Cortez family. I could not recall the name of a single reporter – Mexican, US or European – who could say they sat at this table with him. Not for fun, enter
tainment, or business. Especially business. Just being here, right now, gave me a blank check. Now, what I did with this opportunity, would define the rest of my career.
It wasn’t until this moment that I truly understood that I was never in the reporter game for the money, or the prestige, or the fame. I played with those ideas, mostly to bolster my courage or my hope, when things were looking bleak or lost. I fantasized about my own island or walking into nightclubs no one could get into. When this story hits, you’ll have the red carpet, I would tell myself, while sitting in the rain as it filled up the fox hole I was squatting in.
Kane already showed me the transfer of ten million dollars into my checking account. I checked. It’s there. All of it. That’s a lot of money. Honestly, I can’t even imagine ten million, alright? I have trouble with imagining one million. Trying to imagine ten million sitting on my table at home, just didn’t happen. I had it, but it was not real to me yet. Hell, it had only been a day, but still.
So, I was rich. No argument there. Richer than I ever believed I would be. Yet, here I was, at this table, looking for the story. Either I was a reporter, or insane, or both. Right at that point, I was leaning toward both.
And I guess mom would have been right this time… I came looking for trouble. No doubt about that today.
To the right of Roano, sat Berto, and to the left, Nesto. Younger brothers. Berto was the one you didn’t want to go into a room with - psychopath by every definition you can conjure. He had no guilt, remorse, empathy or a soul.
Sitting at the same table as Berto, I found every story and rumor I had heard about his eyes to be true. His eyes were dead. Nearly pale, as if cataract, they gave no shine, no reflection, and no life. A milk film appeared to cover the brown orbs, giving his pupil an odd bluish hue. Every source told me that Berto didn’t have any type of cataract at all. None. It was just the way his eyes were. I couldn’t confirm this. It looked like death’s cataract to me. But I couldn’t confirm whether he was alive either.
Nesto was the youngest, and the most public. He talked to reporters. Hell, we couldn’t get Nesto to shut up. What he talked about was himself. That was the only topic he discussed. Nothing to do with the family, or the cartel, or even the movie he just watched in the theater. Nesto talked about Nesto. Nesto only knew about Nesto. Nesto only cared about Nesto. Until now, I didn’t believe Nesto would be at a sit-down like this, looking — hell, intelligent.
“Señor Silver,” Roano said, in greeting, “it is good to see you again. You look healthy. And who is this with you?”
“Señor Cortez, let me introduce my assistant, Ms. Stone. She is quite able, and well versed in many areas, though not so much in your business specifically. I felt she would be of use. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. I enjoy beautiful, intelligent people,” Roano said. “The other girls have gone shopping in town. But that would be of little value to you, Ms. Stone. I’m happy you are here.”
“Thank you,” I said, and gave him a small bow with my head.
Kane told me not to use his power on anyone, though the temptation to fascinate Roano was strong. He scared me. This polite conversation shit scared me to death. I refrained. Kane told me if my life was in peril, to use it however I could to get to safety, but that was the only excuse for its use. I felt like my life was in danger. The three of them were mass murderers. They tortured people to death. They put bombs on children, and sent them running inside for their parents. They were monsters.
Kane looked down the table. “I’m told that there is an issue, which needs to be cleared up. A matter of a large sum of money, which the club is being asked to pay. I don’t have all the details. I would be happy to go into the courtyard if going over them again will be boring for you.”
“No, I don’t mind. It is Carlo who has the details. I’ll let him explain,” Roano said.
Carlo Borrego, looked a little like a ferret. His features were too close together, and his chin wasn’t really there at all. He had a lower lip and a neck. His eyes were fury, however, like he woke up angry and then looked for a reason. His appearance had little to do with the level of threat he posed. If he was at this table, he murdered because it was fun. I had no information on him, and couldn’t recall his name, but if he was here, he was a threat.
Carlo started to explain the busts that took the shipments meant for the club and the cost of those busts. “Obviously, it is on the club to reimburse us for these lost shipments,” he finished.
Kane shook his head, “I’m sorry. I followed you up to the point where it’s our problem? Could you go over that part again?”
Now I sat tall. This was exactly the part I was meant to pay attention to. Exactly the kind of thing that would show Kane in his full element.
“Each of the shipments was for the club. Only for the club. Each of them were busted and had to be replaced. No other shipment has been taken or even looked at. So obviously the problem is with these fucking bikers,” Carlo said, his voice on the edge and rising.
“You said they were all busted on this side of the border?” Kane asked.
“Si, all of them,” Carlo agreed.
Kane leaned back in his chair and looked deep in thought. “Are you suggesting,” he asked after a minute, “that these men know your shipping routes and timetables?”
Carlo came out of his chair. “Are you not listening? I hear a great deal about Kane Silver, and how he solves problems, but I don’t think you are taking this problem seriously.” Carlo walked around the table toward us as he spoke. “I think maybe you are not in the game here and I don’t like not being taken seriously.” And now he was behind me.
When he grabbed my hair, I felt the knife edge on my throat and was surprised that I was not scared but furious.
“I think,” Carlo yelled, “that maybe I cut this puta’s head off, maybe you start taking this problem seriously.”
Fuck you.
I didn’t see Kane’s hand move from the table, and palm Carlo’s head from the back. I only saw Carlo’s head slam into the solid wood table.
Kane plucked the knife from Carlo’s hand as he slid down to the floor in a crumpled heap, while Kane wiped the blade with his napkin, and then set it to the side of his plate, as if it were part of his setting. Then he picked the cutlery up from the platter with roast beef and sliced a thick section, putting it on his plate. He passed the cutlery to me, and picked up his fork. “I think I see the problem here.”
Roano lifted his hand stopping two men approaching from the door. “Si?”
“Yes,” Kane said, then chewed a bite of the roast beef. “Obviously you’ve been through all of the channels. You know who is busting the shipments, but not how and you’ve checked all of your men again and again and none of them are agents or under cover. Even your source says they are all clean. So, I won’t go there. If you say your ranks are clean, then they are.”
“Si, I agree, Kane. They are clean. But what baffles me is I have good information that the club is also clean. And, as you point out, even if they were not, they do not have the information they would need. But how could anyone?”
“I take it,” Kane said, after another bite, “there is some randomness involved, before the shipments cross the border, yes?”
“Si, not much but enough that unless you were there, you could not know what is going where. And you would not know for much more than an hour before moving. I don’t see where someone would have time.”
“Unless,” Kane suggested, “one of the drivers or shippers were dropping dimes.”
“But you have already agreed they are clean,” Roano said, turning his finger in the air, to sign a vicious circle of logic.
“Clean of being undercover or DEA or Feds, yes,” Kane said.
This gave Roano pause. “What is it you are suggesting?”
“It’s just a thought. Remember I just sat down, and don’t have all of the facts. But back in 08’ TJ had this area, and they had other distributors
. Now you have it, and the club has distribution where another use to have it. The Loco 49s I believe. Yes?”
Roano looked to Nesto, who nodded agreement.
“I guess that is true,” Roano said. “Si?”
“It would be nothing for one of them to sign on with your crew, right? Hell they have family and friends all over this area. If they could show the club wasn’t a stable outlet, and then approach you at the right time, they could get back their territory, and be in with you. Right now, being with the old regime, they don’t have much of a chance, right?”
“If what you suggest is true, they don’t have much of a chance of living now,” Nesto said.
“Why’s that?” Kane asked.
“What do you mean, why’s that?” Nesto anger rose, I could see it in his eyes, feel the heat he radiated.
“The Loco 49s are willing to die to get into your good graces. What other play do they have? None. There is no legitimate play they could run that would attract your attention. No chance at all. So, they have — if any of this is true — made a ballsy move to get into your cartel. Yes? Is there any doubt in their minds that if they are caught in this, they are dead? Any doubt at all?”
Roano raised his hand, cutting Nesto off, “Go on. What would you do?”
“I’d give them some territory. Don’t mention any of this. Just drive up, tell them where they live and drive off. You’ll never have more loyal distribution on that side of the border, ever. They will fall over themselves to do whatever it takes to stay in your good graces.”
Roano sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Loyalty is a hard commodity in this business. It cannot be bought. I have tried.”
“There is the matter of the shipments,” tried Nesto.
“True,” Roano said, sounding uninterested.
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