The Cartel

by A. K. Alexander

  Hector had a point. He also wanted to continue saving enough money to go to college; in hopes of making restitution for the pain he’d caused his mother. "Yeah, maybe so. It's my mother though. She wanted more for me, you know? She’s probably tossing in her grave, knowing what we been doing this past year."

  "I don't mean your mama no disrespect or anything like that, but she's gone. There's nothing you can do, and we both know she'd want you to make it. If we keep it up, we're gonna make it, man, both of us—like we talked ‘bout. Besides, we don't sell nothing to our own kind. We ain't poisoning our families, only the gringos, blacks, and whoever else wants a piece—as long as it ain't our own.”

  Hector was right about that. In a way, it made sense. Poison the rest of the world, but keep their own people straight, and one day they would rule—the Hispanic nation would rule. "Maybe you’re right.”

  "Yeah, I'm right and you know it, too. You'll see man. I guarantee this guy today was looking to score big. Our man Jay may have turned him onto us.”

  "He hasn't said anything to me about it."

  "Hey amigo, I know it's been rough lately, someone could talk shit to you and you wouldn't notice.”

  "I know. You think this man will come back again looking for me?" Alex was intrigued by the prospect of a big spender out to make a deal with him. Maybe they were becoming more powerful than he’d realized.

  "Yeah man, he'll be back. He'll definitely be back. This guy was looking to score big, and he had the cash to do it with.”

  “Then why didn’t he just talk to you?” Alex asked closing his book and walking over to get a Coke out of the fridge.

  “I dunno. You the smart one. Maybe he hear you the business man in our game—and he look all biz, you know—so maybe he figure he better talk to you.”

  “Whatever,” Alex replied.

  “Whatever? You wait, ése, I got a feeling this thing with this money bags is gonna be real good for us. Real good.”

  “Like I said amigo, whatever.” Alex gulped down the rest of his Coke, wondering about the mysterious moneyman.

  *****

  Emilio spotted them from a block away. It was the smart ass and the other one had to be Alejandro. They were laughing and pushing each other from side to side, kicking a can down the trash-ridden street, looking pretty much like best friends. Emilio had been following Smart Ass for a day now, knowing he would eventually lead him to the kid.

  "Follow those kids," he told the driver of the limo. "When they stop, you stop and don't move again until they're both in the car." Emilio glanced at his bodyguard and occasional assailant. Rico didn't smile, but then again he never did. He hardly ever spoke, but he was useful at what he did.

  The limo pulled up next to the boys who were pointing at it, laughing about who might be inside. “Hey, maybe it’s Dinero,” Alex commented.

  “No way, it’s that Charlie’s Angels chick. You know the hot one with the hair. She come looking for me. You know she hear I’m real good and everythin’.”

  “Who, Farrah Fawcett?”

  “Yeah, that’s the chick. She’s so foxy.” Hector whistled at the limo.

  “You wish.”

  “You know it, man. You know and I know it ain’t Farrah Fawcett. It’s that guy lookin’ for you.”

  They stopped. Emilio rolled the window down half way. He leaned back in the seat so the boys couldn't get a look at his face and stuck a double-barreled, sawed off shotgun out of the cracked window.

  "Get in the car," he ordered in his husky voice. He could see the boys look at each other, paralyzed by fear. "If you don’t want to die right here in this sewer, you'll get the fuck in the car.”

  The driver stepped out and opened the limousine side door. The boys’ mouths dropped wide open. Looking at the giant, they didn’t waste any time scrambling to get inside the car, even though their instincts told them both to run like hell. It was pretty clear that the guy’s threat was no bluff.

  Alex was not the kind of man to have his nerves shaken up, but the situation he was in caused him to sweat nervously. Who was this guy and what did he want? Alex had never ridden in a limousine. It smelled like new leather and alcohol. There was a small bar, and the guy with the gun had a drink in his other hand. He wore dark sunglasses and didn't say a word, his lips pursed together, his hair back in a tight ponytail as slick as his black suit. Unable to see his eyes, Alex wondered what he was looking at. He didn't think the man wanted to kill them. If he'd wanted to do that he would've done it while they were on the street. Why go through this huge ritual of getting them inside the car? He wondered if Jay had something to do with this. He was the only one Alex knew with enough cash to rent a limo. But why? Why would he do that? Unless he wanted to screw him and Hector over. But for him to do that he would have had to meet with their connection, and that probably hadn’t happened.

  "Like a drink?" the man asked, reaching for a glass. His fingernails were long and polished to the point of being borderline feminine, and Alex wondered if he was possibly a homosexual who'd kidnapped them for a good time. He shifted slightly in his seat.

  "No, thank you. What I want to know is what we’re doing here," Alex said, tired of this man's game. The man didn't speak for a couple of minutes and Alex wondered if he had made him angry. Alex looked at Hector who'd lost all color in his face and hadn't moved since they’d gotten into the car.

  "I have a business proposition for you."

  "Really? And what is that?"

  "I've been watching you. Heard a lot of good things about you. I understand your business and I think together we could make a lot of money."

  "What business?" Alex asked.

  "Let's not play head games, amigo. I am a very busy man."

  "How do I know you’re not a cop?"

  "How many cops you know drive around in limos?"

  "Why do you want to make a deal with us? There's gotta be a lot more guys out there bigger than we are."

  "True, but I like you. You’re one of us. You don't sell to your own kind, at least this is what I've heard."

  "You hear correctly, but where do you get your information?" Alex still wasn't too comfortable with the man and especially the gun sitting on his lap.

  "I've got a lot of friends, and I'd like you two to join the ranks of our organization."

  "What organization?"

  "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Emilio Espinoza. My brother is the one and only Antonio Espinoza.”

  Alex recognized the name. He knew the man was major in the coffee and emerald business. He'd also heard the name passed around in circles involving drugs. Somebody at one point told him if they wanted to get into doing some big-time business then they would need to get involved in the Espinoza clan, but that it was a very difficult thing to do, that it mainly consisted of family members.

  "I have heard of you." Alex tried to sound unimpressed.

  The man chuckled. "You’ve heard of us. We are only one of the most powerful families in Central and South America. We do huge business in various degrees with the United States and portions of Europe."

  "What type of business?” Alex interrupted.

  "As if you didn't know. My brother and I have heard some things about you and your small, but profitable business. We'd like to help you grow, and in return we make a nice amount as well. What do you think?"

  "I don't know what to think. I'm not sure what you’re asking of us."

  "We want you to distribute for us in Los Angeles. It's gotten to be too much work to do by myself. I'm constantly flying back and forth from here to the Bahamas and to Colombia. We have a very lucrative gambling business in the South Pacific that is requiring more of my attention. Business is booming and I'm finding I don't have the time to do it all. I did a little investigating and decided you gentlemen would be perfect for the job. I like dealing with my own kind. I figure brothers in culture are less likely to screw each other, than brothers in nothing at all."

  "What do you want us t
o distribute?"

  "A little of this, a little of that. We have some large crops of Acapulco Gold growing in the Andes, and we're getting involved in the coca business."

  "Cocaine?" Alex asked.

  "You got it. I know you are a little young and have a lot to learn, but that's not an obstacle. I want to prove to you I'm serious. Like I already said, I've checked you out and I know what you'd be good at. Alejandro, my friend, you have a head for business. I can feel it, see it. Here's ten thousand dollars. I want you to take it, buy some nice clothes on Rodeo drive. I think once you learn something about finance, you'll be a major asset to us."

  The man handed him over ten thousand dollars all in one hundred dollar bills. Alex stared at the money. He'd never in his life held that much money in his hand. The most he'd held at one time was a thousand because any profit they'd been making was turned around and put back into the business. Hector nudged Alex.

  "And of course I couldn't forget about you, Hector. My guardsman." Hector moved in his seat a little. "That's right, boys. In the type of business we're involved in, and the quantities we'll be dealing with, we're going to need a militia crew. And it will be up to you, Hector, to manage and train them. Most of these men will be young like yourselves. They will be illegals and brought over here. You will give them a job on the street peddling and finding various contacts. They will also help move the drugs into the States through various means. Alex will then learn how to launder money through legit businesses. I know you have a friend over at USC, named Jay. I've checked him out, and his family is in the jewelry business. We'll see if we can't set up something with him. But I don't want anyone to do anything without my permission. Do we have a deal?" Emilio handed Hector an equal amount of cash. "Get rid of that mustache, too. We're professionals, not gangsters.”

  Hector rubbed the skinny mustache he’d been trying to grow for months, his face flushed from embarrassment.

  "What do we get out of it?" Alex asked, trying to put the money out of his mind and get to the facts.

  "A nice place to live, women, money, power, whatever you want. Can you handle it?"

  "I think so."

  "Good." Emilio shook Alex's hand and then Hector’s, who was smiling, dumbfounded. “Now, here's your new address. I think you boys will be happy there. Don't worry about the rent. It's already been taken care of. You'll both be provided with cars as well, so I suggest if you don't have driver's licenses, you look into it. Here is my private line while I’m in Los Angeles. If you need anything, I mean anything, money, clothes, whatever, you call me." Emilio removed his glasses and his brown eyes gleamed at the canary he knew he’d just swallowed. Staring at Antonio’s son with his plan already set into motion, Emilio knew it was only a matter of time before the empire was his.

  The boy looked a lot like Antonio—good looking young man—definitely from the Espinoza lineage. He loved the idea of using the kid to destroy Antonio.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Anxiety pumped adrenaline through Isabella’s body. She and Delilah were in Italy for the horse trials that would be their ticket onto the Olympic Equestrian Team for France. Their dressage test had been nearly flawless two days earlier, and yesterday’s stadium jumping had gone as well. She’d had neither time nor technical faults.

  However, the cross country course was difficult and she was a bit worried. She and Jean-Luc had walked it a few times, and if she was honest with herself, there were some technical questions out there that she needed to think through, in order to make the right decisions. Jumps 18, 19, and 20 were three ditches with a bounce in between each one. The last ditch was well over six feet wide, and then there was the drop that was also over six feet. Yes she’d practiced and worked up to this for years. Yes her horse was capable. Delilah lived for the open course, but Bella’s nerves were beginning to eat away at her. This was her opportunity, and she could not screw it up.

  Her father and Stefan had arrived three nights earlier. She hadn’t had much chance to visit with them, but there seemed to be an understanding that the conflict between them was over. She’d told her father that she was sorry she couldn’t make it home for Carlotta’s funeral, which had been held only days earlier. Bella couldn’t exactly say that she felt terrible over the loss of her stepmother, but she did feel awful for both her brothers, especially for Miguel. At least for Stefan, he never really knew his mother anyway. The child had been handed off to a wet nurse from what Isabella had heard, almost immediately after his birth. Since Bella had seen the child over the past couple of days, he hadn’t even mentioned his mother. Bella was working on her sign language in order to communicate better with her younger brother.

  She had spoken to Miguel who told her that her mother’s funeral was light on guests and over with quickly and quietly. He said that he couldn’t stay away from his church for long and that his mother wanted nothing more of him than to become a priest with a congregation, and by returning within days to the church he would be abiding by her wishes. Bella knew her brother well enough to know he was hurting and she wished she could be with him. Aware of his pain, she would succeed in these trials that she knew he would by watching and hopefully ease his heart.

  “You ready, ma chérie?” Jean Luc asked, walking into the dressing area as Bella finished buttoning up her rat-catcher.

  She stood in front of the mirror and fastened bobby pins into her hair. “Ready,” she replied.

  Jean Luc held her helmet in his hands. He put his arms around Bella, his protégée, before they walked to the stalls where Delilah awaited—as polished as Bella and very nearly as anxious. The horse seemed to understand that this was a bigger deal than normal.

  “Now, eyes up. Whatever you do, don’t look down,” Jean Luc instructed.

  “Listen to you,” Bella replied. “You sound as if you’re talking to a beginner.”

  “I know. I am so sorry. You’ll be fine. Just remember when we walked the course that you need to half halt before that bank. Once she gets a head of steam on her, she can be unruly. You know this.”

  “Jean Luc, I’ve walked that course everyday now for the past five days. I’ve played it in my head over and over again. I’ve dreamt the strides. I’ve counted the steps, everything. I’ve done the technical questions over and over and the pacing. It’s all right here.” She tapped the side of her head, hoping she was as convincing as she sounded.

  “All right, I know, I know. You and the mare will be brilliant as always, chérie.”

  They reached the barn. Delilah stood in the crossties waiting for her. Already saddled, Jean Luc reached for her bridle, undid her halter and slid the bit into the horse’s mouth.

  As Bella approached Delilah, the mare bent her head down as if she were listening intently to what her rider was saying. “This is it, my love.” Bella patted her mare’s neck. “This is our chance.” She kissed the horse on her face, and Delilah rubbed her head against Bella in response.

  “All right, you two, let’s go,” Jean Luc ordered. They headed to the warm-up arena. It would be their turn in thirty-five minutes. As their time came, Jean Luc smiled up at Bella. “You can do it. Show the world what you’re made of.” Bella gave Delilah a quick pat and they trotted off to the start box.

  “And riding for France this afternoon is Isabella Rodriguez on Samson’s Delilah, owned by the Rodriguez family and trained by Jean Luc Bateau,” came the announcement.

  Bella nodded her head at the officials, the clocked ticked down on the ten count and the buzzer sounded as the time began to click off the clock. Eleven horses out of nineteen had gone before her. No one had run a clean course so far. Either they hadn’t made the time, there had been a fall off the bank she was concerned about, and there had even been a refusal, which at the level she was competing at, shouldn’t have been the case.

  Moving at near steeple chase speeds, Bella knew that her job was to maintain balance and think with logic. The course was running smoothly but her horse’s speed was faster than she w
anted it to be, and the two struggled for a minute as to who was in control. “Not now, girl,” Bella shouted as the wind picked up blowing strongly past her ears. “Not now. I’m the boss. Come on, come on big girl…” Talking to the mare was a given on the course. It seemed to calm both her and Bella. As they flew up the bank, Bella focused on the next three jumps—all ditches with each one widening, and then they would be headed for the drop. The ditches went smoothly, and as they cleared the third one, Bella gave an audible squeal. “Good girl!” She maintained focus heading for the bank and gave the mare a half halt. “Easy, easy, whoa,” she said, felling like they had this.

  Bella leaned back with her seat as Delilah plummeted over and started down off the drop. One slight misjudge. One second, one tiny mistake, and Delilah’s back left leg caught as Bella shifted off balance. It all changed for horse and rider in that split second as Delilah suffered a high speed rotational fall, spinning overhead. Bella flew over her mare’s neck. Water, sweat, fear, and a painful scream traveled through the air.