The Cartel

by A. K. Alexander

  "I did what you told me. I checked him out, discovered he was already hooked up to dealing and in the business whether you want him to be or not. He's a smart kid. He knows how to handle himself. If we hadn’t brought him in, sooner or later, somebody else would've. If he was going to be in our business anyway, wouldn’t you rather he dealt with us than with some other operation? At least now, we can look after him, make sure he's doing all right. He’s under our control."

  "Jesus Christ, he's my son, Emilio." Antonio grabbed his brother by his shirtfront and pulled him close. "The last thing I wanted for my son was to bring him into this filthy business. I wanted something better for the boy." He shoved Emilio away in anger and disgust.

  "I told you, he's already in this business. Besides, has it really been all that bad? Look around you. You couldn't ask for anything better than this, could you?" Emilio motioned to the Waterford crystal and the elegant sculptures in the office.

  Maybe Emilio did make some sense, but Antonio still wanted a legitimate life for his only son. The drug business was too dangerous. Antonio felt partially responsible for Marta’s death. If anything were to happen to Alejandro because of his involvement in this business, he would never forgive himself.

  Even though Antonio was in an ideal position, he had to have an armed guard with him at all times, and always had to check to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. But at least he wasn’t on the streets—much less the streets of Los Angeles, basically alone. Yes, the money was good, but what a life. Antonio didn’t want his son living like this. Still, perhaps it was the only way he could get to know the boy.

  "You have made some valid points. I'm pleased my son is all right, but I don't want him knowing I'm his father. Understand? As far as he's concerned, this is about business. I would also like to set up a meeting with him and this other kid. What's his name?"

  "Hector?"

  "Yes, that one."

  "Are you sure you’ll be up to this? Won't it be hard to handle?"

  "Don't worry about me. Do it. I don't want the meeting here, though. Make it at Javier's place. Work out the details and let me know."

  "I'll take care of it." Emilio straightened his Armani suit jacket and left the room.

  “And another thing,” Antonio shouted after him, “I’m warning you, if you say anything to anyone about my being this boy’s father, I will personally see to it you never speak to anyone else again.”

  “I’m your brother, for God’s sake. I would never do anything to harm you,” Emilio shouted back.

  Antonio sat back down. His brother needed to be kept in check. Emilio was becoming what appeared to be a loose cannon. Not good. He lit a cigar and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. He looked forward to the day when he would come face to face with his son, now a young man. He could cope with that. Antonio only hoped that he could hide the love he felt for Alejandro. He did not want the boy to know the truth. The fear of being hated by this child horrified him; And the truth was his only son had every reason to despise him.

  *****

  Alex took part of the money Emilio had given him and enrolled in business classes at Santa Monica Community College. He wanted to make his mother proud of him, even though he knew he could not escape the drug business. He would at least become good at it. He would not be some street corner drug pusher ever again. He added English literature and humanities to his course load.

  He settled down to long hours of studying. He'd never been that great as a student before, but things were different now. He had a goal to work for. With his mother gone, he also needed something to dominate his thoughts.

  Emilio had flown up a few times to talk business with Alex and Hector. He’d gone back to Colombia two days earlier, after making a run with Hector, teaching him where to find and how to handle illegal immigrants.

  They had a few coyotes working for them who would bring the illegals into the States to their door. In return, Hector would set them up in cheap accommodations and get them started selling for them. Hector liked being in charge, managing a group of what he called the little people. This term irritated Alex, who reminded Hector that it hadn’t been so long ago since they, too, were little people. Alex tried to stay clear of that part of the business. He didn’t like treating people as if they were cattle. He felt as if he was betraying his own kind.

  Emilio told him he didn't want Alex selling the drugs, which suited him. He wanted him to learn how the business worked, and he was learning. School consumed him, not to mention lectures from Emilio on how money laundering was carried out. To Alex, this was safer and far less emotionally draining than selling drugs on the street: out of sight, out of mind. The ruthless bug hadn’t bitten him as it had his counterpart, Hector. He also found money laundering rather intriguing.

  The apartment Emilio had set them up in was posh. It was in the Hollywood Hills, overlooking a good portion of the city. Hector’s mother didn't question where all the money was coming from. Unlike Marta, Elisa didn't care, as long as her son took care of her. And Hector made sure that happened. He'd moved her and her husband into a small but pleasant home in the Fairfax district, and provided her monthly with a substantial amount of money, courtesy of Emilio.

  Alex put his head down on his financial reports, his eyes tired of numbers and words. Hector came stumbling in. Between running the show and partying, Hector was rarely home. When he was available, Alex was too busy studying to hang out with him. On the few occasions when Alex was up to going out, Emilio seemed to be in town. Alex noticed how friendly Emilio and Hector had become in a matter of months. In a way, Alex felt as if he was losing his best friend to Emilio. It was difficult to understand, because Emilio was probably fifteen years older than they were. But Hector was rapidly getting used to money, and Emilio always had a lot on him, ever willing to pass it around.

  "Hey, how's it going, Alejandro? Studying hard?" Hector patted Alex on the shoulder and smiled. His eyes were blood-shot and he smelled of tequila.

  Alex closed his book. "I'm working on it. Looks like you had a successful day."

  "Yeah. I’m getting the hang of this boss-man stuff. You should see those little peons. They shake in their shoes when they see me coming.”

  “Uh-huh.” Alex was unimpressed by Hector’s brazen harshness.

  “You want a drink?" Hector stumbled over to the bar to pour himself another shot of tequila.

  "No." Alex picked up his books and started to walk into the small den off the living room.

  "Hey, sit down, man. I got something to tell you. Besides, you should take a break." Hector motioned for Alex to sit.

  "What?"

  "We’re gonna be taking a trip."

  "Where? Why?"

  "To meet the man, that's why. Emilio phoned this morning and clued me in. He said the Patrón wants to meet us personally. We'll be flying down to Puerto Vallarta in the morning where we gonna take a boat down to some palace type place these guys own in Costa Careyes. They want to make sure we get all of this, you know. We are moving up in the world." Hector headed for his room.

  Alex sat on the sofa in disbelief. Things like this didn’t happen to a couple of low-life kids from the barrio. It sounded way too good to be true.

  “Hey, amigo, why don't you put the book away tonight and we'll go out and party?” Hector called out to Alex.

  "Nah, I’m tired. You should take it easy, if we’re leaving early in the morning."

  “Fuck that, man. You know you really ought to try and enjoy all our new riches. Shit like this don’t happen every day.”

  Hector was right. Shit like this didn’t happen every day. There was a catch somewhere. For now, Alex would go along for the ride, hoping he didn’t crash on his way to discovering what the catch was.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  “But I don’t want a party,” Bella told her father.

  “It will make you feel better. You’ve always loved parties. And this one will be in your honor.”

  “My
honor? Honor for what? Please Papa, don’t give me a party. I don’t want people seeing me in this thing,” she replied, referring to her wheelchair.

  “You’re being foolish. Everyone knows that your wheelchair is only a temporary device. Please, consider allowing me to give you this party. Do it for me.”

  “For you?” Bella turned the wheelchair around to face the window in the front room overlooking the ocean below. Her father had brought her to the vacation house—she’d always loved staying here in the past, but now, nothing mattered.

  “Yes.”

  “For you? That’s funny and sad, Papa, because I’ve tried for years to do everything for you. I went away for you, to a school where you could forget all about me. I became a world-class rider to make you proud of me. I received excellent marks in school for you. I did everything to please you. Now look at me. I’m confined in a wheelchair, my horse is dead, and my dreams destroyed. Right now, Papa, I don’t want to do anything for you, or for me, or for anyone else.”

  Javier walked over to the window and bent down to Bella. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, tears in his eyes. She turned her face away from him. He sighed. “Whatever you like.” He left the room.

  Pedro, who’d been within hearing distance in the kitchen, approached Bella. He too bent down, but lacked the kindness her father had bestowed upon her. He grabbed her shoulders, “Let me tell you something. That man loves you with all his heart and soul. He regrets ever hurting you. In fact, it is the biggest regret of his life. You will quit pitying yourself. You will let him throw you a party, and you will start allowing the physical therapist to work with you, and you will get better. I do not want to hear any protests. I’m going to see your father now and tell him that you’ve changed your mind.”

  Pedro left the room leaving Bella stunned and slightly ashamed of herself, but how dare Pedro speak to her like that. Who did he think he was? There was a knot in her stomach for the way she’d treated her father. In that aspect, maybe Pedro was right. Her father was only trying to make her happy.

  Bella decided to go down to the stables. She hadn’t seen a horse since her accident. She struggled with her wheelchair to get there, her arms sore, but she finally made it. Her childhood horse Salsa was still stabled there, eating and aging. All of the family’s retired horses came to live at the vacation home in Costa Careyes after retirement. It had been a standing joke within the family that once a horse earned his keep for the Rodriguez family he would live the rest of his life in style. She was happy Salsa had been brought here to live out his final years. If only Delilah could have also had the same fortune…

  Salsa peeked his head out in curiosity as he watched his girl rolling down the stable aisle in what must’ve seemed to him a strange contraption. He devoured the carrot she offered him, placing his face in her arms when finished with his treat. She hugged him back and as she felt the his breath upon her neck, she broke into tears. The horse remained in Bella’s arms, as if he understood that was what she needed. He nuzzled her as she patted him gently. Horses had been her life for so long that the possibility of never riding one again was something she could not bear to imagine. Her father was a good man and she knew he loved her, but it didn’t take away what she’d endured and his love couldn’t fulfill the life she’d expected to live.

  *****

  The hacienda was filled with an air of festivity, festooned with decorations in pink and white, flowers adorning each room. Isabella prepared for the party in her room with her nurse Maria, who’d been helping her with her physical therapy. Butterflies fiddled around in her stomach as she thought about the guests and what their reactions to her disability might be. She refused to allow anyone to pity her. She also regretted the fact that Miguel was unable to come. She’d sent him a letter inviting him, but he’d responded that he was busy working on a new crusade to fight crime in their country. This bothered her. He normally wouldn’t have missed this party for anything. He’d also enclosed something very disturbing in his letter to her. It was a small article from a radical newspaper, claiming that her father worked with the Colombians transporting drugs. The article also claimed that the recent elections had been fixed, in order for her father to win, remaining in control, since he was in favor of those who supported their world of wealth. Bella ripped the article up and tried to dispel it from her thoughts. She was angry with Miguel for sending it to her. She could not believe that her father could be corrupt. But she’d also overheard a conversation between two of the cooks some days earlier, gossiping about what they knew of their employer’s source of wealth.

  "What is troubling you so?" her nurse asked, interrupting Bella’s thoughts as she brushed her hair up into a chignon.

  "It’s nothing.” She fell silent, but then decided to continue. It had been a long time since she’d confided in anyone. “I heard something terrible about my father."

  "What on earth are you talking about?"

  "I don't know if I should say anything. It's probably nothing, really."

  "Listen to me. If it’s bothering you so much, you need to tell somebody."

  Bella sighed, and fiddled with the bracelet on her arm, while she spoke. "The other day, I was in the kitchen. I overheard some of the cooks talking about Papa and my Godfather. They were saying that Papa and Antonio are involved in drug-trafficking and killing people. You know those death squads you hear people talking about? They were saying that Antonio orders them and that Papa is also involved in seeing those types of orders are carried out."

  "Oh child, none of that's true. You pay no mind to idle gossip. They're bored idiots, who need to make up stories out of jealousy. People who have wealth like your father and godfather are always targets of malicious lies. You need not listen to such talk or worry your pretty head about it. Who was saying these awful things?"

  "I don't know. I think it was Jorge and Horacio."

  "If you ever hear them saying such things again, I want you to come straight to me and let me know, all right? That kind of poison need not be spread here in your father’s home. I promise you that they’re nothing but silly rumors."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course. Come now, let's finish getting you dressed. You don't want to be late for your own party, do you?"

  "No." That was a lie, but she would do this for her father. She thought about what Maria had told her and the denials that her father was involved in any wrong doing, but in the back of Bella’s mind, the thought still remained, a bit quieter now, but still there. Was her father a corrupt man?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Antonio paced back and forth in the large conference room. He would meet his son face to face today. Would the boy recognize him? Would he look into Antonio’s eyes and know who he was? Maybe he should have called the whole thing off, but it was too late now. They were scheduled to arrive at any moment.

  Javier walked into the room, smoothing back what little hair he had left. "I've just been informed they've arrived."

  "Could you pour me a Scotch?" Antonio asked him.

  "You all right? You seem uptight. This is only to meet our new west coast distributors. Emilio assures me they’re good men to go with. He checked them out. Why so tense?"

  Antonio sighed. He hadn’t wanted to tell Javier the truth yet about who the new west coast distributor was and how it had all come about, but he had known that he and Marta had a child together and Antonio couldn’t help wondering if Javier would recognize the fact that they were father and son. If so, he would feel betrayed and Antonio did not want that.

  "I will be, once you get me that Scotch.” His hands shook as he reached inside his suit pocket for his cigarette case. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag.

  Javier went to the marble bar and poured his friend the Scotch straight up. Antonio swallowed it in one gulp and slammed the glass down. After finishing the drink he told the news to his compadre.

  “The man coming her in minutes is your son?”

  “Yes.”r />
  “And he has no idea that you’re his father.”

  “Yes.”

  “Dios Mio.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “For now, nothing. Put the boy to work. Maybe in time when trust is there between us on that level I will tell him. For now, it will only backfire on me and us. I’m certain he has a strong hatred for his father.” He sighed. “For me, and I don’t know if I can take that. Can you keep this a secret?”

  Javier nodded. “Of course.” He walked over to the bar and made himself a drink in an obvious attempt to swallow and digest this unsettling news, but Antonio knew him to be true and a man of his word. This could only strengthen their bond. Lies would break their partnership apart. Antonio knew enough about deceit to be aware of that fact.

  A few minutes later, a handful of men walked in, Emilio in front. Alex had grown in size, and his face had matured a great deal, but his eyes still resembled his father’s. He stood out from the other two, far more elegant than either of them. For such a young man who’d never been provided the lavish lifestyle or riches he’d been entitled to, he’d grown up with the same grace and elegance characteristic of his mother. His demeanor was that of a gentleman. Antonio wanted to wrap his arms around him and shout to the world, “This is my son.” Instead, he suppressed his feelings as he reached out his hand. "Hello, gentlemen. I am Antonio Espinoza, and this is my friend and business associate, Javier Rodriguez."