The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5
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Also by Pendelton C. Wallace
Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With My Father
Blue Water & Me is a high-adventure true story of author Penn Wallace's magical first summer fishing with his father, Blue Water Charlie, off the coast of Mexico at age eleven.
Christmas Inc.
Amazon.com’s #1 best selling political satire.
Warning: This is not a children’s book. Exposure to children under twelve-years old may cause child to stop believing in Santa Claus or take a cynical view of Christmas.
What would happen if Santa decided to go public and sell shares of Christmas on the NASDAQ? What would happen to the elves if he outsourced toy making to China?
The Ted Higuera Series
The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)
Somewhere on Canada's Inside Passage, terrorist plot to destroy a cruise ship filled with celebrities and VIP’s. Ripped from today's headlines, a group of Canadian-born terrorists plan to bring their war to the Western Hemisphere.
Can Ted and his friends act in time to save the thousands of people aboard the Star of the Northwest?
Hacker for Hire (Ted Higuera Series Book 2)
If Clive Cussler had written Ugly Betty, it would be Hacker for Hire.
Hacker for Hire, a suspense novel about corporate greed and industrial espionage, is the second book in a series about Latino computer security analyst Ted Higuera and his best friend, para-legal Chris Hardwick.
When you’re already in the top one percent of the country’s money makers, how much is enough?
Ted and lovely PI Catrina Flaherty are led deep into Seattle’s Hi-Tech world as they stalk a killer. But the killer is also hunting them. Can they find the killer before the killer finds them?
The Mexican Connection (Ted Higuera Series Book 3)
In the third book in the Ted Higuera series, Ted and Chris are lured to Mexico by an old nemesis. They are dragged into Mexico’s drug wars and have to confront the corruption of Mexico’s law enforcement. They meet a colorful cast of characters as they search from border towns to the cosmopolitan Mexico City to ancient Aztec ruins.
You will meet old friends, make new ones and encounter new villains as our heroes cut a wide swath through our neighbor to the south. Throw in a magical Jaguar and an Aztec god and you have a rollicking adventure tale.
Bikini Baristas (Ted Higuera Series Book 4)
Bikini Baristas is a tale of Dick Randall, the owner of a chain of bikini barista stands in the Seattle area and Clayton Johnson-White, a teenage kid who thinks he’s smarter than the rest of the world.
The story begins when Dick’s pickup truck is discovered burned-out in the California desert. What happened to him? Did he fake his death to escape his sleazy past or did the past catch up with him?
Catrina Flaherty and Ted Higuera are hired by his wife to find the truth.
To get away from his trailer-trash life, Clayton drops out of school and runs away into the woods of Camano Island. He breaks into vacation homes and steals what he needs.
The case is handed to Ted’s best friend, Chris Hardwick, his first grown-up lawyer case.
What do these two cases have in common? In the end, they come together with the force of two colliding freight trains.
Catrina Flaherty Mysteries
Mirror Image (Catrina Flaherty Mysteries 1)
Based on a real-life tragedy, Mirror Image is a heart-stopping tale of horrific abuse.
Female PI Catrina Flaherty tackles one of her most difficult cases. Cat specializes in women’s issues: infidelity, messy divorces, spousal abuse, sexual harassment, etc. But her newest client, Mandy Alcott, has an unusual problem; her abusive husband is the chief of police.
What do you do when your abuser is The Law?
You call Cat Flaherty.
Murder Strikes Twice (Catrina Flaherty Mystery 2)
When her daughter dies in a tragic accident and the daughter’s husband’s second wife does the same, what is Eleanor Johnson to think? The police have ruled both cases accidents and closed them, but something doesn’t feel right. Is it possible to believe that two tragic deaths are mere coincidence, or was something more sinister at play? Who’s Eleanor gonna call?
Cat Flaherty.
Murder Strikes Twice, the second book in the Catrina Flaherty Mysteries, is based on an actual case that is still developing.
When Cat starts looking into the Barrett Case, something smells rotten. She and her team scour Seattle for clues as the pieces start falling into place, but can she make a case that the D.A. will take to court? Did Murder Strike Twice or will Brody Barrett get away with killing both of his wives?
Catrina is known for administering vigilante justice. Will Brody finally have to pay for his sins?
The Cartel Strikes Back
The Ted Higuera Series Book 5
by
Pendelton C. Wallace
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
Copyright © 2016 Pendelton C. Wallace
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact Victory Press at www.pennwallace.com.
Visit Pendelton Wallace’s Web site at www.pennwallace.com.
Contact the author at http://www.pennwallace.com/contact-penn.html.
Cover Design by Brandi McCann
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Post Script
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Coming Soon . . .
About the Author
Chapter 1
Manny Olivera stomped from the owner’s cabin back to the bar on the main deck.
Women! Why could they never be on time for anything?
He poured himself a shot of tequila and downed it in a single gulp.
Manny looked up at the teak and brass plaque that hung on the wall over the bar with the vessel’s name, Arrecho, as well as the names of the builder, the designer, the interior architect, and the owners along with the date of launch, May 12, 2006.
/> He laughed to himself. The old man’s sense of humor. It was just like his father to name his boat Arrecho. It meant hard-on or erection. He always remembered his father as a sexually driven man. The fact that he died in a puta’s bed only reinforced the idea.
He glanced around the Arrecho and, once again, marveled at her beauty. One hundred seventeen feet long, gleaming white outside with jet black windows, she seemed to go on forever. With three decks and a crew of eight, she could go anywhere in the world. When his father was alive he told the captain to meet him in Monaco or Tahiti or someplace. When their private jet touched down, the Arrecho was always there waiting for them.
The memories of his father and the warm liquor calmed his nerves.
Would Gloria ever be ready?
He ambled forward, through the main saloon, past the guest staterooms and to the owner’s cabin in the bow of the boat.
“You ready yet, Corazon?” Manny asked his wife as he entered the cabin.
“Momentito, mi amor,” Gloria called over her shoulder.
Manny gently put his hands on her silky shoulders and bent to give her a light kiss on the neck.
He had everything. His mother owned the largest bottling company in Mexico; his wife was a former Miss Mexico. She made it all the way to first runner-up in the Miss Universe Pageant. The memory of her lovely body in the swimsuit competition brought a smile to his face.
And, yes, the children. He was always grateful for the children. Children were the measure of a man. They had her looks and his smarts.
Manny watched his wife put on the finishing touches. Her long black hair hung down in luxurious curls. Her eyes formed dark pools in the mirror.
He loved the master cabin. It was like something out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. The teak-paneled room had brass accents everywhere. Gold-framed mirrors flanked the king-size bed.
Gloria hung huge diamonds from each ear while Manny studied her face.
“Vamanos, querida.” His voice dropped and he stared into her eyes. “We’re going to be late to my own party.”
“What difference does it make? I like to make an entrance, and besides, they can’t give away the awards without you.”
After an eternity, the young scion led his bride down the long dock. He hated the dock. He always felt as if he were slumming. The Arrecho was a miracle of modern technology. She looked like something out of a James Bond movie, but the boats surrounding her?
They were transients, battered cruising boats just in from the Caribbean or fishing boats there for the season. He wanted to move the boat to a more exclusive marina, but Mama insisted that they keep it where Papa wanted it.
Manny walked Gloria, her hand on his elbow, up the dock to a waiting Cadillac Escalade. The driver jumped from his seat and opened the door as the couple approached.
The drive from Marina Palmira to La Paz was only about seven miles, nothing for the high-powered beast.
Just past the open-air El Molino restaurant, a black Chevy Suburban skidded to a halt in front of their SUV. At the same instant a second Suburban smashed into their rear bumper.
Manny’s driver leapt from the vehicle, drawing a large pistol from under his jacket. He never got off a shot.
A burst of bullets from an Uzi sub-machine gun cut him down.
“Aieee!” Gloria screamed.
Eight armed men surrounded the Escalade.
Manny locked the doors and reached for his cell phone. No sense wasting his time calling the police. These babosos were probably working for the same people who owned the police.
He punched in the emergency number for his security agency.
“Sí,” the female voice said.
“This is Manuel Olivera. My car has been surrounded by pistoleros, my driver has been shot.”
The leader of the bandidos, a large man with a black hood over his face, laughed and shouted at the window.
“You really don’t think that puny lock will stop us, do you?” He waved at one of the other bandidos. “Bombardero, open the door.”
Manny watched as a smallish man dropped on one knee and pressed what looked like a lump of clay to the door handle.
“Be careful, menso,” the jefe said, “we don’t want to blow them apart, only open the door.”
“Si, patron,” the small man said. “Get back.”
Manny watched in terror as the bandidos all stepped back. The small man pulled a metal box from his pocket and pushed a button.
Manny threw Gloria to the floor and dropped on top of her.
“Cover your ears,” Bombadero yelled from outside.
Manny didn’t hear so much as feel the explosion.
The world went dark.
****
Chris Hardwick, the tall blond skipper of Courageous, struggled to clear his head. He’d partied late into the night before the start of the Swiftsure, the Northwest’s premier yacht race.
No, the truth was he’d partied until early in the morning. Why they scheduled a nine a.m. race start was a mystery to him. Most of the crews and skippers were still way too hung over to handle their boats.
A warm feeling lit his belly. He thought back to the dinner and ball the previous night. Hope, his best friend Ted’s little sister, hung on his arm. She stood a full foot shorter than him, but with those crazy Mexican platform shoes, she came up to his chin.
Hope was spectacular. In her tiny black dress, with flowing black locks and dreamy black eyes, she was the best looking woman at the party.
At dinner, they sat across from Aly di Nas, the bow girl on the Titan. He remembered Aly from the Newport Race Week. The tall blonde invited them to a party at an after-hours club. He resisted at first, but Hope, who had a little too much to drink, practically dragged him there. It really was quite fun, watching Hope trying to balance herself on those ridiculous shoes, her large breasts threatening to jump out of her low-cut dress, pulling him down the street.
Who do I think I’m fooling? I’m not in college anymore. I can’t party like there’s no tomorrow, then handle the Courageous the next day.
But handle the Courageous he did. The big red boat fought for position on the starting line.
Chris always thought sailboat races were exercises in organized chaos. The committee boat, at one end of the starting line, fired a gun at the two-minute mark to warn the skippers of the impending start. He had one-hundred-and-twenty-seconds, when the starting gun went off, to position his boat to surge over the line and head for the first mark.
Sometimes, in the wee hours of the night, Chris wondered why he did this. Racing sailboats made herding cats look easy.
Sailboats are subservient to wind. Most of the time, the race starts out on an upwind leg. Chris had to tack into the wind to get to the starting line and timing had to be precise. If he crossed the line an instant too early, the committee boat flagged them and he had to return and re-cross the starting line. It might only take a couple of minutes, but two minutes in a sailboat race is an eternity.
“Ease out on the jib,” Chris yelled.
Ted let the jib sheet out a foot or so. Chris smiled.
Ted had the sea sense of an elephant. He was half a foot shorter than Chris, but incredibly powerful. With broad shoulders, massive biceps and a huge barrel chest, he could easily bench press two-fifty. Working in the cockpit was a safe job for him, all he had to do was crank the winches; he didn’t need any feel for the ocean.
Chris let the bow drop slightly off the wind and jockeyed for position. Kraken, a white Benneteau 40 with a decal of a giant squid eating an old sailing ship on her bow was to windward. The Jaguar, a little Hotfoot 27, edged ever closer to leeward. Chris held his course.
The start clock on his instrument panel counted down the time.
Less than thirty seconds.
“Ease the jib.”
Ted responded instantly.
The Courageous slowed down just a tad. The trick was to hold his speed as much as possible. They needed to sheet in and re
sume full speed an instant before the starting gun went off and blast over the starting line like a runaway locomotive.
“You’re cutting it pretty close, Chris.” Harry, Chris’s dad, sat in the tactician’s seat on the high side of the cockpit. Harry always reminded Chris of Harrison Ford, especially his million-dollar smile.
“We’ll make it.” Chris shot a look over his shoulder to his dad.
Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
“Sheet in.”
Five, four, three.
The Courageous surged forward, leaving Kraken and Jaguar behind.
The starting gun went off.
Chris and his boat flew across the starting line.
He pictured the course in his mind. The first leg took them down the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the body of water that separates Canada from the U.S., for almost seventy miles out into the Pacific Ocean. They’d cross the finish line, back where they started, off the mouth of Victoria Harbor in the wee hours of the morning.
Kraken edged ahead. Mephisto, from the Royal Victoria Yacht Club, made a good showing. Chris jockeyed for clear air and kept Courageous near the head of the pack.
His red Chesapeake 43 was a good upwind boat, but when they rounded the mark that night and headed down wind, there’d be hell to pay. The Courageous was a rocket sled down wind. With the big red, white and blue spinnaker, she’d take off like the Devil was chasing her.
All through the day, Chris drove his boat and crew. There wasn’t a soul on board who wasn’t drenched in sweat and aching to the bone. That’s what sailboat racing was about. Pushing yourself to the limit, a test not only of strength, but stamina and nerve. Just how good was he?
Maria, Ted’s main squeeze, and Kayla, Harry and Candace’s adopted 11-year-old daughter, manned the galley providing hot coffee and chocolate all morning long.