After the disturbing display of legal incompetence, Chris got his way. Carlito was released on two-million-dollars bail. He could leave the house to go to school, but he had to wear an ankle bracelet. He had to go straight to school and straight home. He was, effectively, under house arrest.
Then back at the office, Ben Johnson buried Chris under a stack of legal motions and research for another case. Ben’s strategy was to overwhelm the prosecution in so much paperwork, they wouldn’t be able to prepare their case. Unfortunately, Chris did all of Ben’s dirty work for him
Things had certainly not cooled off with Harvey Bernstein. He continued to ignore Chris and generally make his life uncomfortable. Chris didn’t dare let Harvey know that he was working on Carlito’s case, despite Harvey’s order to drop it.
He pulled his silver Porsche Boxster into the circular drive in front of his dad’s house.
As he dragged himself out of his car the ten-year-old Kayla came charging out the front door.
“Chris, you’re finally here.”
Chris had taken on the role of beloved uncle with his little sister. Dad and Candace adopted Kayla after her mother was run down in front of the courthouse by a Mexican drug cartel. Her father was serving time at Walla Walla for selling the cartel’s drugs.
Kayla hit Chris like a linebacker and he staggered back as she hugged him.
“Hey, Kayla, what’s up?” He twirled her around.
“Candy says we can go to the ocean this weekend. Can you come?”
Chris set the girl on the pavement and took her hand as they walked towards the front door. “I don’t know. Let me get the details from Candace.”
Chris wasn’t impressed by the opulent mansion overlooking Puget Sound. He’d grown up here.
Candace was in the kitchen, with an apron over her jeans and University of Idaho T-shirt. “Hey Chris, glad you made it.” She was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce.
“Sorry I’m late. I just couldn’t get free from the office.”
“I know the feeling.” She handed Chris a glass of Chianti. “Here, taste this.” She pushed a bruschetta into Chris’s mouth.
“Mmm, great.” Chris cleared his palate with a sip of wine. “We need to talk.”
Candace untied her apron. “Everything’s ready here. The sauce just needs to simmer. Let’s go in the living room.”
She tossed her apron on the counter. Chris could never get over her beauty. With her long black hair, emerald eyes, smooth, fair skin and model’s body, she always excited him, even though she was forbidden fruit.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked as she took her glass of wine and floated into the great room.
Chris shook his head. Even when she walked, she seemed to be gliding across the floor and not stepping like ordinary mortals.
Chris followed her and flopped down on a white leather sofa. “We need to make a decision about HB&J. I can’t live like this.”
“Me neither.” Candace sipped at her wine.
“This isn’t Dad’s firm anymore. Bernstein has totally bastardized it. We have to do something.”
“What are you proposing?” She tucked a leg under her in the overstuffed chair.
“We should take their money and start a new firm.”
“Wow! That’s a big step. It’s not like I haven’t thought of it myself. I’ve been doing some research. Chris, we don’t have any experience in running a law office.”
“Yeah, I know. But we can’t work for people like this.” He gulped down the remainder of his wine. “We could bring in someone else, you know, someone who knows how to run a firm.”
Candace picked up the remote control and turned on the stereo system. A classical music station came up. “Don’t you think we’d run into the same problems we have now? What if we bring someone in to be managing partner? Don’t you think that we’d be in the same situation? The MP would have all the power. We couldn’t do as we wanted.”
“Shit, I don’t know.” Chris stood and walked to the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors. “All I know is that I have to get out of this situation. I don’t want to go to another firm; I don’t want to have to report to some other idiot. I want to be responsible for my own fate.”
Candace walked over to Chris and put her arm around his shoulder. “I know. Me too. Let me do some more research. We can talk about it in a week or two.”
“Hey, Candy, I’m starving,” Kayla yelled from the hallway. “When are we going to eat?”
“Right now, honey. Go wash your hands.”
****
.
Joaquin Santiago had a good life. His work hours were short; he had lots of time to spend with his wife and children. He always had a mistress or two stashed away. The warm waters of the South Pacific pushed their way north and showed no intention of receding.
He could fish whenever he wanted.
And he wanted to now. The forty-five-foot sport fisher was far out of sight of land. He was after marlin, the ultimate game fish.
Lolita and the children were with him. He didn’t usually take his family, but he thought it was time for his boys to learn about fishing.
His yacht was moored in San Jose del Cabo, just east of Cabo San Lucas. The captain and deck hand kept the boat in immaculate shape.
No one paid attention to the speed boat approaching. It didn’t concern them.
Until the boat got within a hundred yards. Joaquin looked over and something was wrong. There was a man on the bow with some sort of pipe on his shoulder.
“Get down,” he shouted as he shoved Lolita to the deck. “We’re under attack.”
The captain shoved the throttles to the stops. The deckhand dashed below for his AK-47.
There was a flash from the speedboat. Joaquin could see the trail of white smoke as the missile closed in on them.
****
Cholo was a scion of a rich family. His father made his fortune in real estate, developing resorts for gringos along the Sea of Cortez. Cholo didn’t want to ride on his father’s coat-tails. Besides, Papa wanted him to start at the bottom, learn the business.
Cholo was too smart for that. Who needed to start at the bottom? He found another path to fame and riches. He worked for Ricky Gonzales.
It was another typical night. He spent it at El Pescadoro, his bar and disco on the Malecon in La Paz. He’d taken two hot chicas into his office and fucked their brains out. He was a happy man.
He returned to the dance floor and motioned a subordinate to get him a drink. The girls came stumbling out the door after him, one adjusting her enormous breast in her tiny cocktail dress.
A man in cowboy boots and a Stetson approached Cholo. Cholo paid him no attention.
“El Pozolero sends his regards,” the man said. Then he pulled out a small automatic pistol and fired three rounds into Cholo’s head.
****
El Aguila, the Eagle, lived in an upscale neighborhood in La Jolla, in the north of San Diego.
Life was also good for him. His job was to receive Ricky’s shipments, then pass them on to their distributers.
It was a lovely May evening. The sun set over the blue Pacific in angry shades of red and orange. God was saying “Good night.”
El Aguila turned the carne asada on the grill. His wife brought a bowl of guacamole, escabeche and a pottery tray with cilantro. On the back of the grill, six large white onions, wrapped in aluminum foil, cooked.
It was time to warm the tortillas. He spread several stacks of about six tortillas each on the grill.
The tortillas never made it off of the grill. Gunfire erupted. El Aguila was hit in the first burst. Six men with AK-47s leapt the hedge and sprayed down the patio.
In less time that it takes to think, three men with Uzis returned fire. Two of the pistoleros crumpled to the ground. The other four fled, the job done.
****
Maria and Theresa sat in the dark living room of their ranch house watching 27 Dresses. As always, Popo curled
up at Maria’s feet. The movie was a silly thing and the acting was terrible, but Maria loved Katherine Heigl and watched anything she starred in.
Theresa was sipping her tea and thumbing through the Mexican edition of People Magazine.
Maria glanced at her mother. Who cares what the royals are doing or which actress got knocked up? She had little patience for gossip.
“Señora, señorita! I have horrible news.” Flaco charged through the front door without knocking.
Theresa dropped her tea cup. Maria sprang to her feet. Popo barked loudly.
“What is it?” Maria asked, out of breath.
“It has been a terrible day. Joaquin and his family, they were killed on his boat. Cholo was gunned down in his club. He’s dead. El Aguila was shot in his home. He’s still alive, but just barely.”
“But that can’t happen,” Theresa said. “Baja Sur is a safe zone. We don’t do business here and the police ignore us. All the cartels declared it a DMZ, they invest their money here, launder their money.”
“Not anymore, señora.”
Maria waved Flaco into the room. “Come. Sit. How is El Aguila?”
“Not good, señorita. He needs a hospital, right now.”
“He is in La Jolla. There’s dozens of good hospitals close by.”
A maid appeared from nowhere and handed Flaco a glass of mescal. “Señorita, we can’t take him to a hospital in the U.S. They will report it to the policia and he will be arrested. Even our influence there can’t save him.’
Maria sat on the sofa next to Flaco. “Then we have to get him out. How fast can we get him to Tijuana?”
Popo nuzzled against Flaco’s legs. Flaco absentmindedly scratched his ears. “We are already working on it. He should be there within the hour.”
The maid cleaned up the mess from Theresa’s tea cup.
“And the others, there’s nothing we can do for them?” Theresa asked.
“No, señora, they are gone.”
Tears dripped from Maria’s eyes.
“There is more.”
“What more could there be?” Theresa asked.
“Four of our shipments were intercepted today. The DEA knew we were coming. They were waiting for us.”
“El Pozolero,” Maria hissed. “This is his doing. Only he has the reach to do this.”
“Oh my God,” Theresa hissed. “What do we do?”
“Mom, we’re officially at war. We strike back.”
Chapter 26
Ted’s stomach churned and his head threatened to split wide open. He couldn’t live like this, but what else could he do?
He felt a moral obligation to help Maria and her family, but his morals were taking a beating.
He sat back on the chair in the condo, looking out over the bay, and cradled his smart phone in his hand.
Do I dare make this call? Roberto is a good friend, but will he help me with this? If I frame it the right way. Maybe I can convince him we’re doing a public service, getting rid of Mexico’s most onerous drug lord. Like Catrina always says “A public service homicide.”
Roberto Lazaro had been the chief of police in Juarez when Ted and crew rescued his little brother from an arms dealer. He was as straight a shooter as they come. He sent his family to live outside of Mexico under assumed names so the cartels couldn’t come after them. He lived in police headquarters under twenty-four-hour guard. He never went anywhere without a bullet-proof vest. He ate off the plates of his officers to prevent anyone from poisoning him.
He gave up his life to fight the cancer of drugs running Mexico. He was the president’s number one weapon in the war on drugs. He did such a good job cleaning up Juarez that he was promoted to general and made the head of the Federal Police Force, the Federales.
Ted finally made up his mind and screwed up his courage.
When in Mexico, do as the Mexicans do.
He speed-dialed the number that Lazaro had given him a couple of years ago.
“Lazaro,” the husky voice said on the other end of the line.
“Roberto, Jefe, this is Ted Higuera, you know . . .”
“Señor Higuera. It’s good to hear from you. It’s been a long time.”
Ted took a deep breath.
“How is your family? Your wife?”
“They are doing well. I can’t tell you where they live, but they are enjoying it almost as much as living in Mexico City. I die a little each night before I go to bed, thinking about what I’m missing watching my children grow up.”
Enough small talk. “I can’t imagine how that must feel. Listen, jefe, I need a favor.”
“Sí.”
“My fiancée, Maria Gonzales, is in trouble.”
“I know the Gonzaleses. Ricky’s grandfather was a very important man, el presidente.”
“Yeah, I know. But Ricky has been kidnapped. Maria is fighting to hold his business together and get him back.”
“Ted, mi amigo, I know all about the Gonzales family. They are small scale operators, not big enough for us to go after. We have bigger fish.”
“Do you know that El Pozolero declared war on them? I’m convinced that Ricky is dead. They killed two of his lieutenants and wounded another last night.”
“Yes, El Aguila is now at Centro Medico hospital in Tijuana. He is expected to live.”
“I knew you had good intelligence. I need you to help me, help Maria, fight El Pozolero.”
There was a slight laugh on the other line. “You know I can’t do that. I can’t favor one illegal cartel over another. It is my job to put them all out of business.”
“But wouldn’t you like to get El Pozolero out of circulation?”
“You know it would start another war.” Lazaro sounded like he was lecturing a child. “The business would go on. Someone would step in to take his place.
“Everybody would want a piece of his empire. All the lieutenants and all of the other cartels would fight over his holdings. He is the glue that holds the peace together. Everyone is so afraid of him that no one is willing to take him on.”
“So you’ve got a Pax Narcatico going.”
“For lack of a better term, yes. We will never defeat these criminals as long as there is a market. Right now we have a known number of cartels, we can control much of what is happening. We can target and get rid of the worse ones, but someone else is always there to step in. If El Pozolero were to suddenly disappear, it would be the Wild West. There would be shoot-outs on every corner until some new drug lord rose to take power.”
“I know that, Roberto, but I also know that I have to save Maria. El Pozolero wants her dead. She won’t leave Mexico, she’s adamant about staying here and keeping her father’s business together.”
“I understand, amigo, I would like to help you, but my hands are tied.”
“Shit!”
“However, I can’t help it if there is a leak in my organization. If someone should pass information along, I would never know about it. As a matter of fact, I have a good idea who that person might be, but I can never find enough evidence to arrest him.”
Ted laughed. “Gracias, jefe. I understand.”
****
Maria woke from a fitful sleep. Her life was exploding. Nothing was going right.
Rolling over, she looked at the handsome man lying next to her. As usual, she marveled at his biceps and chest.
He’s built like Atlas. Okay, maybe a short Atlas.
I know I shouldn’t be sleeping with him. I told him that I can’t marry him, so why am I doing this?
Was she just leading him on? She was a bad person, setting Ted up for even more heart break when she had to send him away.
But I love him so much.
She wanted to get every little bit of joy from him she could before he left.
Maria got up, stepped over her dog and headed to the bathroom.
The tall redhead stared at the little white gadget in her hand for a minute, then two, then three. It felt like hours.
/> Aw shit!
The results were the same. There was a little plus sign on the gadget.
Dear God, why have you done this to me? It’s just too much.
Popo pushed the door open and licked at Maria’s face.
“Oh, Popo, what are we going to do?”
She paced the living room for a few minutes, then headed to the kitchen, her Dane kept pace.
Reaching for the coffee pot, she suddenly stopped. Should she be drinking coffee? What other things did she need to know about carrying a baby?
OJ. She’d have a glass of orange juice.
A shriek came from the hallway. Maria dashed to the door and threw it open. Nacho and José were already standing by the pile of bones.
Señora Lopez from down the hall, leaned against the wall, crying.
A bleached white skull topped the pile.
¡El Pozolero!
Only he boils his enemies alive then returns their bones to their families.
Maria sunk to her knees. “Dad . . . oh Dad.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Ted. “I’m going to kill him, Ted. God help me, he’s not going to get away with this.”
Chapter 27
The Baja Cantina never changed. The bar was still made from rough-hewn wood and several older Mexican men sat there sipping their cervezas. There were still bull fight and boxing posters from the last century on the walls. The tables were still Dos Equis and Pacifico folding tables with stackable plastic chairs.
Rudolfo was already sitting at a table in the corner with two Dos Equis in front of him when Ted arrived.
“Rudi, good to see you.” Ted held out his hand.
Rudolfo rose and shook. “I have some information for you.”
Both men sat. It was early afternoon and the bar was almost empty. There was no one in hearing distance of their table.
“I’ve done a little research, talked to my sources.”
The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5 Page 17
