The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5

by Pendelton Wallace

  “But think of the art.” El Pozolero picked up a tostada and nibbled at the edges. “Who else could spend so much on the production? It would surely garner several Academy Awards nominations. Perhaps for best actress?”

  Victoria unwrapped a tamale from the corn husk and dribbled salsa over it. “You tempt me.”

  “Where else would you find so compelling a story? A young boy grows up in the slums of Tijuana, son of a puta. At nine years old, he goes into business for himself, by twelve he is working for the narcos because there is no other path open to him.”

  El Pozolero finished his tostada and downed his drink. “Paco, una otra, por favor. And this time, give me a man’s drink.”

  He turned back to his exquisite guest. “Our boy becomes the biggest drug lord in the world. He builds schools, hospitals, creates pensions for old people. Produces thousands of good paying jobs. The economy of this country would disintegrate if I was put out of business.”

  “It sounds like he’s Robin Hood.”

  “Si, I like that, a Mexican Robin Hood. Our boy, he is arrested and thrown in prison, but he makes a daring escape. No jail can hold El Pozolero. Now he is free to continue helping his people.”

  The antojitos were removed and the steward replaced them with a clay pot filled with pollo en mole Pueblana, a crock of frijoles and a dish of arroz. Naturally, a basket of tortillas came with the meal.

  “You have given me a lot to think about,” Victoria said, as she reached for a tortilla. Send me the script when it is ready, let me talk it over with my agent.”

  “Be sure to consider it carefully.” El Pozolero swallowed a bit of the chicken. “You know, not many people know about your early career.”

  Victoria stopped with her fork poised in mid-bite.

  “What would your fans think if they found out about your early films?” He took a drink of his tequila.

  “You wouldn’t,” she managed to gasp.

  “No, no. Of course not. I am your biggest fan, but I worry about you. What might happen if the press found out about those things? What stage name did you use on those pictures? . . . Ah yes, Viuda Negra, the black widow. An appropriate name for the characters you played. Fuck them and kill them, no?”

  “I . . .I . . . need to think about this. I need to go home. Can you take me home?”

  “Certainly, mi bonita. I am taking this boat on to my villa in Ensenada de los Muertos, to meet with the writers, but I can have my capitan run you ashore in his launch.”

  Victoria couldn’t wait to get off the boat. The limousine took her back to the airport and the private jet whisked her back to Los Angeles. The veiled threat gnawed at her the whole time.

  She was a young actress from Oaxaca. She was in Mexico City with no money, no prospects. When she was approached by the producers, she had no choice. She was a good actress. What did it matter if she had to fuck a whole slew of men? She had to have the money.

  Who could she call? She didn’t dare phone anyone while in El Pozolero’s car or plane. It would be sure to be overheard. Who could she go to for help?

  She was in danger as long as El Pozolero was loose, but what could she do about it? She couldn’t go to the police, they worked for him. As he said, the DEA was useless.

  Rudolfo! He knew everybody. Surely he’d help her find a solution.

  In the hours it took to get home, her brain ran at top speed until it threatened to short circuit.

  As soon as she was in her car, she reached for her cell phone. She scrolled though the stored numbers until she found it.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Rudolfo Trujillo,” came the voice.

  “Rudi, mi amor, I need help.”

  “Victoria? What kind of trouble are you in this time?”

  Victoria looked out her window. She saw what looked like endless miles of freeways. “El Pozolero. I met with him. He wants to make a movie. He wants me to star in it.”

  She heard a long blowing sound on the other end of the phone.

  “Wheeew. What are you doing messing around with that bandido?”

  “I didn’t know. I got a call. It sounded legitimate. It was about a movie offer. It sounded good.” She took a deep breath. It was so good to finally be able to talk to someone.

  “You know what they say about if it sounds too good to be true.”

  “Rudi, what are we going to do?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Did he tell you anything that would help us?”

  “He said he already talked to Mac McCarthy about it. He said they were already working on the screen play.”

  “Did he tell you who was working on it? Where they were?”

  “Ah . . . no. But he did say he was going to his villa in Ensenda de los Muertos to work on it.”

  “Perfect. I think I know someone who can help. Let me call him, then I’ll get back to you.”

  Chapter 39

  They agreed it was much safer to stay at the ranch than in town and Theresa was a marvelous hostess. Every morning, Angelita, her cook, prepared a fantastic breakfast and in the evenings her meals were exquisite. The large ranch house had more than enough room for three extra people; the ranch could have accommodated a battalion of Marines.

  This would make a great resort, if the bad guys weren’t trying to kill us, Catrina thought.

  “Flaco says that the Baja Cartel is moving a large shipment of drugs tonight,” Theresa said as she sipped her coffee.

  “How large is large?” Ted asked.

  “He says it’s much bigger than anything we’ve seen yet. His cousin said that you’re really hurting them. They’re consolidating all of their shipments in one big batch so they can protect it better.”

  “They’ll have an army guarding it,” Catrina said.

  “We need to check it out.” Chris reached for another tortilla. “Did Flaco say where it was going down?”

  Theresa looked at her friends. “Yes, but do you really think you should do this? I mean, he’s sure to be waiting for you.”

  “It’s the only way we can force El Pozolero’s hand,” Ted said. “We’ve got to force him to come to the table with us.” He put down his coffee cup. “So where is this alleged shipment going to be?”

  “According to Flaco, it will go to an unused hangar at the airport. They’re going to fly it out tomorrow.”

  “So, we hit it tonight,” Ted said.

  “Don’t go off half-cocked,” Catrina said. “Let’s drive out to the airport and check it out this morning. Let’s get the lay of the land and figure out how many men we’ll need before it gets dark.”

  “Should Flaco come with us?” Chris asked.

  “Absolutely. He’s going to have to supply the men; he might as well know what we’re going to use them for.”

  The four checked their weapons and climbed into Catrina’s Explorer. As she approached the last gate before joining the public highway, all of her senses were on alert.

  After several successful raids against El Pozolero, she knew that it was worth their lives to let down their guard.

  Catrina drove down the dirt road towards the main highway.

  “How are your men doing?” Ted asked Flaco in Spanish.

  “They are good. Juanito will not be going with us tonight. That wound in his thigh is bothering him, but the rest are ready.”

  Ted turned in his seat to see the foreman better. “We may need more men tonight. You told us that it was going to be a big shipment. They’re going to have a lot of security.”

  As she exited a deep cut between the hills, the front of Catrina’s truck exploded. Glass flew everywhere. She slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop.

  “You okay?” she asked Ted.

  Blood was streaming down his face.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Get out of the truck,” Chris shouted and jumped the back-seat to open the storage compartments with their weaponry.

  Automatic weapon fire rang out from bot
h sides of the road.

  “This car’s bulletproof. We’re safer in here,” Ted screamed.

  “Think again,” Chris shouted. “They already blasted us with an anti-tank missile of some kind. If their aim had been better, we’d all be dead. If we stay in the car, we’re sitting ducks.”

  “He’s right,” Catrina screamed. “Run for the berm at the side of the road. I’ll cover you.”

  She jumped out of the car and opened up with her M-16, the grenade launcher strapped to her back. “Go!”

  Ted, Chris and Flaco jumped out of the other side of the truck and ran for cover. Ted jumped behind the berm and brought his M-16 up firing. “Cat! Get back here.”

  Bullets were flying from every direction. Catrina sprinted to the berm and the three men covered her. She jumped the lip and landed on her back in the soft sand.

  “Chris! You okay?” She saw a trail of blood down Chris’s leg.

  “Uh . . . yeah. Why?”

  “Look at your leg, stupid.”

  Chris dropped below the berm and examined his leg. “Jesus Christ, I’ve been hit.”

  Ted tore off his T-shirt and bound Chris’s leg. “I don’t think it hit an artery. It’s just oozing blood.”

  “I never felt it.” Chris looked dazed. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

  “Just you wait. You’ll feel it.” Catrina put down her rifle and swung the grenade launcher around.

  Flaco popped off a shot and a narco fell backwards.

  Catrina surveyed the situation. There seemed to be about a half-dozen of El Pozolero’s men on the hill opposite them. She could only count four on the hill above them.

  “Ted, get on your phone. Call Theresa, tell her we’ve been ambushed. Have her send some men to clear the area for us.”

  Ted grabbed for his phone.

  “Down!” Catrina yelled.

  A trail of white smoke shot through the air at them.

  All four fell to the bottom of the berm and covered their heads.

  The explosion was right above them. She lost her hearing for a moment. Rocks and sand rained down on her.

  “Now they’ve pissed me off,” Catrina said, as she blew sand from her mouth.

  She carefully climbed to the lip of the berm. She could see three men fiddling with the rocket launcher. She pulled her weapon to firing position and took aim.

  She gently squeezed the trigger. Before the men could finish loading their rocket, the grenade slammed into them. Catrina could see bodies and body parts fly in every which direction.

  “That’ll take some wind out of their sails.”

  “Look out!” Ted shoved Catrina aside. Where she had been laying a moment before, dozens of bullets tore up the sand.

  Before she could react, Chris and Flaco returned fire. One of the men above them flipped backwards.

  Ted crawled to his feet, only to be slammed down again as a hail of bullets hit him in the chest.

  Catrina aimed her grenade launcher and fired. The hillside above them exploded, more rocks and sand raining down on them.

  When the dust cleared, she crawled over to Ted. “You all right?’

  “Can’t breathe,” Ted croaked.

  His bullet-proof vest had six or eight bullets deeply imbedded in it. Catrina tore off his vest. Several of the bullets had penetrated deep enough to draw blood, but it didn’t look like any of them entered Ted’s body.

  “Catch your breath,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “We’re running low on ammo,” Chris shouted.

  Flaco raised his head above the lip of the berm to take aim. The back of his head flew off. Catrina was soaked in blood and brains.

  “NO!” Ted shouted and slithered over to Flaco. “Oh my God! What are we going to tell Theresa? His family?”

  “We better take care of the rest of these narcos or we won’t tell them anything.” Catrina raised her grenade launcher again. She saw movement on the top of the hill and fired.

  Once again, the hillside exploded. She couldn’t tell if she hit anyone or not, but the firing from that side of the hill ceased. She turned to the shooters above her. They pulled back when they saw the grenade launcher turn on them.

  It was eerily quiet.

  She could hear Chris and Ted’s heavy breathing. Chris was holding Ted’s bandage to his leg, Ted held his ribs.

  Time passed. No more fire. Maybe they left?

  Could she take the chance? If she stood up, they might be waiting for her. She’d be dead before she realized they were still there.

  Discretion is the better part of valor.

  An hour later, she watched as the doctor sewed up Ted’s forehead.

  “Head wounds are nasty. Lots of blood. Looks like you are going to be okay,” the doctor said. “Your friend was lucky too. The bullet passed through his thigh, but didn’t knick any arteries. He just needs a few weeks in bed.”

  Catrina moved to the living room with Theresa.

  Tears flowed from Theresa’s eyes. “I can’t believe it. Flaco worked here his whole life. His father was foreman before him.” She blew her nose in a tissue. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “The bastards were waiting for us. They knew we were here.”

  “El Pozolero knows everything. My God, he’s taken everything I hold dear.” She reached out and took both of Catrina’s hands. “Cat, you’ll kill him for me? He has to pay for this.”

  Catrina shook her head slowly. “Theresa, we’re not in the business of killing people. We’ll get Maria back -- that I promise you. If we can, we’ll capture that bastard and turn him over to the police, but we’re not going to execute anybody.”

  Theresa pulled her hands away and wailed.

  Chapter 40

  This was the day. Candace dressed in her best charcoal-gray power suit. She even wore a skirt.

  To hell with them ogling my legs. I won’t be there that long.

  She pulled her Mercedes into the underground parking lot and took the elevator to the 64th floor. Stepping out into the lobby, she noted that everything was going as usual.

  A pretty receptionist sat behind the desk taking calls and routing clients. Young lawyers rushed back and forth in the hallways, papers or tablets in their hands. Of course, it was still early. The senior partners wouldn’t be showing up for at least another half hour.

  Candace made her way to her office, slipped a flash drive in her computer and downloaded a file. She read through it again, one last chance for corrections.

  When she was sure it was as good as it could get, she printed it out.

  Putting the document into a thick manila folder, she rose and headed to the stairs.

  Harvey Bernstein’s office was on the sixty-fifth floor. As she took each step, she felt like she was ascending the gallows.

  She had to be strong! Wiping a tear from her eye, she stopped at the water fountain to get the acidic taste out of her mouth.

  “Harvey, I need to talk to you.” This time she didn’t knock. She just entered the office and sat on one of the chairs.

  “Yes . . .” Harvey put down his coffee cup. “What do you need this time?”

  “This is the last time I’ll be bothering you.” Candace sat up ram rod straight. “I’ve come to tender my resignation, and Chris’s too.”

  Harvey leaned back in his leather chair and grinned. “To what do I owe this fortunate turn of events?”

  “Chris and I are going to start our own firm and you’re going to help.”

  Harvey laughed out loud. “Me, help you? Are you crazy? Neither of you has any idea how to run a business. You, a trophy wife, a former legal secretary and Chris? That boy will drive you into bankruptcy with all his fancy ideas of social justice. Let me tell you, justice doesn’t pay the bills.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You’re going to blow through money like a sailor on shore leave. You’ll end up on the street chasing ambulances.”

  “Are you done?” Candace felt each of Harvey’s words like a sledge hammer. He was
touching on each of her fears.

  “No, you’re done.”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Bernstein. Here is how you will help us.”

  Harvey chortled.

  Candace leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “You are going to give us that five million dollar bonus. You will allow us to talk to each of our clients, offering them the chance to come with us. You will support each of these items to the board.”

  “You’re living in a dream world, a bad dream world.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Have you seen this lately?” She slid a small stack of papers out of her folder. “You know, this information was hard to get.”

  Harvey grabbed at the paper and picked up his reading glasses from the desk.

  “What is this?” He examined the papers. “You can’t have this. Those files were sealed.”

  “You don’t give us much credit do you? Chris and I have more resources than you know.”

  Candace had asked Catrina’s assistant, Mary Beth Henderson, to do some research on Harvey. She hit the jackpot.

  “How did you get this?”

  “It really doesn’t matter, does it? I have them. I’m sure you would be a little embarrassed if they were leaked to the press.”

  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

  Candace smiled her most dazzling smile. “Oh, I think I do. By the way, there is another copy of this file in my safety deposit box, addressed to the district attorney. If I should have some sort of unfortunate accident, the file will end up in his hands. I also left a copy with a friend who has instructions to turn it over to the Times should it be necessary.”

  Harvey was stunned by the revelation. His mouth hung open for a second. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? All right, you’ll get your money, but watch your back. I’ll never rest until I’ve destroyed you. You AND the kid.”

  Candace handed him her resignation letter. “You should get Chris’s by the end of the day. I expect to pick up the check tomorrow.” She got up and left the office.

  “I’ll send security to escort you out,” Harvey shouted after her. “You can send someone to clean out your office later.”

  Candace danced down the stairs with wings on her heels. She had cheated the executioner.