The news of his father’s death saddened him for a day or two, then he saw the opportunity open to him. As the eldest son of Mexico’s most powerful drug lord, he would naturally step up to fill the throne. That is, if his brother, Rojillo, stayed out of the game.
As his thoughts took flight, he glanced around him. Xochimilco was what was left of Lake Texcoco, the lake in which the Aztecs had built their capital. Now the waters were muddy and gross. He wouldn’t swim in the lake for anything.
But, the world famous floating gardens still appealed to him. Millions of tourists came from all over the world to see this ancient wonder.
Flat bottom boats were filled with soil and planted with flowers. Originally, the Aztecs used these boats to grow their food, but as civilization encroached on the lake, the gardens became a tourist diversion only.
In the moment of pleasure he saw himself as the new Aztec Emperor, the heir to Moctezuma and Cuahantemoc. Mexico would flourish under his benign reign.
The helmsman steered the boat from a console in the front. He never spoke and never turned around. Just as Tony liked it.
The boat was painted in bright pastels, the name, Suzanna, stenciled in gold leaf on the canopy. Although empty except for Alma and him, the boat could hold twenty cash-rich touristas.
A boat with a band on board floated by. The music wafted over the water. It came alongside and Tony handed the guitarist a five hundred peso note.
Two other boats had families on board. They spread their elaborate picnics on the table in the center and raised their cervezas in celebration. Sunday in the park.
Another boat was crammed with tourists. Obviously gringos. Cameras around the necks of the older ones, smart phones in the hands of the young ones. He heard a constant cacophony of clicks as the boat slid past.
Alma smiled and pulled his face to her. She kissed him long and hard. Feeling her tongue in his mouth stirred his groin. He took a breast in his hand and squeezed.
She pulled him tighter and unbuttoned the front of her dress. He stared in awe at her lingerie.
She looked over his shoulder and pulled him close again. He got lost in her touch, her feel. He didn’t hear the other boat silently glide up.
Alma shoved him away and dove overboard. He stood astounded. The boat’s captain dove over as well. Tony never got the chance to turn around.
The automatic gunfire tore him to pieces.
****
Rojillo Rodriquez, El Pozolero’s second son, was a gad about town. He loved liquor, he loved gambling and he loved the ladies.
A day at the bull ring, a cock fight, or the race track was his idea of a good time. Of course, to cap the day, he spent the night with one of his friends’ girlfriends or his father’s business partners’ wives. The wives were the best. There was an air of naughtiness about it that sent thrills up his spine.
He loved older women. They had knowledge and experience. And they were so damned grateful for his attention. Who wouldn’t want a piece of him?
Tonight Rojillo and three friends attended one of Mexico City’s premier gentlemen’s clubs. The women were all beautiful and oh, so accommodating. He sat at his table as a slender young lady, clad only in her lingerie, approached.
What should it be tonight? Should he take one woman for the whole night, or should he spread his favors around? Nothing was more sexually exciting to him than fucking one woman shortly after he’d fucked another. He was a sexual superman.
“Buenas noches,” the slender woman said. She couldn’t have been twenty.
Rojillo smiled. “And a good evening to you too, miss?”
“Angela,” she said.
“Ah, an angel indeed. Come, sit. Would you like a drink?”
“Sí,” she said. “A ginerbra y toni, if you please.”
She started to sit in the seat next to him, but Rojillo put out his arm and guided her into his lap. “I think we’re going to be great friends.”
“Señor Rodriquez, you flatter me.”
“You know who I am. How?” His radar immediately went up.
“Everyone knows who you are. The girls talk. They say you are very good and very generous. They also say your pene is, shall we say, thrilling?”
Rojillo smiled. He was always proud of his cock. That was one thing his brother couldn’t take away from him. Poor Tony, with that tiny little thing hanging between his legs.
The thought of Tony sobered him for a moment. What was he going to do? That cock sucking bastard would try to take over their father’s business. Tony had no head for business. He was too mild, too soft. The Baja Cartel needed a strong man at its helm. A man of iron.
But how would he get him out of the way. It was obvious to him that Tony would have to go.
“Would you like a private dance?” Angela asked.
Rojillo’s mind came back to his surroundings. He ran his hand up and down the girl’s side, enjoying the curve from her waist to hips. He felt her small, firm breasts beneath her bra. “Yes, I think we need to find a private room.”
She jumped up from his lap. “Come this way. I have a very private room. It is prepared just for you.”
She led him to the back of the room where there were several doors in the wall. She reached for one knob and opened the door. “Come in.”
Rojillo was a frequent visitor to these rooms. He was used to the chaise lounge, the sofa, the bed.
On a side table stood a bottle of tequila. Angela stepped over to the table and filled two glasses. “Here,” she said, “we drink to Mejico.” She raised her glass in a salute.
“To Mejico,” Rojillo parroted and downed his tequila. He handed the empty glass back to her. “Another.”
She smiled and refilled it.
Something felt funny. Rojillo felt unsteady on his feet. He’d never gotten drunk on one shot of tequila. What was happening?
Angela handed him the second glass and steadied him on his feet.
Rojillo knocked back the tequila.
The room began to spin. He grabbed onto Angela. “Wha’s happen . . . ?”
He lost his grip and slid to the floor.
She straddled him and looked down at him. “La Reina sends her compliments.”
She walked to the closet and dressed herself in jeans and a blue denim shirt, put on her shoes, and left through the back door.
****
Elena and Martina Rodriquez fled to Spain after El Pozolero’s death. They felt that Mexico was not safe for them. Surely the Sinaloa Cartel’s reach did not extend to Europe.
Elena felt like a tourist. They stayed in the best hotels, ate at the best restaurants. It was like a dream come true. She missed her father, a little. He was never at home, spent little time with the family.
And he made her feel like a bird in a cage. His ideas of a woman’s value were so antiquated. He needed to look around Mexico. Everywhere, women were stepping up to claim their rightful place.
The Prado in Madrid was exceptional. Built before and after the Napoleonic Wars it was Spain’s attempt to establish their place in the cultural world of Europe.
It held thousands of the world’s most famous works of art, everything from El Greco to Velasquez to Titian. Her absolute favorite was “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Bosch.
She turned her thoughts to more modern matters. Her favorite topic: feminism. Women were waking up in Mexico, taking their rightful place in the world, but everywhere, in every country, they were still marginalized.
The Prado was a perfect example. There was no shortage of nudes in the museum. Artists painted women of every conceivable size and shape in little or no clothing. That’s okay, she admired the female body and she appreciated art.
But where were the male nudes? Why didn’t artists paint men, who had equally beautiful bodies? And what few that were in the museum all had their genitals covered.
“Where would you like to have lunch?” Martina asked.
It took a moment for Elena to realize her mother was
talking to her. “Oh, tapas. How about tapas?” she asked.
“Fine. There’s a good place about a block from the hotel.”
The two women walked down the path away from the huge marble structure. Elena marveled at the beauty and grace of the building.
Why don’t we build things like that anymore?
They walked down the path totally oblivious to the old woman in widow’s weeds. As they passed the abuela, she rose and stumbled after them.
As the women turned the corner, the old lady stretched out her stride and picked up her pace.
Elena and her mother walked down the busy street.
The old woman came up behind them. She reached in her bag and withdrew a silenced .22 caliber pistol. Raising the pistol to the back of Elena’s head, she snapped off two shots.
Martina didn’t hear the shots, she just saw her daughter collapse.
The old woman said, “La Reina sends her compliments,” in a deep base voice.
Before Martina had time to react the old woman pulled the trigger twice more.
Pfft, pfft. It was over, El Pozolero’s seed was erased from the earth.
“Go down Moses, tell old Pharaoh,” the old woman sang to herself in that rich, deep voice.
Chapter 46
Maria stood in front of the mirror, Popo at her side. She stared at the serious young woman looking back at her.
Dressed in a conservatively cut suit she looked prepared for business. She purposely chose a short skirt. She knew her long legs were her best feature. She wanted to take the men’s minds off of the problem long enough to take control.
Popo sat obediently at her side.
“Good boy.” She reached down and rubbed between his ears. A tear leaked out of her eye and she dropped to one knee to hug the giant dog.
This was it. Show Time!
She had already kept the assembly waiting at least ten minutes. Was that enough? Keeping these powerful men waiting would increase her sense of power.
She left the room with Popo trotting at her side. She knew they were an impressive couple. Who would dare mess with a woman protected by a hundred-and-ninety pound dog?
The hotel was empty. She had ordered the manager to cancel all reservations for this meeting. Her guests were treated to the best rooms and the best food. She had to show she was in control.
The hallway was a long arcade, the hotel on one side and the gardens overlooking the Sea of Cortez on the other. Her spiked heels clicked on the terra cotta tile.
At each hallway, each door, two of her soldiers stood at attention in suits with bulges under their jackets. She almost laughed. How out of character to see these campesinos in suits. They were more used to the white pants and shirts of the farmers they really were.
She approached a huge double door. The door was richly carved wood depicting a hunting scene. The two soldiers at the door opened them for her grand entrance.
All heads turned to watch her enter. A soft murmur spread through the guests.
At the long table were the captains of El Pozolero’s Baja Cartel, her chief lieutenants, and the heads of several smaller cartels that did business along the border. She had personally guaranteed their safety at the meeting.
Behind each captain stood a large man in a dark suit with the ubiquitous bulge under his jacket. Each captain brought his personal bodyguard.
Maria took a seat in the large chair at the head of the table. It could almost be called a throne. Popo sat beside her and watched each man in the room carefully. Woe to anyone who threatened his mistress.
“Gentleman,” she began, “it is good to see you all here today. It is good that we can sit down together without threat of violence.”
There was a soft murmur in the room.
“We have been involved in a long and ugly war. We have all had tragic losses. We have all been hurt, our businesses threatened by this war.” She stood and put both hands on the table, her fingers pressing against the wood. “It is time to stop this madness. It is time to reconcile. I’m sure that we can all find some common ground on which to move forward.”
Heads nodded and soft voices exchanged short words.
“We are all of one family. We are Baja California. We build the economy. We choose the leaders. Nothing happens here that we don’t control.” She stopped to breathe.
“But we all face a common threat.” She paused. “The Sinaloa Cartel. They are the most powerful cartel in the world. If we do nothing, they will pick us off one by one. Each and every one of our territories will be swallowed up by the giant.”
Raul Ramirez, El Pozolero’s chief captain and heir apparent, squirmed in his chair.
“What do you, a woman, know of these things? You’ve lived your life in a perfume-scented cage, enjoying the fruits of our work.”
“Raul, señor Ramirez, I appreciate your concern, but rest assured that I know everything I need to know to host this meeting.”
She thought Raul might jump to his feet, but Popo issued a low growl. Raul settled back in his chair.
“Gentlemen, my friends, my family, here is what is going to happen: The two families, the Baja Cartel and the Gonzales Family will be consolidated. Any of you other jefes that choose to may join us. We will not force you and we will not get in the way of your business. You must see the benefit of this plan on your own. If you choose to go your own way, best of luck to you.”
The talk between captains got louder. Maria had a hard time remembering where she was. She’d practiced this speech over and over so many times, she could say it in her sleep, but could she give it in front of a roomful of rich and powerful men?
She raised her hands. “The Sinaloa Cartel will be forced out of Baja.”
A sudden round of applause startled her.
“¡Viva Maria!” someone shouted from the back of the room. “¡Viva La Reina!”
She smiled. “We will offer all of you, from the Baja Cartel to anyone else who wishes to join us, the use of our distribution channels at a very reasonable price.”
“And what would that be?” came a voice.
She was prepared for this. “You provide your own labor on both ends, eight percent. If we have to guard, load and unload your cargo, ten percent.”
She, Theresa and Martín had talked this over. Martín thought it was ridiculous, way too cheap. But Maria prevailed. There was no sense in gouging her new partners and making enemies of them. Besides, she had the best distribution network in the world. Their losses would be so few that it would more than make up for her trifling taxes.
There was a murmur of approval.
“We already have an agreement with the Policia Municipal. Capitan Mendoza will help us police our territory. Now we need to work on the politicians.”
“You will never succeed,” Raul stood. “No politician is going to work with a woman.”
Maria smiled at Raul.
“We will support the PRI candidates. They are going to make a comeback. We have already met with Senator Rozales. I’m sure we can reach an accommodation when, with our help, he wins the governor’s mansion. Señor Rozales is a reasonable man. I’m sure we can do business.”
She flipped her hair out of her face. “And the presidente? My father almost single handedly put the current president in the mansion. Who is to say we can’t do the same?”
“I say you can’t.” Raul was fuming. “This is ridiculous, bullshit. No woman can hold together a federation like this. It takes a man’s strong hand.”
“And I suppose you know who that man should be?” Maria asked.
“Don’t be silly. We’re all wasting our time here. We all know that I will come out on top. You and your family will be forgotten in a few months.”
Bedlam broke out. Men leapt to their feet, shouting and gesticulating at each other. Bodyguards uniformly stepped closer to their charges, ready to protect them from attack.
“Who are you to tell us what’s going to happen?” a man in a dark pin-striped suit yelled.
Maria smiled and nodded to the man behind Raul.
The huge bodyguard stepped forward, pulled a piece of wire from his pocket and looped it around his boss’s neck.
“Carlos,” Raul croaked. “Not you! I never thought it would be you.”
Then he couldn’t talk anymore. The air was cut off from his lungs.
He grabbed at the garrote, tried to get his fingers under it. His eyes bulged, drool dripped from his mouth. He kicked and struggled, but his attacker was too strong, too large.
Raul’s head drooped forward. The guard gave one last pull on the garrote and removed it from his former boss.
“Does anyone else have any objections?” Maria asked.
Post Script
I hope you enjoyed reading Ted and Chris’s latest adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it. I try to have unpredictable endings. If you guessed how this book was going to end, please drop me a line at http://www.pennwallace.com/contact-penn.html and let me know. I want to know if I managed to surprise you.
Our heroes will be back next year. I expect them to mix it up with ISIS this time.
Reviews are the life blood of independent writers. The more reviews we get, the more Amazon and others promote the book. If you want to see more Ted and Chris adventures, a review would go a long way towards allowing me to write more books. If you liked the book, I ask you to write a review of The Cartel Strikes Back on Amazon.com, Goodreads or wherever you go for your book information. Thank you so much, it means the world to me. If you didn’t like the book, then please disregard this paragraph.
I’d love to hear your comments and criticisms. Who knows, maybe some of your ideas will appear in a future Ted Higuera novel (As a matter of fact, the next story was suggested by a reader). To contact me click here or use the Contact Penn form on my web site at www.pennwallace.com.
The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5 Page 29
