Luis didn’t take his eyes off Miguel. He was seething. It showed in his face, naked hate.
“What about me?” whispered Rosa.
“I’d never hurt you, Rosa. I’ve always loved you, despite our age difference. This was never about you.”
Rosa nodded, one small tear sliding down a cheek.
Miguel sagged back into his chair, exhausted.
“So, you are confessing to the murder of María Cervantes and Ana Cervantes?” asked Garcia.
“I want my abogado,” muttered Miguel through hands covering his face.
“That means lawyer,” Alan whispered to the Judge, the pleased look on his face suggesting he was the one who’d just solved María and Ana’s murder.
“I know, Alan,” said the Judge politely.
“How did you get the iPad into the conference room?” the Judge asked Miguel.
“It was as you said, Judge, it was brought…”
“Don’t answer that question, Miguel,” shouted Moreno from down-table. “Not until you’ve talked with your lawyer.”
“You acknowledge you acquired the irrevocable proxy to vote Roberto’s shares?” asked the Judge.
Miguel nodded.
“Did you consult an attorney before entering into the transaction?”
“Don’t answer any more questions, Miguel,” said Moreno, in his best attorney’s command voice now. “You’re just digging yourself a hole you’ll never climb out of. I object to this entire interrogation of my client without allowing him to first consult with a criminal defense attorney.”
The Judge pressed on. “I assume you utilized the services of Pedro Mendoza, ASAM’s drone technician at the Todos Santos plant?
Miguel nodded. “He lent me the bird and the controller, programmed them for perimeter duty, and showed me how to use the controls.”
“Did he initially fly the bird over to this tower, then later to some remote location to collect it?”
Miguel nodded.
“And he delivered it to you to fly it again, on the beach, against my wife and I.”
Miguel nodded. “You were nosing around too much, Judge. Too close. We were all scared. But the bird never came back. Something went wrong with its rotors. It ended up crashing into the sea. We shit rocks searching the ocean for debris, hoping no one else would find it first, but in the end, there was nothing to find.”
“And Mendoza lent you a second drone, didn’t he? The one on which you mounted a stuffed cat, its glass eyes bulging out, red and flashing, claws outstretched, mouth open to show its fangs?”
Miguel nodded again.
Pablo gasped. “Death,” he muttered.
“And a set of six swarming fish drones with steel jaws, which Mendoza programmed to guard a perimeter?”
“Yes.”
“You son of a bitch,” muttered Luis, raising in his seat at the table, considering a lunge for Miguel, but Garcia’s two officers were immediately to either side of him, easing him back down in his chair.
“How was it you could leave the programming tablet and walk back into the boardroom before anything happened on the roof?”
“I was here the day before, programing the actions of the bird. Instructing it on what actions to take when its territory was invaded. I gave it a three-minute wait from the point I pushed the control button, then stepped out into the boardroom to watch the show. These drones are quite smart.”
“Yes, and it was some show. Two old helpless women, sprayed with pepper spray and disorienting gas, chased with unrelenting cruelty by sharp turning blades, cutting at their hands, arms, trying for their faces, forced in a panic over the edge of the parapet to a screaming fall down the side of the building, smashing to death on the concrete below.”
“They deserved it.”
Miguel turned in his chair to look out at the view, all streaming sunlight and blue water under a China blue sky, folding his arms across his chest, signifying he was through answering questions.
Things broke up quickly from there. The Chief Inspector strutted around, directing his two officers to handcuff Miguel and Moreno. He was already holding Pedro Mendoza, the drone technician, as a material witness. Moreno didn’t go quietly. His vocal protests that he knew nothing about Miguel’s planned murders echoed down the hall and into the elevator. Garcia’s Chief of Police would have to sort Moreno’s story out with the state’s prosecutor, decide who to charge and for what, and determine the relative culpability of Pedro Mendoza and Juan Moreno.
The other members of the board pressed themselves out the door in a crush, scattering for the elevator, wanting no further contact with the Judge or the Chief Inspector.
CHAPTER 37
“So, explain how the shares of ASAM would have worked, Judge.”
He and Katy were sitting under the palapa again in the morning sun, watching a gaggle of water exercisers, mostly women with huge thighs, two men with overlapping bellies, standing chest high in the pool, trying to keep up with an exercise coach who had them at a disadvantage, standing on terra firma at the edge of the pool shouting at them over the noisy racket of rap that pretended to be music.
The males were having trouble keeping up.
“It’s pretty simple, Katy. Think of it this way. Suppose there were 999,000 shares of ASAM outstanding. To start, each shareholder owned 111,000 shares, or 11.1 percent, except for Pablo, who owned 333,000 shares, or 33.3 percent. When María and Ana died, their share voting rights were sterilized, so although their heirs owned the economic interest represented by the shares, the shares couldn’t be voted. If Luis and Pablo had died, their shares would also be sterilized and wouldn’t have been entitled to vote.”
“Okay, I think I understand so far. But how did that change voting control?”
“So, with María, Ana, Luis and Pablo gone, the only shares outstanding that would still have voting rights attached to them would have been the 111,000 share blocks owed by Miguel, Rosa and Roberto. Each block would have represented one-third of the total shares with voting rights, the total of such outstanding voting shares being 333,333 shares.”
“So, the siblings, Rosa and Roberto, would control ASAM?”
“Normally, yes. But in exchange for not being charged with embezzlement and going to jail, Roberto was forced to make a deal with Miguel. He signed away all his voting rights to Miguel on an irrevocable proxy coupled with an interest.”
“So, Miguel would get to vote both his one-third of the voting shares, and also Roberto’s one-third of the voting shares,” said Katy.
“Right. Miguel would vote two-thirds of the outstanding voting shares, and thereby control ASAM for a period of five years, until the voting rights on the other shares were reinstated.”
“So, Miguel could do anything he wanted with ASAM during the five years, like issue himself three million shares as a bonus, assuring him perpetual control, even after the five years.”
“Yep.”
“Wow. Tricky, Judge.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad it’s all over and we can now relax for the rest of what’s left of our vacation. We’ve only got two days left.” The Judge took a long pull on his margarita. He was acclimating to the heat and settling into Cabo.
His cell phone went off with a whistle. A wolf-whistle. The phone bounced around his pocket a lot. He was convinced it got even by deliberately resetting its sound alarm for calls periodically.
Alan Clark said hello at the other end of the line, jovial and excited. “Have I got news for you and Katy, Judge. The Lieutenant Governor’s office called me this morning. He was so appreciative of your exposing the human trafficking at ASAM, he’s invited us to go out on his private schooner this afternoon for a sunset sail. You, Katy, me and my date.”
Katy, eavesdropping, mouthed at the Judge, ‘Barbara’, then shook her head vigorously.
“Are you bringing Barbara, Alan?”
“Sadly no. She had to go back to work, left this morning. I’m bringing that cute little gal from the A
SAM timeshare resort, Mary… ah…Whittaker.”
The Judge looked at Katy, who nodded okay. Katy had bonded with Mary Whittaker on their timeshare tour. It seemed ages ago now after all they’d been through.
They met Alan Clark and Mary Whittaker for drinks at 5:30 at a small bar called The Giggling Marlin. The bar was known for its large plank sign, showing a marlin standing upright on its tail, measuring the size of the fisherman it had caught; the fisherman hanging upside down beside the marlin from a scale. Katy would have nightmares about the sign later, but they laughed at it now, and at The Giggling Marlin’s motto etched there: ‘If our food, drinks and service aren’t up to your standard… please… lower your standard…!”
They entered under a second sign, a huge neon-lit affair mounted over the roof of a giggling marlin in sunglasses and hat, holding a beer, and showing a long row of smiling teeth. Inside was all primary colors, red, white and blue, with an expansive bar holding a prodigious stack of tequila bottles and other savory fluids, and a lusty crowd of Americans consuming them.
Alan and Mary waved from the bar, having saved them two seats, and they settled in, Katy experimenting with a shot of supposedly ancient tequila, the Judge sticking with his Dos Equis. The chips and guacamole were sensational, fueling an almost immediate need for another beer, as they were supposed to. They had to shout over the crowd to be heard, but it was all fun.
At 6:30 p.m. they wandered across the main street, and down a short-cobbled street to the marina. The Lieutenant Governor’s office had called and said the big man himself was unexpectedly tied up, but the crew would meet them with the boat to take them for a sunset cruise in front of gate 26 on the dock.
They watched a beautiful schooner pull up to the guest side of dock 26. She was older but beautifully maintained, perhaps fifty feet long, white hull and twin tall masts, the aft one taller as befitting a schooner. The woodwork was polished to silk. Bright blue and white striped upholstered cushions gave a plush look to its wide cockpit, the Mexican flag hung over her stern, and an imperial flag was halfway up the mast, yellow stars and emblems on a purple field, perhaps the flag of the Lieutenant Governor.
She had a crew of two, a captain and a young lady deckhand. The deckhand was short and wide, late twenties, dressed in white shorts a tad too short and a tad too tight, and a soft red bandeau top of gauzy material which supported medium-size breasts and allowed her nipples to peek through. When she bent over to tie off the dock line, her rounded buns left little to the imagination. But she had a great smile, all teeth, which she turned on and off like a flashlight, using it to punctuate her statements in accented English.
The captain was scruffier. Cutoff shorts a bit too distressed to be in style covered powerful legs and waist, a blue polo shirt faded some from the sun rippled over muscular arms and shoulders, and his oily black hair was tucked under a disreputable-looking captain’s hat that had seen better days. His narrow eyes were on alert all the time, scanning their party waiting at the gate, scanning the other boats, scanning the bulkhead cobblestone path which circled the marina. There was something disquieting about him, but the Judge couldn’t put his finger on it.
The girl bounded up the gangplank to the dock gate and let them in, flashing her teeth-smile, introducing herself as Carla, and explaining they were waiting for a third crew member who’d show up shortly. She escorted them down onto the dock, and then into the cockpit of the yacht, introduced them to Captain Muñoz, and disappeared below to rustle up cocktails. Captain Muñoz looked older and wearier up close, mid-forties, ancient lines etched around his eyes, an old scar down one side of his face standing out white against his brown skin. He looked to have led a hard life, but there was no doubt he could pull sail and control the boat. The way he bounced on his toes as other boats slipped by, tracking small waves in the harbor and rocking the schooner, gave him away as a sea-going man.
They sprawled in the cockpit under an awning hastily rigged for them, and had delicious drinks poured from two iced pitchers, rum-punch, strong and laced with sugar, tropical fruit and Grand Marnier, and heavy hors d’oeuvres, guacamole, chips, chicken and beef quesadillas fried on a skillet below, and cut papaya soaked in lime juice.
The Judge watched Katy relax back in her seat, some of the tension of the last few days finally leaving her face, chatting animatedly with Mary Whittaker about Ralphie, the intricacies of raising young children, and secrets of getting your figure back and keeping it. Contrary to the Judge’s cynical suspicions during their timeshare presentation, it turned out Mary did indeed have a young daughter, Lisa, who was four and just starting an American-run preschool in Cabo. Lisa’s dad had slipped into a drug habit and disappeared up the Northern California coast, pursuing the perfect wave and the perfect joint. Mary hadn’t heard from him in months. Pictures of children were shared all around, Alan Clark dutifully making encouraging clucking noises, although he had no kids and little clue on what the fuss was about.
Alan Clark bent the Judge’s ear, expounding on the opportunities for mass profits in the U.S. marijuana market. “It’s this way Judge. Because of a glut of growers entering the business, prices are dropping, and savvy growers are moving to grow their weed outside, under sunlight, using organic methods, and packaging their products as organic and natural. It’s the opportunity of the century.”
The Judge nodded, listening with one ear, wondering why Carla and the captain looked so tense as they scanned the dock for their third hand from the bow. Finally, a third man came to the dock gate, and Carla bounded up again to let him in. Younger than the captain, late thirties, and equally fit, he wore faded shorts and a white t-shirt, and waved to them as he approached with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hola, my friends. Sorry I’m late. Are you ready for your cruise? I’m Eduardo.” He undid the bow line and swung himself aboard, settling in there to watch for other boats as they piloted out of the harbor.
The captain jumped into the cockpit and started the engines, Carla expertly threw off the stern dock lines, and they were off, sliding by the docked boats in the harbor and out into the bay, steaming for The Arch at Land’s End as the sun settled into the sea. The captain raised the main sail and the jib. Both filled immediately, sending the boat forward with a leap. He turned off the engine, leaving only the sound of the wind in the rigging and the taste of salt on their lips. It was as though they were on the back of some giant swan with its wings raised, as the schooner picked up way, tilted some, and began to skim the water.
The wind wafted across the boat, cooling them down, and the beautiful towering rocks leered up at them on the starboard side as the captain brought the boat in close to The Arch, and then out again, into nearby deep water. The sky was a vivid blue, tiny clouds in the distance picking up streaks of orange and pink on their undersides, as the last of the sun settled below the horizon and night fell, dropping the temperature some to the Judge’s relief. In the deepening twilight, the excursion boats out on the bay turned back for the harbor, leaving their solitary swan spinning close to the Arch and then back to their deep-water patch in graceful circles.
Eduardo came forward from his perch in the bow into the cockpit, smiling at them, then disappeared below for a moment. He returned quickly but now seemed tense.
The Judge glanced up at him and realized Eduardo had a very large revolver pointed at the Judge’s chest. It was amazing how much bigger a gun looked when you were staring down its barrel.
CHAPTER 38
The Judge turned to look for the captain at the wheel. And he was there, looking grim, pointing a small Beretta at Alan. Carla was beside him, showing all her teeth again in a smile that had lopsided into malice.
While two guns were trained on the four, Carla took zip lock ties and tied the Judge’s wrists together, tightening them with mean pleasure, making the Judge wince. Then she tied Alan’s wrists together, then Katy’s, and finally Mary’s. They sat there, passive, wide-eyed, too much in shock to sp
eak.
Finally, the Judge muttered, “What’s going on here? Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
The three of them just looked at the Judge.
“We can pay you,” said Alan. “We have lots of money. Just take us back to the dock and we can make you wealthy.”
“You’ve made some important people very unhappy with your no-trafficking campaign,” said Eduardo, looking at the Judge. “Stirring up a lot of trouble for everybody, bringing the piss-ant Mexico City bureaucrats out to nose around and ask a lot of silly questions.”
Eduardo pointed with his gun, separating the two couples. Carla snickered as the captain handed her his gun and directed her to take the wheel with her other hand and keep the boat on its tack. Eduardo marched Alan and Mary forward to the bow, the captain following behind. Mary started to whimper, stumbling on the deck block as she was pushed forward. Katy and the Judge were left together in the cockpit under the watchful eye of Carla, her gun unwavering in its bead on the Judge’s chest.
The zip locks were cutting painfully into the Judge’s wrists. He brought his wrists to his head, using his teeth to center the zip-lock between his wrists, trying to relieve some of the pressure from the bands cutting into his flesh. He nodded at Katy to do the same and she did. It didn’t help much.
The Judge watched in horror as, on the bow, Eduardo gave his gun to the captain, then took a line and wrapped it around Alan and Mary, tying them together as they stood. Mary was sobbing now. As Eduardo stepped behind Alan, bringing the line around Alan’s back, Alan lashed out backward with his foot in a rear kick, catching Eduardo in the groin and knocking him backward. Alan, off balance, toppled forward, bringing Mary with him, landing on top of Mary on the deck. Mary yelped in pain as her back smashed down on a deck cleat.
Eduardo cursed, bending over in pain for a moment, then grabbed Alan and Mary by the back of their hair and brutally hauled them to their feet, Mary screaming now, partly from her ripping hair and partly in fear. Eduardo completed the job of tying them together, then reached down and picked up a second line on the deck, tying it securely to the bands of line around their joined midriffs.
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