Gonzalez made a twisting motion from left to right on the couch when he sat down. “Forgive me, please. I have to keep my back loose these days or it becomes very painful.”
“I understand. I only hope I age as gracefully as you have,” Nomar lied, though Leo didn’t believe Gonzalez picked up on the signs.
“The last time I was here,” Gonzalez said with an easy manner, “I was with my granddaughters. Remember, Vasquez?”
“Oh yes, two of them, I believe.”
“No, three. Marguerite, Isa and Kari.”
“Kari?”
“She is the oldest. She was wearing an orange dress, if memory serves.”
Nomar turned thoughtful. “I am ashamed at my lack of attention. The only one I recall in an orange dress was … well, she was another guest.”
Something solidified in Gonzalez after this exchange. He wasn’t nervous anymore. Leo reflected on his own calm after he had decided that he was going to murder that man earlier.
He’s here to kill Nomar.
All the signs were there: in the eyes, the shoulders, the hands. This man was bent on murder now. He wasn’t angry, not really. Leo also bet it had something to do with the oldest granddaughter as well. The one Nomar recalled as being another guest. Did he mistake Kari as being someone else, or something else?
Leo’s gut churned with conflicting ideas and emotions. It could end here. He could simply let it happen. Nomar would be dead, and the club could go about its business. Of course, there was the strong possibility that he would be killed as well by the guards of both of these men coming into the room and then turning on each other.
Shit.
No, it wasn’t the right time, and certainly not the right place.
The men talked easily to each other, discussing possible price increases and delivery incentives, for about twenty minutes. Nomar was completely relaxed now. He was in his element, on his own turf, and growing in power. He didn’t fear this old man, though he did respect him. Nomar wasn’t a fool.
Then Gonzalez began to do his back exercises again, and Leo knew this was it. The back exercises would camouflage the pistol draw. Nomar would die never comprehending how the old man shot him.
Gonzalez began with the right side, and then twisted his torso to the left as Leo rose and walked steadily in his direction, coming between Gonzalez and the table, hiding the draw from Nomar as Gonzalez came out of the twist with a small, nickel plated .38 automatic.
Leo snatched the gun, keeping the slide from moving, and twisted it from his hand. He slipped it into his jacket pocket while he continued to walk by.
Gonzalez was stunned.
“Senor Gonzalez? Are you alright? Leo? Did you do something? Step on his toe, perhaps?”
Leo turned back. “No, but if I did, I certainly apologize Senor Gonzalez.”
Gonzalez didn’t get to be the head of a cartel by letting himself be surprised for very long. “No, nothing like that. I just twisted a little too far that time. Leo, please, don’t concern yourself at all.”
“I’m very relieved, but perhaps you would like a drink?” Leo offered.
“Maybe a water?” Gonzalez asked.
“Right away,” Leo said, and he continued walking toward the small fridge in the room. “Nomar?”
“Si, that would be good, Leo, thank you.”
After that, Gonzalez was so closely guarded he made poker players appear enthusiastic. Twice, Leo noticed Gonzalez’s men poking their heads in from out on the balcony and opening the door.
They were told, Leo thought to himself. They’re expecting the signal. What will they do now?
The answer appeared to be: nothing.
When the two men decided to break for dinner, Gonzalez did his exercise thing again and then stood up. Maybe the exercises were real, or he was simply a thorough con-artist. Then Gonzalez rose and came over to Leo.
“Are you learning much?” Gonzalez asked.
“More than you can imagine,” Leo assured him.
Gonzalez studied him and then nodded. “That could be true. You have an eagle’s way of looking at things. You see vistas. Here is my card. If you are ever in Mexico and require assistance, use it.”
Leo checked the position of the others in the room, and then said, “Perhaps Sunday, around two, we might talk? I believe it would be mutually beneficial, and it would also allow what I rudely interrupted to move forward.”
Gonzalez studied him intently. “Si, but first tell me how you could have known so precisely.”
“You told me,” Leo replied. “First, you related what happened to your granddaughter. Nomar thought she was one of the entertainment women. She was probably so scared, she couldn’t cry out. Afterward, she was so ashamed she couldn’t speak. And then your exercises: They were the perfect camouflage for a draw. It would have worked beautifully. Of course, it was a suicide run. You didn’t expect to walk out of here, and I am not ready to die. So, I had to stop you.”
“If you could have left the room?”
Leo met the elder’s eyes and said, “I would have and with a prayer on my lips for you.”
Gonzalez nodded his head thoughtfully, then agreed. “Sunday, then, at two. I’ll be available. I have a feeling that it won’t be a waste of my time.”
“Thank you, sir,” Leo said. He moved away to watch dinner being brought in and observe Gonzalez’s guards looking nervously into the room.
Gonzalez went to his man on the balcony and whispered in his ear. The man nodded and talked into his radio. Both men appeared much calmer after that.
For the rest of the evening, Leo’s mind churned through scenarios of how best to use this windfall.
Apparently, Gonzalez would rather die than to go into a head-to-head war with Nomar, which said a great deal about the man. To Gonzalez, this was a personal insult and would be handled personally. Thus, Gonzalez would not be interested in helping Leo on that scale.
He had until Sunday, he reminded himself. He would use this windfall well. Already two ideas seemed promising, but they needed work before he could present either to Gonzalez.
One point was now certain: If he was going to use Gonzalez as a resource, then Nomar was a dead man, preferably by Gonzalez’s hand. Used properly, however, Gonzalez could give Leo his life back in the aftermath.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Friday, for Leo, was an interesting day. It was likely the most interesting day he had experienced in over two years. Nomar and Benjy sat at a large meeting table in a long room with windows and skylights. Benjy had a laptop in front of him, which he was using to play Minefield, while Nomar had a pad of legal paper with several pens and pencils set out before him.
Then began a sort of inventor’s day. People of all manners and ages came into the room. One by one, they presented a concept to Nomar, who would then either ask for further information or a demonstration, or admit that he wasn’t interested in the idea at this time. If they gave him further information, he would then either reject them or tell them to talk to Leo, who opened up Nomar’s calendar program and scheduled one-hour meetings for in-depth discussions.
There was a fourth option, as well, and that was to buy the idea on the spot. This happened for a man who ran one of the money accounting cells. He came up with a new way to launder cash. Nomar paid him ten grand on the grounds that he remain available for consulting once Nomar was ready to put the idea into action. Leo was sent to the large safe in the room beside Nomar’s master bedroom to collect the money for the man.
Leo learned more about the inner workings of the Vasquez cartel, and underground operations in general, during this single day than in the entire four years prior. His brain was buzzing with ideas, concepts, and schemes he wouldn’t have — couldn’t have — conceived with ten years of focused creative thought on his own.
Afterward, he went to the room that was provided for him in the hacienda, opened the laptop, got onto his cloud drive writer program, and began typing furiously. He was still a
t it near four in the morning, when he forced himself to sleep for four hours so he could be ready and alert by ten o’clock.
Those notes contained several fortunes. With the rider’s network established, even greater revenues could be achieved.
He woke, showered, and found that four suits with shirts, shoes, and accessories were in the closet and drawers in the room. He wondered how long they had been hanging there, since this was the first time he had actually used this room. Until this point, he had rented a nearby hotel room by the week.
The light cotton suits were basic black with narrow black, gold, red, and blue ties to choose from. There were three sets of black shoes for variety. A gold ring mounted with a sizable diamond, which fit his right ring finger, was in the top drawer along with three watches. He didn’t know much about watches, but with the Internet, he didn’t have to. Searching the make and model number of one of the timepieces, he discovered it retailed for $5k.
“A man could lose his hand wearing a watch like this on his arm,” he murmured. He put both the watch and the ring on, and he chose the ivory and silver tie clasp to go with the black tie.
In the bathroom, he discovered a complete grooming kit. After shaving and brushing his hair into a ponytail, he went to the dining area to see if he might steal a few pieces of sausage from Courtney the cook.
Once in an open office room with Nomar, Nomar asked Leo, “You’ve had time to process. So tell me, what are your impressions of Santos Gonzalez?”
“He desires only one thing from you.”
Nomar lifted his eyes from his reading. “What’s that?”
“Your death,” Leo told him.
Nomar leaned back and studied Leo, and then said, “If any other man in my organization would have said that this morning, I would not have believed them, and would hear no more. But you.… As always, you sound so certain. Do you know why he wants this?”
“You had sex with his eldest granddaughter last year, mistaking her for one of the entertainment girls. She was too frightened to say anything then or scream, and too ashamed to say anything after until she confessed the ordeal to her mother, maybe a week later,” Leo said.
All of the wind went out of Nomar. His hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at Leo, absolutely stunned. “I recall Gonzalez questioning me about her, even bringing up the color of her dress that day. Oh sweet Constance.”
Leo waited while Nomar processed the scope of this mistake.
“And I,” Nomar began again, “couldn’t even recall her while I was talking to him. I damned myself twice in that meeting. And you are very right. I myself would want nothing less. I wonder why we are not at war right now.”
“Gonzalez is old school. It is his personal shame for not protecting his granddaughter while they were here. He will handle this personally, not with a war,” Leo told him.
“Si, bueno, you are absolutely correct. How do I fix this, Leo? I mean, I like and respect Gonzalez. Yes, he’s old, and a dinosaur when it comes to business, but I would never, ever willingly offend him in this manner.”
Leo was silent for a long time. He had thought out the answer to this question two days ago. Nomar’s wife had died from cancer two years ago. He had one son from that marriage.
“I’m not completely up on the inner working of society in Mexican culture, so all I can think of is to beg the girl’s forgiveness, and offer to marry her.”
“Would a girl wish to marry her rapist?” Nomar asked.
“If she forgives you, but declines the offer, Gonzalez may accept the magnitude of your willingness to amend the situation. After all, he is old school,” Leo pointed out.
Nomar leaned forward. “Leo, I have to say this now. When I introduced you to Gonzalez as my executive assistant, I was merely attempting to explain your presence, but now, that is exactly the position I need you in. None of my men or women would have picked up on this, and Gonzalez would have had his revenge without me ever knowing why. If there is one thing that old man knows how to do, it is how to kill another man.”
I’m counting on that, Leo thought to himself.
“I noticed that you spent the night here. Any reason why?”
“After yesterday, I had so many ideas in my head, I wanted to get them down before I lost them. It was 4am before I realized it,” Leo said with a grin.
“Ideas? Such as?”
Leo explained two variations on the laundering scheme Nomar had purchased the day before.
“You are full of surprises, Leo. I owe you twenty grand. Be sure to pay yourself after you leave. And I think that should be now. You have dropped a bomb on me, and I will do nothing else until I fix this problem with…”
“Kari,” Leo offered.
“Blessed Virgin, I’m going to rot in hell for this on,e Leo. Even after all of this, I still can’t recall her name. I can’t even recall her face. She could walk into this room right now, and I would not know her.”
“I suggest that you get some very recent photos and even video of her soon, then. That would destroy your chances before they began,” Leo told him.
“You are very right there. Now go. I don’t wish to see you until Tuesday, late Tuesday. After lunch. I will be dedicating myself to this major fuck-up until then, and since you are not up on Mexican social workings, I can use other minds who are.”
Leo nodded his head and left the office. He collected his twenty grand from the safe, put that into a bag, and left the hacienda with the laptop and his money. He took off the tie, put that into his pocket, and got on his bike.
Tuesday. That was good. Very good.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Bev decided that what Preston Pope meant when he said that he wasn’t very good at knife fighting was that he wasn’t fucking phenomenal at it like he was at everything else. His skill was only in the upper echelons of great, but couldn’t seem to get past that plateau.
Ah, poor thing. Breaks my heart.
He was in black workout pants, and that was it. They both had their hair pulled back. She was in tight workout pants and a tight, firm, workout top, which was more like a bra, really. They were both panting now, and sweating. Preston was smiling less, which made Bev smile more.
“Preston, you need to quit thinking of the knife as something in your hand. It’s distracting you rather than adding to your armory.”
“It is in my hand, though,” he complained.
“Drop it,” she told him.
“What?”
“Drop it, close your fist and attack me,” Bev told him.
He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, but then opened his hand and let the knife fall, closed his fist, and came in at her like the wind of a blizzard. She was able to block two of his attacks and give him a good slash across his chest before his third attack, with his left hand this time, sent her to the mat.
“Yes!” she screamed in victory, and bounced up off the mat.
“Yes what? I hit you! I did not stab you!”
“So fucking what? Was I any less defeated? I wasn’t just down, I was sprawled. I couldn’t have defended the coup de grâce.”
He was confused, and he looked nearly lost.
“Remember the first thing you said when you taught me to shoot? Fuck aiming. Forget the gun even has sights. You need to forget that you even have a knife.”
“Then what is the point of having the fucking knife?” he asked.
She reached down and lifted his hand. She traced the slash mark across his wrist that was still red and angry from her second successful block. “Because you’re dead, too,” she told him. “The knife adds to your weapons; it shouldn’t hinder them.”
He looked at the angry red line, and then at his chest where her slash was skill glowing savagely.
“Naw,” she said with a smile. “That one would have just made you more sexy in a bad boy way. A few stitches and you would have been fine. Same with your other arm. Just a cut, but this one, this one I’m proud of.”
&nbs
p; He smiled. “Yes, this one would certainly have been a bit of a hassle.”
They got waters and sat down together, leaning their backs against the wall.
“I think I get it. Can we do knife the next time as well?” Preston asked her.
“Yeah, definitely. As much as you want. I’ve never had this good of a work out with it before. After this session, I feel like an eye has opened inside of me, and I can see what all of these pieces and stances and moves are all about, and how they work as a whole, in concert.”
SAUL: The Pagans MC Page 43
