by Dan Kelly
“I have some names you might want to pass on to your higher ups for some close scrutiny. As far as I’ve been able to determine they are mid-level members of some of the regional operations of the bigger cartels and deal primarily in drugs. My informants in these gangs have clammed up because of late there’s been a lot more animosity and mistrust within the ranks of a lot of the cartels because of shipments being stolen or confiscated by government agencies which are being attributed to someone within their organizations leaking information. They say it’s just too risky no matter what we pay them. I’ll continue to check out the names of the other people you gave me and will get back to you when I have something meaningful to pass on.”
“Thanks, Julio, but what gives you the idea that I have higher ups?”
“Abby, to use an American expression that I’m sure you’re familiar with, I’ve been around the block a few times and have been dealing with authority figures for years. If someone asks questions like an agent, has the demeanor of an agent, asks follow up questions like an agent, exudes that special aura that only an agent possesses, it’s a fairly sure bet that that person is an agent of some kind. Don’t be concerned. I won’t push the issue and know how to keep my mouth shut. I trust you’ll fill me in when the time is right.”
“Julio, you have an active imagination, but thanks again for your input.”
They said their goodbyes and although Abby was concerned that she had been so easily readable, she was happy to hear that Sea Wasp was succeeding in its mission and seriously stirring up trouble within the operations of the cartels.
She passed on what Dave and Julio had to say and then Pete asked, “Well, where to next?”
“Let’s go back to the casino and rove around and be friendly. Maybe we’ll have better luck today. At this time of day, it shouldn’t be as packed and hectic as it was last night. We’re more apt to find people willing to talk with us.”
Abby’s assumption was right on. There were a lot less gamblers and people at the bars, so they had the opportunity to talk with some of the dealers, pit bosses and bartenders and even some of the waitresses in the restaurants. They picked up names of some of the high rollers as well as got clued in on some weird habits and superstitions that some of the guests had. One dealer told them about a regular who only played black jack and would only sit at a table where there were at least two other players and he would never sit in an end seat. If he lost three straight hands, he’d move to another table. Another female black jack player would never sit a table where the dealer was a male. She claimed she had terrible luck with men and wasn’t taking any chances at the table. Another guy thought it was bad luck to touch the chips, so he always wore gloves when he played. The weirdest one though was ‘the blinker’. When he had to be ‘hit’, he would continuously blink until he ‘stayed’ or ‘busted’.
One bartender was particularly helpful in that he had been working there for years and had the inside track when it came to rumors. One person he mentioned, Hector Montoya, had come up in a couple of other conversations they had with a pit boss and a waitress. He was reputed to be mixed up in all kinds of underhanded things and had friends in high places, legit and otherwise. He was always nice to the employees and was an extravagant tipper. Supposedly, he was a bell boy when he was younger and remembered how he hustled for tips and sometimes didn’t get any.
Abby was feeling lucky so she tried her luck at the crap table and had won back $600 of the $800 she lost the previous evening when her cell phone rang. It was Julio Mendoza. “I’m just calling to warn you that your ‘research’ has been brought to the attention of some of the wrong people to have an interest in you. Your inquiries are apparently starting to make some people uncomfortable. You might want to consider cooling it for a while.”
“Hey, all I’m doing is research for a possible book.”
“Yeah, one for a sub rosa market with a limited readership that might be published post mortem if you’re not careful. You’re playing with fire, Abby, and the people holding the matches are pyromaniacs who won’t hesitate to reduce you to ashes if they see you as a threat to their organizations. Watch your back. I just thought you’d like to know.”
Without waiting for any further response from Abby, he hung up. Pete asked, “Who was that?”
“Julio Mendoza warning me that the enemy is starting to take an interest in me that might grow into something detrimental to my health if I’m not careful. He suggested that I cool it for a while. You and I had a similar conversation a while back and I thought I had cooled it a little, apparently not enough.”
“Maybe we should back off for a spell. We’re eyes and ears, not commandos. We’ve already dug up a lot of useful information.”
“No, there’s no such thing as having enough good intelligence, the more, the better. I’ll just have to lighten up more when I’m talking to people, soft pedal it, be less aggressive. That should buy me some time to get more of what we’re looking for and maybe they’ll lose interest in me.”
“I think we should make Phil aware of this latest development so he can start thinking about when and under what conditions he wants to end our mission.”
“I agree and I also want Dave to check out the names of the high rollers we learned about today, especially this Hector Montoya.”
Abby tried her luck at the black jack tables, won $700 and then lost $250, so she decided not to push her luck and called it quits with the gambling. They had something to eat and then browsed through some of the gift shops, discussing how they should spend the evening. Pete said, “I’ve had it with the casino. We’ve worked it quite well, I think, and should check out some of the other play grounds of the rich and infamous.”
“Such as?”
“Nightclubs and lounges come to mind. We could check with the concierge for the best ones in San Juan and also check out the race track tomorrow afternoon. I’ve heard the Hipodromo Camarero is the place to go if you like horse racing. We might be able to finagle our way into the club house with the concierge’s help. Crossing some palms with cash usually does the trick.”
“Okay, that sounds like a plan with potential to me. Let’s go back to the suite for a shower and a suitable change of clothes and then head out for a night on the town.”
The night spots turned out to be great places for music, dancing and expensive drinks, but duds as far as scuttlebutt on the movers and shakers in the world of drugs and other contraband was concerned. They got back to the hotel about one in the morning and after Abby checked in with Dave and gave him the new names to run, they hit the hay, hoping that tomorrow at the race track would be more rewarding.
Chapter 16
-San Juan, Puerto Rico-
The atmosphere around most of the better race tracks, the Hipodromo Camarero is no exception, generates an excitement that if one isn’t careful can be overwhelming. There are countless stories about people who have gotten carried away betting on hunches and losing their shirts. Every once in a while you hear about some guy who bet on a hunch, a long shot, and his horse makes it to the winners’ circle, but that is a very rare occasion.
Abby was able to flirt with the concierge enough to get them a pass to the club house from which they could watch all of the races in comfort and perhaps meet some of the enemy. So they wouldn’t arouse any suspicions, they planned on placing hundred dollar bets on horses in all of the races and do their best to try to fit in. This definitely wasn’t their scene, so they intended to do little talking and a lot of listening, but this wasn’t to be. Some talkative old guy was sitting next to them and he decided that they needed the benefit of his years of experience with race horses when Pete responded to his question concerning their knowledge of the horses in the upcoming races by saying, “We’re new to the sport of horse racing and are feeling our way along.”
He was a nice old gent and it turned out that he knew a lot about horses and track conditions in general and was very enlightened about the horses in the afternoon
’s races. They couldn’t have chosen a better mentor if they had been looking for one as he was a retired horse trainer and had trained some of the best horses ever to run in San Juan, at least according to him. His name was Ricardo Muñoz, he was a widower, had eleven grandchildren spread all over the world but none in San Juan and he was celebrating his seventy-eighth birthday today.
The horses break out of the gate for the first race of the day at three o’clock and the last race will start at six in the evening. It’s now a quarter to three and Ricardo is talking about a horse named Raising Cane who has been a disappointment to its owners because it has placed in every race he’s run, but has never won. “They’re doing something wrong with that horse. Anyone with horse sense can see that he’s a winner. The owner brought on a new trainer a few months ago, a real good one. I know him. If anyone can figure out what’s wrong, he can. Raising Cane’s running in the first race and the odds on him right now are 7-1. I like those odds. I think that horse is going to surprise some people today. I’m going to put some money on him and I’d advise you to do the same.”
They did, the horse surprised a lot of people and Pete and Abby had $600 to cushion the losses they were sure they’d have before the day was out as Ricardo was called away by some of his friends in the club house and they were going to be on their own.
Just before the start of the fourth race three men entered the club house and, like someone punched a button, all of the chatter and laughter ceased. All eyes were on these men as they made their way down to the front row of seats and took the three closest to the aisle, causing two men already sitting there to move over, way over. Unknowingly, Ricardo had come back over to join them and was sitting behind them. He leaned over between them and whispered, “The club house has just become a snake pit. The tall one is the king cobra, Hector Montoya, and the other two are a couple of his rattlers. I don’t know their names. If it’s illegal in San Juan, Hector’s got his hand in the till. He’s not someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”
Hector reminds Pete of Wayne Newton in one of his movies. He has about the same height and build, sports a pencil thin mustache and has lots of thick black wavy hair in need of a barber’s attention. His voice, however, is down in the nether regions, somewhere between a rasp and a screech.
Abby asked, “What’s with his voice?”
Ricardo answered, “A few years ago he had a disagreement with one of his men which resulted in a knife fight. He got stabbed in the throat which mangled his voice box. A doctor was able to restore his ability to speak, but not in a very pleasant way. It is rumored that the doctor who operated on him can no longer speak at all.”
Abby asked, “What happened to the doctor? Was he stabbed too in some kind of retribution for the poor results of the operation?”
“No, the story goes he became fertilizer for the massive front lawn of Montoya’s hacienda. There was a police investigation, but without a body it went nowhere. The doctor just disappeared.”
Pete said, “Thanks for the heads up, Ricardo.”
“Oh shit!”
“What’s up, Abby?”
“Don’t look, but Senor Montoya and one of his men are heading our way.”
Ricardo said, “Evidently, Hector has spotted you and is going to try to impress you with his charm and wit. He’s addicted to pretty ladies and is always looking for new conquests.”
“Hello, Ricardo. It’s been a while since we last saw each other.” Ignoring Pete completely he continued with, “Please introduce me to the lovely lady.”
With a stoic look on his face that had to be interpreted by Montoya as an unfriendly reception to his approach Ricardo said, “We’ve just met. This is Abby Keenan and this is Pete Brody.” With a curt nod of his head toward Montoya he finished the introductions with, “This is Senor Hector Montoya.”
Attempting to insert himself between Pete and Abby, unsuccessfully as Pete is no physical push over, he said continuing to ignore Pete, “Please join me and my friends and give me the chance to get to know you better. I know a lot of the owners and trainers and might be able to improve the odds of you winning some money. I would be delighted if you would give me the opportunity.”
“Thank you for the kind offer, Senor Montoya, but my friend and I are enjoying the company of Ricardo and wish to remain with him.”
As though noticing Pete for the first time he said, “Oh, forgive my manners. You certainly are invited to join us as well.”
“Thank you, Senor, but as the lady said, we prefer to stay here with Ricardo because he’s been so generous with his time to mentor a couple of novices in the world of horse racing. It would be very rude of us to just walk away.”
Pete was expecting Montoya to extend an invitation to Ricardo as well, but that was not the case. Instead, the big smile he had kept on his face all the while he was talking quickly disappeared and was replaced with a look of disappointment and a hint of anger. “Perhaps another time, Senorita.”
As Montoya and his man walked away, Abby said, “I think we just got on the wrong side of Senor Montoya.”
Ricardo said, “There are degrees to that. I’ve been on his wrong side for years because I wouldn’t help him fix some races, but I’m still on the prettier side of the turf. I wouldn’t be too concerned. You just dented his ego a little. If you were a danger to his freedom, it would be a different story.”
Pete and Abby glanced at each other and then Abby quickly changed the subject by asking Ricardo if a lot of people like Montoya came to the club house, indicating that perhaps it wasn’t the safest place for a woman to be.
“Most bets placed on horses these days are the off track variety. Occasionally, like today with Montoya, one of the crime bosses will show up, but that doesn’t happen very often.”
After the last race of the day, Pete and Abby invited Ricardo to dinner to thank him for all of the good advice he had given them and to celebrate his birthday. They were walking away with over two thousand dollars and told him that taking him to dinner was the least they could do. Looking at the ear to ear grateful smile that broke out on his face, it had to be close to the one that he’d be wearing if his horse had just won the Triple Crown. They were also hoping he had knowledge of some other cartel members that they could get him to talk about.
As they were leaving the track, Abby spotted Hector and his two goons talking with a well- dressed attractive woman, probably in her fifties judging from the well-coiffed almost pure white hairdo, in front of a souvenir shop. Pete and Ricardo had gone to the men’s room, so Abby took advantage of the opportunity to snap some pictures of the group with her cell phone from behind a partition separating some construction work going on about twenty feet away. Just as she had snapped the last picture, Hector looked up and for an instant seemed to be looking right at her, but then he looked away and the group walked out towards the parking lot. Pete and Ricardo rejoined her seconds later and they too headed for the parking lot. Abby’s heart beat still hadn’t returned to normal from the close call because she wasn’t completely convinced that she hadn’t been spotted. Hector just might have been real good at covering up what he saw. “Damn! I knew I was pushing it when I took that last picture. Why do I always push the envelope?”
They left the selection of the restaurant up to Ricardo and he picked a fabulous Spanish family place that was packed when they got there, but the owner was an old friend of Ricardo’s so they got a table without having to wait in line. The meal was out of this world and the conversation was fascinating as Ricardo told story after story about the people he had met during his racing career, some were inspiring, some were hilarious, some were sad and some were downright scary.
The scary ones gave Abby a perfect segue into asking the questions she’d been waiting for the right moment to ask. “Ricardo, I’m in San Juan doing some research for a book I’m planning to write on the history and cultures of the countries of the Caribbean, including the current social, economic and political situation
s as well as their legends. We’ve been hearing a lot about smuggling and piracy and people like Hector Montoya. Do you have any knowledge about any of the people engaged in these kinds of activities and would you be comfortable sharing what you know or have heard with me? I’ll keep your name out of it if you prefer.”
